This year marks the 1700th anniversary of the Council of Nicaea, which represents a turning point in Christian history. The event was so far-reaching that some divide Christian history into pre- and post-Nicene periods. The Council of Nicaea is known for establishing Christian orthodoxy: we are talking about “Nicene orthodoxy” or the theology of the Holy Trinity, which actually began to develop with this council and continued to evolve in the following centuries. Many celebrate the Council of Nicaea as an important achievement, especially with regards to Christian unity. I agree it is good that Arianism, which the council opposed, did not become the dominant form of Christianity. However, the way in which this was prevented leaves a bitter aftertaste, making it difficult for me to join in the enthusiastic celebrations. In this article, I would like to present a second opinion, which attempts to be historically balanced and also points out the negative aspects of this council.
The Council of Nicaea was convened at the initiative of Emperor Constantine the Great. He had a political problem: the religion he had legalized twelve years earlier with the Edict of Milan had fallen into internal strife, and Constantine’s political program and social vision were in danger. Constantine had hoped that Christianity would unite the Roman Empire, which was already crumbling. Now, however, a schism has appeared in this new religion, which had received the blessing of the state and already some generous state subsidies. This schism is known in church history as the “Arian schism”. It was caused by the Alexandrian priest Arius, who was accused of denying the divinity of Jesus. Arius actually conceded to Jesus the title of “God” and even wrote a collection of hymns and prayers to him. At the same time, however, he claimed that the Son of God did not exist eternally, but was “begotten” by God the Father at a specific moment in time, meaning that before that God existed without him. To support this, Arius referred to biblical passages such as Prov 8:22–31, Col 1:15, and Rev 3:14. The Son of God was understood to be different from God himself and subordinate to him. If we can blame Arius for anything, it is above all his audacity in daring to assert with certainty things that are only hinted at in the Bible and about which the Bible speaks quite differently as well. If Jesus is indeed “the Word of God” (John 1:1) and “the wisdom of God” (1 Cor 1:24 &c.), it is difficult to imagine that God could ever have existed without both. Mute and foolish? Some passages in the New Testament indicate that the Son of God existed before creation (John 17:5,24; Heb 7:3: that he has no beginning!). In Philippians 2:6, we read that he is “equal with God”. In fact, many other passages in the New Testament make no distinction between Jesus and God (compare, for example, Php 2:10–11 and Isa 45:23 or Rom 10:13 and Joel 2:32, where Jesus’ name is equated with Yahweh, or Rev 19:16 and Deut 10:17, where both have the same title, etc.). Jesus, the Son of God, is the mystery of God with us, powerful and wonderful, calling us to action, not to abstract speculation. It is so bright that we cannot gaze directly at it and dissect it intellectually.
And this is precisely where, in my opinion, Arius’ critics made a fatal mistake: instead of calling him to reverent humility before the mystery, and staying with the Scriptures, they engaged in theological-philosophical argument. Without meaning to, they accepted Arius’ rules of the game. They opposed his theories with the term homoousios. This is translated as “of one essence [with the Father]”, but a more accurate translation would be “of one being”. This term is not found in the Scriptures. It comes from Greek philosophy and was previously used by some heretics who leaned toward Gnosticism. The council fathers wanted to use this term to emphasize that the Son of God is not essentially different from the Father in any way. The Arians countered this with the term homoiousios, “of similar being”. The difference was only in one small letter! The problem is not only that these terms are not found in the New Testament, but that the whole line of thought that frames such expressions is foreign to biblical language and the biblical worldview. A kind of distinction between beings and essences, etc. – this is not the world of the New Testament, this is not the language that we would encounter there. By introducing a strictly philosophical concept into a creedal text that was supposed to be a brief summary of the biblical revelation binding on all Christians, the Council of Nicaea opened a Pandora’s box.
Let there be no mistake: the problem is not in the use of philosophical language as such. This belongs to Christian freedom and, within the framework of the mission entrusted to the church, may even be necessary: philosophers too must hear the good news, and they must receive it in their own language. The problem arises when this language becomes normative for all of Jesus’ disciples and, as a result, a cause and a tool for exclusion. Such diction, with its erudition, may indeed suit the ascendant imperial church, with its pomp and splendor. But what about the church of the Lamb, who was slain in shame, and whose leaders were uneducated fishermen (Acts 4:13: idiotai)? Has the nature of the church now changed? Intentionally? Or is it merely a hybris of a self-willed church which has received secular power?
The fact that this way of responding to Arius’ challenge was not well-chosen was proven by subsequent church history. The Arian controversy raged throughout the fourth century. Constantine himself later softened his position and sought reconciliation between the two camps. Shortly before his death, he was baptized by a bishop who belonged to the Arian side. Constantine’s successors accepted Arianism and began to persecute bishops who defended the Nicene formulation. Most bishops at that time were Arian, and most believers seemed to accept this without any problems. It was not until the end of the fourth century that Emperor Theodosius reintroduced the “orthodox” version of Christianity and banned Arianism. This is the same emperor who defeated another emperor, Eugenius, on the slopes between Vipava and Ajdovščina in present day Slovenia. Eugenius was also a Christian, but he wanted to integrate pagan families into society. Theodosius, on the other hand, advocated and eventually legislated complete theocracy: in his empire, you were no longer allowed to be a non-Christian. It was, therefore, a political victory.
However, the use of philosophical terminology, which was appealing because of its apparent precision, took its toll. The following decades showed that this language was nevertheless flawed and required ever new and more precise definitions. This unfolded at subsequent church councils, where the church split again and again. While one could argue that the Arian controversy was justified because the New Testament clearly states that Jesus is God, it is more difficult to make the same argument for subsequent controversies, where both sides acknowledged the divinity of Christ and the issue was merely the relationship between the two “natures” in him, the human and the divine one. Such language is completely foreign to the New Testament. The most fateful were the Nestorian controversy (the Council of Ephesus in 431) and the Monophysite controversy (the Council of Chalcedon in 451), which excluded large parts of Christianity from the so-called “imperial church”. In terms of scope, these schisms are certainly comparable to the schism between the Catholic and Orthodox Churches in 1054 and the schism between Catholics and Protestants in the 16th century. Recent church history has provided a unique refutation of one of these disputes: a few decades ago, Orthodox and “Monophysite” theologians met and concluded that both formulations – if understood correctly – can be orthodox! One emphasized the one aspect, the other emphasized the other.
Now, returning to the Council of Nicaea, which excluded the Arians: it is undeniable that among them were Christians sincerely striving to follow Christ. Yes, perhaps with certain limitations – but nevertheless! Some of them were also missionaries: bishop Wulfila worked among the hostile pagan Goths and translated the New Testament into their language (the translation has survived to this day). He was successful in his work, the Goths accepted the faith in Christ, and because of this, Arianism survived for several centuries and flourished among them and among other Germanic tribes. (Meanwhile, the “orthodox” merely piously trembled before them.) Some Arians were also persecuted for their faith. When theological disputes raged with full force, they even banned the use of the terms homoousios and homoiousios at one of their synods because they recognized the pitfall inherent in such language—certainly commendable! And last but not least: in areas where the Arians held political power, they allowed both their church and the Nicene church to coexist. (For example, this is indicated by excavations at the archeological site above Kobarid called Tonovcov grad hill.) An early case of Christian religious tolerance, while the “orthodox” consistently banned Arianism in their areas!? This raises a simple question: can we really be so sure that Jesus himself would have excluded them in the same way as the “imperial church” did? After all, Jesus was recognized as divine at least to some extent, even if not completely equal to the Father. And as we have said, while the New Testament clearly testifies to the divinity of Jesus, it must be acknowledged that there are also certain passages which, at least in some respect, either apparently (because of the kenosis, his emptying in the Incarnation?) or actually, speak of the Son as subordinate to the Father (cf. Mark 10:18; 13:32; John 14:28; 1 Cor 15:28). Nicene orthodoxy interpreted these passages away by subordinating them to those passages that explicitly affirm Jesus’ divinity—just as the Arians subordinated the latter passages to the former, each according to their own dogma. Personally, I don’t think this is a good way to read the Bible—I wrote more about this in the article Fundamental Question: How to Interpret the Bible?
To sum up: I see two problems with the Council of Nicaea: the first is the political nature of the entire Nicene project, including its implementation, which involved the use of state coercion. The second problem is with its content, the elevation of philosophical terminology and speculation to become a norm for the faith of every disciple of Jesus. Personally, I agree with the conclusions of the Council of Nicaea and also with the conclusions of subsequent councils. I accept them as a kind of working theses, as unpolished attempts to put something that transcends us as human beings into words. In this sense, I also endorse them. However, I would not agree that these definitions are binding in an absolute sense, and much less that they can be a reason for excluding brothers and dividing the body of Christ. This is especially true of the definitions of later church councils, which are theological speculations, theoretical finesse which is incomprehensible and inaccessible to most Christians today. Christians had theological disputes before the Arian controversy, but this was the first in which the political powers became actively involved and began to persecute heresy (understood differently at different times) by force. This then became an established pattern that continued throughout the history of Christendom. This dispute marked the beginning of “theological rabies” (rabies theologiae, or “theological fury”), a spiritual disease that continues to ravage Christianity to this day. A relentless ideological struggle for the sound doctrine, to the last drop of blood. Sometimes quite literally: Constantine the Great, for example, ordered the death penalty for anyone who secretly kept the writings of Arius. This struggle continues unabated even after the Holy Spirit has long since left the scene. In complete oblivion of Jesus’ clear teaching that “you shall not kill” means much more than just the prohibition of physical killing (Matt 5:21–22). Orthodoxy has trampled down orthopraxy; the entire church is still reeling from this blow. In just twelve years, Christianity has transformed itself from the persecuted to the persecutor and even the murderer of brothers who perceived Christ only slightly differently (might one say: imperfectly?) than they did, even though they also worshipped him as the Savior, turned to him in prayer, and strove to spread the good news about him to those who did not yet know him.
Matjaž Črnivec 
Slovenska verzija besedila: Nicejski cerkveni zbor: drugo mnenje
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