This year marks the 1700-year anniversary of Nicaea, which has prompted patristic scholars and theologians around the world (including myself) to dwell on the council historically, theologically, and pastorally. In tandem with this research, I have decided to focus on several related issues about the council here on the Anxious Bench<\/em> in my next few posts.<\/p>\n One central issue for understanding the council is the role of emperor Constantine. An ecumenical council was tangled up in imperial politics\u2014how does this make us reconsider Nicene theology? Is the orthodoxy we associate with Nicaea the product of political power or theological accuracy?<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n (Un)Tangling Political and Theological Aims in the Debates before Nicaea<\/strong><\/p>\n What led to the theological disagreement between Arius and Alexander that sparked this entire debate? It seems to be primarily concerned with the nature of the Godhead, especially on how the Son relates to the Father. As best we can tell, sometime between 318 and 322 Arius preaches a theology which emphasizes the supremacy of the Father and the Son\u2019s dependence on him for existence (hence the famous line, \u2018there was a time when the Son was not\u2019). Alexander, conversely, emphasizes the eternality of the Son, which put him in sharp contrast with Arius. But, investigating both of their theological systems is an exceedingly difficult task, as the evidence is so fragmentary (For an impressive attempt, see: Rowan Williams, Arius: Heresy and Tradition<\/a><\/em>). In any case, this debate spreads throughout the whole empire, but not in the way we might assume. It is not as if Arius published a coherent set of trinitarian doctrine and acquired an extensive group of followers across the empire. Rather, competing and corresponding visions of monotheism, the eternal generation of the Son, even worship, prompted theological alliances to form between figures who often had unique theological systems. To defend Arius was not to be an Arian nor was supporting Alexander to be \u2018Nicene\u2019, even if Athanasius frames it this way (see a post about this, here<\/a>). But there was a common desire to establish the proper theological view and expel heresy, as seen in several local ecclesiastical councils over the issue before Nicaea.<\/p>\n So how does political power enter theological debate? Well, it takes place over a decade before the council of Nicaea. Constantine became Caesar Augustus of the Western portion of the empire in 306 and a Christian (though a bit of a loaded term when it comes to Constantine) in 312. While it was not until 324 that he would become emperor over the entire Roman Empire, he had already entered the Donatist Controversy in Northern Africa a decade earlier, in a desire to \u201ccut short such dissensions among them\u201d (Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History<\/a> <\/em>10.5.21) by calling a council. In 314, bishops from across Constantine\u2019s portion of the empire met at the Council of Arles to discuss the so-called \u2018Donatists\u2019, ultimately condemning them. There, he learned of the power of an empire wide council, especially for asserting his influence in the proceedings and outcome. So, too, after he became monarch in 324, he entered theological disputes by sending a trusted bishop, Ossius of Cordoba, to investigate the controversy in Alexandria and a condemnatory letter to both Arius and Alexander (Constantine, Letter to Alexander and Arius<\/em> 24). Thereafter, he agreed with Ossius\u2019 assessment that a large council was necessary which he set to take place in Nicaea (See: \u201cWho Convened the First Council of Nicaea<\/a>\u201d, JTS <\/em>71;1 (2020); FNS <\/em>30). Constantine was not willing to a passive observer to theological controversy but used his authority in conjunction with ecclesiastical authorities to guide debate.<\/p>\n In all of this, we see a common desire from the bishops and Constantine for unity in the church. They likely had different conceptions about church peace though, the former being more concerned with doctrinal uniformity through the excision of heresy, the latter through the healing of the church through broad consensus of belief, perhaps for political reasons (See: Eusebius, Life of Constantine<\/a><\/em> 2.65.1). While these desires overlapped, they are not the same.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n Developing a(n Imperial) Theology at Nicaea<\/strong><\/p>\n At the council itself, the bishops engaged one another in theological debate. They read documents from those present to prove orthodoxy or condemn heresy (Eustathius, On Prov 8:22<\/em>, FNS 39), made suggestions for phrases in the creed (Athanasius, To the Bishops of Africa<\/a><\/em>, 5), and clarified ambiguous terms (Eusebius, Letter to his Church<\/em>, FNS 37). Nicene theology was developed by the majority with an eye to Christianity from the east and the west, using Scriptural language (for discussion, see a previous post of mine<\/a>). But, as we sometimes forget, Constantine was present.<\/p>\n This presence was not a silent nor an inconspicuous one. Not only was he the patron of the whole event, providing transportation (Eusebius, Life of Constantine<\/a> <\/em>3.6), meals (3.9), and the location for the sessions in the palace (3.10), but he also processed into the council \u201clike some heavenly angel of God\u2026shining with the fiery radiance of a purple robe, and decorated with the dazzling brilliance of gold and precious stones\u201d (3.10). The power of this act would have not been lost on the bishops who all stood when he walked in\u2014Constantine entered in the performative style of a late Roman court to \u201cinsure that his own priorities of unity and harmony were not ignored\u201d (Drake, \u201cConstantine at the Council<\/a>,\u201d 125). Throughout the sessions, he spoke frequently and guided the debate with his approving and mild comments, perhaps even supplying the famous term \u2018homoousios\u2019<\/em> (if Eusebius is to be believed). This should not lead us to the assumption that Constantine necessarily favored only one position in this debate\u2014according to Athanasius, he was committed to both sides (Theodoret, Church History<\/a><\/em> 1.7). It must be noted that Constantine\u2019s chief end of unity seems to be accomplished in the creed\u2014only a few were condemned, and most were able to sign the creed without coercion. Constantine\u2019s political priorities were widespread Christian unity and the inclusion of as many as possible in a broad theological tent, and they are reflected in the outcomes of the council.<\/p>\n Orthodoxy\u2014Theology or Power? <\/strong><\/p>\n How do we tell the story of Nicaea? For some, the council is one of theological victory over the recent aberration that is Arianism\u2014Nicene theology is orthodox theology because its understanding of God is in continuity with earlier theology and accurately defines God\u2019s nature and activity. For others, Nicene theology is a political victory because it is married to imperial powers\u2014this event is not foremost about understanding God rightly, but about enforcing a particular vision of Christianity that suited the powerful, thus marginalizing other legitimate forms of the Christian faith. Orthodoxy is either about proper theology or <\/em>powerful politics.<\/p>\n![\"Constantine](\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/168\/2025\/02\/Council-of-Nicaea-2-221x300.jpg\")
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