As a Latin Polytheist living in modern America, I am often asked why I believe in a religion that is said to be gone. The assumption is that European polytheism simply faded away, that people moved on, and that belief naturally followed history forward. So the question becomes why continue to believe in something that was supposedly abandoned. That framing assumes a peaceful transition that never actually happened, and answering it honestly requires examining how polytheism in the Roman world was dismantled rather than forgotten.

For most of Roman history, religion was pluralistic, pragmatic, and inseparable from civic life. Roman polytheism was not a centralized creed competing for exclusive loyalty, but a network of rituals, festivals, priesthoods, and local traditions tied to place and community. Participation in religious life was a public responsibility rather than a private confession of belief. This system allowed contradiction, regional variation, and the coexistence of many gods without requiring uniform doctrine.

Christianity existed within this world for centuries as a small and often distrusted minority. Roman authorities did not persecute Christians for believing in Christ, but for refusing to participate in civic rituals that symbolized social obligation. These conflicts were political and cultural rather than theological. The Roman state was concerned with cohesion, not orthodoxy.

The decisive shift occurred in the early fourth century under Constantine I. After his victory at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge in 312 CE, Constantine extended imperial patronage to Christianity. Churches were funded, clergy were granted legal privileges, and bishops gained political influence. While pagan worship remained legal, Christianity was elevated above all other religions.

This favoritism hardened into repression under Constantine’s successors, especially Constantius II, who ruled from 337 to 361 CE. Laws were issued restricting and eventually banning animal sacrifice, the core ritual act of Roman religion. Temples were closed or defunded across multiple regions. These policies did not marginalize polytheism at the edges, but attacked its foundation.

The legal destruction of polytheism reached its peak under Theodosius I. In 380 CE, the Edict of Thessalonica declared Nicene Christianity the only legitimate religion of the empire. Between 380 and 391 CE, a series of laws outlawed pagan rituals and closed temples entirely. Religious pluralism was redefined as disorder and disobedience.

These laws were enforced through violence as well as administration. Pagan temples were dismantled or converted into churches, and sacred images were destroyed. One of the most infamous examples was the destruction of the Serapeum of Alexandria in 391 CE. The loss was not merely architectural, but cultural and religious.

This violence was not accidental or fringe, but ideologically justified. Christian thinkers argued that religious diversity itself was immoral and dangerous. One of the most influential voices was Augustine of Hippo, writing in the late fourth and early fifth centuries. As he proclaimed, “That all superstition of pagans and heathens should be annihilated is what God wants, God commands, God proclaims.”

This statement, discussed in The Darkening Age by Catherine Nixey, captures the shift from toleration to eradication. Paganism was no longer something to be debated or reformed. It was declared illegitimate to exist at all. Destruction became obedience rather than excess.

Alexandria illustrates how theology, mob violence, and power merged. Under Cyril of Alexandria in the early fifth century, Christian mobs attacked Jews and pagans with impunity. Jews were expelled from the city, synagogues were seized, and pagan communities were terrorized. In 415 CE, the philosopher Hypatia was murdered.

Cyril was later canonized as a saint, revealing how normalized this violence became. The destruction of pagan religion was not treated as a moral failure. It was sanctified and remembered as righteous action. This tells us how deeply power shaped Christian memory.

The final legal erasure of polytheism came under Justinian I in the sixth century. In 529 CE, he ordered the closure of the Academy of Athens, ending public pagan philosophy. His laws required universal Christian baptism. Religious identity became compulsory.

Christianity succeeded not because it was morally superior, but because it was politically useful. It offered rulers a way to regulate belief, behavior, and loyalty through a single authoritative framework. Obedience to the state could be framed as obedience to God. In an empire facing crisis, this clarity of control was invaluable.

The polytheism of the ancient world did not disappear peacefully. It was destroyed because it did not grant rulers sufficient control over conscience and dissent. Its pluralism resisted ideological uniformity. That resistance became intolerable to power.

I continue to practice Latin polytheism because it ties me to the past without trapping me in it. My religion does not ask me to reject science or reason, but to understand the world as a complex system rather than a fixed doctrine. Science clarifies the world I inhabit. Religion gives that world meaning without demanding certainty.

My theology is grounded in Platonism, which treats reality as intelligible and participatory rather than commanded from above. The traditional gods are not tyrants issuing decrees, but ways of understanding virtue, order, and ethical life. My doctrine is not a book enforced by authority. My doctrine is the world itself, approached through reason and philosophy.

There is also a political dimension to this faith. Latin polytheism does not teach that power is sacred simply because it exists. It leaves room for judgment, dissent, and refusal. To practice this religion is to refuse submission to unjust power and coercion.

So when I am asked why I believe in a religion that is “gone,” I reject the premise entirely. Latin polytheism was not forgotten or abandoned. It was destroyed because it did not serve power. My religion was not forgotten. It was destroyed.