The Arian Controversy

Trial at Aquileia

It is September 3, Anno Domini 381. The place is Aquileia, a town of northern Italy. Two “Arian” bishops of the Eastern church — Palladius and Secundianus — are on trial before thirty Italian bishops. The charge is heresy.

For many years controversy has raged over the status of the Son of God. Is he true God of true God? Or is he divine in some lesser sense?

Two generations earlier the Council of Nicea had decided for the former. Arius, a priest of Alexandria, Egypt, who had ignited the controversy, maintained the latter.

Palladius and Secundianus have come to Aquileia under a misapprehension, expecting a general council of the church. Palladius has specifically asked the emperor Gratian whether Eastern bishops (who include many of his allies) are coming and has been assured that they are. But later, at the urging of Ambrose of Milan, the emperor has changed his mind. The council becomes a gathering of local Italian bishops and just the two Easterners.

When Palladius and Secundianus arrive, they discover they have been trapped. Palladius asks to meet with the Italians for a “private conversation.” But when he and Secundianus enter the basilica designated for the meeting, they are shunted to a small sacristy at one side, where they find themselves facing a dais upon which are seated Ambrose and a half-dozen other bishops. This is not to be a discussion, but a trial.

Palladius sits below the dais; Secundianus to one side.

Two accounts of the proceedings have come down to us — a transcript by stenographers appointed by Ambrose (the “Acts of the Council of Aquileia” ) and a description by Palladius (the “Fragments of Palladius”).ⁱ Although Palladius objects that the stenographers are biased, it appears that they acted much like modern court reporters and transcribed verbatim what was said, including not only many of Palladius’ most telling points but also the blunders and brutalities of the Italians. Surprisingly, there is only minor disagreement between Palladius’ account and Ambrose’s.

The text below is mostly my translation from the “Acts,” rounded out by the insertion of a few materials from the “Fragments,” and considerably simplified, especially by the elimination of repetitions and obscurities. In a few places I have added words of clarification. But the words, the events, the methods of argument, the attitudes, the give and take — all are true to the originals.

The “council” proceeds as follows —

Ambrose: Let the imperial rescript be read.

The deacon Sabinianus: We, Gratian, desiring that the clergy not be divided by ambiguity of doctrine, have ordered the bishops to gather in the city of Aquileia. We appoint the prelates themselves as arbiters in this controversy so that those from whom come instructions in doctrine are also those who untangle inconsistencies.

Without modifying the content of our earlier decree we wish now to prevent a useless superfluity of participants. Ambrose has made us see that there is no need of a crowd and that he himself and the clergy of the neighboring cities of Italy are perfectly capable of replying to the adverse party. We have decided, accordingly, not to impose on venerable men the fatigue of travel to unknown lands and the handicaps that come with great age or poor health or poverty.

Ambrose: Palladius, you have read Arius’ blasphemous letter to Alexander.ⁱⁱ It says that only the Father is eternal. If it seems to you that the Son of God is not eternal, give a proof in any manner you wish.

Palladius: You have connived to keep this gathering from being a full and general council. In the absence of our colleagues, the Eastern bishops, we cannot declare ourselves on matters of faith.

Ambrose: There has already been a council of Eastern bishops.ⁱⁱⁱ Now we’re having a Western one.

Palladius: Our emperor Gratian ordered the Easterners to come. Do you deny that he gave that order? The emperor himself told us that he ordered the Easterners to come.

Ambrose: Certainly he gave the order, since he did not forbid coming here.

Palladius: But the request was made in such a way as to keep them from coming. You remade the council under a deception.

Ambrose: We’re wasting our time. You have avoided debate long enough. Give us an answer. Was Arius right to say that the Father alone is eternal?

Palladius: I will not answer. You have not acted properly with your intrigues to deceive the emperor.

Bishops: When the emperor was at Sirmium, did you speak to him or did he force your hand?

Palladius: He told me to come here. I asked whether the Eastern bishops had been told to come. He said they had. Would we have come here if the Easterners had not been asked to come?

Ambrose: Let’s leave this question of the Easterners. What I want to know is your opinion. You’ve heard the letter of Arius. You deny being an Arian. Today either condemn Arius or take up his defense.

Palladius: You have no authority to demand that.

Ambrose: You’re the one who asked for this meeting.

Palladius: We absolutely refuse to answer your questions without waiting upon the judgment of a future council.

Ambrose: My fellow bishops, those who deny that the Son of God is eternal have been unanimously condemned. Arius denies it. Palladius does not condemn Arius. Therefore he too denies it. Ask yourselves then whether what he says is in accordance with the Scriptures or contrary to the Scriptures. The answer is easy, for we read that the power and divinity of God is eternal. And who but Christ is the power of God! Therefore Christ is eternal.

Eusebius: Such is the catholic faith. Let him be anathema who does not concur.

All the bishops: Anathema!

Eusebius: Arius says that only the Father is eternal and that the Son began one day.

Palladius: I have never seen Arius and I do not know who he is.

Eusebius: Do you condemn his lying faith as well as its author, or do you maintain it?

Palladius: Here — where there is no authority of a general council — I say nothing.

Ambrose: You hesitate to condemn? — after God has judged him by making him die like Judas, bursting open in the middle!

Ambrose motions to stenographers at the rear: Come forward. Take notes of our proceedings.

Palladius and Secundianus jump to their feet and turn to leave the room. Bishops from Gaul block their way, pushing them back. Palladius and Secundianus return to their seats.

Ambrose: You venerable delegates from Gaul, what do you say?

Constantius and Justus of Gaul: Let him be anathema!

All the bishops: Anathema!

Ambrose: Listen to the next passage from the letter.

Clerk: “The Father is alone eternal, alone without beginning, alone true, alone possessing immortality.”

Ambrose: What do you say about this?

Palladius: That Christ is the true Son. Who can say the contrary?

Ambrose: Arius denied it.

Palladius: Since the Apostle says that Christ is “over all, God blessed forever” [Romans 9:5], can anyone deny that he is the true Son of God?

Ambrose: I say the same, but that’s incomplete. If you mean to confess the faith plainly, declare the Son of God to be true God, in this same word order.

Palladius: I’m using the language of scripture. The syllables —even the letters — of divine scripture must be devoutly preserved. Therefore, in accordance with the Scriptures, I say that the true Son of God is Lord.

Ambrose: Do you say that the Son is “true Lord God”?

Palladius: When I say “true Son,” what more do you wish?

Ambrose: I’m not asking you to say just “true Son,” but that the Son is “true Lord God.”

Palladius: He is the true Son of God.

Eusebius: Do you confess that the true Son of God is “true Lord God”?

Palladius: The true Son of God is only-begotten.

Eusebius: Do you think then that it would be contrary to the Scriptures to say that Christ is true God?

Palladius: When the Son says to the Father, “that they may know you, the only true God, and him whom you have sent, Jesus Christ,” [John 17:3] wasn’t he completely sincere?

Ambrose: John says in his letter, “He is true God.” [1 John 5:20] Go ahead. Say the contrary.

Palladius: When I say to you, “true Son,” I also confess the true divinity.

Ambrose: You’re pulling a trick again. You keep saying, “the true divinity,” meaning the true divinity of the Father alone, and not also of the Son. So in order to be clear, say what John said, “He is true God,” or else deny that this has been said.

Palladius: No other has been begotten except the Son.

Eusebius: Is Christ true God or isn’t he? — in your opinion.

Palladius: He is the power of God.

Ambrose: You’re not being open.

Ambrose turns towards the other bishops — Let him be anathema who does not proclaim the true Son of God to be true Lord God.

All the bishops: Let him be anathema who does not say that Christ, the Son of God, is true Lord God.

The clerk reads: “Alone true, alone possessing immortality.”

Ambrose: Does the Son of God possess immortality or not, with respect to his divinity?

Palladius: Do you recognize the authority of the Apostle? He says of the Father, “The King of kings, who alone possesses immortality.” [1 Timothy 6:15–16]

Ambrose: About Christ, the Son of God, what do you say?

Palladius: Is the title “Christ” a human title?

Ambrose hesitates for a moment, then says: Both human and divine at the same time.

Palladius: Therefore, you must believe that it is not only Christ the human being who suffered in the crucifixion but God as well — which you have denied.

Eusebius: Why are you fixing on such minute details? When the impious text of Arius was read just now that says the Father is “alone the possessor of immortality,” you came to its support.

Palladius: I’ve been asking you questions too. And you’re choosing not to answer.

Ambrose: Give me your plain opinion. Does the Son of God possess immortality by virtue of his divine generation or doesn’t he?

Palladius: By virtue of his divine generation he is incorruptible; by his humanity he died.

Ambrose: It is not the divinity that died, but the humanity.

Palladius: Why don’t you answer my questions?

Ambrose: Are your insidious and treacherous questions inspired by the faith of Arius?

Ambrose addresses the bishops — What do all of you think of one who denies that the Son of God possesses immortality?

All the bishops: Let him be anathema!

Palladius: The divine nature is immortal.

Ambrose: That’s another trick. You’re not speaking plainly of the Son of God. And I say the Son of God possesses immortality by virtue of his divinity.

Palladius: Did Christ die or not?

Ambrose: In his humanity. It is in his humanity that he suffered. In his divinity he possesses immortality. Anyone who denies that is a demon.

Palladius: Does this upset you, this saying of scripture? — “The Lord created me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts of long ago. Ages ago I was set up, at the first, before the beginning of the earth. Before the mountains had been shaped, before the hills, I was brought forth.” [Proverbs 8:22–23, 25.] Do you wish this passage were condemned since it calls the Son a creature?

Ambrose: That’s not what I want. I know how the passage goes. But it’s not speaking of the Son’s divinity; it’s referring to his humanity.

Palladius: You understand scripture badly, for clearly it is not the humanity that was “created at the beginning,” or “set up ages ago,” or “brought forth before the mountains.”

Ambrose: Let’s move on. Arius piled up many impieties.

Clerk: “Alone wise.”

Palladius: The Father is wise in himself. The Son is not.

Ambrose: So the Son is not wise; whereas he is Wisdom in person?

Palladius: He is called Wisdom. Who can deny that he is Wisdom?

Ambrose: Is he wise or not?

Palladius: He is Wisdom.

Ambrose: Therefore he is wise, since he is Wisdom?

Palladius: We are answering you in the words of scripture. Scripture calls him Wisdom but does not call him wise.

Ambrose: As far as I can see, Palladius is denying that the Son of God is wise.

Eusebius: Let him be anathema who denies that the Son of God is wise.

All the bishops: Anathema!

Palladius: We read, “I am the good shepherd.” Who would deny that the Son of God is good?

Ambrose: So Christ is good?

Palladius: He is good.

Ambrose: Then Arius is wrong when he says that the Father alone is good?

Palladius: Whoever does not say that Christ is good speaks badly.

Eusebius: But are you saying that Christ is good as God? I too am good, as a human being, since he has said of me, “Well done, good servant.” [Matthew 25:21]

Palladius: The Father who is good has begotten a Son who is good.

Ambrose: Are you saying that the Son of God is good as God?

Palladius: The Son of God is good.

Ambrose: So you say that Christ is the good Son, but not the good God, as we ask you to?

Let him be anathema who does not confess the Son of God to be the good God.

All the bishops: Anathema!

Clerk: “Omnipotent.”

Ambrose: Is the Son of God powerful or not?

Palladius: Isn’t he who made all things powerful?

Ambrose: Then Arius spoke badly? On this point at least you condemn Arius?

Palladius: How do I know who he is? I answer for myself.

Ambrose: Is the Son of God the powerful Lord God?

Palladius: He is powerful.

Ambrose: The powerful Lord God?

Palladius: The powerful Son of God.

Ambrose: But human beings are powerful too. What I am asking is that you confess that Christ, the Son of God, is the powerful Lord God; or else, if you deny it, give some proofs. As for me, I say that the Son of God is as powerful as the Father. Do you hesitate to say that the Son of God is the powerful Lord God?

Palladius: I have already told you that in an open debate we will respond as best we can. You’re trying instead to be sole judge. You’re trying to have a trial, not an open debate. We will not answer you now, but we will in a full, general council.

Ambrose: Anathema to him who denies that Christ is the powerful Lord God.

All the bishops: Anathema!

Clerk: “Alone powerful, judge of all.”

Palladius: The Son of God is judge of all.

Ambrose: Is he judge by grace or by nature? Human beings are also given the grace to judge.

Palladius: Do you say that the Father is greater than the Son or not? [John 14:28]

Ambrose: I will answer you later.

Palladius: I will not answer you, if you don’t answer me.

Eusebius: If you do not condemn Arius point by point, we will not give you the right to ask questions.

Palladius: I will not answer.

Ambrose: Is the Son of God judge or not?

Palladius: You will not answer the questions I ask?

Eusebius: We say that the Son of God is equal to God.

Palladius: You are acting as judge. These are your stenographers here. Is the Father greater or not?

Eusebius: In his divinity the Son is equal to the Father. In the Gospel we read that the Jews persecuted him “because not only did he violate the sabbath, but he also called God his Father, making himself equal to God.” [John 5:18]

Ambrose: Tell us also whether in his divinity the Son of God is inferior to the Father.

Palladius: The Father is greater.

Ambrose: Than Christ’s humanity.

Palladius: “He who sent me is greater than I.” Is it the human being who was sent by God or is it the Son of God?

Ambrose: You’re falsifying the Scriptures. And now we have proof. It is written, “I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I.” He didn’t say, “He who sent me is greater than I.”

Palladius: The Father is greater.

Ambrose: Let him be anathema who adds or subtracts anything from the divine Scriptures.

All the bishops: Anathema!

Palladius: You dare to believe in three omnipotent Gods, three eternal Gods, three equal Gods, three true Gods, three who work together, three who reign together, three with no difference among them, three who are confused together, three for whom nothing is impossible. But the Father alone is omnipotent and eternal and above all. The Apostle says that “He is the blessed and only sovereign” [1 Timothy 6:15] and that there is “One God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.” [Ephesians 4:6] And David says, “There is none like you among the gods, O Lord.” [Psalm 86:8] And in the Gospel the Son prays to the Father, “that they may know you, the only true God.” [John 17:3]

Ambrose: It is in his humanity that the Son is inferior to the Father. In his divinity he is equal, as we have shown in the texts we have cited.

Palladius: You are supporting an impiety. We will not answer you in the absence of observers.

Sabinus: No one asks the opinion of anyone who has already spoken blasphemies without number.

Palladius: We will not respond.

Sabinus: It is written of the Son that “When God made a promise to Abraham, because he had no one greater by whom to swear, he swore by himself.” [Hebrews 6:13] For it is the Son who appeared to Abraham; that’s why Christ says, “Abraham saw my day and rejoiced.” [John 8:56]

Palladius: The Father is greater.

Ambrose: Let him be anathema who denies that in his divinity the Son is equal to the Father.

All the bishops: Anathema!

Ambrose: Was Arius right to call the Son “a perfect creature” or was he wrong?

Palladius: I do not respond to you because you have no authority.

Sabinus: You have responded so far as to deny that the Son of God is powerful, so far as to deny that he is true God.

Palladius: I do not accept you as judge, you whom I convict of impiety.

Sabinus: It is you who have required us to meet.

Palladius: I invited you to meet in order to confound you. Why have you plotted with respect to the emperor? You have opposed having a plenary council.

Ambrose: Your impiety has been condemned. We find it to agree with the impiety of Arius. You have our profession of faith. Now hear the rest. Since we have responded to you, respond to what is read.

Palladius: I will not respond to you, because what I say is not being written down. The stenographers write only your words. I do not respond to you.

Ambrose: Look! You see they write down everything. Besides, what is written gives ample proof of your impiety. Do you say that Christ is a creature or do you deny it?

Palladius: I do not respond. We should have both your stenographers and ours writing everything down.

Valerien: What you have said and what you have denied — everything has been written down.

Palladius: Say what you want. I will not respond unless observers come.

Ambrose: You have already come for discussion, but now that you are presented with Arius’ letter — which you have not wanted to condemn and which you are incapable of defending — now you want to hide and quibble.

Palladius: I have convicted you of impiety. I do not recognize you as judge.

Ambrose: Condemn the impiety of Arius.

Palladius is silent.

Eusebius: We’re getting hung up on unimportant details. Palladius has not wanted to condemn the numerous impieties of Arius. On the contrary, he has fully confessed them in supporting them. He who does not condemn Arius is like him and must rightly be declared a heretic.

All the bishops: Anathema to Palladius from us all!

Ambrose: Do you agree, Palladius, to have the rest of Arius’ statements read?

Palladius: Admit some observers and stenographers from both sides. You cannot be judges if we do not have observers and if there are not people from both sides to assist in the debate. We will not respond to you.

Ambrose: Who do you want for observers?

Palladius: There are many qualified persons.

Sabinus: After so many blasphemies you ask for observers?

Ambrose: Clergy ought to judge laity, not laity clergy. But even so, tell us what judges you’re asking for.

Palladius: Observers should come.

Ambrose, solemnly, to the assembly: Considering what we have today heard Palladius declare, and considering that he has refused to condemn the impieties of Arius, I pronounce him unworthy of the priesthood and deprive him thereof, so that in his place a catholic can be ordained.

All the bishops: Anathema to Palladius!

A Christian puzzle

At issue in this debate is a vexing theological puzzle inherent in Christianity. What are Christians to say about this Jesus whom they worship? How is he related to the God they call Father? How can they profess faith in one God and yet worship Jesus?

Moderns see this question in black and white. Either Jesus is God or he is not; and if he is God, how can Christians claim just one God? But in the fourth century the notion of divinity was looser; it came in degrees. This was a world that could declare an emperor divine. One common view looked at the universe as consisting of emanations. From God there emanated other beings partaking of divinity, but in lesser degrees. Divine being stretched step by step — diminishing at each step — from the fully divine to various lesser divinities, until finally it included material beings with only a trace of the divine. The influential second-century philosopher Plotinus had taught that from the One — that is, from the completely divine being — emanated Mind, a perfect image of the One, but, nevertheless, a derived being slightly less divine than the One. And from Mind emanated Soul, a perfect image of Mind but derivative and slightly less in divinity. And from World-Soul emanated individual souls. And so on.

Thus, for the fourth-century a tidy solution to the Christian problem was to see the Son as divine but derivative, one step below the Father. This derivationist view was especially plausible in the light of two other assumptions commonly made by early fourth-century Christians — the Son’s subordination to the Father and the Father’s impassibility.

Many texts of the New Testament tell of some kind of subordination of Son to Father; for example —

(Matthew 26:39 nrsv) Going a little farther, [Jesus] threw himself on the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want.”

(John 14:28 nrsv) “The Father is greater than I.”

(Matthew 27:46 nrsv) About three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

As we have seen at Aquileia, orthodoxy was later to interpret such passages as applying to Jesus’ humanity alone and not to his divinity. But at the opening of the controversy the church had not yet arrived at this understanding and most Christians simply viewed Jesus as “subordinate” in some sense, without being exactly clear what that meant. Indeed, R. P. C. Hanson says that this view “could, about the year 300, have been described as a fixed part of catholic theology. … Every single theologian, East and West, had [previously] postulated some form of Subordinationism.”^iv As a result, a derivationist view seemed highly plausible to many.

The ancient world also saw God as impassible; that is, the perfect God — the Father — was incapable of suffering or of having feelings of any kind. In the Western world today vulnerability is almost a fad; to be vulnerable is a sign of strength, of maturity, of courage. But not so in the ancient world. Feelings were a mark of inferiority. Greatness faced adversity with detachment. This meant a further aspect to the dispute. God, the greatest of all beings, cannot possibly suffer. So how are we to understand the sufferings of Jesus? How can Jesus be divine and yet suffer? To this question the derivationist answer is, once again, highly plausible. The Son of God is divine in a derivative, lesser sense; therefore he can suffer. We can say that God — the Son — suffers on our behalf. But God the Father — the fully divine — remains impassible.

Throughout the debate at Aquileia we see the participants maneuver on these grounds. Ambrose and the Italian bishops keep stubbornly trying to get Palladius to say that Christ is the immortal God, the eternal God, the powerful God, the good God, the Lord God — that is, that Christ is fully divine. Palladius, just as stubbornly, keeps saying that Christ is immortal, eternal, powerful, good, etc. — that is, he refuses to add the word God and thus call Christ God in the full sense.

At Aquileia we see a small sampling of biblical texts that were hotly debated throughout the controversy. Each side had its favorites. The New Testament presents a perplexing variety of views. Here are just a few —

1. (Colossians 1:19 nrsv) In him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell.
2. (Colossians 1:15 nrsv) He is … the firstborn of all creation.
3. (John 1:1,10 nrsv) In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. … He was in the world, and the world came into being through him.
4. (Luke 18:19 nrsv) Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.”
5. (1 Corinthians 15:28 nrsv) When all things are subjected to him, then the Son himself will also be subjected to the one who put all things in subjection under him, so that God may be all in all.
6. (Hebrews 5:8–9 nrsv) Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him.
7. (Philippians 2:5–7 nrsv) Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.

The import of these passages, taken together, is not obvious. a and b, for example, seem (at least at first reading) to contradict one another. a appears to say that Jesus is fully God; whereas b appears to say he is a creature. Similarly, c appears to be a strong affirmation of the full divinity of the Son, yet d seems to deny it, and e and f seem to be strong statements of the Son’s subordination. g is particularly hard to understand. On the one hand it seems to say that Jesus is equal to God, and yet, on the other, it speaks of emptying.

How are we to reconcile such passages with one another? Are we to conclude from them that Jesus is true God or a lesser God? that he was created? or not created? that he is equal to the Father? or not equal?

The central passage, however, the one upon whose interpretation the controversy seemed to hinge, is the one brought forward triumphantly by Palladius at Aquileia as his killing blow — Proverbs 8:22 and its following verses. It concerns wisdom, which is for Christians, the Logos or Word or Son of God.

The Lord created me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts of long ago.

This appears unambiguously to portray wisdom as a creature, and, hence, not as true God; it is a huge stumbling block in the controversy for those who wish to say that Jesus is true God of true God.

Events in the Controversy^v

Beginning (318–325)

The trouble begins when some presbyters of Alexandria, Egypt, complain to their bishop, Alexander, about the theology of their fellow presbyter, Arius. Alexander investigates, and when Arius refuses to recant, deposes and excommunicates him. But Arius travels through the Eastern church gathering support. One of his supporters is Eusebius, the bishop of Nicomedia, who has the ear of the emperor Constantine, and who becomes so much the leader of Arius’ faction that they soon become known as the “Eusebians.”

Constantine takes alarm at this threat to the unity of the empire. He exhorts Alexander and Arius to put a stop to it, but the controversy continues. The emperor then convenes a general council to meet in Nicea in 325. He pays all of the bishops’ expenses. Almost all of the 250–300 bishops who attend are Eastern and anti-Arian. An eye-witness describes the council as follows:

When [the council] began to inquire into the nature of the faith, the formulary of Eusebius [of Nicomedia] was brought forward, which contained undisguised evidence of his blasphemy. The reading of it before all occasioned great grief to the audience, on account of its departure from the faith, while it inflicted irremediable shame on the writer. After the Eusebian gang had been clearly convicted, and the impious writing had been torn up in the sight of all, some amongst them by concert, under the pretence of preserving peace, imposed silence on all the ablest speakers. The Ariomaniacs, fearing lest they should be ejected from the Church by so numerous a council of bishops, sprang forward to anathematize and condemn the doctrines condemned, and unanimously signed the confession of faith. Thus [they] retained possession of their episcopal seats through the most shameful deception.^vi

 

According to the letter written by the council at its close, “the impious doctrines of Arius were investigated before our most religious emperor Constantine.”^vii To this the emperor adds in a letter to absent bishops that he took his seat as “one of yourselves.”^viii The emperor also says that

every point obtained its due investigation, until the doctrine pleasing to the all-seeing God, and conducive to unity, was made clear, so that no room should remain for division or controversy concerning the faith.

In addition, the council’s letter says, “The holy council even refused so much as to listen to [the Arians’] impious and foolish opinions, and such blasphemous expressions.”

The council decides to write a creed that will rule out Arianism. Athanasius, who attends the council as an aide to Alexander, and who later succeeds him as bishop of Alexandria, describes^ix the council’s efforts to exclude the Arian teaching that the Son is a creature. At first, he says, the bishops tried to use only scriptural language. They described the Son as “like the Father in all things,” as “the true image of the Father,” and as “always in the Father.” But, he continues, “Eusebius and his fellows … were caught whispering to each other and winking with their eyes.” The Eusebians can sign such a creed, for these words do not rule out creaturely status for the Son. Holy scripture uses such words in relation to creatures. Genesis 1:26, for example, describes human beings as “in the image of God.” And Acts 17:28 describes them as “in God.” Stronger words are needed. The council decides that the scriptural words must be interpreted by other words in order to make clear the equality of Son to Father.

The bishops choose to add a compound Greek word, homo-ousios, from homo, meaning “same,” and ousios (or ousia), meaning “substance” or “essence.” The Son is homoousios with the Father: the Son is of the same substance or essence as the Father. In English this has come down to us in the older translation of the Nicene Creed as “being of one substance with the Father.” The more recent translation says that the Son is “of one Being with the Father.”

In choosing to add the homoousios the bishops are between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, they can find no other way to exclude an Arian interpretation of scripture. On the other hand, to add this word breaks with tradition in two very disagreeable ways. First, to use non-scriptural language in a creed is at this time profoundly disturbing to the conservative soul; the tradition is that only scriptural terms are to be used for such a purpose. Second, the word chosen — homoousios — had been used by a heretic, Paul of Samosata, to explicate his doctrine, and had been condemned in 268 by a council of Antioch. Thus the bishops of Nicea are proposing to make an explicitly condemned, non-scriptural word a test of orthodoxy!

The council takes two other actions of interest to us.

First, it attaches an anathema to the creed.

Those who assert … that “He is of other substance (hypostasis) or essence (ousia) than the Father” … the Catholic and Apostolic Church of God anathematizes.^x

 

The bishops are closing a loophole. At this point in the fourth century the words hypostasis and ousia are synonyms. The bishops don’t want anyone to evade the issue by substituting the word hypostasis for the word ousia.

However necessary this action may have seemed at the time, it will prove, as we shall see, a major stumbling block to the resolution of the controversy. To settle the controversy it will be necessary to reverse this action.

Second, the council excommunicates and deposes Arius; and the emperor exiles Arius, Eusebius of Nicomedia and other “Eusebians.”

A general council of the church has spoken. The emperor has stamped the council’s decision with his approval and is taking action to enforce it. Arius and his supporters have been anathematized, excommunicated, deposed and exiled. Surely the controversy is over.

Middle (325–361)

And so it seems for a short while.

But for some reason Constantine soon permits the exiles to return and the controversy is renewed. Arius and the new bishop of Alexandria, Athanasius, become the foci of power struggles between the factions. The emperor decrees that Arius’ works are to be burnt and anyone who keeps a copy is to be put to death. But, contrariwise, Arius is restored to communion in Jerusalem and is about to be restored in Constantinople when he abruptly dies. Athanasius is deposed by a Eusebian council on grounds of misconduct and Constantine exiles him in the first of what will be five exiles for Athanasius. Over the years Athanasius is several times driven out of Alexandria by soldiers and greeted in triumph by Alexandrians when he returns.

Some of the charges against Athanasius seem grotesque to the modern mind, but apparently they did not strike his contemporaries that way.

There is the Affair of the Broken Chalice. It is charged that one of Athanasius’ priests, whom he had sent to investigate another priest, rushed upon the latter at the altar and dashed the eucharistic chalice from his hands, thus breaking it.

There is the Affair of the Dead Man’s Hand. It is charged that Athanasius suborned the murder of a self-proclaimed bishop. “And all we can find of him,” say the accusers, “is the severed hand in this box.”

These charges are easily refuted by Athanasius and his supporters, though not laid to rest, for his accusers do not cease pressing them.

Other charges are more plausible.

It is charged that Athanasius has threatened to prevent the sailing of the annual grain fleet from Alexandria to Constantinople. Constantine apparently believes this charge, for soon after hearing it he exiles Athanasius.

A more serious charge is that Athanasius uses violence against his opponents. Early in our own century archeologists discovered papyri which appear to substantiate this charge.^xi

As the controversy continues year after year, it is a mixture of theological debate, invective, and personal attack, back and forth among the parties. During these years Athanasius and Hilary of Poitiers are the pre-eminent Nicene theologians, producing a series of writings important to the eventual resolution of the controversy.

Creeds and anathemas produced by a long series of councils constitute the other important writings of these years. One unsuccessful effort of the councils is to find a scriptural set of words to exclude Arianism, words that do not depend on the non-scriptural homoousios.

Because a growing split between Eastern and Western churches gradually becomes apparent, the emperors convene a general council in 343 to attempt reconciliation. Eighty or ninety bishops from each half of the empire attend, but the status of Athanasius and other deposed Eastern bishops proves a stumbling block. The West wants to reexamine these cases. The East refuses to tolerate any interference from the West. Two hostile councils take place side by side. So much for reconciliation.

In 344 the West tries again for reconciliation by sending two bishops to the East, but their mission fails in a plot worthy of a comic opera. Stephen, the bishop of Antioch, tries to convict one of the delegates of lascivious conduct by hiring a prostitute to sneak into his room at night. The plot misfires, however, and Stephen is deposed.

Council follows council, each producing a creed.

Little by little four solutions are articulated:

The Nicene solution. The Son is of one substance (or essence) with the Father. This is the position championed by Athanasius and Hilary. It is the position of most of the West most of the time. In the final stage of the controversy it is the position championed, refined and clarified by the Cappadocian Fathers — Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nyssa, and Gregory Nazianzus. The catchword of this position is homoousios (same in substance).

The Neo-Arian or Heterousian solution. The Son is unlike in substance to the Father. This position is articulated by Aetius and Eunomius beginning in the early 350’s. Its catchword is heterousios (different in substance).

The Homoian solution. The Son is like the Father. The point of this position is to be comprehensive and imprecise, to include as many points of view as possible by saying like and refusing to say more. It has sometimes, therefore, been viewed as a political, not a theological, solution. Its champion is Akakius. It first becomes evident at the Council of Sirmium of 357. Its catchword is homoios (like).

The Homoiousian solution. (Note the “i” in “homoi.”) This is sometimes called the Semi-Arian solution. The Son is of like essence with the Father. Its catchword is homoiousios (like in substance). This view is essentially conservative and serves as a bridge to the Nicenes, for in it both Athanasius and Hilary recognize, for all practical purposes, their own belief expressed in other terms, and — as these Western thinkers seek to show — inadequate terms.

The turning point in the controversy comes in 357, when the Council of Sirmium produces a creed profoundly shocking to conservatives. The creed of this council, says R. P. C. Hanson,

enabled everybody to see where they stood. … This is an Arian creed. Those who support it are Arians. Those who are repelled by it are not. … There were many in the East to whom [this creed] came as a shock. … Very faintly … the solution to the Arian Controversy begins to be possible. The period of confusion is slowly coming to an end.^xii

 

At about the same time Homoiousian theologians make a crucial distinction between the words hypostasis and ousia. Up until this point, as we have seen, these two words were both used to mean substance or essence. The Homoiousians now begin to use ousia to speak of God’s oneness and hypostasis to speak of God’s threeness.^xiii We today say in our creed and worship that the Father and the Son are of one being (or substance), and that there are three persons in the Godhead. The Homoiousians say that the Father and the Son are like in ousia and different in hypostasis.

It now becomes clear that when these non-Nicenes say that the Father and the Son are different in hypostasis, they are not saying (like the Neo-Arians) that the Father and the Son are different in substance. A major source of confusion is thus removed.

The Homoiousians also make a second step forward by the way in which they explain the meaning of homoiousios. Athanasius and Hilary find that the Homoiousians are attempting to say what they themselves say. And yet, these Nicenes seek to show, the homoiousios is inadequate to protect against Arianism. “You and we have the same faith,” say Athanasius and Hilary to the Homoiousians, “but the wily Arians will use your language to subvert the truth of the Gospel.”

In 359–361 Athanasius says,

Those … who accept everything else that was defined at Nicaea [except the homoousios] … must not be treated as enemies; but … we discuss the matter with them as brothers with brothers, who mean what we mean, and dispute only about the word. For, confessing that the Son is from the essence of the Father … and that He is not a creature nor work … they are not far from accepting even the phrase, “Coessential” [homoousios]. … Since they say that He is “of the essence” and “Like-in-essence,” what do they signify by these but “Coessential”?^xiv

 

Hilary is similarly irenic in his comments to the Eastern bishops —

The Lord is my witness that in no matter do I wish to criticize the definitions of your faith. … But forgive me if I do not understand certain points. … As to [the homoiousios] … our opinions are the same. But in dealing with the homoousion … you declared that it ought to be rejected because … our fathers, when Paul of Samosata was pronounced a heretic, also rejected the word homoousion. … You mentioned [also] this reason for disapproving of the homoousion that … it ought not to be accepted, because it is not to be found in Scripture. Your saying this causes me some astonishment. For if the word homoousion must be repudiated on account of its novelty, I am afraid that the word homoiousion which is equally absent in Scripture, is in some danger. …

It is absurd to fear cavil about a word when the fact expressed by the word presents no difficulty. …

We hold one and the same sacred truth. I beseech you that we should agree that this truth, which is one and the same, should be regarded as sacred. Forgive me, brethren, as I have so often asked you to do. You are not Arians: why should you be thought to be Arians by denying the homoousion?^xv

 

The emperor Constantius has a different perception. He sees the Nicene and Neo-Arian positions as radical extremes, and the Homoian and Homoiousian positions as similar and middle-of-the-road. With this in mind he seeks to bring peace and unity to church and empire by convoking a general council in 359 that excludes the “extremes” and includes only the “moderates.” He decides to make it a double council — the Easterners gathering at Seleucia in Cilicia and the Westerners at Ariminum in Italy.

But the Homoians and Homoiousians are not so much alike and not so moderate as the emperor thinks. Personal and political in-fighting marks the councils once again. A number of Eastern bishops come to Seleucia but refuse to attend the council because they are being accused of misconduct by other bishops. The emperor puts two imperial lay officers in charge. The Homoiousians outvote the Homoians, adopt a Homoiousian creed, depose various Homoian leaders, and go home.

The emperor is not pleased. He forces a Homoian creed on the Western bishops and on representatives of the Easterners.

Jerome remarks of this time that the world “awoke with a groan to find itself Arian.” The Homoian party now reigns in the East for the next twenty years.

End (361–381)

When Constantius dies in 361, Athanasius returns from his third exile and holds a council of Alexandria. This council is of particular importance because instead of denouncing, deposing, and excommunicating, it reaches out towards the Homoiousians. It sends a letter to the church in Antioch in which it carefully makes the distinction between hypostasis and ousia. This action is important not only because it moves towards resolution of the theological puzzle and because it reaches out to the Homoiousians, but also because it lays claim to the authority to reverse an action of the Council of Nicea.

The conflict’s resolution is now in sight. The Cappadocian Fathers (Basil of Caesarea, his brother Gregory of Nyssa, and Gregory of Nazianzus) begin to spell out what becomes the orthodox doctrine of the relation of Father and Son. Questions concerning the status of the Holy Spirit follow naturally from this, and the Cappadocians sketch out what becomes the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity.

When two emperors of Nicene sympathies take charge of the empire — Gratian in the West and Theodosius in the East — the stage is set for the final settlement. Theodosius issues an edict declaring the Nicene doctrine to be the official doctrine of the empire. He orders all to believe “the single divinity of Father, Son and Holy Spirit with an equal majesty and an orthodox Trinity.” He drives out the Arian bishop of Constantinople and convokes a council of the Eastern church to be held in May, 381.

Gregory of Nyssa tells us that everybody in the city is talking theology —

If you ask for change, the man launches into a theological discussion about begotten and unbegotten; if you enquire about the price of bread, the answer is given that the Father is greater and the Son subordinate; if you remark that the bath is nice the man pronounces that the Son is from non-existence.^xvi

 

As always, the council is filled with personal strife. It recognizes Gregory of Nazianzus as the bishop of Constantinople, and when the council president dies, chooses Gregory to take his place. Gregory soon loses patience, however, with members’ behavior and resigns both as council president and as bishop of Constantinople. He scolds the council in his farewell address —

I am weary of being assailed in words and in envy. … Some aim at my breast. … Others lie in wait for my back. … If again I have been a pilot, … the sea has been boisterous around us, boiling about the ship, and there has been considerable uproar among the passengers, who have always been fighting about something or another, and roaring against one another. What a struggle I have had, seated at the helm, contending alike with the sea and the passengers. … How has it been possible to avoid making shipwreck?

… The very quarters of the globe are affected by the spirit of faction, so that East and West are arrayed on opposite sides. …

I cannot bear your horse races and theatres, and this rage for rivalry in expense and party spirit. We unharness, and harness ourselves on the other side, we neigh against each other … Today sharing the same thrones and opinions, if our leaders thus carry us along; tomorrow hostile alike in position and opinion, if the wind blows in the contrary direction. … And what is most terrible, we are not ashamed to set forth contrary doctrines to the same audience.

… What sufferings have we failed to undergo? Ill-usage? Threats? Banishment? Plunder? Confiscation? The burning of priests at sea? The desecration of temples by the blood of the saints, till, instead of temples, they became charnel-houses? The public slaughter of aged Bishops? …

Elect another who will please the majority: and give me my desert, my country life, and my God.^xvii

 

Despite this disorder the council reaffirms the creed of Nicea and, for all practical purposes, settles the controversy. The “council” at Aquileia will take place a few months later. Arianism will survive among the Goths for several centuries, but the strife that has divided empire and church is concluded.

Vision and Reality

Ugly! This controversy is ugly! — especially as seen in the light of the inclusion controversy. The contrast could not be more stark. With the inclusion controversy we breath the air of a Christian ideal. This is the way to conduct our controversies. But with the Arian controversy we come to earth with a painful thud. This is the way it is. This is the way we usually conduct ourselves. Oh, not in every detail, and perhaps our present-day conduct is somewhat better. But this is much closer to our own experience than the inclusion controversy.

So what do we conclude? Let’s take it step by step.

The inclusion controversy as found in the Book of Acts is a Christian vision of how things ought to be.

The Arian controversy and the controversies since then are realities. They are how things are.

Vision and reality — that’s what we are seeing.

In Acts Luke portrays a model for us to follow. The Arian controversy shows us many hard realities we must face.

In Paul’s letters we find both vision and reality. He paints a vision of Christian community, a model of our life together, and at the same time faces the hard earthly facts of our shortcomings. But in Paul vision and reality are not opposites. The vision is embodied in the reality. The church in reality consists not only of human strengths and weaknesses, but also of a divine-human union. The Corinthian church is the Body of Christ as well as a hotbed of squabbling and faction.

What, then, are we to make of the Arian controversy? Can we discern divine-human reality at its heart? Or is the fourth-century church simply a corrupt degeneration of the primitive church?

We can individualize this question by looking at Ambrose.

I find his behavior at Aquileia very disappointing. I have thought him a great saint of the church, a hero. But his conduct at Aquileia is shocking. He acts as prosecutor, judge and jury. He manipulates the emperor and council to set up a stacked trial. He tries to browbeat Palladius and Secundianus. He leads the chorus of “Anathema!”

Most shocking of all is his complacently closed mind. We Americans value an open mind, a free discussion. Ambrose shows no awareness of such values; he seems fully at ease with behavior and attitudes that make us deeply uncomfortable.

But we must recall that he was a man of his time. What shocks us at Aquileia is his harmony with his time. We are shocked because of our cultural innocence. We naïvely expect a “saint” to behave in harmony with our own highest values. We observe Ambrose’s world from the perspective of our own. And then we’re dismayed when those worlds clash.

The bishops at Aquileia are simply persons of the fourth-century Roman empire. What we see as grievous sins and faults are just fourth-century behavior and attitudes. Eventually these values result in the horrors of the Inquisition. And in reaction to those horrors our modern values of free speech are born. But Ambrose and his fellow bishops live many centuries before these consequences become evident.

It is not easy — it is perhaps not possible — to enter the fourth-century mind. Perhaps the best we can do is peer in the windows with empathy.

What mind-set makes it possible for fourth-century Christians — for Athanasius, for Ambrose, for Hilary, for Basil — to pursue “heretics” with such one-sided vigor?

Piety, impiety, and religious understanding

A modern reader encountering the Arian controversy for the first time is struck immediately by the name-calling and invective of the combatants. These people see each other in moral terms. Their combat is not an impartial search for truth. It is war against evil. Athanasius, for example, sees his opponents as so evil that he calls upon his readers to hate them. He calls them by bestial names — dogs, wolves, chameleons, leeches, swine, etc. Gregory of Nyssa talks of spitting on their disgusting doctrine. Hilary of Poitiers accuses them of ignorance, faithlessness, treason, crooked minds, venomous speech, godlessness and the like.

But the most common — and the most revealing — accusation is impiety or irreligion. In the midst of the name-calling it is easy to miss the significance of this charge. It sounds like just another epithet, but it is not.

A careful reading shows that the words piety, impiety, religious, irreligious and their cognates are often used in conjunction with the words true and false; and, further, they are often used instead of true and false. Just as true and false are used to pronounce conclusions, so also are pious and impious. To say that a doctrine is pious means it is to be accepted. To say that it is impious means it is to be rejected.

A common fourth-century form of argument is what may be called reductio ad impietatem — showing that your opponent’s position leads to an impiety. For example, in opposition to the Arian contention that there was a time when the Son was not, Athanasius points out that this means there was a time when the Logos or Reason of God was not; that is, there was a time when the Father was without Reason — an obvious impiety. Similarly, Gregory of Nyssa argues that since the Son is the Light of God, if there was a time when the Son was not, it follows that the Father was once in darkness — another obvious impiety. Again, Basil of Caesarea counters the Arian assertion that the Son is “after the Father” by saying that this is to use a human measure (time) for the Godhead — a breach of true religion.

This kind of reasoning does not consist merely of substituting the conception of piety for truth and impiety for falsehood. There is a different world of mind and spirit involved, and it is that world we are interested in entering so far as possible.

Our modern world pays allegiance to objective reasoning, to a free marketplace of ideas. We are offended by fourth-century invective and heresy hunting because they violate our sense of impartial truth-seeking. In respect for truth we believe we should be ready not only to consider ideas from any source, however repugnant to us, but also to encourage a wide variety of ideas.

The fourth-century had a different ideal — the worship of God. Nicenes and Arians alike agreed that piety was the deciding factor. Their purpose was piety. Belief was not a matter of objective reasoning. Impartiality was not possible. Impersonality was not possible. Piety was personal. Belief was not a matter just of ideas, but of personal conviction. The ideas under debate marked choices and the choices were good (pious) or evil (impious).

To get the feel of this mind-set it may be helpful to use some modern examples. Suppose someone suggests there may be justification for the Holocaust. What is our reaction? Shock. Horror. A refusal even to consider the possibility. Impartial reasoning, objective logic, the free marketplace of ideas give way to more important values — decency, respect for humanity, the sacredness of human life.

Again, from time to time debate breaks out on academic campuses between those who would investigate, say, the comparative intellectual capacities of the races, and those who find such an “impartial” or “scientific” investigation repulsive.

Or again, if someone proposes an impartial investigation of the advantages and disadvantages of pedophilia we have similar reactions. Can there be any doubt on this matter? And does not the person who suggests such an investigation reveal a deep personal immorality?

Even in our liberal modern world, moral and spiritual values sometimes are felt to take precedence over impartial truth-seeking — or, rather, “impartiality” in some matters is felt to be a moral blemish. Some matters are obviously wrong (impious!) and to argue them is wrong.

Such, I suggest, were the attitudes of our fourth-century forbears concerning impiety. Some doctrines were impious even to consider.

What has changed? Why are liberal moderns able to be religiously tolerant? Why am I able to leave my Jehovah’s Witness neighbor alone on matters of religion even though I fear such religion to be deeply harmful? What do we say to ourselves in these instances?

Three things come to mind. The first is that I may be wrong. My neighbor’s religion may not be harmful at all. We moderns have learned to hold at least some of our opinions in some doubt. Second, we tend today to be pluralists. We often think there may be more than one “right” answer, more than one way. Perhaps my neighbor and I are both “right.” And, most importantly, I say to myself that even if my neighbor’s religion is harmful it is my neighbor’s choice. We moderns have come to value individual choice very highly. I may not like what my neighbor has chosen, but I respect my neighbor’s right to choose.

Thus three values have given the modern world a different shape from the fourth-century world. We see a certain amount of self-doubt as good. We are open to the possibility of several “right” answers. And we hold in high esteem the individual’s right to choose.

The fourth-century held the right choice and true religion in high esteem. The fourth-century had not seen the consequences of these values played out in the heresy hunts of the Inquisition. The fourth-century cared for the souls of its neighbors. A neighbor in religious error was a neighbor in peril. Love demanded an attempt to bring the neighbor into the path of piety.

We can feel the pull of such love today when we consider not our neighbor, but our family. It is relatively easy to leave our neighbor’s religion to our neighbor — but the religion of our son or our sister, the religion of those we love, that’s another matter — when they are in “error” it is hard to leave them alone. Fourth-century love of neighbor called for helping the neighbor out of irreligion into piety.

Basil of Caesarea describes the intimate connection between idea and religion —

What is set before us is, so far as is possible with human nature, to be made like unto God. Now without knowledge there can be no making like; and knowledge is not got without lessons. … The acquisition of true religion is just like that of crafts; both grow bit by bit.^xviii

 

This may sound like intellectualism. Basil may seem to be saying that you need to do a lot of book learning. But that’s not what “knowledge” means to Basil —

We understand by [the] Way that advance to perfection which is made stage by stage … through the works of righteousness and “the illumination of knowledge;” ever longing for what is before, and reaching forth unto those things which remain, until we shall have reached the blessed end, the knowledge of God.^xix

 

Knowledge of God is union with God, being made like unto God. Knowing the Lord as the Way is not just an idea. It is knowing that comes by advancing in that Way, united to the Lord, being made, step by step, like unto God. (Take note of this theme. The divinization of humanity is central to orthodox fourth-century piety and we will return to it as we consider Nicene exegesis of scripture.)

Those who have right ideas about God, therefore, are those who are walking in the Way; they are those who are united to God and whose knowledge of God is direct and personal. Those who have mistaken ideas about God, it follows, are those who are walking in error; they are those who are united to some spirit other than God and whose so-called “knowledge” of God is knowledge of that other spirit mistakenly called knowledge of God.

Gregory of Nyssa speaks of pious understanding of scriptural texts—

[We should] seek with all attention and care what is to be piously understood from the utterance. Now, to apprehend perfectly the sense of the passage before us, would seem to belong only to those who search out the depths by the aid of the Holy Spirit, and to know how to speak in the Spirit the divine mysteries. … Wisdom … arises in any man from divine illumination.^xx

 

Pious understanding, the kind of understanding both Nicenes and Arians seek, the kind of understanding that settles doctrine for them, is understanding by the aid of the Holy Spirit, understanding from divine illumination, understanding which leads to speaking the divine mysteries in the Spirit.

For us today the question becomes this: Shall we so cling to our Enlightenment values that we reject reason in the Spirit as a goal, or do we find in this fourth-century value something we are being called to re-adopt, not as a substitute for the values of tolerance and open debate but as an accompaniment? Is it possible to seek divine illumination in our disputes and at the same time tolerate what appear to be the errors of our opponents, encouraging open and free debate? Is it possible to see true religion as our goal and yet tolerate other visions of that true religion? Does a commitment to true religion carry with it the necessity of stamping out heresy?

For me the answer is clear. I am committed both to the free market of ideas and to the search for true religion. I believe it is possible to be faithful to both, and I so recommend to my readers. I believe the fourth-century notion of religious or pious knowledge is something we need to recover, that reasoning about religion that is not grounded in personal pious commitment is sterile and led by our mere human spirit rather than the Spirit of God. To reject the horrors of religious intolerance and persecution need not mean abandoning religious commitment in our reasoning.

Signs, marks of the Spirit, and power struggle

But this fourth-century struggle is not only ugly; it appears also to be lacking the signs and marks of the Spirit we found in the inclusion controversy. Peter was given a vision. When he entered a gentile house the Holy Spirit fell with visible signs upon the Gentiles. Paul had visions and saw signs of the Spirit in his gentile converts. And in the Council of Jerusalem the marks of the Spirit were decisive.

We see no such clear divine evidences in the Arian controversy. We have moved from a church in movement to an institutional church in stasis. We see power struggles, conspiracies, political maneuvering, and the like. And the final say-so, at each stage, is the say-so of the emperor. The state settles the controversy. Or at least that’s the obvious picture.

Are there any signs of the Spirit at work in this controversy?

Let’s look at the course of the controversy to see if we can discover the determinants. What settles this controversy? What’s going on from Nicea to Constantinople? And in particular —
Why doesn’t Nicea settle the controversy? And why does Constantinople? What is lacking at Nicea that is present at Constantinople?

Why doesn’t Nicea settle the controversy?

We have seen that Nicea ends with excommunications, depositions, exiles and decrees — with every outward appearance of settlement. Yet the decision quickly falls apart.

We can draw an immediate and important conclusion — imperial power is not enough to settle the controversy. The emperor decrees settlement and it doesn’t work. The emperor tells the bishops, “This is it. Stop your squabbling.” But they don’t stop. So that’s a second point. The combatants’ consent is needed. The combatants can move outwardly toward obedience, but if the quarrel isn’t settled in their minds and spirits, they begin the debate once more.

Furthermore, the vote of an ecumenical council is not enough. Nicea was called “ecumenical” at the time. It has been recognized by the church since then as “ecumenical.” And yet it did not settle the controversy. Consent of the disputants was lacking. In particular, consent was lacking on the part of the “losers.” The “Arians” were defeated at Nicea but they did not consent to that defeat. Controversy is not over until “losers” accept the decision. The decision needs to be made in such a way that both “winners” and “losers” see the controversy as settled. If there is a vote, they must accept the vote. If there is an imperial decree, they must accept the decree. And so on. Whatever the mechanism of settlement, it must be accepted by the disputants or the controversy will go on.

Why does Constantinople settle the controversy?

The difference between Constantinople and Nicea is not the contents of the decision. The Council of Constantinople does not write a new creed; its creed is the creed of Nicea. Constantinople merely reaffirms the creed of Nicea. Yet this reaffirmation settles the controversy. Why? What changed?

By the time of Constantinople there existed in the consciousness of the church at large a body of Trinitarian theology and of gloss upon the creed of Nicea — especially as set forth by the Cappadocian Fathers — that did not exist at the time of Nicea. Nicea adopted a formula, but its implications and its meaning had yet to become clear. This task was sufficiently completed by the time of Constantinople for the council to reaffirm.

It is important to see that the formula adopted to settle a controversy does not by itself adequately express the settlement. Just as important as the formula is the context of understanding linked to that formula. At Nicea there was only a very crude context of understanding for interpreting its creed. At Constantinople there was a fine-tuned, widely-understood and committed-to context, the one provided by the Homoousian theologians, Athanasius, Hilary and the Cappadocians. In one very important sense Constantinople adopted the work of the Homoousian theologians.

This in turn has important implications. The council did not adopt the work of these theologians explicitly. It did not adopt them jot and tittle. But from that time on the Homoousian theologies of these Fathers are seen as authoritative. Christians may appeal to one or another or all of these theologies to explicate the doctrine of the Trinity.

My use of the plural theologies is important here. Although these theologies have much in common, and although they coalesce into one doctrine of the Son’s relation to the Father, they are, nevertheless, not identical theologies. So the settlement is not only a settlement of orthodoxy, it also shows that orthodoxy to have a certain amount of roominess.

At the time of Nicea the church at large could not commit itself to the council’s decision because few Christians were aware either of the issues involved or of the significance of the proposed solution. Not even those who wrote the creed of Nicea understood its implications well. Perhaps several hundred bishops were aware of some aspects of the problem, but that was all. On the other hand, at Constantinople, as Gregory of Nyssa so amusingly testifies, even the man or woman on the street was talking the theology. There was a general awareness of the problem and of the alternative solutions.

Alternative solutions, further, had been widely and thoroughly explored. The Neo-Arian and Homoian solutions had had their day and were rejected as wanting. The Homoiousian and Nicene solutions had come to terms with each other. The contest was over. So Constantinople did not need to write a new creed; it had only to reaffirm Nicea.

Three specific problems were created at Nicea that needed to be worked through before Constantinople was possible. Nicea had anathematized those who asserted that the Son is of “other substance (hypostasis) or essence (ousia) than the Father.” This made it almost impossible to speak clearly about the way in which God is one and yet three. There was no commonly understood or accepted vocabulary for this purpose. The Homoiousians, as we have seen, finally solved the problem by distinguishing hypostasis and ousia, and the Homoousians accepted this solution. In this respect Constantinople quietly rejected Nicea.

The two other problems were the use of non-scriptural language and the breaking of the tradition of subordinationism. We have seen that conservatives struggled again and again during the controversy to find a way to solve the problem using only scriptural language; but again and again they failed. This succession of failures finally convinced conservatives of the need to break with tradition and use the non-scriptural homoousios. Similarly, the protracted struggle made evident over time the necessity of declaring the equality of Son to Father.

And, finally, the behavior of the emperors at Nicea and Constantinople is significantly different. Constantine wavered in his support — he permitted Eusebius of Nicomedia and his followers to return from exile, and he welcomed Eusebius once again as a trusted advisor. Authority, thus, was speaking with an uncertain voice. At Constantinople the bishops were ratifying what the emperor had already decreed and continued to support.

But what about signs of the Spirit? Do we see here any signs of the Spirit? And where’s scripture in all of this? Wasn’t scripture a determinant?

In this controversy we do not see signs of the Spirit such as those in the inclusion controversy. They may have occurred, but we have no record of them. The absence of such signs should not be surprising. The fourth-century church is an institution rather than a movement and is large and diffuse rather than small and tight-knit. Its spiritual experience is different from that of the primitive church.

Do we find other signs of the Spirit that fit with the large size and institutional nature of the fourth-century church?

I answer this question with an act of faith. I assume the answer to be Yes. With this assumption I then ask, what can we plausibly identify as signs of the Spirit in this struggle? What marks of the presence of God do we find in the midst of this ugly fight?

Piety and the hunger for piety spring to mind. These combatants really do care about their religion. They long to worship God in the beauty of holiness. This passion speaks loudly in the words of Basil that we have already seen —

What is set before us is … to be made like unto God. The acquisition of true religion … bit by bit ^xxi

 

that advance to perfection … ever longing for what is before.^xxii

 

We can hear a shocked piety, a scandalized true religion in Palladius’ words —

Palladius: You dare to believe in three omnipotent Gods, three eternal Gods, three equal Gods, three true Gods, three who work together, three who reign together, three with no difference among them, three who are confused together, three for whom nothing is impossible. But the Father alone is omnipotent and eternal and above all. The Apostle says that “He is the blessed and only sovereign” [1 Timothy 6:15] and that there is “One God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.” [Ephesians 4:6] And David says, “There is none like you among the gods, O Lord.” [Psalm 86:8] And in the Gospel the Son prays to the Father, “that they may know you, the only true God.” [John 17:3]

Without this deep piety, this controversy would be nothing but ugliness. Where there is a longing for God, God can and does work through even the sins and missteps of mortals. So, as we look at the controversies of today’s church — ill-formed, sprawling, and worldly as they are — do we see a longing for God in their midst?

There are other signs which we may choose (or not) to see as marks of the Holy Spirit, depending on how we view the Holy Spirit’s relation to worldly spirit. There is a gradual growth of awareness of the problem, of alternative solutions, of clarity in ideas — processes we can observe in all sorts and conditions of controversies, processes not ordinarily identified as divine in origin or as means of divine guidance.

The ultimate sign of the Spirit, however, is “fit,” the way in which a solution “fits” the church’s perception of her faith. The Nicene solution prevails because over time, as awareness grows, as multitudes of Christians get the feel of the various alternatives, this solution feels right in contrast to the others — it “fits” in a way that the others do not. The sixty years of struggle are sixty years of trying out this and that, getting the feel of this and that, until it becomes clear what fits and what does not.

The controversy does not arise because Arius proposes a clearly unfit expression of the faith, but because he proposes a genuine possibility. The controversy is a controversy of plausibilities, of solutions more or less fitting the faith. The task is to become more and more aware of the inner nature of the faith, of aspects of the faith not perceived clearly heretofore, and then to adopt a solution that expresses that deeper perception.

We have already seen in the inclusion controversy that each side was able to make a complete, plausible and convincing case. We have also seen that no one argument in a case is convincing by itself. One particular argument may carry great weight, but only if it is part of a convincing whole. Similarly, in the Arian controversy each camp had a complete, plausible and convincing case. Each camp had arguments and counter-arguments on each major aspect of the problem. The choice between cases, then, was not the choice of this argument or that, but of total pictures. To choose one solution or another was to choose one whole way of looking at things, in contrast to other possible whole ways. It was to choose a model of the faith. And how does one make such a choice? By how the model “fits” that which it models. One chooses the creed of Nicea or one of the other creeds by how well it acts as a model of how one already sees the faith, by how well it fits the way in which one experiences Christianity.

We can call this, if we wish, judgment from tradition. One chooses on the basis of what has been handed down. One chooses on the basis of the tradition in which one stands.

The role of scripture in the Arian controversy

It will be worth our while to take a brief look at how the combatants’ employed scripture. Let’s consider their various exegeses of Proverbs 8:22.

Arians, of course, gloried in this passage, flaunting its obvious meaning. The Lord speaks of creating Wisdom. Wisdom is a creature. End of argument.

Palladius: Does this upset you, this saying of scripture? — “The Lord created me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts of long ago. Ages ago I was set up, at the first, before the beginning of the earth. Before the mountains had been shaped, before the hills, I was brought forth.” Do you wish this passage were condemned since it calls the Son a creature?

Ambrose irritably makes the standard Nicene response.

I know how the passage goes. But it’s not speaking of the Son’s divinity; it’s referring to his humanity.

To which Palladius has a devastating retort —

You understand scripture badly, for clearly it is not the humanity that was “created at the beginning,” or “set up ages ago,” or “brought forth before the mountains.”

And to this Ambrose makes no answer. Indeed, Ambrose’s record, the text preserved by his stenographers, omits the entire exchange. This may be an instance of the selective recording charged by Palladius. On the other hand, it may be that Palladius, in his recall of the occasion, remembers not what he actually said but what he wishes he had said.

In either case the Nicenes have a severe problem. How are they to answer Palladius? I must hasten to add that I have found Palladius’ retort nowhere else in the literature. And nowhere do I find a Nicene explicitly setting out to answer such a retort. Nevertheless it seems highly unlikely that Palladius was the first to point out that the Nicene interpretation placed the creation of the Word’s human nature at the creation of the world, rather than at the entry of Christ into human history.

Athanasius is rich in his work with Proverbs 8:22. We have not only several interpretations from his pen, we also have a systematic view of his principles of interpretation. As he worked on the passage he was compelled not only to find interpretations that supported the Nicene view but to explain and defend the methods of interpretation he was using.

He points out, for example, that these are proverbs. They are not ordinary, literal statements.

What is said in proverbs is not said plainly, but is put forth latently. Therefore it is necessary to unfold the sense of what is said, and to seek it as something hidden. [Consequently,] we must not expound them nakedly in their first sense, but we must inquire into the person, and thus religiously put the sense on it. ^xxiii

 

“Inquire into the person,” that is, consider who the passage is about and then, on the basis of this identification, interpret the passage religiously. The standard of interpretation is piety. We are not to interpret the passage objectively, or in accord with scholarly standards, or in accord with what we take to be the “original intent of the writer,” but in accord with true religion. We understand the passage piously concerning the person it is about. And this Athanasius proceeds to do — first, negatively, as regards persons the passage is not about; then positively, concerning the person the passage is about.

If then what is written be about Angel, or any other of things originate, … let it be said, “created me,” but if it be the Wisdom of God, … that speaks concerning itself, what ought we to understand but that “He created” means nothing contrary to “he begat.”

Because this is a proverb it is not to be taken literally. Further, it concerns the Wisdom of God. Therefore we must understand it in a way befitting that person. It is impious to consider Wisdom to be created. Therefore, the passage cannot bear that meaning.

But why, then, is the word created used? What meaning does it intend to convey, if not its literal meaning?

There are other meanings to the word, says Athanasius. In the Psalms, for example, David uses it to mean creating anew.^xxiv And Paul has similar use.^xxv Therefore, let this

be understood, not of his being a creature, but of that human nature which became his, … of the … renewal [of human nature].^xxvi

And why does this take place at creation rather than at the entrance of Christ into history? Because

as a wise architect, proposing to build a house, consults also about repairing it … and … makes preparation … in the same way prior to us is the repair of our salvation founded in Christ, that in him we might even be new-created. And the will and purpose were made ready “before the world,’” but have taken effect when the need required.^xxvii

 

And then Athanasius adds considerations of “fit,” reasons why a created Word is just not consonant with true religion. He begins with the heart of Nicene piety, which we have already seen in Basil of Caesarea — divinization, the making of human beings like unto God.

Therefore did he assume the body originate and human, that … he might deify it in himself.^xxviii

The Word must fully assume human nature if we are to be deified in him.

And as we had not been delivered from sin and the curse, unless it had been by nature human flesh, which the Word put on … so also the man had not been deified, unless the Word who became flesh had been by nature from the Father and true and proper to him.

For divinization to take place the incarnate one must be both truly human and truly divine.

Thus, at the creation the Word assumes human nature in order to remedy the imperfections of human nature, in order to make ready for repairs in human nature that will become necessary, and in order to make possible the divinization of human nature. Indeed, God so wanted human nature to be good, says Athanasius, that he introduced

an impress and semblance of [Wisdom] on all. … The same Son considered as Wisdom is the wisdom which is implanted in us an image; in which wisdom we, having the power of knowledge and thought, become recipients of the All-framing Wisdom; and through it we are able to know its Father. “For he who hath the Son,” saith he, “hath the Father also.” [1 John 2:23] … So, though he [Wisdom] be not among the creatures, yet because his image and impress is created in the works, he says, as if in his own person, “The Lord created me a beginning of his ways for his works.”^xxix

Here is the answer to Palladius’ retort that the Word did not become flesh until he entered history. No! says Athanasius, to the contrary. The Word became flesh in the creation of humankind. Human beings were given the impress of Wisdom in their creation. Thus Proverbs 8:22 is speaking of the creation of the fleshly image of God — the impress and image of God into humankind in the creation.

Here is Nicene pious interpretation at its heart. The goal of humanity — the heart of true religion — is full union with God. And to that end the image of God is given humanity in the creation. And that is what this disputed passage is all about.

That the Son should be speaking of the impress that is within us as if it were himself should not startle any one. … Its impress is created in the works as the copy of the image. And he says, “Beginning of ways,” since such wisdom becomes a sort of beginning, and, as it were, rudiments of the knowledge of God.^xxx

 

Thus pious interpretation by Athanasius. Thus the heart of Athanasius’ view. But Athanasius is not all piety. He can, when it is called for, insist upon the intent of the original author. He can exercise cool objectivity and enquire into the original circumstances of the text, seeking with every scholarly tool to determine what that person, in that circumstance, in relation to those original readers intended to say. He can be every bit the modern, “scientific,” “rational” exegete.

Generally speaking, Arians were not only literalists but selective literalists. They plucked passages from here and from there, without regard to their context, and applied them to the present concern whether the original situation had any bearing or not. Athanasius the cool scholar comes to the fore in responding to these Arian methods.

T. E. Pollard has distinguished some basic Athanasian principles of scriptural interpretation. We will consider two— the context of scripture and the scope of scripture.^xxxi Athanasius puts the matter of context succinctly —

Had [the Arians] known the person, and the subject, and the season of the Apostle’s words, they would not have expounded of Christ’s divinity what belongs to his manhood.^xxxii

To understand what a text is saying we must ask some questions — who is it about? what is it about? when was it written? in relation to what circumstances? These are principles of interpretation taught in theological seminaries today.

Further, the only legitimate way in which a teacher can take a single verse of scripture and use it to expound doctrine is in harmony with the general teaching of the whole of scripture. If the passage is expounded in a sense that is not in harmony with the whole of scripture, the teaching is illegitimate —

We [should] consider the scope of that faith which we Christians hold, and, using it as a rule, apply ourselves, as the Apostle teaches, to the reading of inspired Scripture. … This scope is to be found throughout inspired Scripture.^xxxiii

 

“Fit” in Neo-Arian religion

We have seen the “fit” between Nicene piety and Nicene theology. In what ways does the Arian “fit” differ?

T. A. Kopecek has done a study of Neo-Arian religion.^xxxiv He finds five distinguishing characteristics. Neo-Arianism is pronouncedly Jewish-Christian in character. It promotes an unusually intense and jealous worship of one God — an intensely consistent monotheism. In its worship Christ is the chief worshiper, the prototype of creatures. He is worshiped in only a qualified way. Neo-Arian worship is more intellectual than affective.

We have already seen the intensity of Palladius’ monotheism — “You dare,” he says to his Nicene opponents,

to believe in three omnipotent Gods, three eternal Gods, three equal Gods, three true Gods, three who work together, three who reign together, three with no difference among them, three who are confused together, three for whom nothing is impossible. But the Father alone is omnipotent and eternal and above all.

Neo-Arian prayers make clear that worship of the Son is a lesser worship—

We beseech you [God] … and because of you and after you honor and worship is to him [the Son] in the Holy Spirit.^xxxv [Italics added.]

To you is glory, praise, magnificence, reverence, and worship, and after you and because of you to your child Jesus.^xxxvi

 

Thus Neo-Arian theology “fits” its piety better than Nicene theology does. The piety is different in crucial respects. We may, as a consequence, re-phrase our conclusion concerning “fit.”

The choice of theologies is a choice of “fit” in the sense that one chooses a theology that “fits” one’s religion. Fundamentally the choice is a choice of pieties. I choose this theology — I see this theology as a “fit” — because I choose this religion.

Postscript

Many other controversies follow the Arian controversy but for many centuries they represent a continuation and extension of the patterns we have already seen. The notion of heresy becomes more strongly entrenched and is extended to result not only in excommunications, depositions and exiles, but torture and death. State interference and coercion continue. In the iconoclastic controversy of the eighth century, for example, the emperor Leo the Isaurean uses state force to remove and smash icons. In these controversies we find the patterns we have already seen.

But the controversy to which we now turn involves a rapidly changing church and world, and shows us important differences of pattern.