3. Creeds and Councils: Debating and Defining Doctrine

CHAPTER 3

Creeds and Councils

Debating and Defining Doctrine

I sometimes wonder if I would have been a follower of Jesus had I been his contemporary and been aware of his teachings. I also wonder what position I would have taken in the swirl of the fourth-century Arian controversy — with no access to the Bible as we have it today. Most people take for granted the Christian doctrines they confess with no thought of how difficult it would be to devise a systematic theology if the only text available were the Bible—and worse yet, not even a complete canon of Scripture. This was the predicament facing Christians in the early centuries of the church’s history.

Complicating matters were political factors and personality clashes. It is impossible to find a parallel situation today, but imagine a wide spectrum of American Christians trying to agree on a doctrinal statement. What if the President got involved and in the end the Supreme Court settled the matter? It sounds preposterous, but in some ways it would not be altogether different from what occurred at the Council of Nicaea in 325.

Today the situation is made more complex by established denominations and entrenched hierarchies unknown in ancient times. Such institutionalized religion, infused with money and power, is rarely open to change or compromise. With centuries of scholarship behind us, we stand on the shoulders of theological giants. But how would we ever agree—even on the broadest framework of a doctrinal formula? Would Mennonites and Quakers, for example, insist that pacifism be part of the formula? (They could argue after all that, like the deity of Christ, pacifism was almost universally affirmed by early Christians.) If so, would that derail the process before it could even get off the ground?

Add to the matter of pacifism a hundred or a thousand other competing issues, and we begin to realize the many differences to overcome in forming a consensus. So when we look back to the early church’s deliberations, even though they were infused with back-alley maneuvering and political pressure, we ought to stand in awe. The Council of Nicaea—and councils that followed— set the parameters for Christian belief in the following centuries.

The theologian may indulge the pleasing task of describing Religion as she descended from Heaven, arrayed in her native purity. A more melancholy duty is imposed on the historian. He must discover the inevitable mixture of error and corruption which she contracted in a long residence upon earth, among a weak and degenerate race of beings.

EDWARD GIBBON, THE HISTORY OF THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE

It is difficult to write about the ancient wrangling over theological propositions and opinions without taking sides Religion, we are convinced, descended from heaven in the purity of our own particular perspective Thus the ancients, whom we say are on our side, are on heaven’s side The historian truly does have the melancholy duty to shed light on the error and corruption inevitable among a weak and degenerate race of human beings, both ancient and modern.

Multivolume tomes expound the arguments and counter-arguments surrounding the third-and fourth-century theological debates and the related issues spinning off in succeeding generations Even so, the story is incomplete — and virtually incomprehensible Nevertheless, a basic understanding of Christianity’s theological underpinnings is aided by a glimpse at the lives of some of the leading protagonists: Origen, Arius, Athanasius, and Emperor Constantine.

The earliest generations of Christians, beginning with the apostles, faced the task of clarifying the differences between the new faith and Judaism While the Hebrew Bible was held in high esteem as Holy Scripture, practicing Jews were considered the enemy “Judaizers” were so named because they regarded circumcision and other Jewish ceremonies and laws as necessary facets of religious life By the fourth and fifth centuries, most church leaders severed all ties with Judaism and disciplined those who did not fall in line This period also saw a corresponding rise in anti-Semitism — a hatred of Jews that has reared its ugly head across the entire span of Christian history.

As the faith spread into the Hellenistic world, the focus on Judaism receded and other issues came to the fore Church leaders sought to define the faith against both Gnosticism and paganism, the former known for its esoteric secret knowledge and the latter for its vast pantheon of gods Gnostic Christianity was typically considered more dangerous because it was viewed as counterfeit — pretending to be a higher form of the faith Paganism was perceived to be outside the realm of the Christian faith Yet it too influenced early Christianity Leaders such as Tertullian wrote treatises against Gnosticism and adamantly insisted that Christian beliefs must not be influenced by pagan philosophy. But the urge to contextualize won the day, as it would in succeeding centuries. As full-time evangelists, apologists, and ordinary lay people brought new converts into the church, pagan terminology and rituals came with them.

PARADE OF HISTORY

As the procession of the early church moves into the fourth century, the air is filled with fury as churchmen hold forth in debate over doctrinal differences, debates that culminate in a procession of bishops, lesser clerics, criminals, and prostitutes to the First Ecumenical Council of Nicaea. The arguments of Athanasius win the day, but within a decade he begins the first of several marches into exile. In the meantime, his nemesis, Arius, dies in a most ignoble way while, according to an adversary, he “paraded proudly through the midst of the city.”

It is erroneous to imagine the Christian church as a major force in the Mediterranean world during the centuries before Constantine. Despite growing numbers, it remained an outlawed religion. Christians — both educated and ignorant classes alike — were generally looked upon as a nuisance and were known primarily as the objects of persecution. Population figures vary widely, but some historians have estimated that by the year 250 they made up less than 2 percent of the empire of some fifty million people. Others have claimed that there may have been as many as a million Christians in Egypt alone by the end of the third century. Whatever the statistics, the church began to wield influence beyond its numbers, especially as it was becoming institutionalized.

By 250 there were some one hundred bishops scattered throughout Italy, the most prestigious of these the Bishop of Rome. According to church records, he was supported by nearly fifty priests, fourteen deacons and subdeacons, some forty acolytes, and fifty exorcists as well as doorkeepers and readers. In the shadow of this hierarchy were fifteen hundred needy people, primarily widows and children who were said to be “fed by the grace and kindness of the Lord,” meaning from the church coffers. Rome was by no means the only thriving center of the faith during this time. Africa boasted more than one hub of the church, Carthage and Alexandria being the most prominent. Carthage was home to Tertullian, Cyprian, Augustine, and other North African churchmen, all Latin (as opposed to Greek) Christians.

During the third century Alexandria rapidly gained a reputation as an intellectual center of Christian scholarship and piety. Here Arius developed his theology. Before him came Clement, who, unlike Tertullian, was not afraid of pagan philosophy or Gnosticism. His student Origen specialized in allegorical interpretations of the biblical text and was in turn challenged by Antiochian scholars who had a much more literal bent.

THE EMPEROR CALLS A COUNCIL

Then … he convoked a general council, and invited the speedy attendance of bishops from all quarters, in letters expressive of the honorable estimation in which he held them. Nor was this merely the issuing of a bare command but the emperor’s good will contributed much to its being carried into effect: for he allowed some the use of the public means of conveyance, while he afforded to others an ample supply of horses for their transport. The place, too, selected for the synod, the city Nicaea in Bithynia (named from “victory”), was appropriate to the occasion. As soon then as the imperial injunction was generally made known, all with the utmost willingness hastened thither, as though they would outstrip one another in a race; for they were impelled by the anticipation of a happy result to the conference, by the hope of enjoying present peace, and the desire of beholding something new and strange in the person of so admirable an emperor. Now when they were all assembled, it appeared evident that the proceeding was the work of God, inasmuch as men who had been most widely separated, not merely in sentiment but also personally, and by difference of country, place, and nation, were here brought together, and comprised within the walls of a single city, forming as it were a vast garland of priests, composed of a variety of the choicest flowers.

Eusebius of Caesarea, The Life of the Blessed Emperor Constantine

In the early centuries after the apostle Paul made his massive footprint, no central figure can be credited for single-handedly furthering the cause of the faith. Evangelism was considered the work of every Christian, and anonymity was in many ways a positive attribute. An apostle Paul would have been an easy target, but tens of thousands of nameless evangelists were easily lost in the crowd.

If there is one figure who stands above all others during the early centuries of the church, it is Emperor Constantine. Official persecution in the Roman Empire ended with his reign. For that reason alone, he was a powerful force in the development of the Christian church. But his influence was perhaps even more striking as a theological arbiter. With the Edict of Milan in 313 (coming on the heels of the 311 Edict of Toleration), Christian worship was legalized, paving the way for future favored status. But Constantine’s pivotal role in the church was his call for the Council of Nicaea in 325. Nor did he step aside when the Council convened. His oversight profoundly influenced the course of church history.

Origen of Alexandria: Theologian and Allegorical Exegete

The blistering persecution set in motion by Emperor Septimus Severus in 202 that claimed the lives of Perpetua and her fellow catechumens tore apart the family of the young Origenes Adamatius (185 – 254). His story illustrates how devastating such state-sponsored terrorism was to families, often separated by dislocation, death, and desertions of the faith. But the very oppression that separated loved ones sometimes served to bring them closer together spiritually.

So it was with young Origen, who would become one of the leading systematic theologians of the early church. Born into a Christian home in Alexandria, he was the oldest of seven children. As a youth he memorized lengthy passages of the Bible and often perplexed his father, Leonides, with difficult theological questions. Leonides, a teacher of the Bible and Greek literature, was a Roman citizen. The happy home life was suddenly disrupted in 202, however, when Origen’s father was imprisoned.

The sixteen-year-old boy might have been utterly distraught, but instead the ordeal served to strengthen his faith. Fearing his father might forsake his faith out of devotion to the family, he pleads: “Do not change your mind because of us.” Indeed, he is so wrought up that he makes plans to turn himself over to authorities in the hope of joining his father in prison. His mother, however, foils his plans. She hides his clothes, knowing full well that her son could not endure the embarrassment of public nudity. Shortly afterward, Leonides is beheaded and his property confiscated, leaving his widow and young children in dire straits.

FINDING HIDDEN GEMS OF SPIRITUAL TRUTH

One major difference between Alexandrian and Antiochene theologies revolved around hermeneutics (biblical interpretation)…. Clement and Origen both sought to dig down through the various layers of meaning in the Bible to discover its hidden gems of spiritual truth separated from the crude literal and historical narratives and images.

When Alexandrian Christian scholars — whether living in Alexandria or elsewhere — read the Prophets and Apostles, they tended to find hidden references to the Logos and heavenly, spiritual existence everywhere.

Roger E. Olson, The Story of Christian Theology

EVERYDAY LIFE

Rival Cities and Schools

It is easy to imagine the Arian controversy arising in a remote period of time. But in some ways fourth-century cities were more modern than were cities in the intervening centuries. Scholars in Antioch and Alexandria would have been entirely out of place living in London among the teeming masses of the eighteenth-century Industrial Revolution.

A budding theologian residing in the ancient city of Antioch would have opportunities to stroll the colonnaded streets, walking by palaces and the public amphitheater. Though most likely living as an ascetic, he would have observed others enjoying the baths at its famed spa, drinking from the public fountains, attending the theater, and feasting in luxury at a Roman dining room adorned with colorful mosaics. Antioch was known as the “Athens” of the Near East — a cosmopolitan city of learning, literature, philosophy, religion, and the arts.

Located in southern Turkey, Antioch was the capital of Ancient Syria and the leading city of the Roman East. It was the trading hub on the crossroads of East and West and ranked with Rome, Carthage, and Constantinople as one of the four great cities of the Roman Empire. Its population grew to more than half a million by the fourth century.

A rival city, Alexandria boasted one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, its Pharos, or Lighthouse, as well as its second-to-none library established by Alexander the Great himself. Holding some 700,000 manuscripts — the whole corpus of knowledge accumulated by ancient philosophers, scientists, and poets — the library and museum are said to have been of unsurpassed beauty. The city was also a center of theological scholarship, providing residence for some of the most recognized scholars of the day: Clement, Origin, and Arius, to name a few.

THE CITY OF ALEXANDRIA

The first thing one noticed in entering Alexandria by the Gate of the Sun was the beauty of the city. A range of columns went from one end of it to the other. Advancing down them, I came in time to the place which bears the name of Alexander and there could see the other half of the town which was equally beautiful. For just as the colonnades stretched ahead of me, so did other colonnades now appear at right angles to them.

Achilles Tatius, AD 400

Illustration of the Pharos of Alexandria, lighthouse, one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient World, by Maerten van Heemskerck (1498-1574)

For early Christian scholars, the two cities were worlds apart in their theological perspectives Antioch, where believers were first called Christians, was home of the Antiochene school, fostering a straightforward biblical hermeneutic that interprets the text essentially as it reads, without spiritual or allegorical renderings In Alexandria, more influenced by Greek philosophy, allegorical interpretation flourished, particularly through the influential work of Origen.

Through the generosity of a benefactor, Origen is able to continue his studies for a year and then becomes a teacher in order to support his mother and siblings. Like his father, he teaches Greek literature and is particularly influenced by Plato. In the following years he serves as head of the catechetical school in Alexandria, a position left vacant when his predecessor fled persecution.

For Origen, theology is intricately tied to spiritual formation. He practices strict asceticism, denying himself normal pleasures in order to suffer with Christ. In fact, he takes the extreme measure of castrating himself to avert sexual desires, interpreting Matthew 19:12 literally: “There are those who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven.” Such drastic action, he likewise reasons, would preclude scandal in his teaching of young women. With his asceticism comes humanitarian outreach, primarily aiding those suffering under persecution. Some of his students are sentenced to death, and his own life is always in danger. Gone is his youthful desire for martyrdom. He now hides in homes of both pagans and Christians in order to escape execution.

Under Origen’s teaching and administration, the Alexandrian school grows. He sets aside time to learn Hebrew to facilitate his teaching of the Old Testament. His scholarship captures the attention of church leaders, and he is invited to preach and teach elsewhere, much to the chagrin of his bishop, Demetrius, who demands that he return home. How dare he tour as a celebrity speaker! “It has never been heard of and it never happens now,” the bishop seethes, “that laymen preach homilies in the presence of bishops.” But Origen’s fame continues to soar. Still in his early thirties, he is invited to tutor the empress, mother of Emperor Alexander Severus. Eusebius tells us: “As Origen’s renown spread everywhere and even came to her ears, she thought it very important to be favored with the sight of this man and to sample his understanding of divine matters which everyone was admiring.”

That Origen is so widely recognized as a great teacher and preacher is a threat to the less-than-secure Bishop Demetrius. Then as now, there is turf to defend for fear of losing prestige and status. And Origen, for his part, is not easily Muzzled. When he is traveling through the Mediterranean world, he spends time in Caesarea, where he is ordained by the bishop, who believes such acknowledgment of his ministerial gifts is appropriate. When Demetrius learns of this “breach of jurisdiction,” he is livid. He accuses Origen of teaching heresy and exposes the secret of his youthful self-castration. In the ensuing conflict, Origen is banned from Alexandria and his ordination is rendered null and void.

Other bishops, however, ignore the retraction of his ordination, and he is invited to serve as a priest and teacher under their jurisdictions. He eventually makes his home in Caesarea, where he combines his work of teaching, preaching, and writing in wide-ranging fields of biblical studies, theology, philosophy, natural science, and ethics. His intention, however, is not to establish a liberal arts program. Rather, his focus is mission outreach—bringing pagans into the faith through his appealing educational offerings. During the later years of his life, Origen travels as a theological consultant, frequently called upon to judge the orthodoxy of a particular churchman or teacher whose beliefs are in question. With the help of a wealthy benefactor, he is able to devote his time to research and writing.

Origen’s allegorical method of biblical interpretation places the spiritual meaning above the literal meaning of a given text. Yet to him the Bible is the very Word of God, divinely inspired — albeit filled with mysteries and double and triple meanings. How else, for example, could he view the creation account? Schooled in the sciences, he asks: “What man of intelligence will believe that the first and the second and the third day, and the evening and the morning, existed without the sun and moon and stars?” More than anything else, Origen’s writings offer a window of understanding into early Christian scholarship and imagination. His major treatise Against Celsus serves as a powerful defense of the faith. First Principles shows him to be an ostensibly orthodox theologian.

During the persecution under Emperor Decius, Origen was arrested and imprisoned. Although nearing seventy, he was afforded no mercy. According to Eusebius, his torture was severe. Among other agonies, his legs were “pulled four paces apart in the torturer’s stocks.” Released from prison, he died soon afterward.

Unlike many of the leading Christians of the early church, Origen will never be given the title of saint. In the sixth century he was deemed a heretic for several of his controversial views, including his belief in a Trinitarian hierarchy. But he held views even more abhorrent, what a critic called “the fabulous preexistence of souls” and “the monstrous restoration which follows from it.” This restoration was a form of universalism in which God’s love in the end prevails over his wrath.

GREGORY THE WONDERWORKER

What Origen does with words and allegorical biblical interpretation, Gregory (213 – 270) does with missions and miracles. Both are at heart evangelists. A student who converted to Christianity from paganism under the teaching of Origen, Gregory, a Bishop in Asia Minor, is best known for what might be termed allegorical miracles. For example, when two brothers are fighting over the ownership of a lake, Gregory splits the lake in two parts and gives a big pond to each of the boys. In another instance he moves a mountain. “Gregory was a great and conspicuous lamp, illuminating the church of God,” writes Basil, one of his biographers. “He possessed, from the co-operation of the Spirit, a formidable power against the demons, that he turned the course of rivers by giving them orders in the name of Christ; and that his predictions of the future made him the equal of other prophets.”

Arius: Challenging the Full Deity of Christ

The most significant and far-reaching matter of theological dispute in the fourth century was the Arian controversy, a showdown between those who held tenaciously to the trinitarian Godhead and the full deity of Christ and those who subordinated the Son to the Father — those who challenged the co-eternity and consubstantiality (of one being or substance) of the Son with the Father and regarded him as a created being. This conflict would be officially settled at the landmark Council of Nicaea, but the matter would live on for generations — indeed, to the present day.

Imagine Arius, a seminary student in Antioch with access to copies of ancient texts and having interaction with respected teachers like Lucian who guides his research. He is grappling with biblical issues, some very practical and related to daily living, others more theological in nature — though the discipline of theology is still an ill-defined area of scholarship. From “seminary” Arius moves on into ministry, first serving as a presbyter in Antioch and then in 313 moving to Alexandria to serve as a presbyter at St. Mark’s He quickly discovers that challenging church authority is not the way to climb the clerical career ladder of success. He is a presbyter, a position that provides him a pulpit, but his bishop is upset with his teachings, initially blaming his training at the rival school in Antioch.

Born in Libya and raised in Antioch, Arius (c. 250 – 336) is a fervent Christian and dedicated disciple of Jesus. Blessed with a brilliant mind and an engaging style, he has a reputation as a captivating preacher. He is described by an acquaintance as a tall, thin, serious ascetic, walking barefoot and unable to disguise his winsome personality. Above all, he is a superb salesman. He knows the popular mind and how to attract attention. He composes popular verses — little ditties — and puts them to music. One of his opponents complains that he can not go to the market without hearing such songs and becoming engaged in theological disputes with the butcher, the fruit vendor, and the bath attendant. Some point out that this young teacher has a disproportionate number of female supporters — women with loose morals, according to his bishop, Alexander.

The issues of the day are very complicated and culturally embedded. For example, how should Christians define themselves in relation to Jews and to the pagan culture and cults around them, especially in relation to Greek philosophy? The oneness of God is the clear teaching of the Jews, and the Christians accept the Hebrew canon as their own. That is a key consideration for Arius. The “cult of Jesus.” dare not forget its roots in Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Nor dare it become just another pagan cult by fashioning a man into a God.

In 319 these issues come to a head with Bishop Alexander, a key church leader in Alexandria under whom Arius is a mere presbyter. Alexander, suspicious of Arius, preaches a sermon meant especially for all the presbyters on “the great mystery of the Trinity in Unity.” Arius is frustrated. By merely couching the problem in mystery, he reasons, Alexander is refusing to face the issue head on. So Arius attacks his sermon, insisting that it fails to uphold a distinction among the persons in the Godhead. He is adamant that Christians avoid a polytheistic conception of God. He maintains that the concept of God must not be watered down — that God is God, absolutely transcendent.

Arius writes a letter to Alexander declaring that the faith he learned from his forefathers and even from Alexander himself must stand. That faith, he argues, is very simply summed up:

“We acknowledge one God … alone everlasting, alone without beginning … alone sovereign God … of the law and prophets and New Testament.”

Arius is well aware that followers of Jesus easily speak of Jesus as God. They speak of Christ as the Lord, the Savior, but he insists that these titles refer to Jesus in relationship to his disciples. He challenges the questions: How is Jesus Christ related to us? What does he mean for us? Rather, he insists, the question is: Who is Jesus Christ? Is he fully God, co-eternal and consubstantive, or is he subordinate to the Father? This question must not be clouded in mystery.

Arius could not have known that the questions he raised would have profound implications. Indeed, he responded so specifically and so vigorously that he forced the church to devote its energies to clarifying the matter, and for that alone he made a major contribution to theology.

Arius draws much of his own argument from the prologue to the Gospel of John. There is a difference, he contends, between God the Father and the Word (the Son of God). He likewise points to the writings of Paul: “For us there is one God, the Father from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist” (1 Cor. 8:6).

He also claims to be supporting the long-held beliefs of church tradition. Justin, for example, had written two Apologies that were widely heralded in the early church. “The most true God, the Father of righteousness,” Justin wrote, “and the Son, who came forth from him and taught us these things, and the army of the other good angels who follow him and are made like him, and the prophetic Spirit….”

Needless to say, Arius stirs up controversy. Alexander is irate. He suspends him from office. But Arius is not easily silenced. His theology is rational and appealing. He is a loyal and conservative Christian — fundamentalist, some would say — who is safeguarding the truth, especially that foundational truth the church must not abandon, namely, the monarchy or the sole rule of God. Saying that the Son is co-eternal with the Father, he insists, suggests polytheism, a claim that his Hebrew forefathers would have adamantly opposed. They looked for the messiah, but not a messiah who is the Son of God — God himself.

The tables are turned as Arius, accused of making Jesus lesser than God, is charged with a polytheistic construction. As the debate grows more intense, Alexander manages to have Arius condemned. But Arius has his own friends in high places. He flees to the palace of Eusebius, the bishop of Nicomedia (not to be confused with his contemporary, Bishop Eusebius of Caesarea, the “Father of Church History”).

Like Arius, Eusebius has studied under Lucian and insists that Greek philosophical understanding of such terms as substance is alien to the Judeo-Christian experience and sacred Scripture. Yet their opponents are employing these words as though they come straight out of the Gospels. Eusebius admires Arius’s youth and spunk and is pleased to have him saying things he dare not say himself. But the safe haven at the palace solves nothing. The quarrel only escalates. Everyone, it seems, is getting involved. Indeed, so contentious is the conflict that it is threatening the unity of the empire. Emperor Constantine tries to settle the dispute through letters, but failing to do so, he calls a council of the bishops of the church — the Council of Nicaea (AD 325).

The First Council of Nicaea

Here Athanasius comes to the fore, challenging the rational arguments of Arius with solid biblical reasoning of his own. He insists that there is no place in Christian thought for any kind of an intermediate being between God and man, between Creator and creature. And he argues persuasively that true redemption is accomplished only through God the Son, not an intermediary. Athanasius wins the day at the Council of Nicaea: the Father and the Son are co-eternal and of one substance (homoousios). Arius is exiled from Alexandria. But the story is not over. Arius has a large and loyal following, support that seems to be growing with every passing year. The emperor is sympathetic and demands that he be restored to his former position. Athanasius is adamant. He knows all too well that the theological views of Arius have not changed. He wins a temporary victory, but his authoritarian spirit rubs many people the wrong way.

By 335 at the First Synod of Tyre, a decade after the Council of Nicaea, the tide is turning toward Arius, and now Athanasius is exiled to Gaul, a coup accomplished largely by Eusebius, thanks to his connections with Emperor Constantine. The bishops who support Athanasius are barred from the meeting. False accusations help seal the deal, including an accusation by a woman who claims that Athanasius tried to seduce her. Other witnesses claim that he threatened to keep shipments of grain from leaving Alexandria on their way to Constantinople.

So once again Arius is back. But before he can re-enter the church and celebrate communion, he dies very suddenly. An unfriendly source records the gory details:

It was then Saturday, and … going out of the imperial palace, attended by a crowd of Eusebian partisans like guards, [Arius] paraded proudly through the midst of the city, attracting the notice of all the people. As he approached the place called Constantine’s Forum, where the column of porphyry is erected, a terror arising from the remorse of conscience seized Arius, and with the terror a violent relaxation of the bowels: he therefore enquired whether there was a convenient place near, and being directed to the back of Constantine’s Forum, he hastened thither.

Soon after a faintness came over him, and together with the evacuations his bowels protruded, followed by a copious hemorrhage, and the descent of the smaller intestines: moreover portions of his spleen and liver were brought off in the effusion of blood, so that he almost immediately died. The scene of this catastrophe still is shown at Constantinople, as I have said, behind the shambles in the colonnade: and by persons going by pointing the finger at the place….

ARIANS WORSHIPING CHRIST

The Arians found prayer to the Logos an unavoidable element of Christian worship…. The Arians also continued the practice of baptizing in the name not only of the Father, but also of the Son and of the Holy Spirit…. The Arian doctrine of Christ as creature collided with the tradition of describing him as God; but the Arian use of the titles Logos and Son of God, which together had come to summarize the central meaning of that tradition, made the collision between the two quite ambiguous. In fact, it is misleading to speak of “the two” as though Arianism and orthodoxy were such obvious alternatives throughout the controversy.

Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition

Whether this less-than-believable account of his death was God’s supernatural judgment, as many Nicene Christians believed, or whether he was the victim of poisoning by his enemies, is a matter that has long been debated. Arius was gone but not soon forgotten. His legacy would be carried on by “heretics” throughout church history.

Athanasius: Defending Orthodoxy

Like Arius, Athanasius was a man with many enemies. “Black Dwarf,” they sneered Short of stature and dark-skinned, Athanasius (c. 296 – 373) was born into a Christian family in Alexandria. Entering school at an early age, he was well educated in Greek literature, theology, and biblical studies. The church was a natural occupational choice — a career path offering prominence but not without pain. He was exiled five times — banished from Alexandria for a total of seventeen years out of his forty-five-year tenure as bishop. The life of Saint Athanasius, who is considered one of the greatest saints of Eastern Orthodoxy, is couched in legend, perhaps the most beloved story being that of his baptism into holy orders.

Hosting a gathering at his house by the sea, Bishop Alexander of Alexandria looks out across the sand one day and notices a group of boys playing in the water. But then, peering more closely, he realizes that they are not playing a game or engaging in horseplay as boys typically do. There is something strange about their activities — activities that appear to be all too church-like. So he sends an aide to “catch” the boys and bring them back for interrogation. The boys initially lie, but under pressure they break down and admit they are playing church. Little Athanasius, as the story goes, is pretending to be a bishop, following church order in quizzing his friends, and then administering the sacrament of baptism. So impressed is Alexander with this little boy bishop, that he takes him under his wing, and Athanasius dutifully follows in his footsteps.

According to Gregory of Nazianzus, Athanasius “was brought up, from the first, in religious habits and practices, after a brief study of literature and philosophy, so that he might not be utterly unskilled in such subjects.” But the pious youth “could not brook being occupied in vanities.” So he began “meditating on every book of the Old and New Testament, [and] with a depth such as none else has applied even to one of them, he grew rich in contemplation, rich in splendor of life.”

Athanasius

After completing his formal studies, Athanasius is ordained a deacon and serves as Bishop Alexander’s secretary, living in his home. Soon after the much older Arius makes known his theological views, the bishop issues an encyclical signed by Athanasius accusing Arius of heretical beliefs: “The Son is a creature and a work; neither is he like in essence to the Father; neither is he the true and natural Word of the Father; neither is he his true wisdom; but he is one of the things made and created and is called the Word and Wisdom by an abuse of terms.” Alexander calls for a council in Alexandria, and more than one hundred bishops in the region attend. It is no surprise that Arius is declared anathema. Yet he continues preaching until he is forcibly driven out of the area.

Emperor Constantine has no patience for what he imagines are petty issues. He sends letters to both Alexander and Arius, insisting they settle the matter between them and their respective supporters. Having only recently consolidated his imperial power as sole emperor, he is determined to preserve unity in the empire. The church is a key to success. “Division in the church,” he grumbles, “is worse than war.”

With little hope of resolution, Constantine decides to call a council at Nicaea in the summer of 325, chosen in part for good weather forecasts and for its close proximity to his palatial mansion. Although some eighteen hundred bishops throughout the empire are invited, only a few hundred show up. This is the First Ecumenical Council — a meeting of the whole church as opposed to a church in one region. Here Arius is condemned as a heretic, and anyone preaching his ideas or even possessing his manuscripts may be convicted of a capital crime. The trinitarian concept of the Godhead is deemed orthodoxy — a concept as complicated as it is simple. Homoousios, the full deity of Christ the Son, is defined by that Greek word meaning “of one substance” — Christ is one substance with the Father.

Athanasius publishes On the Incarnation and is celebrating victory. But the compromise made at the Council of Nicaea quickly begins to fall apart. By 328 Constantine is having second thoughts, and he brings out of exile two key Arian bishops In that same year Alexander dies, and Athanasius, who only three years earlier has become a deacon, takes his place — all part of the political intrigue of the fourth century But that promotion does not preclude banishment, nor does it signal growing support for the Nicene formula. The occasion of his first banishment brings together all the rumor and subterfuge the ancient world can muster Both sides specialize in tall tales Banishing a bishop for heresy is not nearly as interesting as intrigue involving murder and magic.

BIBLE VERSES vERSUS GREEK WORDS AT THE COUNCIL OF NICAEA

The Arians and their sympathizers argued strongly for the use only of biblical wording. Alexander and his aide Athanasius recognized this as a ploy. The Arians had become adept at “Scripture twisting” so that any biblical terminology could be interpreted in their favor. The only way to bring closure to the debate and make clear once for all that Arian subordinationism was heretical was to use extrabiblical terminology that clearly spells out the unity of Father and Son as equal within the Godhead.

Roger E. Olson, The Story of Christian Theology

“Jesus whom I know as my Redeemer cannot be less than God.”

Athanasius

One side hurls accusations; the other side fends them off and hurls their own A particular case relates to Arian Bishop Arsenius Was he really kidnapped? If so, was it a contrived plot by the Arian side to blame Athanasius for plotting to murder him through magic? Or was the whole thing cooked up by the Athanasian forces in an effort to discredit the Arians? The matter comes to a head at a Synod in Tyre in 335 Charges of prostitution are added to those of murder In the end, the prostitute apparently picks someone other than Athanasius out of the line-up But the soap opera does not end here.

Slander is piled upon slander, and the late-night pagan comedians have the last laugh.

In the end, Athanasius is banished to Gaul (present-day France and Germany) on charges that he conspired to withhold Egyptian wheat from the market in an apparent effort to starve the Arian East into submission He returns home in 337 but is banished again in 339 by the new emperor, Constantius, who is allied with the Arians Away for seven years, Athanasius spends most of his time in Rome and Milan.

Upon Athanasius’s return home in 346 the citizens of Alexandria are so excited that a revival breaks out “How many unmarried women who were before ready to enter upon marriage,” exults Athanasius, “now remained virgins to Christ! How many young men, seeing the examples of others, embraced the monastic life!” The widows and orphans are now cared for — so much so “that you would have thought every family and every house a Church by reason of the goodness of its inmates and the prayers which were offered to God.”

But a decade later Athanasius is again banished During this time he writes, among other works, his own history of Arianism and several tracts against the heresy His best-selling manuscript, however, is a biography, Life of St. Antony. He knows the desert monk, and he accepts his stories as truth, including incredible tales of Antony’s tangling with Satan Exiled twice more, Athanasius finally returns to Alexandria for the remaining seven years of his life. A year after his final exile he writes his yearly letter to the churches under his care, setting forth the definitive list of documents contained in the New Testament canon, listing all twenty-seven books as we know them today.

Several years after his death in 373, the Ecumenical Council of Constantinople reaffirmed the Nicene orthodoxy that he had put forward some fifty years earlier. More than any other fourth-century churchman, he is responsible for the orthodox position hammered out at Nicaea. Perdition awaited those who did not fall in line: “Which Faith except every one do keep whole and undefiled, without doubt he shall perish everlastingly.”

The Eastern Mediterranean

From this point on in church history there is often a vast chasm between the Nicene Christians and the Arian Christians, though they both continue to claim insider status in the church until the Ecumenical Council of Constantinople in 381 that settles once and for all that Arians are heretics. Thus it is no surprise that throughout church history Athanasius has been given a good press. During the decades of controversy between the two councils, however, there is no certainty as to which side will prevail. Indeed, the Arians outnumber those in the orthodox camp by large majorities. According to a report from Jerome, millions had been captured by the Arian heresy, including some eighty percent of the bishops. Athanasius receives letters expressing alarm at what is going on. “The heresy long ago disseminated by that enemy of truth, Arius, grew to a shameless height,” writes a correspondent, “and like a bitter root it is bearing its pernicious fruit and already gaining the upper hand.”

WHICH CHRIST WILL YOU DIE FOR?

Athanasius stared down murderous intruders into his church. He stood before emperors who could have killed him as easily as exiled him. He risked the wrath of parents and other clergy by consciously training young people to give their all for Christ, including martyrdom…. What was clear to Athanasius was that propositions about Christ carried convictions that could send you to heaven or to hell…. I believe Athanasius would have abominated, with tears … the so-called “reformists” and “the emerging church,” “younger evangelicals,” “postfundamentalists,” “postfoundationalists,” “postpropositionalists,” and “postevangelicals.” I think he would have said, “Our young people in Alexandria die for the truth of propositions about Christ. What do your young people die for?” And if the answer came back, “We die for Christ, not propositions about Christ,” I think he would have said, “That’s what Arius says. So which Christ will you die for?.”

John Piper, Contending for Our All, 2006

So uncertain is the future that Arianism is portrayed in end-times proportions. “Has the Lord completely abandoned His Church?” asks a dejected supporter of Athanasius. “Has the hour then come and is the fall beginning in this way so that now the man of sin is clearly revealed, the son of perdition, who … is lifted up above all that is called God or that is worshiped?” Despite the sense of despair, there are many attempts to mend fences. During the decades between 340 and 360, councils are convened in Sardica, Sirminum, Rimini, and Selucia. Indeed, there are so many meetings that a pagan writer makes sport of the situation, claiming that “the highways were covered with galloping bishops.” By another account, “bishop was contending against bishop, and the people. were contending against one another, like swarms of gnats fighting in the air” — all part of the messy history of theology.

Constantine: A Questionably Christian Emperor

Emperor Constantine (c. 272 – 327) was the first Christian emperor. Or was he? Whether he was a sincere believer or only used religion as a talisman or as a way to unite his empire has been debated for centuries. Growing up an army brat in Serbia, he saw little of his father, Flavius Constantius, an officer who worked his way up through the ranks. Constantine’s mother, Helena, had grown up in a poor family living near the Black Sea. Working as an inn-keeper when she met his father, Helena was a “consort” rather than a wife and thus became an “unwed mother.” The lack of a marriage certificate did not diminish her prospects for sainthood, however. In fact, in Eastern Orthodoxy she is commemorated with her son, Emperor Constantine, on May 21, the “Feast of the Holy Great Sovereigns Constantine and Helen, Equal to the Apostles.”

CHURCH FATHERS vERSUS HERETICS

The study of early Christian doctrine has been transformed by a change in attitude toward heresy and the heresiarchs. Gone is the picture of the gradual flowering of a single, consistent vision of Christian truth, developing only in the sense of receiving an increasing precision of expression, something forced on the church by the need to combat perversions of that truth deliberately introduced by malevolent heretics. In its place has come a picture of the Christian church seeking to discover what the truth might be in the context of always-changing conditions and new problems. In that revised picture the roles of “father” and “heretic” are much less sharply contrasted. Pelagius and Nestorius are not seen as men of evil will; they are seen rather as Christians determined to defend some aspect of Christian truth that was genuinely at risk in the teaching of St. Augustine or of St. Cyril. Even if their overall presentation of the faith be judged less satisfactory than that of their ultimately canonized opponents, they were standing out for important Christian insights to which their orthodox Christian opponents did not do full justice…. Such an attitude does not involve denying the reality of the issues that divided them. It only involves saying that true insight was not the exclusive prerogative of one side.

Maurice F. Wiles, Archetypal Heresy

THE SEVEN ECUMENICAL COUNCILS

325 First Council of Nicaea: convened by Constantine, established the Nicene Creed that affirmed the full deity of Christ

381 First Council of Constantinople: convened by Theodosius I, reaffirming the Council of Nicaea and its rejection of Arianism

432 Council of Ephesus: convened to renounce the teaching of Nestorius that Christ has two separate natures, human and divine; declared that Mary is theotokos, Mother of God

451 Council of Chalcedon: convened to reaffirm that Christ is at the same time “truly man and truly God” in one person

553 Second Council of Constantinople: convened by Justinian in a move to placate Monophysite Christians by condemning more Nestorian writings

680 Third Council of Constantinople: convened to refute the teaching that Christ had two natures but only one will and asserted that Christ had both a human and divine will

787 Second Council of Nicaea: convened by Constantine V to restore the veneration of icons in the Eastern church

When Constantine is twenty, his father, on orders of Emperor Diocletian, separates from Helena and marries Theodora Helena then loses her status and lives in the shadows until her son rises to power after the death of his father more than a decade later In 325 she is brought back to live a royal life at the center of power Now she becomes a collector of relics, and through her travels she not only popularizes the practice of pilgrimage but also identifies the most significant holy sites She reportedly points to the very spot where the cross was buried and later discovers the stump of the tree from which the cross was hewn and the very nails that pierced the hands and feet of Jesus. This queen of relics even identifies the bones of the three wise men from the East Through her influence great churches are built on hallowed ground that she identifies — in Bethlehem at the site of the nativity and in Jerusalem at the place of the ascension.

Helena’s saintliness is attested by the historian Eusebius: “She became under [her son’s] influence such a devout servant of God that one might believe her to have been from her very childhood a disciple of the Redeemer of mankind.” The story of Constantine’s vision of a cross in the noon-day sky also comes from Eusebius and is one of the most well-known conversion accounts in Christian literature — if it is indeed a conversion account.

Emperor Constantine I with a model of the city

The date is October 28, 312. The setting is the ancient stone Milvian Bridge that spans the Tiber River near the gate of Rome Constantine is nervous His troops are outnumbered by the army of Maxentius stationed behind the walls of Rome with enough provisions to withstand a long siege. The prospects of winning are not good for the pagan general. Then at noon he sees a cross above the sun with the words “Conquer by this.”

Why Maxentius came out of town to do open battle with his adversary is a mystery to military experts. In the end, due to his poor strategy or to the intervention of God, the victory belongs to Constantine, paving the way for him to become the sole emperor of both East and West.

As a Christian emperor, Constantine gets high marks for the Edict of Milan in 313 that secures toleration of Christianity and ends the persecution that began with Nero. But while ending persecution from pagans he disregards the Christian pacifist tradition and inaugurates a long history of Christian fratricide. He sends troops to North Africa to attack the Donatists, a breakaway sect of Christian purists.

Constantine’s sins also include murder — and not merely murder of his distant enemies. He arranges the murder even of his son and one of his wives. His Christian credentials are found wanting in other matters as well. Before he professed to follow the Christian God, he was partial to the sun god, a god who continued to be in good standing with him long after his cross-above-the-sun vision. His coins featured the sun god on one side and the name of Christ on the other. Thus Sunday, so-called by Constantine, was on his orders set aside as the day of worship.

Constantine’s delayed baptism also throws a damper on any claim to his saintliness. Apparently fearing the sacrament would not take because of his wicked ways, he postpones it until he is on his deathbed in 337. Then he contacts Bishop Eusebius of Nicomedia to officiate. Setting aside his imperial purple garb, he dresses in white and rests on a white sofa to symbolize his new spiritual status. That Eusebius is an Arian is one final snub by the emperor to Athanasius and orthodoxy in the Western church. In an effort to rectify the matter, however, an apocryphal account was later circulated that falsely claims that Constantine was baptized in Rome by Pope Sylvester. The end for Constantine comes, according to Eusebius, at “about the time of the midday sun,” reminiscent of the vision a quarter-century earlier—symbolism fitting an emperor.

THE FATHER OF CHURCH HISTORY

Historians cannot help thinking and writing subjectively, particularly if the subject matter is held dear. This was true of Eusebius of Caesarea (c. 263 – 339), the most noted church historian of the early centuries. But despite his pro-Christian and pro-Arian bias, his works are invaluable. He saved records that would otherwise have been lost. But his own biography (written by the bishop who succeeded him) did not survive the ravages of time, so his life is shrouded in obscurity. Most references to Eusebius in church history texts are to Bishop Eusebius of Caesarea as opposed to his contemporary, Bishop Eusebius of Nicomedia, who was so pro-Arian that Athanasius referred to the Arians as the Eusebians.

Eusebius of Caesarea was more concerned with Christian unity than with taking a strong stand on one side or the other. But the passion he passed down as a gift to later generations was his work as a historian. “I feel inadequate to do it justice as the first to venture on such an undertaking, a traveler on a lonely and untrodden path,” he penned in the introduction to his multivolume Ecclesiastical History. “But I pray that God may guide me and the power of the Lord assist me, for I have not found even the footprints of any predecessors on this path, only traces in which some have left various accounts of the times in which they lived.”

These prior record-keepers sustained him: “Calling as from a distant watchtower, they tell me how I must walk in guiding the course of this work to avoid error.” He set the stage for good primary research, in part because there was so little opportunity for research in secondary sources: “I have gathered from the scattered memoirs of my predecessors whatever seems appropriate to this project, plucking, as it were, flowers from the literary fields of the ancient authors themselves.”

MURDERS AND RUMORS OF ILLICIT LOVE

As Constantine’s wife, Fausta would have had good reason to oppose Crispus as Constantine’s favorite, in favor of her own son…. Some historians conjecture that Fausta hatched a plot to inspire Constantine’s suspicions against Crispus. All that is certain is that in 326 … Constantine ordered the murder of his firstborn son and the obliteration of the name Crispus from imperial history…. If Fausta did falsely conspire against Crispus, and if, after the murder, Constantine learned [perhaps from Helena] that he had been misled by Fausta, that would account for what happened next. So would another, simpler explanation that some historians favor — namely, that Crispus and his stepmother Fausta were lovers. What we do know is in that same fateful year, shortly after murdering his son, Constantine murdered his wife…. Eusebius promoted only the happiest of images in all his accounts, and having designated Constantine as the new Moses, he makes no mention of the murders of his wife and son.

James Carroll, Constantine’s Sword

Constantine’s life illustrates the malevolence and messiness of this era — an era that set the stage for orthodox faith for the ensuing centuries. Saintly heroes were in short supply. Sin and shame had free reign, then as now.

What if….

What if Constantine had been killed in battle or by a zealous and jealous rival or wife? What if the church had remained a persecuted pilgrim faith? What if the Council of Nicaea had not been called together and become a pivotal turning point in the early church? How different the Christian faith would be today.

What if the Arians had carried the day at the Council of Nicaea and in the generations that followed? What if the church had split down the middle over Arianism with the Eastern church going one way and the Western another?

Or, what if the Western church had split into two camps or gone the way of the Arians? The counterfactuals are infinite. Imagine church “orthodoxy” being the view of Arius. Would the Reformation have come early with the insistence that Athanasius was right? Would the sixteenth-century Reformation, fashioned as it was, have occurred at all?

What if Eusebius had found himself too busy with his ministry as bishop to pursue his avocation as a historian? How much poorer we would be today without his writings.

Further Reading

Anatolios, Khaled. Athanasius. New York: Routledge, 2004.

Ayers, Lewis. Nicaea and Its Legacy: An Approach to Fourth-Century Trinitarian Theology. New York: Oxford University Press, 2006.

Carroll, James. Constantine’s Sword: The Church and the Jews. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2001.

Kousoulas, D. G. The Life and Times of Constantine the Great: The First Christian Emperor. New York: Routledge, 1997.

McGuckin, John Anthony. The Westminster Handbook to Patristic Theology. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2004.

MacMullen, Ramsay. Voting about God in Early Church Councils. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006.

Olson, Roger E. The Story of Christian Theology. Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 1999.

Rusch, William C. The Trinitarian Controversy. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1980.

Trigg, Joseph W. Origen. New York: Routledge, 1998.

Wiles, Maurice F. Archetypal Heresy: Arianism Through the Centuries. New York: Oxford University Press, 2001.

Williams, Rowan. Arius: Heresy and Tradition. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987.

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