CAMA

14

The Council of Nicaea is a fundamental milestone in the development of Christian

Nicaea 325
theology and, consequently, a significant factor in shaping Western culture. In the
context of a new relationship with the Roman Empire, an intense theological con-
troversy led to the convening of the Council of Nicaea (325), the first ecumenical
council. The sources describing this event served as a rich resource for theologians
and historians from antiquity to the present day. Athanasius was the first to pro-

vol. 14
pose a comprehensive account of this episode, which became the “master narra-
tive”. However, the fragmentary, biased, apologetic, and polemical nature of these
sources and their interpretations gave rise to accounts that are not only divergent
but often incompatible. This book proposes a re-reading using a precise method:
prioritizing contemporary documents over the “master narrative” established by
Athanasius, enriched by ancient historians, and developed by later historiography.

contexts of ancient and medieval anthropology

Samuel Fernández

Nicaea 325
Fernández

Reassessing the Contemporary Sources

ISBN 978-3-506-79786-5
Nicaea 325
 Contexts of Ancient and
Medieval Anthropology

Editors

Anna Usacheva, Jörg Ulrich, Siam Bhayro

Advisory Board

José Filipe Pereira da Silva, Barbara Crostini, Andrew Crislip,

Samuel Fernández, Annette Weissenrieder

Vol. 14
 Samuel Fernández

Nicaea 325
Reassessing the Contemporary Sources

Foreword by David G. Hunter

Cover image: Sacra Parallela (BnF), Parisinus Gr. 923, f. 275v (XI century)

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Contents

Foreword ....................................................................................................................................... IX
Acknowledgments ...................................................................................................................... XI
Abbreviations ........................................................................................................................... XIII
Introduction ................................................................................................................................ XV

1 Antecedents to Nicaea ......................................................................................................... 1

1.1 Institutional Antecedents .............................................................................................. 1
1.1.1 Synodal Activity up to the Beginning of the Fourth Century ........................ 1
1.1.2 The School and the Episcopate in Alexandria ................................................. 9
1.1.3 The Melitian Schism ............................................................................................. 14
1.1.4 The Date of Easter ................................................................................................ 18
1.2 Theological Antecedents of the Fourth Century Controversies ........................ 23
1.2.1 Jewish, Pagan, and Christian Monotheism ..................................................... 23
1.2.2 The Apologists ....................................................................................................... 26
1.2.3 The Rise of Monarchian Theology .................................................................... 31
1.2.4 The Alexandrian Tradition: Origen .................................................................. 34
1.2.5 The Alexandrian Tradition after Origen ......................................................... 43
1.2.6 The Theological Traditions of Asia and Syria ................................................ 50
Appendix: Did Antioch (268) Condemn the Homoousios? ....................................... 57

2 The Outbreak of the “Arian” Controversy .................................................................... 63

2.1 The Chronology of the Sources ................................................................................. 63
2.2 Eusebius of Caesarea: A Crucial Factor in the Crisis ............................................ 66
2.2.1 The Unbegotten God and His Subsistent Son ............................................... 68
2.2.2 How the Son Does Not Come into Existence ................................................. 71
2.2.3 How the Son Comes into Existence ................................................................ 74
2.2.4 The Son Receives His Divinity from the Father ........................................... 80
2.3 The Outbreak of the “Arian” Conflict ....................................................................... 83
2.3.1 The Outbreak According to the “Master Narrative” ..................................... 83
2.3.2 The Outbreak According to Contemporary Sources ................................... 88
2.3.3 The Outbreak from an Institutional Perspective ......................................... 92
2.4 The Theological Conflict at Alexandria ................................................................... 98
2.4.1 The Theology of Arius ......................................................................................... 98
2.4.2 The Theologies of the Group of Arius and Achillas .................................. 106
2.4.3 Alexander’s Theology ......................................................................................... 111
2.4.4 Eusebius, Arius, and Alexander ...................................................................... 118
VI CONTENTS

3 The Expansion of the Controversy ............................................................................... 123

3.1 Letter Warfare ............................................................................................................... 123
3.1.1 Strategies for Publishing Letters ....................................................................... 123
3.1.2 The Letter Debate: Historical Framework and Theology .......................... 130
3.2 Asterius’ Syntagmation and Arius’ Hymn ............................................................. 145
3.2.1 Asterius’ Syntagmation ..................................................................................... 145
3.2.2 Arius’ Hymn ......................................................................................................... 151
3.3 Two Overlapping Controversies .............................................................................. 155
3.3.1 Intervention of Constantine ............................................................................ 156
3.3.2 Ossius’ Mission in Alexandria ......................................................................... 160
3.3.3 The Synod of Antioch: Eusebius of Caesarea in the Dock ....................... 166

4 The Synod of Nicaea ......................................................................................................... 175

4.1 The Setting of Nicaea ................................................................................................. 176
4.1.1 Did Nicaea Act as a Court of Appeal for Eusebius of Caesarea? ............. 176
4.1.2 A New Intervention of Constantine: The Venue of the Synod ................. 181
4.1.3 Participants, Topics, and Place ........................................................................ 184
4.2 The Opening Session .................................................................................................. 189
4.3 The Proceedings of Nicaea: The Theological Discussions .................................. 191
4.3.1 The Main Sources and Their Relationship ................................................... 192
4.3.2 Comparison Between the Fragment and the Letter ................................... 196
4.3.3 Account of the Theological Discussions at Nicaea ................................... 204
4.4 The Theological Outcomes of the Synod ............................................................. 208
4.4.1 The Creed ............................................................................................................ 209
4.4.2 The Anathema ..................................................................................................... 217
4.4.3 The Aim of Ὁμοούσιος τῷ Πατρί: A Deductive Proposal ............................ 221
4.5 The Disciplinary Outcomes of the Synod ............................................................. 226
4.5.1 The Canons .......................................................................................................... 226
4.5.2 The Nicene Letters, Arius, Melitius, and the Date of Easter .................... 230

5 A Changing Map ................................................................................................................ 233

5.1 The Anti-Arian Campaign (325–328) ..................................................................... 233
5.1.1 Constantine and the Unity of the Church .................................................... 233
5.1.2 A New Pamphlet Warfare ................................................................................. 236
5.1.3 Eusebius of Nicomedia’s Exile ........................................................................ 240
5.1.4 Constantine’s Anti-Arius Strategy .................................................................. 243
5.1.5 The Soul of Christ: A New Controversy? ....................................................... 245
5.2. The Reversal of Church Politics (327–329) ........................................................... 252
5.2.1 Alexander and Melitius after Nicaea ............................................................. 252
5.2.2 The Return of Eusebius and the Fall of Eustathius ................................... 256
5.2.3 The Twenty-five Canons and the Synod of Antioch 329 ......................... 260
CONTENTS VII

5.3. Athanasius: Accusations and Defenses ................................................................. 263

5.3.1 The Contested Ordination of Athanasius ..................................................... 263
5.3.2 Athanasius’ Early Career .................................................................................. 265
5.4. The End of an Era (335–337) .................................................................................... 272
5.4.1 The Events and Their Relationship: A Working Hypothesis .................... 272
5.4.2 The Synod of Tyre (335) ................................................................................... 274
5.4.3 The Readmission of Arius and the Synod of Jerusalem (335) ................. 281
5.4.4 Eusebius and Marcellus ................................................................................... 287

6 Narrative Conclusion ....................................................................................................... 295

Bibliography ....................................................................................................................... 305

Indices .................................................................................................................................. 325
1 Index of Scriptures .................................................................................................. 325
2 Index of the Contemporary Sources (FNS) ........................................................326
Foreword
In this year 2025, the 1700th anniversary of the Council of Nicaea, it is appro-
priate that there should appear a landmark work of scholarship on the origins
and history of that council. Dr. Samuel Fernández, Professor of Theology in
the Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile in Santiago, has provided such a
study. As the editor of the recently published collection of sources, Fontes
Nicaenae Synodi (Brill Schöningh, 2024), Professor Fernández is uniquely
placed to offer a definitive reinterpretation of the developments and contro-
versies leading up to the Council of Nicaea.
The starting point of this reinterpretation, as the earlier volume suggests,
is careful attention to the nature and chronology of the sources. Fernández
resolutely insists on giving priority to the evidence that is contemporary with
the events themselves rather than on the retrospective narratives of later
participants in the so-called “Arian controversy,” such as Athanasius of Alex-
andria or the later church historians who followed him. The result is a signifi-
cant revisioning of the origins and history of the conflict that led to the
Council of Nicaea and its Creed.
At the heart of this revised perspective is the recognition that Arius him-
self played less of a role in the original controversy than the more traditional
and polemical narrative has suggested. In the reconstruction of Fernández, it
is Eusebius of Caesarea who provided the theological views against which
Bishop Alexander of Alexandria reacted. These views influenced a wide spec-
trum of eastern bishops and theologians, Arius among them, but not all of
them would have merited the label of “Arian” or would have agreed with Arius
in every respect. While both Eusebius and Alexander were inheritors of an
Origenian tradition, Eusebius departed from Origen’s emphasis on the “eternal
generation” of the Word or Son, a departure that earned him the condemna-
tion of the earlier Council of Antioch of 325. One of the original purposes of
the Council of Nicaea, therefore, was to serve as a court of appeal for the bish-
op of Caesarea and his allies; Arius had already been condemned by Alexan-
der and was no longer a central figure at Nicaea. As Fernández puts it, “The
real issue behind the clash at Alexandria was the quarrel between Eusebius
and Alexander, two bishops with valid claims to lead the Origenian tradition.”
The reconstruction of Fernández also sheds light on the theological ques-
tion being debated at Nicaea and its connection with earlier Christian discus-
sions of the nature of God. Specifically, it was the “two-stage Logos” theology,
an inheritance from earlier Christian apologists, that was being contested at
Nicaea. The question was whether or not it was possible to conceive of God
the Father as ever being without the Son. To put the matter another way: did
X CONTENTS

the Word or Son come fully into existence only at the point of creation or for
the economy? Or, was it necessary to think of God as being always and essen-
tially the Father with the Son? By focusing on this question, Fernández is able
to shed significant light on the critical expression in the original Creed of
Nicaea: that the Son is ὁμοούσιος τῷ πατρί. For Fernández, the well-known
phrase was meant to exclude the possibility of ever conceiving of God the
Father apart from the Son.
Already well known as a scholar of Origen, Professor Fernández has now
extended his expertise into the critical century between the activity of Origen
and the death of Constantine. His rich and sophisticated account of the per-
sons, events, and theologies up to and around the Council of Nicaea is certain
to become the starting point of any future research on that critical event in
church history. It is an important, indeed an essential, contribution to patris-
tic studies and to the history of Christianity more broadly.

David G. Hunter
Margaret O’Brien Flatley Professor of Catholic Theology
Boston College
Acknowledgments
I cannot begin these acknowledgments without pointing out that fifty years
ago Manlio Simonetti published La crisi ariana nel IV secolo (Roma 1975), an
epoch-making book that remains a key reference point. In doing so, I wish to
emphasize that academic work always builds upon the contributions of pre-
vious scholars. This book is no exception. It has benefited from the generous
support and interaction of friends and colleagues, including David Hunter,
who has followed this project with interest and kindly wrote the foreword,
Emanuela Prinzivalli, Lorenzo Perrone, Lewis Ayres, Alberto Camplani, Patri-
cio de Navascués, Christoph Markschies, Uta Heil, Mark DelCogliano, Anders-
Christian Jacobsen, Alfons Fürst, Ilaria Vigorelli, Francisco Bastitta, Santiago
Guijarro, and others to whom I owe my deep gratitude.
I would like to thank the Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile, particu-
larly the Facultad de Teología that has supported the publication of this theo-
logical monograph, as well as my colleagues Rodrigo Polanco, Fernando
Berríos, Mauricio Sepúlveda, Fernando Soler, and especially Xavier Morales,
with whom I have discussed crucial points of this work. Special thanks to
Bibliotecas UC and Boston College Libraries. This work presents results of
Fondecyt 1220120 research project (2022–2024).
Particular mention goes to Michael Dinsmore, who carefully proofread the
entire manuscript, and to Kai Klemm-Lorenz, Rieke Lüttmann, Charlotte
Pehle, and Felicitas Simmat – the Halle-Team – for their precious editorial
work. In addition, I must thank Rodrigo Fernández, Camila Salinas, Milton
Fuentes, Esperanza Vilches, Gabriel Santander, and Valeska Cabañas for their
work on the bibliography and indices.
A special thank you goes to my family for their unwavering support. Final-
ly, I would like to express my gratitude to Brill-Schöningh and the editors of
the series, particularly Anna Usacheva and Jörg Ulrich. Their remarks and
friendly support have been crucial to the completion of this book.

Samuel Fernández
Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile
Abbreviations

Abbreviations are taken from S.M. Schwertner, IATG3. Internationales Abkürzungs-

verzeichnis für Theologie und Grenzgebiete, Berlin 2014, G.W.H. Lampe, A Patristic
Greek Lexicon, Oxford 1989, and Thesaurus linguae Latinae (thesaurus.badw.de).

ACW Ancient Christian Writers, New Jersey.

An.Cyz. Ps.Gelasius Cyzicenus (CPG 6034).
Ar. Arius presbyter Alexandrinus.
Ath. Athanasius Alexandrinus.
AW Athanasius Werke, Berlin.
BAC Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, Madrid.
BEEC Hunter D.G. / P. van Geest / B.J. Lietaert Peerbolte, Brill Encyclope-
dia of Early Christianity, Leiden.
C.Anc. (314) Concilium Ancyranum anno 314.
C.Ant. (325) Concilium Antiochenum anno 325.
C.Ant. (329) Concilium Antiochenum anno 329.
C.Ant. (341) Concilium Antiochenum anno 341.
C.Arl. (314) Concilium Arelatensis anno 314.
C.Cart. (256) Concilium Carthaginensis anno 256.
C.Elib. (ca. 302) Concilium Eliberitanum anno 302 circa.
C.Jerus. (335) Concilium Jerosolimitano anno 335.
C.Neoc. (ca. 319) Concilium Neocaesarense anno 319 circa.
C.Nic. (325) Concilium Nicaenum anno 325.
C.Nic. (787) Concilium Nicaenum anno 787.
C.Sard. (343) Concilium Sardicensis anno 343.
CEECW The Cambridge Edition of Early Christian Writings, Cambridge.
Can. Ap. Canones Apostolorum.
CChr.SG Corpus Christianorum Series Graeca, Turnhout.
CChr.SL Corpus Christianorum Series Latina, Turnhout.
CPG Clavis Patrum Graecorum, Turnhout.
Dion. Al. Dionysius Alexandrinus.
Dion. R. Dionysius Romanus.
Dok. Brennecke, H.C. / U. Heil / A. v. Stockhausen / A. Wintjes, Doku-
mente zur Geschichte des arianischen Streites, AW 3.1,3, Berlin 2007.
EOMIA Ecclesiae Occidentalis Monumenta Iuris Antiquissima, Oxford.
Epiph. Epiphanius Constantiensis.
Eus. Eusebius Caesarensis.
Eus. Nic. Eusebius Nicodemiensis.
XIV ABBREVIATIONS

Eust. Eustathius Antiochenus.

FNS Fontes Nicaenae Synodi, Paderborn 2024.
FC The Fathers of the Church, Washington.
FuP Fuentes Patrísticas, Madrid.
GCS Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten Jahrhunder-
te, Berlin.
Gelas. Gelasius Caesarensis.
HEpA Historia Episcopatus Alexandriae, Bausi / Camplani, 2016.
Hil. Hilarius Pictaviensis.
LEC The Library of Early Christianity, Washington.
Marcell. Marcellus Ancyranus.
NHMS Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies. Leiden.
NPNF Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, London.
Or. Origenes Alexandrinus.
OWD Origenes Werke mit deutscher Übersetzung, Freiburg.
Phot. Photius Constantinopolitanus.
Plat. Plato philosophus.
Plot. Plotinus philosophus.
Ruf. Rufinus Aquileiensis.
SC Sources chretiénnes, Paris.
Socr. Socrates Scholasticus.
Soz. Sozomenus Salaminus.
Tert. Tertullianus.
Thdt. Theodoretus Cyrrhensis.
Thgn. Theognostus Alexandrinus.
Thphl. Theophilus Antiochenus.
TTH Translated Texts for Historians, Liverpool.
Urk. Opitz, H.G., Urkunden zur Geschichte des arianischen Streites, AW
3.1,1–2, Berlin 1934.
Introduction

Tempus destruendi et tempus aedificandi (Eccl 3:3). The historiography of the

Council of Nicaea was dominated for a long time by the retrospective “master
narrative” established by Athanasius and developed by the ancient Christian
historians and heresiologists. In contrast, during recent centuries it has been
shaped by the deconstruction of this narrative in light of critical studies. Wil-
liams points to Newman as the initiator of modern scholarship on Nicaea
(1833); however, the critical spirit was not absent from earlier editors and
historians, such as Henri de Valois (+1676) and Bernard de Montfaucon
(+1741). In any case, as far as the sources are concerned, the works of Schwartz
and Opitz undoubtedly marked a milestone (1934). The Urkunden, freed from
the polemical or apologetic context in which they were transmitted, allowed
a new understanding of the sources and prompted a necessary process of
deconstruction of the master narrative, tempus destruendi. This process has
been neither linear nor homogeneous because abandoning the persistent
hermeneutical biases imposed by the master narrative is a difficult task.
Moreover, wrong ways of integrating confessional premises into historical
studies have hindered this process. However, the works of authors such as
Bardy, Simonetti, and Hanson have made enormous steps in rewriting the
history of the Council of Nicaea.
Recent studies have shown the extent to which “Arianism” is a polemical
construction. This is an achievement that scholarship cannot waive. Yet, at
times, the idea of “construction” has been misunderstood, as if it indicates a
narrative that is nothing more than the fruit of polemical imagination and,
therefore, an object of pure deconstruction, tempus destruendi. Of course, for
example, Alexander transmitted a construction of Arianism; however, the
task of scholars should not just be to “deconstruct” ancient “constructions,”
but also to identify and “reconstruct” the historical elements that explain the
shape of such a construction. What did Alexander see in the clerics whom he
criticized that moved him to construct such an “Arianism”? Ancient accounts
were not usually created ex nihilo. Therefore, a programmatic distrust of an-
cient sources can be just as uncritical as a naive trust in them. It is not that
academic studies should be less critical; they must be more critical! Scholars
should critically assess their own distrust of sources and their models of un-
derstanding. Indeed, it is impossible to grasp the complexity of reality with-
out such models. For this reason, human knowledge, including scientific
works, is a kind of construction. Consequently, scholars must critically
reevaluate both ancient models of interpretation and their own.
XVI INTRODUCTION

Something similar could be said about the factors that shape history. Ac-
cording to the “master narrative,” the ultimate driving force behind the con-
troversy was the fight of heresy against orthodoxy. According to this view, the
Arians alleged many reasons for attacking Athanasius, but the real reason
behind all their claims and actions was their hatred of orthodoxy. Their sole
purpose was to introduce impiety into the Church (ἀσέβειαν εἰς τὴν ἐκκλησίαν
εἰσαγάγωσι).1 In contrast, some modern studies have regarded doctrinal caus-
es with suspicion and have disclosed to what extent Christian controversies
were shaped not only by theology, but also by politics, power, local identities,
and other factors. Again, this is an accomplishment that academic works
cannot neglect. However, scientific studies should also critically assess the
assumption that theological reasons are always a pretext that hides other
unconfessed motivations. In short, critical scholars must be self-critical as
well. Tempus destruendi et tempus aedificandi.
An open and honest dialog between the scholar’s preconceptions and the
evidence is crucial. Without this dialog, scholars risk projecting into the an-
cient world our modern categories, to the point of distrusting systematically
the dynamics that are unfamiliar to our current way of thinking. It is not crit-
ical to replace ancient beliefs with modern beliefs. A self-critical assessment
of our own assumptions allows us to hear the sources and to get in contact
with the richness of what is unfamiliar to us.
This dialog is complex because it is not possible to approach historical ev-
idence without a preexisting theoretical model and certain presuppositions.
A model is necessary to grasp reality. However, it implies some risks. A theo-
retical framework must always be provisional. A fitting model is one that can
grasp reality and is helpful for making sense of seemingly unrelated historical
data. In the same vein, a suitable working hypothesis is one that solves more
problems than it causes.
Instead, a theoretical framework could become an obstacle for grasping re-
ality, when it is not open to welcome the anomalies of ancient sources. Models
are a working tool and, therefore, they should be tentative and provisional.
Theories must fit reality, and not vice-versa. Scholars who are open to bearing
the mismatch between the model and the historical evidence can learn from
the sources. Otherwise, scholars risk projecting their presuppositions onto
ancient sources. Let me recall a classic example. All the textual evidence –
Greek and Latin – supports that Arius, in his letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia,
declared that the Son is “fully God” (πλήρης θεός).2 However, as the theoretical

––––––––––––––––––––

1 Ath., apol. sec. 85.1 (AW 2, 163).

2 See Ar., ep. Eus. 4 (FNS 6.4, l. 21 app.).
INTRODUCTION XVII

framework established that Arius denied the Son’s divinity, instead of rethink-
ing the framework, the editors amended the text. Of course, it is not easy to
deal with these anomalies that witness the unexpected; however, this uncom-
fortable mismatch puts the scholar on the edge of knowledge.
This example shows, in addition, that conceptual models impact not only
doctrinal interpretation of sources, but also the scientific edition of their
texts. The philological and hermeneutical stages are not strictly successive;
they also influence one another. Even those who work directly with manu-
scripts are somehow guided by theoretical presuppositions. Again, critical
scholars must be self-critics as well.
The 1,700th anniversary of Nicaea offers a precious opportunity, that is, a
καιρός, to take a step forward and revisit this event. Two main reasons foster
this task. First, standard works on Nicaea focus on the so-called Arian contro-
versy rather than the synod itself and pay more attention to its reception than
to the event. Second, studies on the synod have not always applied the meth-
od that scholars of the 20th century have developed.3 In addition, thanks to
the efforts of the Athanasius Werke, Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller,
Sources chrétiennes, and other series, almost all the sources appear in a scien-
tific edition. Accordingly, the present book has two main purposes: 1) to focus
on the Council of Nicaea itself, rather than its reception, and 2) to apply a
ratio interpretandi that observes the hierarchy of the sources and, therefore,
gives effective priority to contemporary sources over retrospective accounts.
1) The book focuses on Nicaea, and not exclusively on the “Arian” crisis; there-
fore, it intends to address the various topics that the synod tackled. Accordingly,
on the one hand, the book should not begin with the outbreak of the theological
crisis – the most significant topic of the synod, but not the only one. On the oth-
er hand, it is necessary to trace in the second and third centuries some discipli-
nary issues addressed by the canons and the letters of Nicaea. Therefore, the
book includes a first chapter that deals with the institutional and theological
antecedents, including the development of synodal activity before Nicaea, the
relationship between the episcopate and the school in Alexandria, the Melitian
crisis, the date of Easter, and the Trinitarian discussions that preceded and
shaped the debate addressed by the Council of Nicaea. The following chapters
present in a chronological way the steps of the events related to the synod, from
the outbreak of the “Arian” controversy to the end of the first phase of the recep-
tion of the Nicene synod. As is explained in chapter 5, the death of Constantine
is regarded as the end of the first step of the reception of the council.
––––––––––––––––––––

3 W. Telfer, When Did the Arian Controversy Begin?, in: JThS 47 (1946), 136: “The modern
historian has not to harmonize his narrative with those of his fourth-century predeces-
sors, but only to bring it into full accord with the contemporary documents.”
XVIII INTRODUCTION

2) The first comprehensive historical account of Nicaea is found in the his-

torical, apologetic and polemical writings of Athanasius of Alexandria, a par-
ticipant in the events.4 He reported the history according to his own perspec-
tive as a staunch adversary of Arius and a firm supporter of Nicaea. Although
his long career was controversial, his literary activity, travels, political skills
and other factors secured his reputation. Less than ten years after his death,
Gregory of Nazianzus compared him with Christ (or. 21.29,3).
Thus, from the beginning, Athanasius’ historical writings were backed by
his personal reputation as a saint. Hence, almost all Christian authors have
adopted his narrative. Indeed, Church historians and heresiologists of the 4th
and 5th centuries, such as Epiphanius, Gelasius, Rufinus, Socrates, Sozomen,
and Theodoret, transmitted Athanasius’ black-and-white picture of the con-
troversy. In the West, Rufinus, Sulpicius, and Cassiodorus adopted the same
narrative. Only Hilary of Poitiers provided a quite independent perspective,
but it had much less influence than that of Athanasius. Therefore, the Atha-
nasian account became the “master narrative.”5 Only Philostorgius challenged
the already official narrative, yet the imperial reaction against his perspective
resulted in his work being lost; only some fragments were preserved. Thus,
Athanasius became the indisputable hallmark of Nicene orthodoxy and Arius
the arch-heretic: “No other heretic has been through so thoroughgoing a pro-
cess of demonization.”6 This process has had lasting hermeneutical conse-
quences because it produces strong prejudices in ancient and modern read-
ers of the original sources.
Accordingly, ancient Christian writers developed, expanded, supplement-
ed and, at times, disputed this narrative, but always within the framework
established by Athanasius. This situation gives rise to a hermeneutic chal-
lenge. Roughly speaking, scholars who want to reconstruct the controversy
are in a trap. On the one hand, they need Athanasius as a source; on the other,
they need to be free from Athanasius’ interpretation. Is it possible to escape
this trap? Fortunately, there is a way-out: modern scholarship has recognized
that ancient sources transmit material that has varying degrees of reliability.
In general terms, it is possible to distinguish three layers or levels in the pri-
mary sources: the narratives of the historians, the testimonies of the protago-
nists, and the documents contemporary to the events. The last category of
sources does not rely on the Athanasian account.
––––––––––––––––––––

4 The following pages rework part of the introduction to Fontes Nicaenae Synodi.
5 See J. Appleby / L. Hunt / M. Jacob, Telling the Truth about History, New York 2011, 232: “A
meta-narrative or master narrative is a great scheme for organizing the interpretation and
writing of history.”
6 R. Williams, Arius: Heresy and Tradition, Grand Rapids 2001, 1.
INTRODUCTION XIX

1) The narratives are the most immediate level of the historical works that
describe the controversies of the fourth century. They are accounts written by
Christian authors of the late fourth and early fifth centuries, who did not
participate in the events they narrate and who shaped their works within the
Athanasian framework. They are mainly Gelasius, Epiphanius, Rufinus, Socra-
tes, Sozomen, Theodoret, Philostorgius, and Sulpicius. These authors pro-
duced their histories based on written sources. The problem with these narra-
tives lies in the difficulty of distinguishing between what the ancient histori-
ans read in the sources and what they elaborated as authors influenced by the
Athanasian account.
2) The second level is that of the testimonies, which are historical accounts
of the controversies written some years after the events – with a retrospective
viewpoint – by authors who participated in these events. For the period un-
der study (ca. 304–337), these authors are mainly Eusebius and Athanasius.
As they participated in the controversies, they are privileged witnesses. How-
ever, the time elapsed between the events and their writings, on the one
hand, and their engagement in the controversy, on the other, led them to
interpret the events retrospectively and biasedly. Thus, alongside the evi-
dence, their accounts offer a retrospective and one-sided interpretation of
the conflicts. Therefore, to assess the historical worth of these testimonies, it
is necessary to consider the perspective of each of these authors.
3) The most valuable texts are the documents contemporary to the events,
which are transmitted by ancient Christian writers. They are letters, creeds,
canons, theological statements, and imperial reports. They have been trans-
mitted as quotations, i.e., they are preserved in other works (traditio indirec-
ta). The main authors transmitting documents are Eusebius, Athanasius,
Hilary, Epiphanius, and the ancient Church historians. These documents are
not free of bias because their authors were engaged in controversies. Howev-
er, because they are contemporary to the events, they do not convey a retro-
spective view of the facts, nor are they influenced by Athanasius’ account.
These controversial documents have been transmitted by works that are not
neutral, and therefore it is necessary to free them from the polemical or apol-
ogetic framework in which they are embedded. This is the task undertaken by
Fontes Nicaenae Synodi (FNS), the “partner book” that contains the text and
translation of the contemporary documents.
The methodology guiding this research consists of 1) distinguishing the
different layers of sources, narratives, testimonies, and documents, 2) giving
effective hermeneutical priority to the documents over retrospective testimo-
nies and narratives, 3) freeing the documents from the polemical framework
in which they are embedded, and 4) relocating them in their original context.
XX INTRODUCTION

In this way, they can be interpreted iuxta propria principia. Of course, the
setting of each document, and especially its chronology, is a debatable matter
(ch. 2.1). These methodological steps belong to traditional historical-
philological analysis of ancient sources. The novelty of this research – if any –
is the systematicity with which these steps are applied. This approach implies
that, for each period, the first reconstruction must be shaped by the analysis
of the contemporary documents; then, this provisional reconstruction is
complemented and confronted with ancient Christian historians and modern
studies. The exception is chapter 2.3, where the period is reconstructed, as an
example, taking into account the retrospective testimonies and narratives
(master narrative), and then this reconstruction is confronted with the analy-
sis of the contemporary documents in order to contrast the two narratives.
The “master narrative” describes Nicaea as a struggle between individuals
moved by hatred, faith, jealousy and loyalty. The envy of the devil plays a
crucial role in the events, and the participants are moved by theological rea-
sons, namely, hatred of orthodoxy or heresy. Modern scholars, however, have
shown that, alongside theology (and philosophy), politics also played a signif-
icant role in the crisis. The “Arian” crisis, though, was not only an intellectual
and political struggle between individuals but also – and largely – a group
conflict. The controversy, then, has been analyzed through the lenses of the-
ology, philosophy, and politics, but the approach of the social sciences has
been somehow neglected. Indeed, only particular aspects of the crisis have
been studied using this perspective.7 However, it is not possible to explain a
group phenomenon only in terms of theology, philosophy, politics, and indi-
vidual behavior. Hence, to address the group dimension of the controversies,
this research applies – when it is needed – an appropriate social-scientific
theory to study the Arian crisis, namely, the social identity theory.

∵
The fragmentary state of the ancient sources and their – at times – frustrating
scarcity imply that any reconstruction of the Nicene Council cannot but be
hypothetical. As the evidence allows different levels of certainty, the tenor of
the phrases intends to point out the degree of certainty for each assertion.
Unless otherwise indicated translations are my own. Some elements of chap-
ters 2 and 4 have appeared in previous articles, as stated in the footnotes.
However, these materials have been thoroughly reconsidered and reworked.

––––––––––––––––––––

7 See M. Kahlos, Religious Dissent in Late Antiquity, 350–450, Oxford 2019.

 CHAPTER 1

Antecedents to Nicaea

The Council of Nicaea did not come about abruptly. Both the synodal prac-
tice and the topics that were addressed at the assembly had historical prece-
dents. For this reason, this chapter aims to foster a better understanding of
the council by studying the development of these practices and topics before
Nicaea. These themes will not be studied in general, but as the background to
the great synod. That is to say, the analysis of these themes pays special atten-
tion to those aspects that illuminate the understanding of Nicaea. The first
chapter is divided into two sections: institutional and theological antecedents
of the great synod.

1.1 Institutional Antecedents

This section deals with the institutional antecedent to Nicaea and is divided
into four topics: the development of synodal activity, the relationship be-
tween school and bishop in Alexandria, the earlier discussions about the date
of Easter, and the origin and development of the Melitian problem.

1.1.1 Synodal Activity up to the Beginning of the Fourth Century

The study of synodal activity in the pre-Nicene church must face several criti-
cal difficulties. The first is the fragmentary character of the sources, a difficul-
ty common to almost all aspects of ancient Christianity. Thus, it is necessary
to assume that the synodal activity of Christian groups was broader, richer,
and more varied than the sources reflect. A second problem lies in the se-
mantic range of the term σύνοδος, which encompasses encounter, assembly,
meeting, gathering, covenant, group, and faction, among other meanings.1
Therefore, even in the Christian Greek of the third and fourth centuries, the
term σύνοδος does not always indicate the ecclesial assemblies that we are
studying.2 The third difficulty is the lack of an adequate definition of synod
for the second and third centuries. Only in the fourth century do the first

––––––––––––––––––––

1 See A. Lumpe, Zur Geschichte des Wortes σύνοδος in der antiken christlichen Gräzität, in:
AHC 6 (1974), 40–53; A. Lumpe, Zur Geschichte der Wörter Concilium und Synodus in der
antiken christlichen Latinität, in: AHC 2 (1970), 1–21; F. Montanari (ed.), The Brill Dictionary
of Ancient Greek, Leiden 2015, 2047.
2 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 3; 36 (FNS 8.3; 8.36); Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 6–7; 11 (FNS 24.6–7; 24.11).
2 CHAPTER 1

reflections on the nature, requirements and classification of synods emerge.3

Consequently, the analysis of the first centuries of the church tends to be
retrospective, its study risks being determined by a definition of synod elabo-
rated from the ecclesial activity of later centuries.4 For example, Junod states
that the participation of more than one community is an essential character-
istic of synods and, therefore, does not accept that the anti-Montanist meet-
ings described by Eusebius are “synods.”5 Likewise, Fischer and Lumpe do not
grant the status of synod to Origen’s debate with Heraclides,6 and Brent con-
siders the debate between Origen and Beryllus to be more a philosophical
discussion than a synod.7 All these opinions depend on a certain definition of
synod that was established later. The present section, however, does not elab-
orate a definition of “synod” and then apply it to the sources. Its purpose is
simply to discuss some historical elements that allow us to better understand
the institutional context of the Nicene assembly.
Historical studies of synodal activity usually begin with the meetings that
dealt with Montanism and the date of Easter.8 However, to study the institu-
tional context of the Nicene assembly, it is necessary to include other types of
activities, such as oral debates and some aspects of the epistolary activity of
the bishops. These activities were not “synods,” but they contributed to the
shape of the later synodal assemblies. This section presents the evidence in
chronological order without claiming to be exhaustive.
Following Paul (Gal 1:8–9), Christian churches, from the beginning, were
aware of the need for doctrinal unity. Unlike philosophical schools, the
churches took for granted that contradictory doctrines on substantial topics
could not coexist among Christian churches. This claim demanded a com-
mon solution to the doctrinal or disciplinary discrepancies that arose and

––––––––––––––––––––

3 See Ath., syn. 45; Hil., syn. 84–88; V. Peri, Concilium plenum et generale: La prima attesta-
zione dei criteri tradizionale dell’ecumenicità, in: AHC 15 (1983), 41–78; A. Di Berardino / B.
Studer, Storia della teologia 1, Casale Monferrato 1993, 452–461; M. Fiedrowicz, Theologie
der Kirchenväter: Grundlagen frühchristlicher Glaubensreflexion, Freiburg 2010, 255–260;
291–301.
4 See A. Camplani, Le trasformazioni del cristianesimo orientale: monoepiscopato e sinodi (II–
IV secolo), in: ASE 23 (2006), 67–114 (67–77).
5 See Eus., h.e. 5.14–19; É. Junod, Naissance de la pratique synodale et unité de l’Eglise au IIe
siècle, in: RHPhR 68 (1988), 164–165.
6 See J.A. Fischer / A. Lumpe, Die Synoden von den Anfängen bis zum Vorabend des Ni-
caenums, Paderborn 1997, 141–150 (see 142 n. 92).
7 See A. Brent, Hippolytus and the Roman Church in the Third Century: Communities in Ten-
sion Before the Emergence of a Monarch-Bishop, Leiden 1995, 440–445.
8 See A. Weckwerth, The Twenty Canons of the Council of Nicaea, in: Y.R. Kim (ed.), The
Cambridge Companion to the Council of Nicaea, Cambridge 2021, 158–176.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 3

caused conflicts from the beginning of Christianity.9 This awareness of doc-

trinal unity is found even in an author as enthusiastic about what we would
today call theological pluralism as Origen, who affirms: “It is not fitting for
doctrinal differences to exist from church to church.”10 Accordingly, Christian
churches established various ways of resolving ecclesial discrepancies. The
following is a description of some procedures that were developed to over-
come inter-church disciplinary and theological conflicts.11
Here and there, ancient sources offer data on ways of resolving ecclesias-
tical discrepancies. Epiphanius of Salamis states that the presbyters of Rome
– not the bishop – examined the faith of Marcion. This investigation (ζήτημα)
took place in 144, according to Tertullian.12 The Ecclesiastical History says that
in the middle of the second century “the defenders of the truth” combated
the heresies of Saturninus, Basilides, and Carpocrates by means of oral
(ἄγραφος) refutations and written (ἔγγραφος) demonstrations.13 The same
work records several disputes from the second half of the second century.
Rhodon held an oral debate against Apelles, possibly in Rome, which left a
written record.14 Rhodon’s own words assert that Marcionites proclaimed a
speech without proof (ἀναποδείκτως) and that Apelles was opposed to ration-
al investigation (μὴ δεῖν ὅλως ἐξετάζειν τὸν λόγον).15 These last words, by con-
trast, express Rhodon’s confidence in rational argumentation. According to
Eusebius, in the time of Theophilus of Antioch pastors attacked heretics
“with oral inquiries, face to face” (ἀγράφοις τε εἰς πρόσωπον ζητήσεσι).16 The
bishop of Caesarea also states that throughout Asia, Laodicea, Pontus,
Osroene, Rome, Palestine, and Gaul, there were inquiries (ζητήματα) about
the date of Easter.17 The assembly in Palestine was presided over by Theophi-
lus of Caesarea and Narcissus of Jerusalem, and that in Rome, by Victor. Eu-
sebius, with a retrospective view,18 calls these meetings σύνοδοι, and states
that they issued “ecclesiastical letters” which were to be sent to each ecclesi-
––––––––––––––––––––

9 See M. Simonetti, Ortodossia ed eresia tra I e II secolo, in: VetChr 29 (1992), 359–389.
10 Or., Heracl. 1 (trans. ACW 54, 57). See Or., princ. 1 pr. 3–10.
11 See Fiedrowicz, 2010, 292–294.
12 See Epiph., haer. 42.2,1. Epiphanius is not always reliable, but the absence of the bishop of
Rome in the account suggests that, in this case, he relies on an ancient source. On the date
of Marcion’s expulsion, see Tert., adv. Marc. 1.19,2.
13 See Eus., h.e. 4.7,15.
14 See Rhodon in Eus., h.e. 5.13,1–7.
15 See Eus., h.e. 5.13,4–5.
16 Eus., h.e. 4.24 (GCS.NF 6/3, 380).
17 See Eus., h.e. 4.26,3; 5.23–25; A. Di Berardino, Concilio di Nicea: la fine della controversia
sulla data della Pasqua?, in: AHIg 32 (2023), 215–246.
18 According to Brent, Eusebius tends to perform an “anachronistic conceptualization” of the
past, Brent, 1995, 412–415.
4 CHAPTER 1

astical jurisdiction (κατὰ πᾶσαν παροικίαν) and which were preserved “to this
day.”19 These assemblies did not confront a heresy, but a discrepancy in litur-
gical discipline. In the same period, in Ancyra of Galatia, multiple discussions
(διαλέγω / διάλεκτος) were held in the church against Montanists.20 The de-
bates lasted for several days. The sources do not speak of official decisions,
but of the defeat of the opponents. The local presbyters asked for notes
(ὑπομνήματα) of these discussions.21 In addition, Eusebius cites a fragment of
a “private letter” (ἰδία ἐπιστολή) of Serapion against the Montanists, which
preserves the autograph signatures of many bishops as a sign of agreement.22
The Monarchian crisis broke out in the first decades of the third century
and caused doctrinal divergences over which the churches struggled.23 This
topic provoked debates between Noetus and the presbyters in Asia Minor and
discussions in Rome, in which Callixtus and Ps. Hippolytus took part.24 The
discussion about Noetus’ theology has an ecclesial character and concludes
with a sentence of expulsion from the church; in contrast, the dispute of Ps.
Hippolytus is more like a philosophical debate between schools. In fact, he
speaks of the “school” (σχολή) of Callixtus.25 In the middle of the third centu-
ry, in Athens, Origen had a public dispute with Candidus, which looks like a
debate between two teachers and was recorded in writing.26 Of a more eccle-
siastical character is the debate around the faith of Beryllus of Bostra. Be-
cause he had “perverted the ecclesiastical rule” (κανών), many bishops ques-
tioned him, and then Origen led a doctrinal discussion like a philosophical
debate, which brought the bishop back to right doctrine.27 By the middle of
the third century, the role of the didaskalos had been absorbed by the pres-
byteros/episkopos.28 Thus, it is reasonable to assume that, in this debate, Ori-
gen was acting as presbyter, rather than as teacher. The idealized account of
the Ecclesiastical History calls this meeting a σύνοδος and mentions the writ-
ing (ἔγγραφος) that recorded the investigation (ζήτησις).29 In addition, a papy-
––––––––––––––––––––

19 See Eus., h.e. 5.23,2–3; 5.25; Junod, 1988, 170.

20 See Eus., h.e. 5.16,4–10; C. Markschies, Christian Theology and Its Institutions in the Early
Roman Empire: Prolegomena to a History of Early Christian Theology, Waco 2015, 91–116.
21 See Eus., h.e. 5.16,5.
22 See Eus., h.e. 5.19,1–4; Junod, 1988, 169.
23 See Hipp., Noët. 1.1–8; Tert., adv. Prax. 1–3; (Ps.)Hipp., haer. 9.7–12; S.E. Waers, Monarchi-
anism and Origen’s Early Trinitarian Theology, Leiden 2022, 5–11.
24 See Hipp., Noët. 1.1–8; (Ps.)Hipp., haer. 9.11–12. The book Contra Noëtum must be earlier
than 210, see M. Simonetti (ed.), Ippolito, Contro Noeto, Bologna 2000, 69–70.
25 See (Ps.)Hipp., haer. 9.12,21; Brent, 1995, 420–427.
26 See Ruf., adult. 7.
27 See Eus., h.e. 6.33,1–2.
28 See E. Cattaneo, I ministeri nella Chiesa, Milano 1997, 79–92; Camplani, 2006, 79–80.
29 See Eus., h.e. 6.33,3; see 6.37.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 5

rus preserves the transcript of a debate (διάλεκτος) between Origen and Bish-
op Heraclides. This document gives an idea of the development of this type
of meeting. The bishops initiated the discussion, and each expressed what he
thought; then bishop Heraclides professed his faith, and Origen led a discus-
sion in the presence of the whole church that was listening (ὅλη ἡ ἐκκκλησία
πάρεστιν ἀκούουσα).30 The text, as it has come down to us, seems more inter-
ested in Origen’s theology than in the development of the synodal discussion,
since it does not record the initial interventions of the bishops.31
In the same decades, other meetings revolved around various topics. In
Africa, Tertullian recalls a dispute about the legitimacy of a Christian assum-
ing positions of administration in the empire.32 According to Photius, a synod
(σύνοδος) of bishops and presbyters met in Alexandria against Origen,33
whereas Jerome says that, in Rome, a senatus met against the same theologi-
an.34 Moreover, Eusebius reports on a long debate, which lasted several days,
conducted by Dionysius of Alexandria around 250 in Arsinoe because of the
book of Nepos.35 In a stylized account, the bishop of Caesarea states that the
doctrinal examination (ἐξέτασις) took place before presbyters, teachers, and
brethren who were willing to participate in the gathering. A letter of Dionysi-
us of Alexandria to Philemon reports what seems to be the first occurrence of
the term σύνοδος in a technical sense. It provides an account of the “synods of
brethren” (σύνοδοι τῶν ἀδελφῶν) that had made decisions on the discipline of
baptism years before.36
Turning to the West, Cyprian transmits valuable first-hand information
about many assemblies held in Carthage.37 He himself calls each of these
ecclesial meetings a concilium or concilium episcoporum.38 His letters show
the development and regularity of synods in Roman Africa. The bishop of
Carthage describes the procedure of these assemblies, which were modeled
on Roman juridical administration and followed the structure of relatio and

––––––––––––––––––––

30 Or., Heracl. 1 (SC 67, 54).

31 See T. Graumann, The Acts of Early Church Councils Acts, Oxford 2021, 16 n. 14. In fact, the
text begins with the following words: “When the bishops in attendance had expressed
their worries about the faith of the bishop Heraclides, so that he would profess before all
what he believed, and after each had expressed his opinion and asked his questions, Her-
aclides said: ‘I too believe’…” (Or., Heracl. 1, trans. ACW 54, 57).
32 See Tert., idol. 17.
33 See Phot., cod. 118.
34 See Hier., ep. 33,5.
35 See Eus., h.e. 7.24,4–9.
36 See Eus., h.e. 7.7,5; Junod, 1988, 178.
37 See Cypr., ep. 1.1; 55.6; 57; 59.10; 64; 67; 70; 72; sent. episc. 87.
38 See Cypr., ep. 1.1; 55.6; 59.10; 64.1–2. 4; 70.1; 72.1. See Lumpe, 1970, 1–21.
6 CHAPTER 1

sententiae.39 These councils, which dealt mainly with disciplinary matters,

were conducted by bishops and were attended by the laity (plebs).40
Concerning the lapsi, Eusebius speaks of a great synod (σύνοδος μεγίστη)
held in Rome, in which seventy bishops and a large number of presbyters and
deacons participated. This assembly decided to consider Novatian an alien to
the church.41 In addition, Eusebius describes at length the famous synod of
Antioch (ca. 268) against the bishop Paul of Antioch (Samosata), who had
“low ideas about Christ.”42 The discussion was conducted by Malchion, a
presbyter of Antioch who was a teacher of rhetoric. As in the case of the
meeting against Heraclides, an expert presbyter was in charge of cross-
examining the accused bishop. He undertook an investigation (ζήτησις) that
was recorded by stenographers. The Ecclesiastical History transmits extensive
fragments of the letter written by the pastors, addressed to the bishops of
Rome and Alexandria, and sent to all jurisdictions (ἐπαρχίας).43
A new stage in this process was inaugurated with the Donatist controver-
sy. Shortly after Caecilian’s ordination as bishop of Carthage, a council of
seventy bishops deposed the new bishop and appointed another bishop,
Maiorinus. The minutes of this council claim Caeciliano... non communicare
oportet.44 As Constantine continued to treat Caecilian as the bishop of the
place, the opponents of Caecilian appealed to the emperor.45 The pars Ma-
iorini sent a dossier with the so-called libellus ecclesiae catholicae criminum
Caeciliani to Constantine.46 After this, Maiorinus died and was replaced by
Donatus. It is noteworthy that Constantine intervened at the request of the
bishops, rather than out of a desire to interfere on ecclesiastical issues. The
emperor did not intervene directly, but he decided (ἔδοξε) to constitute a
tribunal in Rome, under bishop Miltiades, which included three bishops from
Gaul.47 The emperor’s decision entailed a novelty: in the third century,
––––––––––––––––––––

39 See P. Batiffol, Origines de règlement des conciles, in: Études de liturgie et d’archéologie
chrétienne 3 (1919), 84–153; P.R. Amidon, The Procedure of St. Cyprian’s Synods, in: VC 37
(1983), 328–339; Graumann, 2021, 16.
40 See Cypr., sent. episc. 87; Camplani, 2006, 71.
41 See Eus., h.e. 6.43,2–3; 4.45; Jul., ep. Dian. (Ath., apol. sec. 25.1); C.Sard. (343), ep. orient. 26
(Hil., coll. antiar. A 4.1,26).
42 See Eus., h.e. 7.27,2 (GCS.NF 6/3, 702). See Eus., h.e. 7.27–30; P. de Navascués, Pablo de
Samosata y sus adversarios: Estudio histórico-teológico del cristianismo antioqueno en el si-
glo III, Roma 2004.
43 Eus., h.e. 7.30,1 (GCS.NF 6/3, 704). See Eus., h.e. 7.30,1–17.
44 J.L. Maier, Le dossier du donatisme, Berlin 1987, n° 10, 128–135 (135).
45 See Optat., Parm. 1.22; Aug., ep. 88.2 (Maier, 1987, n° 14–15, 144–146).
46 See Aug., ep. 88.2; Maier, 1987, 144; C. Weidmann, Donatism/Donatists, in: BEEC Online
(brill.com).
47 See Eus., h.e. 10.5,18–20.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 7

Churches did not accept appeals to episcopal decisions, according to the

principle that “no bishop should trample upon another bishop.”48 Conse-
quently, recourse to a synod acting as a court of appeal was a novelty in ec-
clesiastical law. This shift was introduced by the emperor, who had promoted
courts of appeal in civil law as well.49 In fact, this legal procedure was one of
the emperor’s emblematic reforms.50 Thus, in October 313, the Roman council
of nineteen bishops ruled in favor of Caecilian, and its proceedings were rec-
orded word for word.51 The Donatists did not accept the sentence and again
appealed to the emperor. He accepted the plea and ordered a larger council
to be held in Arles (314).52 The emperor hoped that the problem could be
settled “with the presence of many (πολλοί);” thus, he ordered “very numer-
ous (πλεῖστοι) bishops from different and countless places to assemble in the
city of Arles.”53 Thus, the council of Arles acted as a court of appeal to consid-
er the request brought by the Donatists before the emperor. Again, the coun-
cil ruled in favor of Caecilian. Once again, the Donatists protested the council
and appealed personally to Constantine. He complained: “They lodged an
appeal (appellationem interposuerunt) as is customary in pagan causes.”54
These ecclesial assemblies, then, acted as a court of appeal on the model of
Roman law promoted by the emperor.55 Finally, in November 316, Constan-
tine issued a judgment in favor of Caecilian.56 Nevertheless, the problem was
not solved. A few years later, in 324, Constantine wanted the help of the East-
ern bishops to resolve the same conflict.57
This general picture has described heterogeneous elements, which dealt
with different contexts and purposes. However, two cultural patterns lay
––––––––––––––––––––

48 C.Arl. (314), can. 17 (CChr.SL 148, 12): nullus episcopus alium episcopum conculcet. See also
C.Cart. (256), sent. episc. 87 pr. (CSEL 3,1, 435): Neque enim quisquam nostrum episcopum
se episcoporum constituit; C.Elib. (ca. 302), can. 53; M Bévenot, A Bishop is Responsible to
God Alone (St. Cyprian), in: RSR 39 (1952), 397–415.
49 See F. Pergami, L’appello nella legislazione del tardo impero, Milano 2000, 45–119; K.M.
Girardet, Appellatio: Ein Kapitel kirchlicher Rechtsgeschichte in den Kanones des vierten
Jahrhunderts, in: K.M. Girardet (ed.), Kaisertum, Religionspolitik und das Recht von Staat
und Kirche in der Spätantike, Bonn 2009, 217–249.
50 See J.N. Dillon, The Justice of Constantine: Law, Communication, and Control, Ann Arbor
2012, 11 (see also 214–250).
51 See Optat., Parm. 1.24; Corpus Optati 3 (Maier, 1987, n° 18, 154).
52 See Corpus Optati, 3; Eus., h.e. 10.5,21–24 (Maier, 1987, n° 18–19, 153–160).
53 Eus., h.e. 10.5,22–23 (trans. FC 29, 276–277).
54 Corpus Optati, 5 (Maier, 1987, n° 21, 169).
55 See Pergami, 2000, 45–119; Girardet, 2009, 217–249; S. Fernández, Eusebio de Cesarea y
desarrollo del sínodo de Nicea, in: AHIg 32 (2023), 100–105.
56 N. Lenski, Imperial Legislation and the Donatist Controversy: From Constantine to Honorius,
in: R. Miles (ed.), The Donatist Schism: Controversy and Contexts, Liverpool 2018, 171–175.
57 See Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 2 (FNS 24.2).
8 CHAPTER 1

behind these elements:58 philosophical debate and the Roman tribunal, as

highlighted by Batiffol more than a hundred years ago.59 Undoubtedly, Rho-
don’s dispute with Apelles or Origen’s discussion with Candidus – both of
which take a philosophical form – have little to do with the synods of the
Constantinian era, but they look like Origen’s disputes with Beryllus or Hera-
clides, or Malchion’s debate with Paul of Samosata, which certainly antici-
pated the configuration of the later synods.60 On the one hand, the practice of
philosophical debate exerted an important influence on the configuration of
Christian theology and literature, especially in the East.61 This practice, inher-
ited from philosophy, assumes that rational argumentation is a way to reach
revealed truth.62 On the other hand, the parallels between synodal activity
and Roman administration indicate – according to Batiffol – that “the coun-
cils presided over by Cyprian of Carthage adopted for their deliberations the
rules of the Roman senate.”63 The parallels are suggestive. However, the exist-
ing information on the way that Christian and Roman assemblies proceeded
is insufficient to propose definite conclusions. Besides, as Amidon has rightly
pointed out, the procedures of the Roman senate that Batiffol recognizes in
the synods of Cyprian were also present in many other Roman institutions.64
It is therefore not possible to conclude that the African bishops “adopted” the
procedures of the Roman senate. It is preferable to state that the bishops
organized their assemblies according to the procedures of Roman admin-
istration in general.
In the assemblies that have been described, one can recognize elements
that will be present in the synods of the fourth century. The intra-Christian
character of the assembly, the oral investigation, the use of questions and
answers, the trust in rational discourse, the participation of an expert, the
––––––––––––––––––––

58 See C. Humfress, Orthodoxy and the Courts in Late Antiquity, Oxford 2007, 145.
59 See Batiffol, 1919, 84–153; Junod, 1988, 163–180.
60 The division between private and synodal disputes, which Voss proposed, would not have
been so clear in the third century. See B.R. Voss, Der Dialog in der frühchristlichen Litera-
tur, München 1970, 80–85.
61 See R. Lim, Public Disputation, Power, and Social Order in Late Antiquity, Berkeley 1995; M.
Kahlos, Debate and Dialogue: Christian and Pagan Cultures c. 360–430, Aldershot 2007, 55–
92; A. Rigolio, Christians in Conversation: A Guide to Late Antique Dialogues in Greek and
Syriac, Oxford 2019, 8–38.
62 See Or., Cels. 1.13; L. Perrone, Fede/ragione, in: A. Monaci Castagno (ed.), Origene: Diziona-
rio, la cultura, il pensiero, le opere, Roma 2000, 157–161; M. Simonetti, Agl’inizii della filoso-
fia cristiana: il De principiis di Origene, in: VetChr 43 (2006), 157–173; Fiedrowicz, 2010, 24–
38; R. Somos, Theologia naturalis and theologia revelata in Origen’s First Homily on Psalm
77, in: StPatr 111 (2021), 55–63.
63 Batiffol, 1919, 116.
64 See Amidon, 1983, 328–339.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 9

making of binding decisions, the tendency to produce written records of the

discussions and outcomes, the communication by letter of the decisions, the
episcopal signatures, among others. Although the data is fragmentary, it indi-
cates some tendencies in the procedures: while in Carthage, the bishops is-
sued their sentence at the end; in the assembly to examine Heraclides, each
bishop spoke first and only after an expert – Origen – conducted the investi-
gation. Of course, the Constantinian era brought as a novelty the participa-
tion of the emperor in the convocation of the synods – a situation hitherto
unheard of – and the practice of appeal. Besides, some of these elements are
more akin to the philosophical debates, while others are closer to the Roman
court. However, it is not possible to differentiate these cultural models in a
clear-cut way, because, for example, inquiry with questions and answers is
found in both environments.
In conclusion, Christian churches of the first centuries faced common
doctrinal and disciplinary problems that went beyond the limits of each
community. In accordance with their federative structure, and moved by a
sense of unity, the churches sought procedures to overcome conflicts and
seek unity, which was recognized as necessary. To this end, they adopted
elements taken from both the philosophical school and the Roman court, and
combined them creatively, in accordance with different cultural settings. This
process resulted in different synodal models for overcoming divisions. Over
time, these procedures took on a more stable form and regulation. In sum-
mary, Christian churches learned from Greco-Roman society the concrete
procedures for resolving their own conflicts.

1.1.2 The School and the Episcopate in Alexandria

A specific background for understanding the outbreak of the Arian crisis is
the dynamic interaction between school and episcopate in Alexandria. This
interaction is characteristic of the capital of Egypt and, as will be seen below,
played a crucial role in the conflict that was addressed at Nicaea (ch. 2.3.3).
The scarcity of sources does not allow a full description of the origins of
either the episcopate or the school of Alexandria. Bauer explained it as a
consequence of the doctrinal development of the Christian faith at Alexan-
dria.65 In his view, Alexandrian Christianity would have been dominated in
the second century by a plurality of Gnostic doctrines; afterwards, from the
third century onwards, an “orthodox” Christian teaching would have pre-
vailed, and it cancelled the memory of the other doctrinal groups. Balancing
this explanation, Rubenson adds the institutional factor. According to him,

––––––––––––––––––––

65 See W. Bauer, Rechtgläubigkeit und Ketzerei im ältesten Christentum, Tübingen 1934.

10 CHAPTER 1

the silence of the sources depends on the fact that only in the third century
the episcopate, increasingly robust, would have managed to dominate Alex-
andrian Christianity, which had originally been configured according to the
model of the philosophical schools.66 Consequently, the Egyptian church
selected and interpreted its memory according to the later shape of the Alex-
andrian episcopate, as Camplani has shown.67 In other words, Egyptian Chris-
tianity retrospectively transmitted and filtered the sources of the second
century according to the conditions of the third century.
Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History is a fundamental source for the reconstruc-
tion of this period. It states that Pantaenus commented on the dogmas and
presents him as the director of the school (the διδασκαλεῖον).68 However, this
description seems to be a projection into the second century of the Alexan-
drian school of the third century. What was the relationship between the
school and the Christian communities of Alexandria? Nautin argued that
there was no relationship at all, but Le Boulluec balanced this statement.69
According to Pouderon, Athenagoras settled in Alexandria and, around 170,
developed his activity as a Christian philosopher. However, “his school does
not seem to have been a catechetical institution under the responsibility of
the bishop, but rather a private school of Christian inspiration.”70 Later, Clem-
ent, a disciple of Pantaenus, shaped the itinerary of knowledge starting from
Christian initiation and emphasized the continuity between his doctrine and
the apostolic succession.71 These elements indicate that he was linked to the
Christian church or churches.72 Yet, it cannot be said that his activity was
subordinate to the ecclesial structure. Nevertheless, the openness of Clement

––––––––––––––––––––

66 See S. Rubenson, From School to Patriarchate: Aspects on the Christianisation of Alexandria,

in: G. Hinge / J.A. Krasilnikoff (eds.), Alexandria: A Cultural and Religious Melting Pot, Aar-
hus 2009, 144–157.
67 See A. Camplani, L’autorappresentazione dell’episcopato di Alessandria tra IV e V secolo:
questioni di metodo, in: ASE 21 (2004), 147–185 (especially 179–181).
68 Eus., h.e. 5.10,4 (GCS.NF 6/3, 452).
69 See A. Le Boulluec, Clément d’Alexandrie, in: B. Pouderon (ed.), Histoire de la littérature
grecque chrétienne des origines à 451 3, Paris 2017, 66.
70 B. Pouderon, D’Athènes à Alexandrie: études sur Athénagore et les origines de la philosophie
chrétienne, Leuven 1997, 41. See Athenag., leg. inscr. The presence of Athenagoras in
Alexandria depends on Philip of Side (GCS.NF 3, 160); K. Heyden, Die Christliche
Geschichte des Philippos von Side: Mit einem kommentierten Katalog der Fragmente, in: M.
Wallraff (ed.), Julius Africanus und die christliche Weltchronik, TU 157, Berlin 2006, 214–215.
71 See Clem., strom. 1.11,3; R. van den Broek, The Christian “School” of Alexandria in the Second
and Third Centuries, in: J.W. Drijvers / A.A. MacDonald (eds.), Centres of Learning: Learn-
ing and Location in Pre-Modern Europe and the Near East, Leiden 1995, 39–47 (42).
72 See A. van den Hoek, The “Catechetical” School of Early Christian Alexandria and Its Phi-
lonic Heritage, in: HThR 90 (1997), 59–87 (especially 67–79).
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 11

to philosophy, which tended towards elitism, and Demetrius’ pastoral pro-

gram, which sought the growth of the church, could have come into tension.73
As for the order of succession of the teachers of “the school,” Philip of Side
proposes Athenagoras, Clement, Pantaenus, and Origen;74 in turn, Eusebius
indicates Pantaenus, Clement, and Origen.75 This discrepancy is better ex-
plained if we recognize that before Origen there was not a single school
linked to the episcopate of Alexandria. The sources allow us to suppose that
Alexandria in the second century had several schools of Christian orienta-
tion, such as those of Athenagoras, Carpocrates, Valentinus, Basilides, and
Pantaenus. Before the consolidation of the monarchical episcopate in the
capital of Egypt, several διδασκαλεῖα existed that were independent of the
bishop. They were like philosophical schools.76 In fact, Origen testifies that, in
the time of his youth, several “heretical” schools (διδασκαλεῖα) were active in
Alexandria.77 In the second century, there must have existed a Christian
community around the presbyters, but it left no traces because of its modest
cultural weight. Subsequently, with the development of episcopal authority,
the bishop gradually acquired dominion over one of the Christian schools.
Hence, Demetrius was the first monarchical bishop in Alexandria, beginning
in 189, and the first to institutionally link the episcopate and the school.
The sources for the study of Origen are abundant. After the persecution of
202, a closer link was established between the episcopate and the school led
by Origen.78 The great development of the school and the conflicts that arose
between its teacher and the bishop prompted Demetrius to seek greater con-
trol of the didaskaleion. According to Prinzivalli, the division of the school
into two cycles and the appointment of a presbyter, Heraclas, as the head of
the first one was a measure by Demetrius to favor the institutional link of the
school to the episcopate.79 Around 230, a conflict arose that prompted Origen
to leave Alexandria and to stay for some time in Palestine.80 At the request of
the bishops Alexander of Jerusalem and Theoctistus of Caesarea, he publicly
––––––––––––––––––––

73 See Le Boulluec, 2017, 65–72.

74 See GCS.NF 3, 160.
75 See Eus., h.e. 5.11,2; 6.6,1; Phot., cod. 118.
76 See G. Dorival, Les débuts du christianisme à Alexandrie, in: J. Leclant, Alexandrie: une
mégapole cosmopolite. Actes du colloque de la Villa Kérylos, Paris 1999, 166–174.
77 See Or., in Ps. 77, hom. 2.4 (GCS.NF 19, 372).
78 See Eus., h.e. 6.3,8. Eusebius affirms that Demetrius appointed Origen as head of the
school. But this “appointment” may be a projection of the later situation.
79 See Eus., h.e. 6.15,1; E. Prinzivalli, I conflitti intorno all’eredità di Origene fra III e IV secolo, in:
E. Prinzivalli (ed.), Magister ecclesiae: Il dibattito su Origene fra III e IV secolo, SEA 82, Ro-
me 2002, 40–42; van den Broek, 1995, 44.
80 See Eus., h.e. 6.19,16. See H. Crouzel, Origène, Namur 1985, 38–46; P. Nautin, Origène: Sa vie,
son oeuvre, Paris 1977, 366–367.423–427.
12 CHAPTER 1

explained the Word of God as a layman. This practice provoked the protest of
Demetrius, his bishop.81 His reaction indicates that, in his view, Christian
teaching must be in the hands of the clergy. Origen then returned to his activ-
ities in Alexandria.82 Around 231, during his passage through Palestine, Origen
was ordained as a presbyter by Theoctistus of Caesarea.83 For this reason, says
Photius, “Demetrius changes affection into hatred, and praise into reproach,
and he assembles a synod against Origen.”84 The bishop, by means of an as-
sembly, declared Origen’s ordination invalid and obtained the ratification of
this decision “in the whole orb,” including Rome. The exceptions were Pales-
tine, Arabia, Phoenicia, and Achaia. Origen then left Alexandria and trans-
ferred to Caesarea.85
After these events, the link between the school and the episcopate was
consolidated as Heraclas himself – a presbyter – became the head of the did-
askaleion. The direction of the school then became an ecclesiastical office, so
that the school was subordinated to the Alexandrian episcopate. It is im-
portant to highlight the tension between Origen and Demetrius because it
reflects a more lasting conflict, namely the tension between theological rea-
son and episcopal authority. In an institution that values both doctrinal unity
and the free exercise of reason, this tension is not surprising. After Origen,
conflicts between teachers and bishops are no longer recorded. However, this
peace may have been the fruit of the school’s submission to the episcopate.
After the death of Demetrius, Heraclas became the bishop of the capital
of Egypt (ca. 232-248), and Dionysius, a disciple of Origen, became the head
of the didaskaleion.86 The fact that Origen did not return to Alexandria after
Demetrius’ death indicates that the conflict between them had institutional,
not only personal, dimensions.87 Heraclas, who had a strong anti-heretical
commitment,88 maintained the distance of the episcopate from Origen.89
Around 264, after the death of Heraclas, Dionysius became bishop of Alexan-
dria (ca. 248-264). In these years, both the powers of the Alexandrian bishop
and his territorial jurisdiction grew beyond the capital of Egypt. Maximus, the
successor of Dionysius (ca. 264-282), did not come from the didaskaleion, and
––––––––––––––––––––

81 See Eus., h.e. 6.19,15–17.

82 See Eus., h.e. 6.19,19.
83 See Eus., h.e. 6.23,4.
84 Phot., cod. 118 [92b] (Henry, 1960, 91–92).
85 See Eus., h.e. 6.8,4–5; Hier., ep. 33.5; Phot., cod. 118.
86 See Eus., h.e. 6.26,1; 6.29,4; 6.35,1.
87 See Prinzivalli, 2002, 42–43; W. Bienert, Dionysius von Alexandrien: Zur Frage des Origen-
ismus im 3. Jahrhundert, Berlin 1978, 100–104.
88 See Eus., h.e. 7.7,4.
89 See Phot., Interrog. decem 9 (PG 104, 1229).
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 13

the relationship between the episcopate and the school must have changed.90
The following bishops of Alexandria were Theonas (ca. 282-300), Peter (ca.
300-311), Achillas (ca. 311-312) and Alexander (311-328).91
Almost no sources are preserved on the development of the didaskaleion
after Dionysius. Some evidence supports Theognostus and Pierius as directors
of the didaskaleion, while the leadership of the school under Peter and Achil-
las has almost no supporting evidence.92 What happened to the school in the
first decades of the fourth century? It is difficult to explain why the sources –
more abundant than for the previous decades – hardly mention any Christian
teacher in Alexandria in this period.93 In the second half of the fourth century
the figures of Didymus the Blind and Macarius the Politician, both linked to
the monastic environment, stand out.
What was the situation of the school of Alexandria in the first decades of
the fourth century? The purpose of this section is to reconstruct the institu-
tional context in which the Arian crisis broke out, so the central question is
what was happening with the didaskaleion during Alexander’s episcopate.
The sources offer little data. Therefore, to answer this question it is necessary
to consider the trajectory of Alexandrian Christianity. On the one hand, after
the splendor reached in the time of Origen, the didaskaleion gradually lost its
autonomy from the episcopate, and its cultural weight diminished. The epis-
copate, on the other hand, from the end of the second century until the first
decades of the fourth century, grew stronger and acquired greater dominion
over the school. Naturally, such a process could not have been peaceful. In
fact, in the time of Alexander (312-328), the figure of the bishop of Alexandria
was assuming, along with the offices of the episcopal ministry, the tasks of
the theologian, that is, of the schoolteacher, which in the previous tradition
corresponded to him only partially.94 Did the bishop act as a theologian?
The union of these two offices was problematic. It was not easy to recon-
cile the custody of the doctrinal unity of the church, linked to “the rule of
faith” – the bishop’s task – with the theological speculation, linked to freedom

––––––––––––––––––––

90 See Eus., h.e. 7.24,1–9; A. Martin, Athanase d’Alexandrie et l’Église d’Égypte au IVe siècle
(328–373), Rome 1996, 23–24.
91 E. Wipszycka, The Alexandrian Church: People and Institutions, Warsaw 2015, 43–74.439.
92 See W. Oliver, The Catechetcal School in Alexandria, in: Verbum et Ecclesia 36 (2015), Art.
1385, 1–12; W. Oliver, The Heads of the Catechetcal School in Alexandria, in: Verbum et Ec-
clesia 36 (2015), Art. 1386, 1–14. Peter is unlikely to have been headmaster of the Alexan-
drian school, see Prinzivalli, 2002, 57–59.
93 See Rubenson, 2009, 151.
94 See A. Camplani, Nascita ed evoluzione della chiesa episcopale in Egitto: realtà istituzionale
e rappresentazione ideologica (III–IV sec.), 2017 (pro manuscripto).
14 CHAPTER 1

of research – the theologian’s task.95 The controversial and, at the same time,
captivating memory of Origen in Alexandria recalled the tension between the
office of the bishop and that of the theologian.
In this complex context, a piece of evidence provided by Epiphanius is
significant. The author of the Panarion states that, in Alexander’s time, in the
metropolis of Egypt, there were churches (ἐκκλησίαι) assigned to the presby-
ters in which they “taught the people entrusted to their care.”96 In Alexandria,
the number of Christians had grown considerably, and pastoral demands
required several churches, in which presbyters enjoy authority and relative
autonomy.97 These churches were like didaskaleia, according to Martin.98 Ari-
us was the head of one of them. As will be seen below (ch. 2.3.3), the relation-
ship between theological reason and episcopal authority provided one factor
that triggered the conflict between the Arius and Alexander.

1.1.3 The Melitian Schism

The publication of the Historia Episcopatus Alexandriae (HEpA) and other
sources has shed new light on the great persecution and the origin of the
Melitian movement, two intrinsically related elements.99 The beginning of the
great persecution in Egypt can be placed in the spring of 303, as in Palestine.
Between the years 300 and 303, Peter succeeded Theonas in the episcopate of
Alexandria. “All together presbyters and deacons elected him [Peter] to be-
come bishop.”100 The first evidence about Peter is his flight from Alexandria,
after the beginning of the persecutions in 303. Despite Jesus’ saying: “When
they persecute you in one town, flee to the next” (Matt 10:23), “the flight of
bishops always provoked negative reactions among the faithful.”101
When Peter fled, a considerable number of clerics were in prison. At this
time, Melitius of Lykopolis not only visited territories outside his ecclesiasti-
––––––––––––––––––––

95 On “the rule of faith,” see P. Grech, The regula fidei as a Hermeneutical Principle in Patristic
Exegesis, in: M. Urbanija (ed.), The Interpretation of the Bible, Sheffield 1998, 589–601; E.
Ferguson, The Rule of Faith: A Guide, Oregon 2015, 48–66.
96 Epiph., haer. 69.2,6 (GCS 37, 154); Soz., h.e. 1.15,21; A. Martin, Topographie et liturgie: le
problème des «paroisses» d’Alexandrie, in: N. Duval (ed.), Actes du XIe congrès international
d’archéologie chrétienne, Rome 1989b, 1133–1144.
97 See Wipszycka, 2015, 238–239; A.C. Stewart, The Original Bishops: Office and Order in the
First Christian Communities, Michigan 2014, 191.
98 See Martin, 1996, 178–187. A similar situation in Rome, albeit in an earlier period (Brent,
1995, 402–412): see (Ps.)Hipp., haer. 9.7,3; 9.12,20–21; 9.12,26 (διδασκαλεῖον); 9.12,21 (σχολή).
99 See A. Bausi / A. Camplani, The History of the Episcopate of Alexandria (HEpA): Editio
minor of the Fragments Preserved in the Aksumite Collection and in the Codex Veronensis LX
(58), in: Adamantius 22 (2016), 249–302.
100 HEpA 25 (Bausi / Camplani, 2016, 279).
101 Wipszycka, 2015, 78.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 15

cal jurisdiction, but also performed ordinations of presbyters and deacons.102

At least “some of the Egyptian clergy deemed Melitius’ behavior appropri-
ate.”103 This was not the case for four Egyptian bishops who protested through
a letter from prison. They wrote to Melitius saying:

We are not able to express what agitation and what pain were caused to all of
us together and to each of us individually by the ordinations carried out by
you in paroikiai wholly unconnected to you; however, we will not refrain from
reproaching you in a few words. There is a law of the fathers and ancestors,
which even you do not ignore, that is shaped according to the divine and ec-
clesiastical order – for all things are according to God’s good pleasure and zeal
for the better things. They have established and fixed that it is not lawful for
any bishop to celebrate ordinations in the paroikiai of others.104

The expressions “the law of the fathers” and “ecclesiastical order” do not al-
ways refer to a written text, but sometimes to unwritten norms supposedly
coming from the apostles.105 Nevertheless, later canon law will explicitly state
this regulation: “A bishop may not enter a city that is not his own or under his
[jurisdiction], nor a countryside that does not belong to him to ordain some-
one.”106 The four bishops were executed on February 4, 305.107
Shortly after the martyrdom of the bishops, possibly in the Easter season
of 305, Peter wrote a letter in which he said that Melitius “has invaded my
paroikia” and that “he has ordained by himself certain ones for the jail and
the mines (sibi ordinasse in carcere et m‹eta›llo).”108
In the same letter, he condemned Melitius on two grounds: he had per-
formed irregular ordinations and had tried to separate from Peter some pres-
byters who belonged to the Alexandrian clergy.109 Both issues will be present

––––––––––––––––––––

102 See HEpA 29 (Bausi / Camplani, 2016, 281).

103 Wipszycka, 2015, 88. See Episc. Aeg., ep. Melit. 8–9 (FNS 1.8–9).
104 Episc. Aeg., ep. Melit. 2–3 (FNS 1.2–3).
105 See H. Ohme, Kanon ekklesiastikos: Die Bedeutung des altkirchlichen Kanonbegriffs, AKG
67, Berlin 1998; H. Ohme, Sources of the Greek Canon Law to the Quinisext Council (691/2):
Councils and Church Fathers, in: W. Hartmann / K. Pennington (eds.), The History of Byz-
antine and Eastern Canon Law to 1500, Washington 2012, 28–33.
106 C.Ant. (329), can. 22 (FNS 51.22). See Can. Ap. 35.
107 The date of Phileas’ martyrdom is Feb. 4, 305, not 306, see A. Bausi, La versione etiopica
degli Acta Phileae nel Gadla Samâ’tât, Naples 2002, 23–25; Wipszycka, 2015, 81.
108 Petr. I Al., ep. pop. (FNS 2).
109 See Petr. I Al., ep. pop. (FNS 2). The Historia Episcopatus Alexandriae amplifies Melitius’
activity. HEpA 57 (Bausi / Camplani, 2016, 295): “It became known the desire of appoint-
ment of [Melitius’] madness. Where there was a bishop and where there was not, in all
and everywhere he made appointments and divided the Church, in all regions and towns.”
16 CHAPTER 1

in the canonical legislation of the fourth century.110 Besides, Peter points out
that Melitius performed ordinations out of cupiditas in principatu. We cannot
take for granted that Melitius was moved by ambition111 – historians should be
cautious in judging inner personal intentions – but it is clear that the key
problem revolved around episcopal authority and jurisdiction. The testimony
of Athanasius sheds light on the conflict:

Peter became our bishop before the persecution and suffered martyrdom in
the persecution. He deposed (καθεῖλεν) Melitius, the so-called “bishop of
Egypt,” because of many proven transgressions and because of a sacrifice, in a
common synod of bishops. Melitius did not appeal to another synod (οὐ πρὸς
ἑτέραν σύνοδον κατέφυγεν), nor did he try to justify himself with the successors
of [Peter] but he made a schism (σχίσμα δὲ πεποίηκε).112

The charge of sacrifice does not appear in the contemporary sources and may
be a rhetorical amplification. Instead, all the rest of the text is consistent in
highlighting the issue of episcopal authority. The title or nickname “the bish-
op of Egypt” points out the problem of episcopal jurisdiction, while the only
bishop who had authority over Egypt was that of Alexandria. Besides, when
Melitius was deposed, he did not “appeal to another synod” or “try to justify
himself” with the bishop of Alexandria.
Both Peter and Athanasius indicate the issue of episcopal authority; how-
ever, the conflict was not about episcopal authority in general, but specifically
about the authority of the bishop of Alexandria over Egypt. Martin states that
Melitius’ aim was “to put an end to the monopoly which the Bishop of Alex-
andria exercised over Egypt.”113
Therefore, sources that are contemporary to the events indicate that the
conflict revolved around the authority and jurisdiction of the Alexandrian
bishop.114 The right to ordain clergy was a central issue. This view is confirmed
––––––––––––––––––––

110 C.Anc. (314), can. 13 (FNS 4.13); C.Arel. (314), can. 26; C.Nic. (325), can. 16 (FNS 33.16); C.Nic.
(325), ep. Aeg. 5–7 (FNS 34.5–7); C.Ant. (329), can. 3; 10; 13; 22 (FNS 51.3; 51.10; 51.13; 51.22).
111 The charge of “desire of the first places” comes from the ex parte testimony of Peter; this
was an already established charge in Christian polemic literature. See, for example, Tert.,
adv. Val. 4.2; Or., in Num. hom. 22.4; in Is. hom. 6.1; in Tit. 3 (Pamph., apol. 33); Hipp., Nöet.
1.4; P. Norton, Episcopal Elections 250–600: Hierarchy and Popular Will in Late Antiquity,
Oxford 2007, 52–80.
112 Ath., apol. sec. 59.1 (AW 2, 139).
113 Martin, 1996, 238. See also Wipszycka, 2015, 90.
114 See A. Camplani, In margine alla storia dei meliziani, in: Aug. 30 (1990), 348: “Lo scisma
meliziano, nato dal tentativo da parte di una corrente consistente della chiesa egiziana di
contrastare il potere monarchico del vescovo di Alessandria sull’insieme dell’Egitto cri-
stiano, non sembra alle origini aver posto in discussione le tradizioni della chiesa ufficiale,
ne teologiche (la fede trinitaria), ne disciplinari (il trattamento dei lapsi).”
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 17

by Athanasius. In turn, the retrospective account by Epiphanius states that

the cause of the problem was the policies regarding the lapsi.

Peter’s argument was on the side of mercy and compassion (ὑπὲρ ἐλέους καὶ
φιλανθρωπίας), and that of Melitius and his supporters on the side of truth and
zeal (ὑπὲρ ἀληθείας καὶ ζήλου). Then and there the schism started up, in the
form of the seemingly godly proposals of both parties. 115

The work of Epiphanius was written about seventy years after the events, and
it used a Melitian source. However, a conflict about the policy regarding the
lapsi is absent in the contemporary sources.116 Therefore, the Melitian crisis
focused on episcopal authority and, specifically, on the episcopal authority
and jurisdiction of the bishop of Alexandria. This assumption – accepted by
recent scholarship117 – has consequences. It explains why the Nicene regula-
tions about the Melitians are on episcopal authority and jurisdiction, and it
sheds light on the contested ordination of Athanasius (ch. 5.2.1). Besides, the
norms related to the readmission of the lapsi, which are found in Peter’s ca-
nonical letter, should not be interpreted in light of the controversy between
rigorism and laxity – as in the Donatist crisis – but in the context of the de-
velopment of canonical legislation and episcopal authority.
Another historical problem is the relationship between Melitius and Ari-
us. Athanasius denounces the alliance between the Melitians and the Arians
(ch. 5.3.2);118 Epiphanius states that it was Melitius who denounced Arius
before Alexander;119 the Historia Episcopatus Alexandriae says that Arius and
Melitius became associated, then they broke up, and afterwards Arius was
ordained by Peter of Alexandria as a deacon;120 and Sozomen recounts a simi-
lar story.121 Are these accounts reliable? It is necessary to distinguish between
two questions. First, did Arius himself have any personal relationship with
Melitius before Nicaea? The second question is about the nature of the alli-
ance between Melitian and Arians during the episcopate of Athanasius, that
is, from 328 onwards. The last question will be addressed in chapter 5.

––––––––––––––––––––

115 Epiph., haer. 68.3,2 (GCS 37, 142; trans. NHMS 79, 325, mod.). See Epiph., haer. 68.2,4–3,1.
116 See Martin, 1996, 224–298; Wipszycka, 2015, 90.
117 See Wipszycka, 2015, 90; P. van Nuffelen, Introduction. The Melitian Schism: Development,
Sources and Interpretation, in: H. Hauben, Studies on the Melitian Schism in Egypt (AD 306–
335), London 2018, xi–xxxvi (xi).
118 See Ath., ep. fest. 10.22; apol. sec. 59; ep. Aeg. Lib. 21.5; h. Ar. 78.1–2; Aeg. episc. in Tyr., ep.
Tyr. 5 (FNS 72.5); Martin, 1996, 241–253.
119 See Epiph., haer. 68.4,1–2.
120 See HEpA 51–52; 62–63 (Bausi / Camplani, 2016, 292–293.295).
121 See Soz., h.e. 1.15,2.
18 CHAPTER 1

Regarding the first issue, it is noteworthy that Athanasius does not allege
any personal connection between Arius and Melitius prior to Nicaea. Instead,
the alliance between Arians and Melitians at the time of the Synod of Tyre
(335) plays a significant role in Athanasius’ narrative. Therefore – as Martin
remarks – if there had been any connection between Melitius and Arius, the
bishop of Alexandria would not have lost the opportunity to denounce and
amplify the roots of the Melitian-Arian coalition.122 So, the personal connec-
tion between Melitius and Arius seems to be an a posteriori construction.
Despite the scarcity of sources between the excommunication of Melitius
and the Synod of Nicaea, the evidence shows that, in the years around Nicaea,
the Melitian church had almost the same number of bishops as the church in
communion with the Bishop of Alexandria.123 Some of the Melitian bishops
were already ordained when they followed the bishop of Lykopolis; others
were appointed by Melitius himself. The ample number of Melitian bishops
left the Alexandrian bishop in a weak position that offered the opportunity
for a group of presbyters like Arius and Achillas to confront him.
In the case of the outbreak of the Melitian conflict, as in so many others,
contemporary and retrospective sources differ significantly. The comparison
of the narratives by Epiphanius and Sozomen, on the one hand, and the con-
temporary documents, on the other, show to what extent it is necessary to
read carefully and critically the sources. The narratives of Arius’ and Melitius’
early careers by the Christian historians of the late fourth and the fifth centu-
ries prove to be unreliable. Luibhéid concludes that in some cases, “the ac-
counts of Socrates, Sozomen and Theodoret is [sic] a confused jumble of
information.”124 It is worth insisting on this point because these narratives,
namely, those of Epiphanius and Sozomen are key elements of Opitz’s histor-
ical reconstruction of the chronology of the Arian crisis.125

1.1.4 The Date of Easter

Much of the information we possess about the early discussions of the date of
Easter comes from Eusebius of Caesarea. His Church History contains an ac-
count of the debates that includes some fragments of documents. Junod has
shown that Eusebius’ accounts are retrospective as far as the synodal activity
of the Church is concerned.126

––––––––––––––––––––

122 See Martin, 1996, 241–242.

123 See Martin, 1996, 303–312.
124 C. Luibhéid, The Alleged Second Session of the Council of Nicaea, in: JEH 34 (1983), 167.
125 See H.G. Opitz, Die Zeitfolge des arianischen Streites von den Anfängen bis zum Jahre 328,
in: ZNW 33 (1934), 131–159.
126 See Junod, 1988, 164–165.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 19

The discussion about the date of Easter began in the second century and
remained a problem long after Nicaea.127 It was not a single controversy, but
involved several problems.128 One of them revolves around whether Easter
should be celebrated on Sunday or on the 14th Nisan. Another question is
whether the Christian feast must coincide with the Jewish Passover. A last
point of disagreement was of scientific character, namely the way of calculat-
ing the precise date of the feast, that is, the computus itself. This last issue
includes the problem of the various calendars used in the different regions of
the Empire. Of course, these topics are not independent of each other.
Eusebius refers to an inquiry (ζήτησις) concerning the date of Easter that
arose in the last decade of the second century. According to an old tradition,
the paroikiai of Asia all supposed that they should observe the fourteenth day
of the moon as the feast of the Saviour’s Easter, on whatever day of the week
this fell (ὁποίᾳ δἂν ἡμέρᾳ τῆς ἑβδομάδος περιτυγχάνοι). That is, Easter should
fall on the day when the Jews sacrifice the Passover lamb. Meanwhile, the
churches throughout all the rest of the world, following an apostolic tradi-
tion, observed Easter on the day of the resurrection of the Lord, that is, Sun-
day.129 Eusebius mentions the meetings that discussed the issue in Palestine,
Rome, Pontus, Gaul, Osrhoene, and Corinth.130 Only the bishops of Asia, lead
by Polycrates of Ephesus, kept observing the fourteenth day of the moon. The
Historia ecclesiastica transmits a letter of Polycrates to Victor, the bishop of
Rome, in which he claims that John, Polycarp, Papirius, and Melito “observed
the fourteenth day of Easter according to the Gospel, never deviating, but
following according to the rule of the faith.”131 Eusebius then describes the
strong reaction of Victor and the wise actions of Irenaeus to avoid a rupture
between the churches of Rome and Asia. The account indicates that the issue
at stake was the observance of the fourteenth day of the moon or Sunday as
the date of Easter. The concurrence with Jewish practice appears as a piece of
information, but not as part of the dispute.
A few decades later, when Callistus was the bishop of Rome (218–223), Ps.
Hippolytus mentions the Quartodecimans in a negative way, as contentious
and ignorant people. They affirm that “Easter should be kept on the four-
teenth day of the first month, according to the commandment of the law, on
whatever day it should occur (ἐν ᾗ ‹δ’› ἂν ἡμέρᾳ ἐμπέσῃ).”132 The last sentence

––––––––––––––––––––

127 For the persistency of the problem long after Nicaea, see Socr., h.e. 5.22.
128 See Di Berardino, 2023, 215–246.
129 Eus., h.e. 5.23,1–2 (GCS.NF 6/3, 488).
130 See Eus., h.e. 5.23,3–4.
131 Eus., h.e. 5.24,6 (trans. FC 19, 335, mod.).
132 (Ps.)Hipp., haer. 8.18,1 (Marcovich, 1986, 337).
20 CHAPTER 1

confirms that the problem was that they did not celebrate Easter on Sunday,
while they justified their practice by the commandment of the law (Ex 12:18;
Num 9:13). Therefore, Ps. Hippolytus poses a Pauline argument against them:
if they observe some commandment of the law, they should observe the en-
tire law (Gal 5:3). Here, his reasoning shows an anti-Jewish aspect.
The bishop of Caesarea says that Dionysius of Alexandria (248–264) pro-
duced a “canon based on an eight-year cycle, holding that it is not proper to
observe the festival of Easter at any other time than after the vernal equi-
nox.”133 This remark alludes to another debated problem. The fourteenth day
of the first month of the Jewish calendar can fall before or after the vernal
equinox because of the mismatch between the lunar and solar cycles. This is
a consequence of the “embolism” or intercalary month, which is a mecha-
nism to correct this mismatch. The intercalary month was introduced once
the gap between the solar year and the lunar cycle had reached 30 days. Thus,
when the gap was more than 14 but less than 30 days, Easter fell before the
vernal equinox. Dionysius was not arguing against Quartodecimans; he took
for granted that Easter must be celebrated on Sunday, but the debated issue
was how to identify the right Sunday. On this topic, Eusebius preserves frag-
ments of the Canons on Easter by Anatolius of Laodicea. This learned author
affirms that the Jews of old even before Christ “say that all equally ought to
sacrifice the Passover after the vernal equinox, in the middle of the first
month.”134 This tenet will become official.
The next step of this selective survey consists in the analysis of a short yet
relevant document, which remained unpublished until a few years ago and
provides some detailed information on the debate. The Liber de pascha by
Timothy comes from the first decades of the fourth century.135 It only survives
in an old Latin translation of the lost Greek original text. Since this document
is little known, it would be worthwhile to study it more closely. This treatise
criticizes four Christian groups for the way they calculate the date of Easter.
First, those who celebrate Easter on the 14th day of Nisan, the first month of
the Hebrew calendar:

Some, according to the Jewish custom (more iudaico), observe the fourteenth
day of the first month. They consider that this is legitimate because, in the
Law, it is condemned and considered dangerous to not always keep this spe-
cific solemn day of Passover.136

––––––––––––––––––––

133 Eus., h.e. 7.20 (trans. FC 29, 121).

134 Eus., h.e. 7.32,17 (trans. FC 29, 157).
135 See P. Chambert-Protat / C. Gerzaguet (eds.), Timothée, Sur la pâque, SC 604, Paris 2019.
136 Timoth., pasch. 11 (SC 604, 152).
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 21

The Jewish custom comes from the book of Exodus: “You shall keep the
[lamb] until the fourteenth day of this month” (Ex 12:6). However, the ob-
servance of the fourteenth day implies celebrating the resurrection of the
Lord on whatever day it falls (quemcumque inuenerit).137 This is the traditional
argument against Quartodecimans. In fact, at the beginning of the third cen-
tury, Ps.Hippolytus criticized those who celebrate Easter “on whatever day it
should occur.”138 Besides, Eusebius mentions the same point: they celebrate
Easter “on whatever day of the week this fell.”139 Timothy, remarks:

Although the date of Easter is calculated and determined by the Jews accord-
ing to lunar cycles, for us the days of Easter are assigned by the Lord, not by
lunar cycles (ad pascha dies a domino non cursus lunares assignati sunt).140

It is the Sunday that counts, not the moon. However, in comparison with the
previous tradition, Timothy further develops the anti-Jewish dimension of
the topic. He claims that those who keep the Jewish date fall back “from grace
to the Law” (Gal 5:4)141 This means that Christ died for nothing (Gal 2:21). The
Liber de pascha is a crucial step in the development of the anti-Jewish argu-
ment. Timothy criticizes a second group, those who stick to the Acts of Pilate.
The Liber de pascha does not explain the practice of this group. However,
Epiphanius sheds light on the issue in his chapter against Quartodecimans:

Others though, who keep the same one day and fast and celebrate the myster-
ies on the same one day, boast that they have found the precise date in the
Acts of Pilate, if you please; it says there that the Savior suffered on the eighth
before the Kalends of April.142

In fact, the Acts of Pilate begins with the following words:

In the fifteenth year of the government of Tiberius Caesar, emperor of the

Romans, and when Herod was king of Galilee, in the nineteenth year of his
rule, on the eighth day before the Kalends of April (πρὸ ὀκτὼ καλανδῶν
Ἀπριλλίων), which is the twenty-fifth of March (εἰκὰς πέμπτη Μαρτίου)…143

––––––––––––––––––––

137 Timoth., pasch. 13 (SC 604, 154).

138 (Ps.)Hipp., haer. 8.18,1 (Marcovich, 1986, 337); see also Epiph., haer. 50.1,6.
139 Eus., h.e. 5.23,1 (GCS.NF 6/3, 488).
140 Timoth., pasch. 14 (SC 604, 156–158).
141 Timoth., pasch. 11.
142 Epiph., haer. 50.1,5 (trans. NHMS 79, 24).
143 Acts of Pilate 1 pr. (Conybeare, 1896, 73, see app.). See Tert., adv. Iud. 8.18; C. Furrer / C.
Guignard, Titre et prologue des Actes de Pilate. Nouvelle lecture à partir d’une reconstitution
d’un état ancien du texte, in: Apocrypha 24 (2013), 139–205.
22 CHAPTER 1

The beginning of the Acts indicates the date of Christ’s death. However, Timo-
thy does not discuss the rationale for this date; instead, he rejects the reliabil-
ity of the Acts of Pilate.
The document criticizes a third practice: “Those who denied that the em-
bolism of the Jews is to be observed.”144 According to Timothy, these Chris-
tians reject the embolism in order to avoid celebrating Easter together with
the Jews. However, this practice implies that the Sunday following the 14th
Nisan can fall before the equinox, that is, that Easter can fall before the be-
ginning of the new solar year. In this case, Easter is celebrated twice in the
same solar year. The testimony of Epiphanius confirms this information.145 In
chapters 19–20, Timothy condemns a fourth group:

By affirming that Christ celebrated the Passover with his disciples before suf-
fering, since Friday coincided with the fourteenth day of the Jews (cum in
quarta decima iudaeorum antehac incurrisset paraceuae dies), they postponed
the solemnity of the fast until the following Friday.146

These Christians celebrate Easter one week later than the Jewish feast. The
text declares that these people commemorate the resurrection before the
death of Christ.147 However, this charge must be a distortion of their practice.
Finally, the Council of Arles provides evidence of the situation in the
western part of the Roman empire. The synodal speaks about “divisions and
dissentions” regarding the date of Easter. The first canon to Silvester states:

In the first place, concerning the celebration of the Lord’s Easter: you should
send out letters to all, as is the custom, so that [Easter] can be observed by us
on one day and at one time (uno die et uno tempore) in all the earth.148

The synodal document does not attack any specific group or practice. As Di
Berardino remarks, it seems that the crucial problem was the inability of
certain churches to calculate the date of Easter Sunday. In other words, there
were not opposing alternative traditions, but some churches did not have the
scientific knowledge to calculate in advance the precise Sunday on which
Easter should be celebrated. Therefore, the problem could be solved by the
letters of the bishop of Rome, a church that could provide this knowledge.149

––––––––––––––––––––

144 Timoth., pasch. 16 (SC 604, 160).

145 See Epiph., haer. 70.11,5–6.
146 Timoth., pasch. 19 (SC 604, 164).
147 See Timoth., pasch. 19.
148 Can. ad Silv., can. 1 (CChr.SL 148, 9).
149 See Di Berardino, 2023, 220–222.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 23

1.2 Theological Antecedents of the Fourth Century Controversies

This section addresses the background of the theological discussions at Ni-

caea, so it provides a short introduction to Christian Monotheism and then
deals with the Monarchian crisis, the theological tradition of Egypt and Pales-
tine, and the doctrinal traditions of Asia and Syria.
The theological crisis of the fourth century was closely connected to the
doctrinal debates of previous centuries. It was not a local crisis that spread
and divided the bishops; it erupted in a world that was already split into dif-
ferent doctrinal tendencies.

1.2.1 Jewish, Pagan, and Christian Monotheism

In the first century, Jewish thought accepted only one God. However, it did
not exclude the existence of other heavenly beings. The transcendent God
acted in the world through agents who did not weaken the divine uniqueness
and who did not receive worship.150 Early Christian thinkers reflected on the
identity of Jesus within the framework of Jewish monotheism that gave room
to other divine agents.151 In fact, the biblical doctrine of the “two powers in
heaven” offered intellectual categories to integrate Christ into the framework
of the one God of the Scriptures.152 These categories, once modified, served to
understand and communicate the divine identity of the Lord Jesus in a
scheme already consolidated: the monotheism of Israel.153 The theological
conflict between Christianity and its first interlocutor, Judaism, took place
within this framework. Naturally, biblical monotheism was opposed to the
Greco-Roman polytheism. However, there was no significant dialogue be-
tween Christian doctrine and the Greco-Roman religions. What, then, trig-
gered the conflict over the unity of God that is called the Monarchian crisis?
Two factors played a significant role in the emergence of this controversy.
A first explanation for the Monarchian controversy was the anti-Gnostic
reaction.154 The Gnostic theologies – at least according to their opponents –

––––––––––––––––––––

150 See L. Hurtado, One God, One Lord: Early Christian Devotion and Ancient Jewish Monothe-
ism, Edinburgh 1998, 17–92.
151 See Hurtado, 1998, 93–124; M. Hengel, Studies in Early Christology, London 1995, 119–225.
152 See A.F. Segal, Two Powers in Heaven: Early Rabbinic Reports about Christianity and Gnosti-
cism, Leiden 2002; D. Boyarin, Two Powers in Heaven; or, the Making of a Heresy, in: H.
Najman / J. Newman, The Idea of Biblical Interpretation: Essays in Honor of James L. Kugel,
Leiden 2004, 331–370; D. Boyarin, Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity, Penn-
sylvania 2004, 112–127.
153 See Just., Tryph. 11.1.
154 See M. Simonetti, Studi sulla cristologia del II e III secolo, Roma 1993, 97–105; M. Hübner,
Der Paradox Eine: Antignostischer Monarchianismus im zweiten Jahrhundert, Leiden 1999.
24 CHAPTER 1

supported a plurality of divine beings (αἰῶνες). Consequently, anti-Gnostic

Christians of different cultural backgrounds regarded divine plurality with
distrust. In this context, anti-Gnostic Christians emphasized the unity of God,
as opposed to the multiplicity of divine beings of the Gnostic system.155 A
second cause of the Monarchian controversy was the Christian encounter
with philosophy. As explained above, the first interlocutor of Christian theol-
ogy was Israel. However, in the second half of the second century some Chris-
tian authors began an intense dialogue with philosophy.
At this point, it is necessary to consider Frede’s warning: “There is a temp-
tation to think that one thing which ultimately distinguished Christians from
pagans in antiquity was that the Christians, following the Jews, believed in
one God, whereas the pagans believed in many gods.”156 Indeed, major schools
of philosophy recognized “that a single divine power lay behind the existence
of the universe and our understanding of it.”157 Book XII of Aristotle’s Meta-
physics illustrates this tendency.158 Besides, philosophers, in general, did not
accept the regular representations of the traditional gods.159 Thus, intellectu-
als professed what is called “pagan monotheism,” which is currently a concept
of debate that goes beyond the scope of this chapter.160 Nevertheless, the ef-
fective contact with philosophical monotheism placed Christian theology in
a new context. As a result of this dialogue, some Christian thinkers empha-
sized the unity of God so as to diminish the real distinction between the Fa-
ther and the Son. In this way, Monarchian theology emerged. This theology
was justified by syllogisms.

They have tampered with the divine Scriptures without fear; they have set
aside the rule of ancient faith (ἀρχαίας κανόνα ἠθετήκασιν); they have not
known Christ, seeking not what the divine Scriptures say, but laboriously
striving after the discovery of some sort of syllogistic figure for the support of
their atheism (ὁποῖον σχῆμα συλλογισμοῦ εἰς τὴν τῆς ἀθεότητος σύστασιν εὑρεθῇ).

––––––––––––––––––––

155 See Iren., haer. 2.13,8; 2.17,7; 2.28,5–6.

156 See M. Frede, Monotheism and Pagan Philosophy in Later Antiquity, in: P. Athanassiadi / M.
Frede (eds.), Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity, Oxford 1999, 41.
157 S. Mitchell / P. Van Nuffelen, Introduction: the debate about pagan monotheism, in: S.
Mitchell / P. van Nuffelen (eds.), One God: Pagan Monotheism in the Roman Empire, Cam-
bridge 2010, 3.
158 See G. Uribarri, Monarquía y Trinidad. El concepto teológico «Monarchia» en la controversia
«Monarquiana», Madrid 1996, 33–40.
159 See Frede, 1999, 41–67.
160 See C. Moreschini, Monoteismo cristiano e monoteismo platonico nella cultura latina dell’
età imperiale, in: H.D. Blume (ed.), Platonismus und Christentum: Festschrift für Heinrich
Dörrie, Münster 1983, 133–161; S. Mitchell / P. van Nuffelen (eds.), Monotheism between Pa-
gans and Christians in Late Antiquity, Leuven 2009; Mitchell / van Nuffelen, 2010.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 25

If anyone places before them a passage of divine Scripture, they inquire

whether a conjunctive or disjunctive syllogism can be made of it. 161

The use of dialectics indicates that this theological stance arose in environ-
ments connected to Hellenistic culture. This Monarchian teaching seems to
be far from an untheologisch, popular doctrine.162 In this context, for the first
time, the challenge of Christian theology was formulated as a problem of
logic: how to affirm the divinity of Jesus without damaging monotheism?
Christian theology had to answer this question within the framework of the
Greek intellectual tradition. If this interpretation is correct, the Monarchian
crisis did not arise only from the confrontation of Christianity with Jewish
theology, but also from the encounter of Christian discourse with the de-
mands of philosophical monotheism.
Christian theoretical reflection focused on the relationship between the
Lord Jesus and God the Father. Other problems, such as the identity of the
Holy Spirit and the relationship between humanity and divinity in Christ,
were addressed to the extent that they touched the main question, namely,
the relationship between the Son and the Father. Of course, the Holy Spirit
was present in Christian worship and life, but it was not subject to rational
investigation.163 In some Monarchian streams the Holy Spirit was identified
with the unique divinity of the Father and the Son, but it was not a direct
object of speculation.164 Instead, the various Monarchian solutions fostered
different understandings of the relationship between the humanity and di-
vinity of Christ. As will be seen, emphasis on the unity of God favored a sharp
distinction between the humanity and divinity of Christ, i.e., a tendency to-
wards divisive Christology. Accordingly, different Trinitarian models support
different Christological solutions. This new scenario, which took shape at the
end of the second century, prompted the debate known as the Monarchian
crisis, which must be considered as one of the crucial theological antecedents
of the Arian controversy.
In this context, the theological questions that were addressed at the synod
of Nicaea began to be raised. The central discussion of the decades preceding
Nicaea revolved around the origin of the Son. According to the rule of faith
––––––––––––––––––––

161 Eus., h.e. 5.28,13 (GCS.NF 6/3, 504; trans. FC 19, 345). See also Hipp., Noët. 2.3; Novat., trin.
30.175; 30.179.
162 Harnack supposed that one factor of the emergence of Monarchianism was “a repugnance
to the employment of Platonic and Stoic philosophy in Christian doctrine,” A. v. Harnack,
Monarchianism, in: S.M. Jackson / G.W. Gilmore, The New Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of
Religious Knowledge 7, Grand Rapids 1963, 453. Instead, see Simonetti, 1993, 218.
163 See E. Schweizer, The Holy Spirit, Philadelphia 1980.
164 See Simonetti, 1993, 23–52.
26 CHAPTER 1

expounded by Origen, it was necessary to profess that “the Son comes from
the Father before all creation.”165 This tenet was taken for granted. The pend-
ing task, however, was to elucidate theologically in what way the Son comes
from the Father before all creation. This question raised other more concrete
issues linked to some biblical passages: Is the Logos a divine faculty or a sub-
sistent being? Can an originated reality be divine? Is the Son a mutable or an
immutable being? At what “moment” should the origin of the Son be placed,
in tempore, ante tempora or ab aeterno? Does the Son come from the being of
God, from his will, or from nothing? In what sense are the Son and the Father
one? What verbs describe the origin of the Son? What metaphors express the
origin, divinity, and subsistence of the Son? What is the relationship between
the Son and creation? Was the Son originated to be an instrument for the
work of creation? In addition, the correlative character of the Father and the
Son, and the freedom of God to beget the Son were discussed. Many biblical
verses appear in support of the discussions, but only a few were responsible
for shaping the different theologies. The main ones are Ps 44:2; Prov 8:22-25;
Wis 7:25–26; Isa 53:8; John 1:1–3; 10:30; Col 1:15; Heb 1:3.
The following pages are structured as follows: first, the development of
the Monarchian crisis is outlined, and then the main theological traditions at
stake are presented, namely that of Egypt and Palestine, and that of Asia and
Syria. In any case, the following pages do not pretend to provide a view of the
pre-Nicene doctrine of God in general. Their aim is to describe the points that
were relevant to the discussions at Nicaea. Therefore, it examines the histori-
cal development of those doctrinal issues that were addressed at Nicaea.

1.2.2 The Apologists

The Apologists transmit noteworthy antecedents to Monarchian theology.
Justin, in his Dialogue with Trypho (ca. 155), reacts against a group, whose
identity is unknown, that seeks to harmonize the unity of God and the divini-
ty of the Son.166 Monotheism appears as an indisputable fact affirmed by both
philosophical and biblical tradition.167 On two occasions, Justin refers to the

––––––––––––––––––––

165 Or., princ. 1 pr. 4 (Behr, 2017, 14–15): quia Christus Iesus, ipse qui venit, ante omnem creatu-
ram natus ex patre est.
166 See C. Munier (ed.), Justin, Apologie pour les chrétiens, SC 507, Paris 2006; J. Ulrich, Justin,
Apologien, KfA 4/5, Freiburg 2019; P. Bobichon (ed.), Justin Martyr, Dialogue avec Tryphon:
Édition critique, traduction, commentaire, Fribourg 2003; A.C. Jacobsen, The Apologists, in:
P.F. Esler (ed.), The Early Christian World, London 2017, 547–564; Simontetti, 1993, 73–82;
W. Rordorf, La Trinité dans les écrits de Justin Martyr, in: Aug. 20 (1980), 285–297; A. Orbe,
Hacia la primera teología de la procesión del Verbo, Roma 1958, 565–583.
167 See Just., Tryph. 5.6; 11.1; 1apol. 16.6.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 27

doctrine of his anonymous adversaries. After affirming that it was not the
Father but the Son who spoke to Moses (Ex 3:14), he says:

For those who say the Son is the Father (τὸν υἱὸν πατέρα… εἶναι) are refuted as
not having known the Father nor knowing that the Father of all has a Son
who, being the first-born Logos of God, is also God.168

While Justin emphasizes the subsistence of the Logos, his adversaries identify
the Son with the Father. The apologist describes their doctrine:

But some teach that this power (δύναμις) is indivisible and inseparable from the
Father, just as the light of the sun on earth is indivisible and inseparable
(ἄτμητον καὶ ἀχώριστον) from the sun in the skies; for, when the sun sets, its light
disappears from the earth. So, they claim, the Father whenever He wishes (ὅταν
βούληται) can cause His power to go forth (δύναμιν αὐτοῦ προπηδᾶν ποιεῖ) and,
whenever He wishes (ὅταν βούληται), to return again.169

The passage testifies to the existence of a theology that conceived the logos –
with small letters – as an impersonal divine faculty. Accordingly, the logos
would not be a Son, but rather a dynamis without proper subsistence. Its
distinction from God depends on the Father’s will and is limited to a period of
time, namely, the economy. Unfortunately, the sources do not allow us to
know better the physiognomy of this group.170 Against them, Justin emphasiz-
es the subsistence of the Son and his otherness with respect to the Father:

This Power […] not only is numbered as different by its name (as is the light
of the sun) but is something distinct in real number (ἀριθμῷ ἕτερόν τί ἐστι)
[…]. This Power was begotten from the Father (γεγεννῆσθαι ἀπὸ τοῦ πατρός), by
His power and will, but not by abscission (οὐ κατὰ ἀποτομήν), as if the sub-
stance of the Father were divided (ὡς ἀπομεριζομένης τῆς τοῦ πατρὸς οὐσίας).171

This Power, which Justin identifies with the Logos, is a subsistent reality,
which comes from the Father by a begetting that does not imply a division of
the Father’s οὐσία. The Son “was begotten by an act of the Father’s will (ἐκ τοῦ
ἀπὸ τοῦ πατρὸς θελήσει γεγεννῆσθαι).”172 To emphasize the subsistence of the
Son, the apologist claims that the plural of Gen 1:26 shows that the Logos is

––––––––––––––––––––

168 Just., 1apol. 63.15 (trans. Minns / Parvis, 2009, 249).

169 Just., Tryph. 128.3 (Bobichon, 2003, 530; FC 6, 347).
170 It is not even clear whether they are Christians or Jews. A. Orbe, Orígenes y los Monarqui-
anos, in: Greg. 72 (1991), 67.
171 Just., Tryph. 128.4 (Bobichon, 2003, 530; FC 6, 347–348, mod.).
172 Just., Tryph. 61.1 (Bobichon, 2003, 346; FC 6, 244).
28 CHAPTER 1

“other” with respect to God “as to number” (ἀριθμῷ ἕτερος).173 The apologist
explains the origin of the Son:

But this offspring (γέννημα), who was truly brought by the Father, was with
the Father (συνῆν τῷ πατρί) and the Father talked with him before all creation
(πρὸ πάντων τῶν ποιημάτων), as the Scripture through Solomon clearly showed
us, saying that the same, who is called Wisdom by Solomon, was begotten
both as a beginning before all His works, and as His offspring (Prov 8:22-25).174

This passage emphasizes the otherness of the Logos and his personal charac-
ter, for he “talked” with God. Moreover, it affirms that the Son existed in the
Father (τῷ πατρί) before time (ante tempora).175 The Logos is prior to creation
and, consequently, does not belong to the realm of creatures. But does the
subsistence and divinity of the Son weaken biblical and philosophical mono-
theism? To show divine unity, Justin resorts to a couple of metaphors:176

But does not something similar happen also with us humans? When we utter
a word, it can be said that we beget the word (λόγον γεννῶμεν), but not by cut-
ting it off (οὐ κατὰ ἀποτομήν), in the sense that our word would be diminished.
We can observe a similar example in nature when one fire kindles another. 177

Justin envisions a primordial unity that diversifies in a second “moment,” that

is, a kind of two-stage Logos theology.178 However, in his extant works, he does
not explicitly develop this doctrine. Besides, an interesting passage affirms
that the Father and the Son are two by ἀριθμός (number) and one by γνώμη
(will, intention, thought).179 In short, to maintain monotheism, Justin sustains
the two-stage theology, places the Son in the divine realm, and, at the same
time, assigns him a subordinate state with respect to God the Father.180 The
expressions of this submission are manifold: the Son performs the will of the
Father; the Logos, who is God, is at the service of God the Father, and the Son
performs activities that are unworthy of God the Father.181
––––––––––––––––––––

173 Just., Tryph. 56.11; 62.1–3; 128.4; 129.2–4.

174 Just., Tryph. 62.4 (Bobichon, 2003, 350; FC 6, 246, mod.).
175 See Just., Tryph. 61.1; 100.4; 129.4.
176 The extensive argumentation of Tryph. 56–62 shows that Justin clearly perceived the need
to affirm the otherness of the Son with respect to the Father. However, he did not develop
an analogous effort to show the unity between the Father and the Son.
177 Just., Tryph. 61.2 (Bobichon, 2003, 346; trans. FC 6, 244, mod.).
178 See C. Moreschini, Storia della filosofia patristica, Brescia 2004, 72–76; R.B. Norris, Logos
Christology as Cosmological Paradigm, in: Pro Ecclesia 5 (1996), 183–201.
179 See Just., Tryph. 56.11.
180 See Simonetti, 1993, 81–82.
181 See Just., Tryph. 56.11; 56.22; 57.3; 58.3; 60.1–5; 61.1; 113.4; 125.3; 126.5; 127.4.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 29

Athenagoras of Athens, who may have taught in Alexandria,182 develops

the two-stage Logos theology and emphasizes the eternity of the internal
logos:183 “God, who is eternal mind, had in himself (ἐν ἑαυτῷ) his logos from
the beginning, since He [God] was eternally (ἀιδίως) rational.”184 Therefore, ab
aeterno, the logos of God existed in idea and operation (ἐν ἰδέᾳ καὶ ἐνεργείᾳ).
However, ante tempora, in order to assist God in the work of creation, the
Logos proceeded (προέρχομαι) from God to act as a model and active power
over the elements.185 Athenagoras concludes his reasoning:

Who then would not be amazed if he heard of men called atheists who bring
forward God the Father, God the Son, and the Holy Spirit and who proclaim
both their power in their unity (ἐν τῇ ἑνώσει δύναμιν) and their diversity in
rank (τὴν ἐν τῇ τάξει διαίρεσιν).186

The last sentence shows the tension between monotheism and Trinity. The
Christian philosopher seeks to solve the problem between distinction
(διαίρεσις) and unity (ἕνωσις) by means of a dynamic unity. This solution rec-
ognizes a hierarchy that corresponds to an order or rank (τάξις).
Theophilus of Antioch further develops the two-stage Logos theology. Ad-
ditionally, according to the sources, he is the first Christian author to use the
term τριάς, that is, triad or trinity, to refer to the Father, the Son, and the Spir-
it.187 According to the bishop of Antioch, the transcendent God is provident
and devoid of any need (ἀνενδεής). God created everything “out of nothing”
(ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων) and made all the creatures through his Logos:188

God, having his own logos innate in his own bowels (ἐνδιάθετον ἐν τοῖς ἰδίοις
σπλάγχνοις), begot him together with his own sophia, vomiting him forth be-
fore everything else (πρὸ τῶν ὅλων). He used this Logos as his servant (ὑπουρ-
γός) in the things created by him, and through him he made all things. 189

Thus, God, who had in himself his immanent logos (λόγος ἐνδιάθετος), begot
it, that is, externalized it, so that the Logos could assist God in the work of
creation. To express the begetting, Theophilus uses the verb ἐξερεύγομαι,
––––––––––––––––––––

182 See B. Pouderon (ed.), Histoire de la littérature grecque chrétienne des origines à 451 2, Paris
2016, 603–604; Pouderon, 1997, 1–70.
183 See Simonetti, 1993, 85–91.
184 Athenag., leg. 10.3 (Schoedel, 1972, 22–23, mod.).
185 See Athenag., leg. 10.2.
186 Athenag., leg. 10.5 (Schoedel, 1972, 22–23).
187 See Thphl., Aut. 2.15,4.
188 See Thphl., Aut. 2.10,1.
189 Thphl., Aut. 2.10,1–3 (Grant, 1970, 38–39 mod.). See Ps 44:2.
30 CHAPTER 1

which appears in Ps 44:2.190 The two-stage theology can be recognized. Else-

where he is explicit:

The truth describes the logos, always innate in the heart of God (ἐνδιάθετος ἐν
καρδίᾳ θεοῦ). For before anything came into existence, He [God] had this as
his counsellor, his own mind and intelligence. When God wished (ὁπότε δὲ
ἠθέλησεν ὁ θεός) to make what he had planned to make, he begot (γεννάω) this
Logos, making him external (προφορικός), as the first born of all creation (Col
1:15). He did not deprive himself of the Logos but begot the Logos and con-
stantly converses with his Logos.191

Thus, Theophilus clearly distinguishes two stages: ab aeterno and ante tempo-
ra, which are distinguished by a ὁπότε that is a consequence of the will of
God. The result is that, ab aeterno, the logos is in God (ἐν αὐτῷ / ἐν καρδίᾳ) as
internal logos (ἐνδιάθετος), divine counselor, mind, and thought; then, ante
tempora, this Logos was begotten (γεννάω), i.e., was uttered (προφορικός) as
firstborn of all creation (Col 1:15).192 Theophilus expresses the personal charac-
ter of the Logos, like Justin, by the fact that God conversed with him (ὁμιλέω).
There are not two divinities, but one God from whom comes his divine and
personal Logos. In the quoted passages, the Logos is not called Son. Neverthe-
less, his sonship is implied by the verb beget (γεννάω) and because God is
called “Father.”
Justin and Theophilus introduce the term “monarchy” (μοναρχία) into
Christian theology to express that there is a single God, a single principle,
from which everything proceeds.193 Modern scholarship has associated this
term with those theologies that weaken the distinction between the Father
and the Son. They use it like the philosophers, as an expression of monothe-
ism; however, the apologists do not compare monarchy with domestic gov-
ernment as the philosophers do.194 The apologists use “monarchy” against the
“multitude of gods” and against uncreated matter; however, they never use
monarchy to weaken the distinction between the Father and his Son. There
are not two Gods because the Son comes from the Father and receives his
divinity from Him. God the Father, who is the only principle (μόνος ἀρχή), is
also principle of the Son. The unity of God is guaranteed by the Father, from
whom the Son (and the Spirit) come. The Greek apologists offer a reflection
that will have lasting influence.
––––––––––––––––––––

190 See also Just., Tryph. 38,3.

191 Thphl., Aut. 2.22,3–4 (Grant, 1970, 62–63).
192 These expressions have Stoic background, see SVF 2.135; 2.223.
193 See Just., Tryph. 1.3; Thphl., Aut. 2.4,5; 2.8,6; 2.8,9; 2.28,3; 2.35,4; 2.35,9; 2.38,7; 3.7,7.
194 See Uribarri, 1996, 75–136.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 31

1.2.3 The Rise of Monarchian Theology

Monarchianism is a theological tendency identified by modern studies, not
an organized group. In antiquity, its supporters were called Patripassians in
the West and Sabellians or Noetians in the East. The common elements of the
various forms of Monarchianism are not only explained by their mutual in-
fluences, but also by the common theological problem that they faced: what
to say about the identity of the Son of God – his divinity and subsistence –
without weakening monotheism?
The textual evidence for Monarchian theology is indirect, and its dating
cannot be established with precision. However, between the years 200 and
220, this theological tendency appeared, with similar characteristics, in vari-
ous regions of the Roman Empire. According to Simonetti, the chronological
order of the main works against the Monarchian theologies is as follows:
Hippolytus, Contra Noëtum (Asia); Tertullian, Adversus Praxean (Africa) and
Ps. Hippolytus, Refutatio omnium haeresium (Rome). The Italian scholar
maintains that Hippolytus, the author of the Conta Noëtum, was an Asian
bishop, different from Ps. Hippolytus, the author of the Refutatio, who was a
Roman presbyter.195 Unfortunately, very little reliable evidence survives about
Sabellius, who became the hallmark of Monarchian theology.196
The earliest documented Monarchianism is that of Noetus, who was ac-
tive in Smyrna around the year 200. He affirmed “that Christ himself is the
Father and that the Father was born, suffered, and died.”197 Hippolytus, a bish-
op of Asia, describes the condemnation of Noetus: “When the blessed presby-
ters heard these things, they brought him before the church and questioned
him,”198 but he persevered in his doctrine. Therefore, “once again, the blessed
presbyters summoned him for an examination. But he resisted them, saying,
‘Well then, what am I doing wrong by glorifying Christ?’”199 According to No-
etus, it was necessary to identify the Son with the Father to glorify Christ, that
is, to profess his divinity. The Noetians – as Hippolytus called them – sought
to prove their doctrine with biblical texts that emphasized the uniqueness of
God: “You shall have no other gods besides me” (Ex 3:6); “Beside me there is
none” (Isa 44:6); “This is our God; no other shall be before him (πρὸς αὐτόν)”

––––––––––––––––––––

195 See Simonetti, 2000, 70–139.

196 See Simonetti, 1993, 217–238. “After the 3rd century CE, the term ‘Sabellian’ is employed
more broadly to describe any modalistic monarchian or patripassian theologies, regard-
less of whether the individual proponents had any actual relationship to Sabellius or his
original followers,” M.J. Svigel, Sabellians / Sabellianism, BEEC Online 2024 (Brill.com).
197 Hipp., Noët. 1.1 (trans. CEECW 1, 59). Greek text in Simonetti, 2000.
198 Hipp., Noët. 1.4 (trans. CEECW 1, 60).
199 Hipp., Noët. 1.6 (trans. CEECW 1, 60).
32 CHAPTER 1

(Bar 3:36);200 “There is no God besides you. For you are God and we did not
know, God of Israel, savior” (Isa 45:14–15); or verses that emphasized the iden-
tity between Christ and the Father: “From them comes Christ according to
the flesh, who is God over all blessed forever” (Rom 9:5); “I and the Father are
one” (John 10:30) and “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:9–
10). Some of these biblical loci classici were discussed in the fourth century as
well. Hippolytus transmits the consequences that Noetus drew from the bib-
lical texts:

Since these [biblical] testimonies are as they are – [Noetus] says – I hold it to
be necessary that, since only one is confessed, this one bore the suffering. For
Christ was God and suffered on our behalf, the same one being Father, so that
he might be able to save us. We cannot say anything else.201

The problem at stake was not that of the suffering of the Father, as one might
think, but the rejection of the otherness of the Son, that is, the personal iden-
tification of the Son and the Father. For Monarchian theology, the Logos was
not other (ἕτερος) than the Father: “The Father is himself Christ, himself Son,
he himself was born, he himself suffered, he himself raised himself!”202
Noetian argumentation aims to guarantee the unity of God, not to affirm
the sufferings of the Father, a problematic assertion. Noetus, therefore, had to
solve this problem. Although the data is scarce, it seems that his solution
consisted of what will be called divisive Christology, i.e., that Christology
which supports an excessive distinction between the man Jesus and the di-
vine element that inhabits him.203 In addition to biblical arguments, he pro-
posed syllogisms to prove the reliability of his doctrine:

So then, if I confess that Christ is God, then he is the Father, if he is God. Now
Christ, who is God, suffered. Therefore, you see, the Father suffered, for he
himself was the Father.204

The use of syllogisms is significant. Eusebius and Novatian report that those
who sought to prove that Christ was the Father made use of syllogisms.205 The
––––––––––––––––––––

200 Bar 3:36 conflicts with John 1:1 which states that the Logos was πρὸς τὸν θεόν.
201 Hipp., Noët. 2.7 (trans. CEECW 1, 61).
202 Hipp., Noët. 3.2 (trans. CEECW 1, 61).
203 A sign of this type of Christology can be seen in Noetus’ use of Isa 45:14. The statement
“God is in you” (ἐν σοὶ ὁ θεός ἐστίν) distinguishes between the “you” and “the God” who is in
him. This solution, then, made it possible to affirm that the one God is in Jesus and, at the
same time, to mitigate in part the scandal of the passion.
204 Hipp., Noët. 2.3 (trans. CEECW 1, 60).
205 See Eus., h.e. 5.28,13; Novat., trin. 30.175.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 33

use of dialectics indicates that this tendency arose in environments connect-

ed to Hellenistic culture and philosophy.
An anonymous work denounces the presence in Rome of the doctrine of
Artemon, which declared Christ to be a “mere man” (ψιλός ἄνθρωπος).206 This
Christological tendency is called Adoptionism in modern scholarship. It is
possible, however, that Monarchianism and Adoptionism, in some cases, are
not opposing doctrines, but two aspects of the same theological solution.
Indeed, a theology that identifies the Father and the Son needs a real man to
be the “container” of the one divinity.
Ancient sources place Sabellius in Rome in the first decades of the third
century. No writing of Sabellius and almost no information transmitted by his
direct adversaries is preserved.207 Only Ps. Hippolytus, the author of the Refu-
tatio, has debated him directly, at the beginning of the third century in Rome.
He transmits some reliable evidence. This author, active around 220, speaks
of Sabellius as someone known to his readers.208 The classical expression of
Sabellius’ theology was the term υἱοπάτωρ, which was a way of affirming that
God was Son-Father.209 However, shortly thereafter, the name Sabellius be-
came nothing more than a label for theologies that identify the Son with the
Father,210 so that the sources do not allow us to reconstruct the theology of
Sabellius himself beyond the stereotype that he represented.211
Book 9 of the Refutatio transmits the severe contrasts between the Monar-
chian tendency and the Christology of Ps. Hippolytus. He states that Callixtus,
the bishop of Rome (217–222), on the one hand expelled Sabellius from the
Church and, on the other, “reproached us in public saying ‘you are ditheists
(δίθεοί ἐστε).’”212 Therefore, Callistus considered the doctrines both of Sabelli-
us and of Ps. Hippolytus incompatible with Christian faith. To refuse both
extremes, he promoted – according to his adversary – the following doctrine:

––––––––––––––––––––

206 Eus., h.e. 5.28,2 (GCS.NF 6/3, 500); Waers, 2022, 43–50. According to its supporters, this
doctrine would have been the traditional one until the time of Victor (189–199), see Eus.,
h.e. 5.28,1–3. However, the anonymous author states that Victor – before Zephyrinus – had
expelled from the church Theodotus the Tanner, who held this teaching, Eus., h.e. 5.28,6.
207 See Simonetti, 1993, 217–238; Svigel, 2024.
208 See X. Morales, Sabellius libyen, Libye sabellienne? in: Aug. 62 (2022), 26.
209 See Ar., ep. Alex. 3 (FNS 11.3); Eus., e.th. 1.1,2; 1.5,2; 2.5,1; 2.12,2; C.Anc. (358), can. 17; Epiph.,
haer. 69.17,4.
210 Thus, most of the sources, under the name of Sabellius, convey the theological paradigm
that identifies the Son with the Father rather than historical data about his personal doc-
trine.
211 See Morales, 2022, 19–48.
212 (Ps.)Hipp., haer. 9.12,16 (Marcovich, 1986, 353; trans. Legge, 1921, 129).
34 CHAPTER 1

Now [Callixtus] bringing forward Zephyrinus himself, persuaded him to say

publicly: “I know one God, Christ Jesus, and beside Him I know no other, be-
gotten and susceptible of suffering.” And at one time he said: “The Father did
not die but the Son,” and thus maintained the faction among the people. 213

This text shows the difficulty of maintaining two central elements of the
Christian faith: the unity of God and the distinction between the Son and the
Father.214 In any case, the purposes of Callixtus were clear, although his con-
crete solution was obscure. Therefore, the author of the Refutatio concludes
that Callixtus sometimes fell into the doctrine of Sabellius and sometimes
into that of Theodotus,215 teacher of Artemon. Again, the Sabellian and Adop-
tionist solutions appear as two aspects of the same teaching.
This section does not aim to offer a full account of the pre-Nicene Trinitar-
ian theology, but rather to present the theological background of the partici-
pants in Nicaea. Accordingly, it does not include Latin authors such as Tertul-
lian and Novatian, focusing solely on Greek writers.

1.2.4 The Alexandrian Tradition: Origen

Although the roots of the Alexandrian tradition can be traced back to Philo
and others, the present section begins with Origen. His thought was shaped
in dialogue and discussion with Gnosticism, Judeo-Hellenism, Greek philoso-
phy, Monarchianism, and anti-intellectual Christians.216 One factor in the
formation of Origen’s theology was the Monarchian threat. In fact, significant
Trinitarian reflections took place in an anti-Monarchian context. Therefore, it
is necessary to reconstruct the Monarchian tendencies according to his texts.
When dealing with John 1:1b, “and the Logos stood before (πρός) God,” Origen
described this kind of theology and explained its grounds:

Many people who wish to be pious are troubled because they are afraid that
they may proclaim two Gods and, for this reason, they fall into false and impi-
ous beliefs. They either deny that the individual nature (ἰδιότης) of the Son is
other than that of the Father by confessing him to be God whom they refer to
as “Son” in name at least, or they deny the divinity of the Son and make his
individual nature (ἰδιότης) and essence as an individual (οὐσία κατὰ περιγρα-
φὴν) to be different from the Father.217

––––––––––––––––––––

213 (Ps.)Hipp., haer. 9.12,11 (Marcovich, 1986, 352; trans. Legge, 1921, 125, mod.).
214 A doctrine like this is attacked by Tertullian, see Tert., adv. Prax. 27.1.
215 See (Ps.)Hipp., haer. 9.12,19.
216 See Orbe, 1991, 39–72.
217 Or., in Joh. 2.16 (GCS 10, 54; trans. FC 80, 98). See Novat., trin. 30.174–175.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 35

To avoid ditheism, they either deny the otherness of the Son with respect to
the Father or they deny his divinity. A fragment of Origen’s Commentary on
Titus describes another solution:

Moreover, not without danger may those be associated with the Church’s
membership who say that the Lord Jesus was a man, foreknown and predes-
tined, who before his coming in the flesh had no substantial and proper exist-
ence (substantialiter et proprie non extiterit), but that, because he was born
human, he possessed only the deity of the Father within him (patris solam in
se habuerit deitatem). The same applies to those who with more superstition
than religion, wishing to avoid the appearance of saying that there are two
Gods, and yet having no intention of denying the deity of the Savior, claim
that the Father and the Son have one and the same subsistent being (sub-
sistentia). That is to say, they indeed say that the deity receives two names ac-
cording to the diversity of causes, yet there exists a single ὑπόστασις, that is,
one underlying person with two names.218

The fragment describes two kinds of Monarchianism: according to the first,

Christ is a man inhabited by the Father’s divinity; according to the second,
the Father and the Son are the same hypostasis. Besides, these Christians use
only the term “Logos” to speak of the Son: they quote “My heart uttered a
good word” (Ps 44:2), think that the Logos is something uttered by the Father,
and do not grant him a hypostasis, nor do they explain his ousia.219 They also
use the biblical texts that call both God and the Savior “light” to affirm that
the Father does not differ from the Son by substance (οὐσία).220 According to
another passage, based on a comparison of two biblical texts (1 Cor 15:15 and
John 2:19), these anonymous Monarchians affirm that the Father and the Son
are one according to number (ἀριθμός), ousia (οὐσία), substratum (ὑποκεί-
μενον), and hypostasis (ὑπόστασις); they only accept the distinction between
Father and Son according to “differing aspects” (ἐπίνοια).221 In short, Origen
denounces three different doctrinal errors:222

– Christ was a man inhabited by the unique divinity of the Father.

– The one divine hypostasis is called by two names, Father and Son.
– Christ is not divine.

––––––––––––––––––––

218 Or., in Tit. 3 (in Pamph., apol. 33; SC 464, 84; trans. FC 120, 57–58, mod.).
219 See Or., in Joh. 1.151–154; see in Joh. 1.125; 1.180; 1.266; 1.280.
220 See Or., in Joh. 2.149; John 1:5; 1 John 1:5.
221 See Or., in Joh. 10.246; in Matth. 17.14.
222 See Or., in Joh. 2.16; in Tit. 3; in Matth. 17.14; Heracl. 4; in Rom. 7.13; 8.5; in Joh. 1.151–154;
2.149; 10.246; Eus., h.e. 6.33,1 (Beryllus).
36 CHAPTER 1

The third solution does not necessarily exclude the other two. In fact, a theol-
ogy that declares that the only God is in Christ requires Jesus, a “mere man,”
in whom the only divinity can dwell. Before 230, Origen has an indulgent
attitude towards the Monarchians.223 Later, in the Debate with Heraclides,
written around 245, he says that those who maintain the “illusory notion of
μοναρχία” have been excluded from the Church.224 It is not clear if this varia-
tion is due to a clarification of the limits of orthodoxy or simply to the change
of ecclesial context.
As for his own teaching, Origen framed his theology within the distinction
between Creator and creatures inherited from the biblical tradition.225 There
are many texts in which he declares the clear distinction between the Father,
the Son and the Holy Spirit, on the one hand, and creatures, on the other. In
different ways, then, he draws a clear dividing line between the three divine
hypostases and the creatures.226 Mutability is one characteristic that differen-
tiates the creatures from the Creator:

But since these rational natures, which as we have said above, were made in
the beginning, were made when they did not previously exist, by this very fact
– that they were not, and then they began to exist – they are necessarily
changeable and mutable (convertibiles et mutabiles).227

The terms convertibilis and mutabilis possibly translate ἀλλοιωτός and τρεπτός.
The Origenian rationale indicates that what has a temporal beginning is, of
necessity, mutable. The emphasis is on time, because the Son came from the
Father, but before time. This doctrine, which is a relecture of Plato, Timaeus
27d–28a, will be discussed in the fourth century.
Trinitarian theology focuses on unity and diversity between the Father
and the Son. On the one hand, he reacted against the Gnostic multiplicity of
divine entities (αἰῶνες) and, on the other hand, he rejected the Monarchian
identification of the Father and the Son. Origen clearly posed the theological
challenge: “We must treat this matter carefully, and point out in what respect
they are two, and in what respect these two are one God.”228 This text, like
much of the third century theology, revolves around the relationship between

––––––––––––––––––––

223 See Or., in Joh. 2,16.

224 See Or., Heracl. 4. See Tert., adv. Prax. 3.2; 10.1; 10.6; G. Scarpat (ed.), Tertulliano, Contra
Prassea, Torino 1985, 48–53.
225 See Simonetti, 1993, 109–143.
226 See Or., princ. 1.5,3; 1.5,5; 1.6,2; 1.6,4; 1.8,3; 2.2,2; 2.4,3; 4.3,14–15; 4.4,1; 4.4,8; 4.4,10; in Ex. hom.
6.5; in Num. hom. 11.8; in Lv. hom. 7.3; in Reg. 1.13; in Joh. 13.151; in Rom. 8.13.
227 Or., princ. 2.9,2 (Behr 2017, 236–237). See Phil., opif. 26.
228 Or., Heracl. 2 (SC 70, 58; trans. ACW 54, 59).
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 37

the Father and the Son. The main challenge, then, was to show in what re-
spect (κατὰ τί) the Father and the Son are two and in what respect (κατὰ τί)
both are one God.
In what respect are the Father and the Son two? The Son is other (ἕτερος)
with respect to the Father in terms of number (ἀριθμός), substratum
(ὑποκείμενον), personal property (ἰδιότης), objective reality (πρᾶγμα) and hy-
postasis (ὑπόστασις).229 The Son and the Father differ also according to the
οὐσία.230 The terminology used to express the unity between the Father and
the Son is present in a passage from Contra Celsum:

Therefore, we worship the Father of the truth and the Son who is the truth;
they are two objective realities according to hypostasis (ὄντα δύο τῇ ὑποστάσει
πράγματα), but one in concord, in agreement, and in identity of will (ἓν δὲ τῇ
ὁμονοίᾳ καὶ τῇ συμφωνίᾳ καὶ τῇ ταυτότητι τοῦ βουλήματος).231

In what respect are the Father and the Son one? The terms that express the
unity between the Father and the Son are concord (ὁμόνοια), agreement
(συμφωνία) and identity of will (βούλημα). In the Debate with Heraclides, Ori-
gen distinguishes different levels of unity: Adam and Eve, who are two, be-
come one “flesh” (Gen 2:24), Christian believers, who are many, become one
“soul” (Acts 4:32), the righteous and Christ become one “spirit” (1 Co 6:17), but
“our Savior and Lord, in relation to the Father and God of all, is not one flesh
and one spirit, but something that is above both flesh and spirit, one God (εἷς
Θεός).”232 Other texts affirm that the unity of the Father and the Son is guaran-
teed by love (ἀγάπη).233
The analysis of these terms has its limits. In the third century, the mean-
ing of these terms was evolving, so their precise meaning in Origen’s texts is

––––––––––––––––––––

229 See Or., in Joh. 2.16; 10.75; 10.246; Cels. 8.12; in Matth. 17.14; in Lv. hom. 13.4.
230 See Or., in Joh. 2.149; 10.246; Orbe, 1958, 436–437; Simonetti 1993, 109–111. Origen did not
use the term ὁμοοούσιος (R.P.C. Hanson, Did Origen Apply the Word Homoousios to the Son?,
in: J. Fontaine / C. Kannengiesser [eds.], Epektasis: Mélanges patristiques offerts au cardi-
nal Jean Daniélou, Paris 1972, 293–303; M. Simonetti, Ancora su Homoousios: A proposito di
due recenti studi, in: VetChr 17 [1980b], 85–98). Other scholars claim that he used the term
(M. Edwards, Did Origen Apply the Word Homoousios to the Son?, in: JThS N.S. 49 (1998),
658–670; I.L.E. Ramelli, Origen’s Anti-Subordinationism and its Heritage in the Nicene and
Cappadocian Line, in: VC 65 [2011], 21–49). The fact that Athanasius, when searching for
testimonies in favor of the ὁμοοούσιος, cited an Origenian text that does not contain the
term (decr. 27.2–3) is an argument for doubting that Origen did use this term.
231 Or., Cels. 8.12 (GCS 3, 229–230; Chadwick 1980, 460–461, mod.). See Or., in Joh. 13.228.
232 Or., Heracl. 3 (SC 70, 60; trans. ACW 54, 59–60).
233 Or., in Ct. pr. 2.26. See Or., in Rom. 1 (Pamph., apol. 89 [SC 464, 160]): sicut Deum ex Deo, ita
caritatem ex caritate progenitum. Or., in Lv. hom. 13.4.
38 CHAPTER 1

not clear. To face this difficulty, the study of the metaphors is of great service.
Regarding human language to speak about God, Origen remarks:

It is abominable and unlawful to equate (infandum autem est et inlicitum... ex-

aequere) the God and Father, in the begetting of his only-begotten Son and in
his giving [him] subsistence, with any generation of humans or other animals;
but it must be something exceptional and worthy of God, for which can be
found no comparison at all, not merely in things, but even in thought or imag-
ination, such that a human mind could apprehend how the unbegotten God
becomes Father of the only-begotten Son (ut humana cogitatio possit adprae-
hendere quomodo ingenitus deus pater efficitur unigeniti filii).234

The text highlights both the inadequacy and the necessity of human language
to speak about God.235 Therefore, from any metaphor, some elements must be
rejected, and others must be accepted. The first metaphor is that of the father
who begets a son. Origen wish to avoid any material connotation of God.
Therefore, matter, passion, and time should be rejected from this metaphor.
Instead, the reciprocal character of the father and the son is to be accepted.
In a fragment on Genesis, well-known in the fourth century, he states:

For God did not begin to be a Father (οὐ γὰρ ὁ θεὸς πατὴρ εἶναι ἤρξατο), as if he
were prevented before […]. For if God is always perfect (εἰ γὰρ ἀεὶ τέλειος ὁ
θεός), and he always has the power to be the Father of him (καὶ πάρεστιν αὐτῷ
δύναμις τοῦ πατέρα αὐτὸν εἶναι), and if it is good for him to be Father of such a
Son, why does he delay and deprive himself of the good, and, so to speak, of
that [power] by which he is able to be a father?236

Indeed, “it is necessary (ἀνάγκη) that a son be the son of a father and that a
father be the father of a son;”237 therefore, the Son is coeternal with the Father.
Another element to be accepted from the metaphor is their unity of nature.
Thus, true divine sonship implies coeternity and unity of nature.238
In addition, Origen uses the metaphor of light to express the origin of the
Son. This metaphor is suggested by Wis 7:26 and Heb 1:3, and it had a long

––––––––––––––––––––

234 Or., princ. 1.2,4 (FuP 27, 176–178; trans. Behr 2017, 45–47). See Or., in Lv. hom. 13.4.
235 See S. Fernández, “Begotten” and “Created:” The Synod of Ancyra (358 C.E.) on the Perfect
Birth of the Son of God, in: Aug. 61 (2021), 9–23.
236 Or., in Gen. fr. D 4 (OWD 1/1, 66; Eus., Marcell. 1.4,22; Marcell., fr. 21; trans. FC 135, 103
mod.). In addition, he also affirms the coeternity of the Holy Spirit, see Or., princ. 2.2,1.
237 Or., in Joh. 10.246 (GCS 10, 212; trans. FC 80, 309). See also Heracl. 4; princ. 1.2,10; in Joh.
2.9–12; Orbe, 1991, 51; P. Widdicombe, The Fatherhood of God from Origen to Athanasius,
Oxford 2000, 69.
238 See Or., in Joh. 5, fr. (Pamph., apol. 91–93); princ. 1.2,2–10; in Joh. 19.6.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 39

tradition.239 It was fitting to express the eternal and perpetual character of the
Son’s begetting: “For this is an eternal and everlasting begetting (generatio),
just as brightness is begotten from light.”240 Light and brightness are correla-
tive, so the Son must be coeternal with the Father.241 A homily emphasizes
that the begetting is perpetual and without ceasing:

The Father has not begotten the Son and then severed him from his begetting,
but always begets him (ἀλλ’ ἀεὶ γεννᾷ αὐτόν). […]. Let us consider who is our
Savior: “brightness of glory” (Heb 1:3). The brightness of glory has not been
begotten just once and no longer begotten. But just as the light is an agent of
brightness, in such a way the brightness of the glory of God is begotten. 242

For Origen, the permanent dependence of the brightness on the light is a

metaphor of the perpetual begetting of the Son. Besides, it emphasizes the
unity of the Father and the Son: “The only-begotten Son, therefore, is the
brightness of this light, proceeding ex ipso inseparabiliter, as does brightness
from light.”243 This metaphor expresses the dependence of the Son on the
Father and, at the same time, his total equality, because the Son contains “the
whole brightness of the full glory of God.”244
Another metaphor used by Origen is that of the will. Its aim is to exclude
any material idea of the Son’s begetting as emanation (prolatio).245 The Logos
“was begotten from the invisible and bodiless God apart from any bodily pas-
sion, as an act of will proceeds from the mind (velut si voluntas procedat e
mente).”246 The Son comes exclusively from the Father, “as the will proceeds

––––––––––––––––––––

239 Monarchians: Just., Tryph. 128.2–4; Or., in Joh. 2.149; Antimonarchians: Athenag., leg. 10.4;
24.2; Hipp., Noët. 11.1; Tert., adv. Prax. 27.1.
240 Or., princ. 1.2,4 (Behr, 2017, 44–45). See L. Ayres, At the Origins of Eternal Generation: Scrip-
tural Foundations and Theological Purpose in Origen of Alexandria, in: F. Sanders / S.R.
Swain (eds.), Retrieving Eternal Generation, Michigan 2017, 149–162.
241 See Or., princ. 1.2,11; in Heb. fr. (Pamph., apol. 50); H. Crouzel, Théologie de l’image de Dieu
chez Origène, Paris 1959, 87; P.H. Ip, “Arianism” Ante-Litteram in Origen’s Peri Archōn 4.4.1,
in: JThS N.S. 72 (2021), 247–278.
242 Or., in Jer. hom. 9.4 (OWD 11, 264; trans. FC 97, 92). The text carefully distinguishes be-
tween the verbs ποιέω and γεννάω to refer to the origin of the material light which is
“made” and to the origin of the Son, which is “begotten.”
243 Or., princ. 1.2,7 (trans. Behr, 2017, 50–51).
244 Or., in Joh. 32.353 (trans. FC 89, 408).
245 See Orbe, 1958, 387–397.
246 Or., princ. 4.4,1 (Behr, 2017, 563); princ. 1.2,6. This Will is substantial (οὐσιῶσθαι), just as the
Power and the Wisdom of God, see Or., in Eph. 1.1 (OO 14/4, 230); 1 Cor 1:24.30. This meta-
phor makes it possible to link Jesus’ way of acting in the economy with his eternal origin,
see Or., princ. 1.2,6; in Joh. 13.228.
40 CHAPTER 1

from the mind (sicut voluntas ex mente).”247 There is no passion, nor corporeal
division, because divine substance is simple.248
It is important to note a difference between Origen and his predecessors.
The apologists used the language of “will” to express the voluntary character
of the Son’s begetting: Theophilus says that God begot his Son “when he
wished (ὁπότε δὲ ἠθέλησεν).”249 In turn, Origen used the metaphor of will with
another aim, namely, to declare the spiritual, that is, immaterial character of
the Son’s begetting.
Origen uses the metaphor of the image and the model,250 which comes
from 2 Co 4:4, Col 1:15 and the Christological interpretation of Wis 7:26 (Heb
1:3). The image is simultaneous with the model, hence, “there was not once
when [the Son] was not (οὐκ ἔστιν ὅτε οὐκ ἦν).”251 He states:

The [Son] is “the image of the invisible God” (Col 1:15) and, in this respect, is
God (θεός), but not the one of whom Christ himself says: “That they may
know you the only true God” (John 17:3).”252

The concept of image makes it possible to affirm the divinity of the Son with-
out declaring two principles, that is, two gods. As the Son is the image of the
“one true God,” he is God, yet he is not God the Father. In this context, truth is
not opposed to falsehood, but to image.253 Only the Father is the source of
divinity; the Son is God as the archetypal image of God-in-himself
(αὐτόθεος).254 The notion of image expresses the relational character of the
divinity of the Son. He is “the archetypal image,” who “by being with the God
always continues to be God” (τῷ εἶναι “πρὸς τὸν θεὸν” ἀεὶ μένων θεός).255
The metaphor of food is applied to Trinitarian theology by Origen.256 God
the Father is the only one who is in need of nothing (ἀνενδεής).257 In turn, the
Son prays because he is in need of God (ὡς ἐνδεὴς τοῦ θεοῦ); in fact, the Son “is

––––––––––––––––––––

247 Or., in Joh. fr. (Pamph., apol. 106: SC 464, 172).

248 See P.H. Ip, Origen and the Emergence of Divine Simplicity Before Nicaea, Indiana 2022.
249 Thphl., Aut. 2.22,4 (Grant, 1970, 38). See Just., Tryph. 61.1 (Bobichon, 2003, 346): ἐκ τοῦ ἀπὸ
τοῦ πατρὸς θελήσει γεγεννῆσθαι; Novat., trin. 31.183 (FuP 8, 264): Ex quo, quando ipse [God]
uoluit, sermo Filius natus est; trin. 31.186 (FuP 8, 270): hic ergo, quando pater uoluit, proces-
sit ex patre.
250 See Crouzel, 1959, 75–111.
251 Or., princ. 1.2,10 (Behr, 2017, 58; ACO 3, 210). See also Or., princ. 1.2,9; Ip, 2021, 247–278.
252 Or., princ. 1.2,13 (Behr, 2017, 597). See ACO 3, 210.
253 See Or., in Joh. 13.234; 32.359; princ. 1.2,6; Col 1:15; Mark 10:18; Wis 7:26.
254 Or., in Joh. 2.11–20.
255 Or., in Joh. 2.18 (GCS 10, 55; trans. FC 80, 99).
256 See F. Soler, Orígenes y los alimentos espirituales, Paderborn 2021, 211–221.
257 See Or., Cels. 7.65; in Joh. 13.219; in Ps. 15.1,3; 1,9; in Ps. 77.4,7.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 41

not without want” (οὐ γάρ ἐστιν ἀνενδεής).258 This relationship is expressed by
the food metaphor: “If I may put it this way, he [Christ] is always replenishing
himself from the Father who alone is without need and sufficient in himself
(τοῦ μόνου ἀνενδεοῦς καὶ αὐτάρκους).”259 In one homily, he says:

But my Savior never neglects his own nourishment, but always keeps watch
and is nourished by the Father. If, hypothetically, he were not to be nourished,
I do not know what would follow.260

In summary, with these metaphors, Origen seeks to express that the Son is
strictly coeternal with the Father, that they have a reciprocal character, that
the Son receives full divinity from the Father, that they are not the same sub-
sistent being, that they are united, that the begetting is spiritual and does not
imply division or passion, that there are not two divinities, and that there is
only one self-sufficient, unbegotten God. Monotheism, then, is guaranteed by
the Father, who is the eternal source of the Son’s divinity.
The doctrine of the coeternity of the Father and the Son is one of Origen’s
contributions to Trinitarian theology. It responds to two theologies. It reacts
against the two-stage theology, which attributes fatherhood to God only start-
ing from the begetting of the Logos as Son.261 It rejects the speculation of
Basilides, who supposed that there was once when no one was there (ἦν ποτὲ
‹ὅτε› ἦν οὐδέν) and then, when God willed to make the world (κόσμον ἠθέλησε
ποιῆσαι), he created out of nothing (ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων) the germ of the world (τὸ
σπέρμα τοῦ κόσμου).262 These expressions show the theological continuity
between the “Arian” controversy and the previous centuries.
Origen’s theological speculation focuses on the relationship between the
Father and the Son. However, some texts integrate the Holy Spirit. As has
––––––––––––––––––––

258 Or., in Ps. 15, hom. 1.9 (GCS.NF 19, 87; trans. FC 141, 53).
259 Or., in Joh. 13.219 (GCS 10, 259; trans. FC 89, 113). See in Ps. 77, 4,7.
260 Or., in Ps. 15, hom. 1.9 (trans. FC 141, 55). In a homily, in the church, he does not say what
would happen if the Son stopped feeding himself. But in the Commentary on John, ad-
dressed to educated people, Origen is explicit: the Son “would not remain God if he did
not continue in unceasing contemplation of the depth of the Father,” Or., in Joh. 2.18
(trans. FC 80, 99). Crouzel, 1959, 86.
261 See M. Wiles, Eternal Generation, in: JThS N.S. 12 (1961), 284–291. Tert., adv. Prax. 7.1 (Scar-
pat, 1985, 156): Exinde eum Patrem sibi faciens, de quo procedendo Filius factus est. Tert., adv.
Hermog. 3.4 (CSEL 47, 126): quia et pater deus est et iudex deus est, non tamen ideo pater et
iudex semper, quia deus semper. Nam nec pater potuit esse ante filium nec iudex ante de-
lictum. The expressions are explicit: the Son, by proceeding, made God “father.” The au-
thors who maintain the two-stage theology of the Logos link the divine fatherhood and
sonship to the second stage.
262 (Ps.)Hipp., haer. 7.20–21 (Marcovich, 1986, 268–269). The conjecture ὅτε comes from
Marcovich, 1986, 268. It is neither in the manuscripts, nor in Wendland’s edition.
42 CHAPTER 1

been pointed out, there are many passages in which a clear distinction is
established between the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit on the one hand,
and creatures on the other. This division could be called the horizontal
scheme because it establishes a clear horizontal limit between God and the
creatures. This sharp distinction between God and creatures allows Origen to
recognize a hierarchy among the persons of the Trinity. In fact, some passages
place the divine hypostases in a descending order, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit
– the vertical scheme – whereas other Origenian texts place the Son and the
Spirit at the same level, under the Father – the triangular scheme.263
Origen’s Christology is crucial for understanding the Arian controversy.
The way he comprehends the unity of humanity and divinity in Christ has
two particularities. The first depends on his anthropology, which is centered
on the soul. According to his doctrine, the integrity of Christ’s humanity im-
plies that the Son assumed, not only a body, but also a soul like that of all
other human beings:

The Son of God, therefore, for the sake of the salvation of the human race,
wanting to appear to human beings and to sojourn among them, assumed not
only a human body, as some suppose (ut quidam putant), but also a soul, in its
nature indeed like our souls.264

The text takes for granted the reality of Christ’s body and emphasizes the
integrity of his soul. It testifies that the idea that Christ was a human body
moved by the divine Logos – without a human soul – was already present in
the third century, long before it was explicitly proposed by Apollinaris in the
second half of the fourth century. For this reason, Origen cites John 10:17–18
and Matt 26:38 to prove that the Son has a human soul.265 The authentic and
complete humanity assumed by the Logos has salvific consequences: the Son
of God “fulfills in himself first what he desired to be fulfilled by others.”266
Christ not only taught the way to attain fullness, but he realized in himself –
as a human being – the fullness to which all rational creatures are called. “For
this reason, Christ is put forward as an example to all believers… having him
as the guide of the journey.” 267
The second characteristic of Origenian Christology is a consequence of his
theory of the pre-natal existence of rational creatures. The soul of Christ, like
every human soul, had an existence prior to its birth in this world. Conse-
––––––––––––––––––––

263 See Simonetti, 1993, 109–143. See Or., princ. 1.3,4; 1.3,7; 1.6,4; 2.2,1; 4.3,14; in Is. hom. 1.2; 4.1.
264 Or., princ. 4.4,4 (Behr 2017, 568–569).
265 See Or., in Jer. hom. 14.6; princ. 2.6,3; 2.8,4; 4.4,4.
266 Or., princ. 3.5,6 (Behr 2017, 434–435).
267 Or., princ. 4.4,4 (Behr 2017, 571).
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 43

quently, Origen assumes that before the birth from Mary, the divine Logos
assumed a human soul that had been completely faithful to God.268 The soul
of Christ, as a human soul, enjoys free will and, therefore, its unfailing union
with the Logos does not depend on a condition of its nature, but on the per-
fection of its love.269 In this context he interprets Ps 44:8 in reference to the
soul of Christ: because this soul loved righteousness and hated iniquity, God
united this soul with the Logos. That is, God anointed it in preference to its
companions – the other souls. Origen fought against the Gnostic doctrine “of
the natures;” therefore, for him, divine election cannot be arbitrary or depend
on a different nature, but it must be justified on merit. This line of his Chris-
tology had almost no posterity, but some traces of it are to be found among
the opinions circulating in the fourth century.

1.2.5 The Alexandrian Tradition after Origen

Heraclas succeeded Origen in the school of Alexandria, but there are no ex-
tant sources that transmit his theology. Instead, some fragments of Dionysius
of Alexandria are preserved.270 He was director of the school after Heraclas,
and then bishop of Alexandria (ca. 248-264).271 The hypostatic character of
the Son became the official ecclesiastical teaching in Egypt. However, other
regions cultivated different theological traditions. In this context, a conflict
between Dionysius of Alexandria and his namesake colleague in Rome arose.
It illustrates, therefore, the wider contrast between two theological traditions.
Apparently, Christian believers from Libya accused the bishop of Alexan-
dria before his colleague in Rome. The Roman bishop, like his predecessor
Callixtus, presented his stance as a via media between Sabellius and trithe-
ism. On the one hand, the Roman bishop rejected the identification between
the Father and the Son and, on the other, he refuted two opposing doctrines
––––––––––––––––––––

268 The usual term is “pre-existence” of souls. However, existence prior to earthly birth is a
true existence, and not a condition prior to true life, as the prefix “pre-” suggests. Besides,
the subject of this prelapsarian existence is not the soul but the rational creature.
269 See Or., princ. 2.6,4.
270 The authenticity of the fragments preserved by Athanasius has been questioned (L.
Abramowski, Dionys von Rom (+ 268) und Dionys von Alexandrien (+ 264/5) in den arian-
ischen Streitigkeiten des 4. Jahrhunderts, in: ZKG 93 [1982], 240–272; U. Heil, Athanasius von
Alexandrien, de sententi a Dionysii, PTS 52, Berlin 1999, 36–71). This thesis has found sup-
porters and detractors (T.D. Barnes, Review, in: JEH 51 [2000], 597; D. Brakke, Review, in:
JECS 8 [2000], 464–465; M. Simonetti, Review, in: Aug. 41 [2001], 545–548; Prinzivalli, 2002,
45; P.F. Beatrice, The Word “Homoousios” from Hellenism to Christianity, in: ChH 71 [2002],
254; J. Leemans, Review, in: VC 56 [2002], 329–332). I am inclined to accept the authentici-
ty of the fragments because their content fits well with the theological environment of the
second half of the third century.
271 See Eus., h.e. 6.29,4; 6.35,1.
44 CHAPTER 1

that underline the subsistence of the Son, namely, the profession of three
separate divine beings – three gods – and the assertion that the Son was
something made (ποίημα) and that, therefore, there was once when he did
not exist (ἦν ὅτε οὐκ ἦν).272 The Roman Dionysius affirms: “the Divine Triad, I
mean the God of the Universe, must be gathered up and brought together in
one as in a summit (κορυφή).”273 As for the origin of the Son, he held an inef-
fable begetting (ἄρρητος γέννησις) and rejected molding (πλάσις) and making
(ποίησις). Besides, he shows his discomfort with the plain meaning of the verb
“create” (κτίζω) in Prov 8:22. To maintain the unity of God (μονάς), he tended
to weaken the subsistence of the Son and the Holy Spirit, whom he presented
as divine powers (δυνάμεις).274 The theology of the bishop of Rome privileges
the unity of God over the otherness of the Son and the Spirit. For his part,
Dionysius of Alexandria defends himself, and vigorously declares the eternity
of the Son:

Christ exists always (ἀεὶ), being Logos and Wisdom and Power. For it is not
that God, being unfruitful of them, afterwards produced a Son, but the Son
has his being not of himself but of the Father. 275

Like Origen, Dionysius affirms the strict eternity of the Logos as Son. Besides,
the eternity of the Son implies that “never was once when God was not a
father” (Οὐ γὰρ ἦν ὅτε ὁ θεὸς οὐκ ἦν πατήρ).276 To justify the coeternity of the
Son with the Father, the bishop resorts to the metaphor of light, frequent in
Origen’s work. God is the eternal Light, therefore, “the eternal brightness lies
before Him and is with Him, shining in His presence without beginning
(ἄναρχος) and ever-begotten (ἀειγενής).”277 Thus, “the Son is Light from Light”
(ὁ υἱός ἐστι φῶς ἐκ φωτὸς).278 The bishop of Alexandria stresses the importance
of the relational identity of the Father and the Son:

Each of the names I have mentioned is inseparable and indivisible from that
next to it. I say “Father,” and before referring to the Son, I designated him too

––––––––––––––––––––

272 Dion. R., ep. 4 (Ath., decr. 26.4 [AW 2, 22]). The bishop of Rome does not condemn the
theology of the three hypostases in general, but that which holds three hypostases foreign
to one another and completely separate, see Dion. R., ep. 3 (Ath., decr. 26.3 [AW 2, 22]).
Perhaps, the Roman bishop did not want to reject the theology of his colleague of Alexan-
dria, but an extreme version of it.
273 Dion. R., ep. 3 (Ath., decr. 26.3 [AW 2, 22]).
274 Dion. R., ep. 2–7 (Ath., decr. 26.2–7 [AW 2, 22–23]).
275 Dion. Al., fr. (Ath., Dion. 15.1 [AW 2, 57]).
276 Dion. Al., fr. (Ath., Dion. 15.1 [AW 2, 57]). Cf. Widdicombe, 2000, 122–127.
277 Dion. Al., fr. (Ath., Dion. 15.3 [AW 2, 57]).
278 Dion. Al., fr. (Ath., Dion. 15.3 [AW 2, 57]).
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 45

in the Father. I introduce the Son, and even if I did not also expressly mention
the Father, certainly He was to be understood beforehand in the Son. I added
the Holy Spirit, but at the same time I further added both whence and
through whom He proceeded.279

This text expresses the relational identity of the divine persons: “Father” and
“Son” are correlative names and, therefore, demand coeternity. This text,
moreover, integrates the Holy Spirit. Dionysius claims that he has been ac-
cused of denying that Christ was homoousios with God (ὁμοούσιον τῷ θεῷ). To
defend himself, the Alexandrian bishop declares that he has not used the
term (ὄνομα) homoousios, which is not found in Scripture, but he has signified
its meaning (διάνοια). Then he recalls that in an earlier writing he had used
comparisons of congenital realities (συγγενής): a son is other with respect to
his father, and both are of the same genus (ὁμογενής); a plant is distinguished
from the seed, and both are of the same nature (ὁμοφυής); likewise, the foun-
tain and the river, the sun and the dawn, and the intellect and the word.280 He
uses different comparisons to explain that the Son is “other” (ἕτερος) regard-
ing the Father, yet, at the same time, the Son is of the same nature as the Fa-
ther. This emphasis on otherness requires the bishop of Alexandria to guaran-
tee the divine unity. He affirms divine unity because of the relational identity
of the Father and the Son, because both possess the same nature, and, fur-
thermore, because the Son receives his being from the Father: “But only the
Son, who always is with the Father and is filled of ‘Him who is’ (Ex 3:14), him-
self also is from the Father.”281 There are not two divinities because the divini-
ty of the Son is that which he has received from the Father.
As for the origin of the Son, Dionysius apologizes for having used unsuita-
ble comparisons and clarifies the difference between realities that are made
(ποιητός) and those that are begotten (γενητός).282 He denies that the Son
belongs to the realities made by God: the Logos is not “made,” since God is
not his Maker, but his Father.283 Nonetheless, the verbs κτίζω, ποιέω, γεννάω,
γίγνομαι, and others have not yet acquired the technical meaning that they
will attain in the second half of the fourth century. It is noteworthy that these
texts show the great continuity of the theological problems, and even of the
terminology, with the controversies of the first decades of the fourth century.

––––––––––––––––––––

279 Dion. Al., fr. (Ath., Dion. 17.1 [AW 2, 58; trans. NPNF 4, 182, mod.]).
280 See Dion. Al., fr. (Ath., Dion. 18.1–3 [AW 2, 59–60]).
281 Dion. Al., fr. (Ath., Dion. 15.6 [AW 2, 57]).
282 Dion. Al., fr. (Ath., Dion. 20.2–21.3 [AW 2, 61–62]).
283 Dion. Al., fr. (Ath., Dion. 21.2). The meaning of the verb ποιέω is broader, because Scripture
also says that the law is “made” (Isa 5:7; 1 Mac 6:22; John 2:29; 3:7; Rom 2:13).
46 CHAPTER 1

The so-called Letter of the six bishops or Letter of Hymenaeus, a document

written shortly before the synod of Antioch (268), testifies to the theological
consensus of the Origenian tradition in Palestine in the second half of the
third century.284 In fact, one of the signatories, Theotecnus of Caesarea, be-
longed to the school of Origen.285 I say “consensus” because the letter dis-
cussed the faith of the Church, not personal theories. The letter consists of a
brief exposition of the rule of faith (2) and a biblical confirmation of the de-
bated points, namely, the Son’s divinity, his subsistence, the theophanies of
the OT, the incarnation, and the unity of Christ (3–6).286 The Son’s divinity
and subsistence are crucial for this chapter. Giulea rightly points out the im-
portance of this document, which is often neglected in handbooks.287
The letter cites several biblical texts in which the Son is called “God,” that
is, Ps 44:7–8; Isa 35:4–6; Isa 45:14–15; Rom 9:5, and Hos 11:9–10.288 Some of
these texts speak of two persons called God: “Your throne, O God, is forever
and ever […]. Therefore God, your God, anointed you” (Ps 44:8). This kind of
text intends to demonstrate that the Son is called “God” by the Scriptures. The
following paragraph aims to prove the eternal subsistence of the Son:

We believe that he, who always exists with the Father (σὺν τῷ πατρὶ ἀεὶ ὄντα),
has fulfilled the paternal will in relation to the creation of the universe: “For
he spoke and they were produced; he commanded and they were created” (Ps
148:5). But he who gives orders to another gives orders to someone else (ὁ δὲ
ἐντελλόμενος ἐτέρῳ ἐντέλλεταί τινι).289

The first sentence expresses that the Son is always (ἀεὶ) with the Father. It is
worth mentioning that Theophilus and Hippolytus affirmed that, before crea-
tion, the logos was always in God (ἐν τῷ θεῷ), yet the letter states that the Son
was always with the Father (σὺν τῷ πατρὶ), which indicates the eternal sub-
sistence of the Logos as Son. The letter, then, supports Origen’s doctrine of
the eternal begetting. The same paragraph includes Gen 1:26, John 1:3, and Col
1:5 that support the alterity of the Son prior to creation. By doing so, the six
––––––––––––––––––––

284 For the text of the letter, see E. Schwartz, Eine fingierte Korrespondenz mit Paulus dem
Samosatener, in: SBAW.PH 3 (1927), 1–58; G.L. Hahn / A. Hahn, Bibliothek der Symbole und
Glaubensregeln der alten Kirche, Hildesheim 1962, 178–182; de Navascués, 2004, 67–70; W.
Kinzig, Faith in Formulae: A Collection of Early Christian Creeds and Creed-related Texts,
Oxford 2017, 256–263.
285 See Eus., h.e. 7.14.
286 See de Navascués, 2004, 213–248.
287 See D.A. Giulea, Antioch, Nicaea, and the Synthesis of Constantinople: Revisiting Trajectories
in the Fourth-Century Christological Debates, Leiden 2024, 23–48.
288 Hyme., ep. 3 (de Navascués, 2004, 67–68).
289 Hyme., ep. 4 (de Navascués, 2004, 68).
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 47

bishops wanted to oppose the theology that acknowledged the subsistence of

the Son only in the economy of salvation:

Thus the [Son], as truly being and acting, as being both Logos and God (ὡς
λόγος ἅμα καὶ θεὸς ὢν), through whom the Father has made all things; not as
through an instrument, nor as through an insubstantial knowledge (οὐχ ὡς διὰ
ὀργάνου οὐδ᾿ ὡς δι᾿ ἐπιστήμης ἀνυποστάτου). But the Father has begotten the
Son as a living and subsisting activity (ὡς ζῶσαν ἐνέργειαν καὶ ἐνυπόστατον),
who works everything in everyone. The Son does not only look on or is pre-
sent at His side, but He also acts for the construction of the universe, as it is
written, “I was with Him suitably” (Prov 8:30).290

The Son is Logos and God. He is prior to creation, and he is an active, subsist-
ent being before creation – not just a divine faculty. The letter uses
ἐνυπόστατος / ἀνυπόστατος as technical terms to contrast the subsistence of
the Son – supported by the six bishops – and the insubsistent logos held by
Paul of Samosata.291 The emphasis on the eternal subsistence of the Son from
before the ages leads the bishops to defend themselves against the charge of
professing two gods. In their letter, the six bishops emphasize that God did
not create the world “as through an instrument or an unsubstantial (ἀνυπόσ-
τατος) knowledge” and that the Son is a “living and subsistent (ἐνυπόστατος)
activity” of the Father.292 Two passages show that the letter uses οὐσία with the
meaning of individual being, that is, as a synonym of ὑπόστασις.293
Theognostus was director of the didaskaleion of Alexandria until ca. 281.
Only a few fragments and testimonies of his works are preserved.294 He fol-
lowed Origen’s theology closely, both in its method and in its contents. It is
not surprising that his most interesting fragments for this section are those
transmitted by Athanasius and Gregory of Nyssa in the fourth century. One of
them, quoted in decr. 25, is particularly significant:

The ousia of the Son is not something that comes from something external
(ἔξωθέν), nor has it arisen from nothing (ἐκ μὴ ὄντων), but was born from the
Father’s ousia (ἐκ τῆς τοῦ πατρὸς οὐσίας), just as the brightness [comes] from

––––––––––––––––––––

290 Hyme., ep. 4 (de Navascués, 2004, 68).

291 The term seems to come from Origen’s technical language, see B. Gleede, The Development
of the Term ἐνυπόστατος from Origen to John of Damascus, Leiden 2012, 14–26.
292 Hyme., ep. 4 (de Navascués, 2004, 68).
293 Hyme., ep. 2.6 (de Navascués, 2004, 67.70). See Giulea, 2024, 27–33.
294 See CPG 1626–1628; F. Diekamp, Ein neues Fragment aus den Hypotyposen des Alexandri-
ners Theognostus, in: ThQ 84 (1902), 480–494; J.A. Munitiz, A Fragment Attributed to Theo-
gnostus, in: JThS N.S. 30 (1979), 56–66; G. Anesi, La notizia di Fozio sulle Hypotyposeis di
Teognosto, in: Aug. 21 (1981), 491–516; Prinzivalli, 2002, 50–57.
48 CHAPTER 1

light, as the vapor, from water; for neither the brightness, nor the vapor, is the
water itself or the sun itself, nor is it something foreign (οὔτε ἀλλότριος); he is
neither the Father nor is [he] alien (οὔτε ἀλλότριος) [to Him]; but he is an em-
anation of the Father’s ousia (ἀπόρροια τῆς τοῦ πατρὸς οὐσίας), although the Fa-
ther’s ousia does not suffer division (μερισμός).295

The text analyzes the origin of the Son and rejects some solutions. The Son
does not come from “something external,” that is, from uncreated matter,
coeternal to God, nor did he spring “from nothing.” Besides, if Opitz’s emen-
dation is not accepted, Theognostos rejected both that the Son is the Father
and that he is alien to the Father.296 Was he dealing with real adversaries, or
was he reflecting as an exercise? It is interesting to compare this fragment
with a text of Origen:

For we do not say, as the heretics suppose, that some part of God’s ousia (sub-
stantiae dei) was changed into the Son, nor that the Son was procreated by the
Father from no substance at all (ex nullis substantibus).297

On the one hand, Origen and Theognostus agreed that the Son did not come
from nothing. Both authors were reacting against real adversaries, for, as seen
above, Basilides held this doctrine.298 On the other hand, Origen held that the
Son comes from the glory of God (Wis 7:25), not from his ousia;299 whereas
Theognostus proposed that the Son comes “from the ousia of the Father (ἐκ
τῆς τοῦ πατρὸς οὐσίας).” In any case, both authors agreed that the divine ousia
was not divisible. It is worth remembering that the Origenian method allows
the disciple to disagree with the teacher on those points that do not belong to
the rule of faith. Besides, Theognostus develops the metaphors of light and
brightness and that of the model and the image,300 widely used by Origen.
Photius and Gregory of Nyssa do not transmit fragments, but testimonies
about Theognostus. It is difficult to interpret them because the theological
contexts differ deeply. Photius says that, according to Theognostus, the Son
was a creature (κτίσμα).301 Even if the terminology of the testimony is reliable,
it is not possible to know in what sense the Son was declared to be a creature.
––––––––––––––––––––

295 Thgn., hypoth. fr. 2 (Ath., decr. 25.2 [AW 2, 21]). See Or., princ. 1.2,9–10.
296 Opitz amended the text: καὶ οὔτε ‹ἡ τοῦ υἱοῦ οὐσία› αὐτός ἐστιν ὁ πατὴρ οὔτε ἀλλότριος (AW 2,
21, l. 4). However, without his correction, the text affirms: “And he [the Son] is not the Fa-
ther, nor is [he] alien.”
297 Or., princ. 4.4,1 (Behr 2017, 562–563).
298 (Ps.)Hipp., haer. 7.20–21.
299 Or., Cels. 8.14; princ. 1.2,9–10.
300 Thgn., hypoth. fr. 4 (Diekamp, 1902, 483).
301 Phot., cod. 106 [86b–87a] (Henry, 1960, 72–74).
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 49

In fact, according to Origen, the Son, as such, is begotten and coeternal with
the Father, but he was “created” as a model of creatures, according to Prov
8:22.302 Yet, if Theognostus had affirmed that the Son was a creature like other
creatures, Athanasius would not have praised him (ἀνὴρ λόγιος).303 Likewise,
Gregory of Nyssa transmits a testimony about Theognostus. According to it,
when God wanted to build the universe “in the first place, He pre-established
the Son as a certain rule of creation.”304
The sources for the Alexandrian school in the last decades of the third
century and the first decades of the fourth are scarce. Eusebius, Jerome, Phil-
ip of Side, and Photius have preserved some evidence about Pierius.305 He
must be placed in the last decades of the third century because he was a
presbyter in the time of Theonas (ca. 281–300). Jerome and Photius recall that
he was named Origenes iunior or νέος Ὠριγένης. Photius remarks:

Regarding the Father and the Son, his [Pierius] statements are orthodox
(εὐσεβῶς), except that he asserts that there are two ousiai and two natures
(οὐσίας δύο καὶ φύσεις δύο λέγει), using these terms in the sense of hypostasis,
not in the sense given by the adherents of Arius, as it is clear from what fol-
lows and precedes the passage.306

With historical sensibility, in the tenth century, Photius is able to describe in a

positive way the theology of an author who, by the end of the third century,
spoke of the Father and the Son as two ousiai. The Patriarch of Constantino-
ple affirmed that the term οὐσία, in Pierius’ mind, was equivalent to ὑπόστασις.
According to Eusebius, Jerome, and Photius, Pierius’ theology was highly
valued. Hence, at the beginning of the fourth century, in Egypt, it was not
problematic to say that the Father and the Son were two ousiai.
The Alexandrian tradition became a cultural phenomenon that trans-
cended geographical boundaries, especially after the transfer of Origen to
Palestine. In fact, Pamphilus of Palestine was a representative of the Alexan-
drian tradition. His apologeticus pro Origene sheds light on the theological
situation before Nicaea. The text presents critical problems.307 One passage
from it gathers the charges against Origen:

––––––––––––––––––––

302 Or., princ. 1.2,2.

303 Ath., decr. 25,1 (AW 2, 20).
304 Thgn., hypoth. fr. 3 (Gr. Nyss., Eun. 3.2,121): ὅς [Theognostus] φησι τὸν θεὸν βουλόμενον τόδε
τὸ πᾶν κατασκευάσαι πρῶτον τὸν υἱὸν οἷόν τινα κανόνα τῆς δημιουργίας προϋποστήσασθαι.
305 Eus., h.e. 7.32,26–30; Hier., ep. 70.4; vir. ill. 76; Philip of Sido (GCS.NF 3, 160); Phot., cod. 119.
306 Phot., cod. 119 [93b] (Henry 1960, 93; Freese 1920, 209, mod.).
307 See R. Williams, Damnosa haereditas: Pamphilus’ Apology and the Reputation of Origen, in:
Brennecke, Berlin 1993, 151–169.
50 CHAPTER 1

The first is that they claim that he [Origen] says the Son of God was unbegot-
ten (innatus). The second is that they claim that he says, in agreement with
the fictitious ideas of Valentinus, that the Son of God came into existence as
an emission (prolatio). The third, which completely contradicts all of the
above, is that they claim that he says, in agreement with Artemas and Paul of
Samosata, that Christ the Son of God is a mere man (purus homo), that is, that
he is not also God.308

If innatus is the translation of ἀγέννητος, then some accusers would have

claimed that Origen’s theology supposed two unbegotten beings, the Father
and the Son. These accusers must have alleged that the Origenian assertion of
the strict coeternity of the Son and the Father denied the authentic begetting
of the Son. The debate about the origin of the Son posed a difficult question:
Is it possible to accept an authentic begetting without accepting a “before”
and an “after” in God? As will be seen later, some authors of the Origenian
tradition will affirm that generation does imply a “before” and an “after.”

1.2.6 The Theological Traditions of Asia and Syria

In the third and fourth centuries, there was no phenomenon like the Alexan-
drian tradition in Asia and Syria.309 While Alexandrian authors formed a clear
succession (διαδοχή), the Asian and Syrian writers did not. Therefore, without
disregarding a common substratum, it is preferable to speak of the theologi-
cal traditions of Asia and Syria in the plural. Moreover, in the third century,
Asia and Syria harbored diverse Christian traditions, including that of Alex-
andria. In fact, Antioch was a place of exchanges and tensions between dif-
ferent Christian traditions.310
Hippolytus’ Contra Noëtum, written around 210, not only refutes his adver-
sary, but also elaborates a proposal that represents an important step in the
development of Trinitarian theology. It proposes a Trinitarian profession of
faith and a “binitarian” theological reflection. That is, the text professes the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but its theological rationale mainly fo-
cuses on the relationship between the Father and the Son. Only occasionally
does he attempt to integrate the Holy Spirit into the discourse. There is a gap
between the confession of faith, expressed in liturgy and prayer (lex orandi),
and the theological reflection of faith (lex credendi). Hippolytus, as a bishop,
exhorts his readers to embrace the faith of the church:

––––––––––––––––––––

308 Pamph., apol. 87 (SCh 464, 2002, 154–156; FC 120, 81).

309 Not until the fifth century was there an Antiochene school of biblical interpretation.
310 See de Navascués, Antioquía, in: A. Di Berardino / G. Fedalto / M. Simonetti (eds.), Litera-
tura patrística, Madrid 2010, 119–124.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 51

However, the Father wishes to be believed in, let us believe; however he wish-
es the Son to be glorified, let us glorify; and however he wishes the Holy Spirit
to be given, let us receive.311

Nevertheless, as a Christian thinker, Hippolytus offers his theological pro-

posal. It is an attempt to articulate the original oneness of God with the eco-
nomic otherness between the Father and the Son (and the Spirit). His teach-
ing follows the apologists:

God, who alone exists and has nothing contemporaneous with himself, chose
to create a world – by conceiving this world in his mind, willing it, and utter-
ing it, He made it. Immediately what came into being is present to Him as He
willed it, which He completed just as He had willed it. Therefore, it is suffi-
cient for us to know this alone – that nothing was contemporaneous with God
except that He himself was (ὅτι σύνχρονον θεοῦ οὐδὲν πλὴν αὐτὸς ἦν). But
though He was alone, He was many (αὐτὸς δὲ μόνος ὢν πολὺς ἦν). For He was
neither without logos nor without wisdom nor without power nor without
counsel. But all things were in Him and He was the all (πάντα δὲ ἦν ἐν αὐτῷ,
αὐτὸς δὲ ἦν τὸ πᾶν). When He willed (ὅτε ἠθέλησεν), just as He willed, He
showed forth his Logos (ἔδειξεν τὸν Λόγον αὐτοῦ) at determined opportunities
(καιροί) as being with Him. Through him He made all things.312

Hippolytus’ answer to the Monarchian problem consisted in affirming a pri-

mordial unity of God which, from the absolute beginning, involves a certain
internal, tenuous plurality due to his internal logos (wisdom / power / coun-
sel); this inner, tenuous plurality is developed in the act of creation. The ex-
pression “when (ὅτε) He willed and as He willed, in the times determined by
Him” emphasizes that God created freely and rejects that the world is a nec-
essary emanation, against Greek philosophy. Hippolytus thinks in the Stoic
framework of inner logos and uttered Logos, applied to theology by the apolo-
gists. Even before creation, the account uses the temporal conjunction ὅτε to
distinguish the first and second stages of Logos. A similar framework, with
different content, is found in the Valentinian relationship between Noûs and
Logos. This becomes clear in the following text:

He begot (γεννάω) the Logos as the leader of things that come into being and
His counselor and workman. This Logos which He has in himself (ἔχων ἐν
ἑαυτῷ) and is invisible to the created world, He makes visible. Uttering him as
the first sound and begetting him as light from light (καὶ φῶς ἐκ φωτὸς γεννῶν),

––––––––––––––––––––

311 Hipp., Noët. 9.2: (Simonetti, 2000, 170; trans. CEECW 1, 66). See Hipp., Noët. 12.5; 14.1–7.
312 Hipp., Noët. 10.1–3 (Simonetti, 2000, 172; trans. CEECW 1, 66–67, mod.).
52 CHAPTER 1

He sent forth His own Mind (νοῦς) as the Lord of creation, which was previ-
ously visible to Him alone.313

The immanent logos (νοῦς), which is eternal, in a second pre-cosmic καιρός,

was uttered to assist God in the work of creation.314 Then, because of the work
of creation, the immanent, less personal Logos becomes more personal
through begetting. In this way, Hippolytus affirms monotheism and the real
distinction between the Father and the Son at the same time:

And this is how another (ἕτερος) came to stand along with Him. Now, when I
say “another,” I do not mean two gods (ἕτερον δὲ λέγων οὐ δύο θεοὺς λέγω), but
as light is from light (ἀλλ’ ὡς φῶς ἐκ φωτὸς), or as water is from a fountain, or
as a ray from the sun (ὡς ἀκτῖνα ἀπὸ ἡλίου). For there is one power (δύναμις)
which is from the All. Now the All is Father, the power from Him is the Logos.
This is the Mind (νοῦς), which, when it went forth in the world, was shown to
be a child of God (παῖς θεοῦ). So, all things exist through him, but he alone is
from the Father.315

Against the Valentinian multiplicity of aeons, Hippolytus clarifies that the

otherness between the Logos and the Father did not imply two entities or
gods, and he resorted to traditional metaphors that had great relevance in
later theology. On the other hand, he made a clear distinction between the
Son and the creatures. All things have been made through the Logos (John
1:3), whereas the Logos alone proceeds from the Father (ἐκ πατρός). Then the
text insists on unity and distinction:

I shall not say two gods, but one, though two persons and a third economy, the
grace of the Holy Spirit (δύο μὲν οὐκ ἐρῶ θεούς, ἀλλ’ ἢ ἕνα· πρόσωπα δὲ δύο,
οἰκονομίαν τε τρίτην τὴν χάριν τοῦ ἁγίου πνεύματος). For there is one Father, but
two persons, because there is also the Son – and the third, Holy Spirit.316

He applies the term πρόσωπον to the Father and the Son, but not to the Spirit.
Once again, the gap between rule of faith and theological reflection appears.
This is the earliest surviving text that uses πρόσωπον in a technical Trinitarian
sense.317 The term prósōpon indicates plurality in God, while dýnamis guaran-
tees His unity:

––––––––––––––––––––

313 Hipp., Noët. 10.4 (Simonetti, 2000, 172; trans. CEECW 1, 67).
314 This process concludes in the incarnation. Only in the incarnation will the Logos manifest
itself as perfect Son, see Hipp., Noët. 4.10; 15.6.
315 Hipp., Noët. 11.1–2 (Simonetti, 2000, 172; trans. CEECW 1, 67).
316 Hipp., Noët. 14.2–3 (Simonetti, 2000, 178; trans. CEECW 1, 68).
317 This statement supposes the chronological priority of Hipp., Noët. over Tert., adv. Prax.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 53

Now if he [Noetus] wishes to learn how God can be shown to be one, let him
learn that this God has a single power. And to the extent that we are talking
about the power (κατὰ τὴν δύναμιν), God is one, and to the extent that we are
talking about the economy (κατὰ τὴν οἰκονομίαν), the display is threefold.318

When dealing with the sentence “I and the Father are one” (John 10:30), Hip-
polytus offers the same scheme: “He revealed two persons (πρόσωπα), but one
power (δύναμις).”319 Regarding “That they may be one as we are one” (John
17:22), he denies that believers are one body according to substance (οὐσία),
and affirms that they become one by harmony (ὁμοφρονία).320 In short, God is
one in terms of power, concord, and activity – thus monotheism is guaran-
teed – while He is threefold in terms of persons and economy, thus the trini-
tarian character is affirmed.321 Furthermore, Hippolytus, perhaps in an anti-
Gnostic sense, considers it inappropriate to inquire about begetting:

Although through the prophet He indicates regarding the Logos’ begetting

that he was begotten (ὅτι γεγέννηται), he keeps the how (τὸ δὲ πῶς) until the
time appointed by him when he will reveal it.322

The difference between the statement (ὅτι) of the begetting of the Son and its
rational explanation (πῶς) is a concrete expression of the distinction between
the rule of faith and its theological account. Origen clearly distinguished
these two different layers of Christian discourse.323
This selective survey aims to provide a theological background to the next
chapter and to show the continuity of the discussions between the third and
fourth centuries. Therefore, it skips minor figures at Antioch, between The-
ophilus and Paul of Samosata.324 The sources for the study of Paul’s theology
are highly problematic.325 The most reliable texts are the synodal letter of
Antioch (268) and the letter of Hymenaeus (264), but they provide little evi-
dence about his doctrine. Instead, the extant fragments of the stenographic
––––––––––––––––––––

318 Hipp., Noët. 8.2 (Simonetti, 2000, 166; trans. CEECW 1, 66).
319 Hipp., Noët. 7.1 (Simonetti, 2000, 164; trans. CEECW 1, 65).
320 Hipp., Noët. 7.3 (Simonetti, 2000, 164).
321 See M. Simonetti, Tra Noeto, Ippolito e Melitone, in RSLR 31 (1995), 393–414 (529–530).
322 Hipp., Noët. 16.7 (Simonetti, 2000, 182; trans. CEECW 1, 70). See Hipp., Noët. 16.3.
323 See Or., princ. 1 pr. 3.
324 For a survey of the period, see de Navascués, 2010, 119–121; M. Simonetti, Antiochia cristia-
na (secoli I–III), Roma 2016, 37–45.
325 See G. Bardy, Paul de Samosate. Étude historique, Leuven 1929; H. de Riedmatten, Les actes
du procès de Paul de Samosate. Étude sur la chistologie du III au IV siecle, Par. 6, Fribourg
1952; Simonetti, 1993, 239–271; de Navascués, 2004; Simonetti, 2016, 47–61; M. DelCogliano,
(ed.), The Cambridge Edition of Early Christian Writings 3: Christ: Through the Nestorian
Controversy, Cambridge 2022, 197–211.
54 CHAPTER 1

record of the discussion between Paul and Malchion present critical prob-
lems, but they offer more doctrinal elements.326 According to them, Paul tends
to make a sharp distinction between the Logos and the human being: “The
Logos was not a human being [but] dwelt in a human being;”327 likewise, “a
human being is anointed, the Logos is not anointed.”328 Another fragment of
the Acts states:

And, indeed, [the Logos] was in the prophets, but above all in Moses and in
many lords; and, above all, in Christ as in a temple. For one is Jesus Christ, and
another the Logos (ἄλλος γάρ ἐστιν Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς καὶ ἄλλος ὁ λόγος).329

Thus, Paul distinguished the Logos and the son of Mary as two entities: one is
the temple and the other the one who dwells in the temple (ἐν ναῷ). At the
same time, he sought to affirm a close unity between them. The Logos dwelt
in Jesus “as it never did in anyone else.”330 The son of Mary, through his union
with the Logos-Wisdom became the Son of God. Thus, “he who was buried
and descended into Sheol, he who rose from the dead is Jesus Christ, the Son
of God.”331 The fragment concludes with a statement about unity: “Indeed, I
am terrified to speak of two sons; I am terrified to speak of two Christs.”332
This expression suggests that Paul was accused of professing two Christs.333
As the fragments were selected in the context of the Christological con-
troversies of the 5th to 7th centuries, they only incidentally offer elements of
Trinitarian theology. Consequently, it is necessary to resort to indirect sources
to illuminate the few statements of Trinitarian argument that are preserved
in the fragments. The main indirect source is the Letter of Hymenaeus.334 The
document emphasizes that the substantial distinction between the Logos and
God precedes creation:

And we confess and proclaim that this is the begotten (γεννητός) Son, the only
begotten Son, the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of every creature
(Col 1:15), the Wisdom, Logos and Power of God (1 Cor 1:24), who exists as

––––––––––––––––––––

326 The present study relies on the edition and numbering of de Navascués, 2004.
327 Paul Sam., fr. 10 (de Navascués, 2004, 72; trans. CEECW 3, 202).
328 Paul Sam., fr. 26 (de Navascués, 2004, 73; trans. CEECW 3, 202). See fr. 38; 12.
329 Paul Sam., fr. 39 (de Navascués, 2004, 74).
330 Paul Sam., fr. 8 (de Navascués, 2004, 72; trans. CEECW 3, 201).
331 Paul Sam., fr. 21 (de Navascués, 2004, 73; trans. CEECW 3, 203).
332 Paul Sam., fr. 21 (de Navascués, 2004, 73; trans. CEECW 3, 203).
333 See de Navascués, 2004, 345–350.
334 Schwartz, 1927, 42–46; Bardy, 1929, 13–19; Hahn / Hahn 1962, 178–182; de Navascués, 2004,
67–70; 99–102; Kinzig, 2017, 256–263. The letter itself has been studied (ch. 1.2.5). However,
in this section, the letter is analyzed as witness to Paul of Samosata´s teaching.
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 55

God, Son of God, before the ages (πρὸ αἰώνων), not in foresight but in ousia
and hypostasis (οὐ προγνώσει, ἀλλ᾿ οὐσίᾳ καὶ ὑποστάσει), who has been known
in the New and Old Testament.335

The bishops stressed the individual subsistence of the Son of God before
creation. They affirm that the Son “always (ἀεὶ) exists with (σὺν) the Father” –
not in (ἐν) God, as two-stage theology – that “he has fulfilled the paternal will
in relation to the creation of the universe” and that “He who commands a
distinct ‘other’ commands someone (τις), we are convinced that he is none
other but the only-begotten Son of God.”336 It is reasonable to suppose that
these claims reflect a contrario the doctrine of the questioned bishop. If this
deduction is correct, according to Paul of Samosata, the logos – with lower
case – was an unsubstantial faculty of God,337 i.e., without ousia or hypostasis
of its own. This faculty had shown itself to the patriarchs in the theophanies
of the OT. Before the incarnation – in Paul’s view – this logos was called “Son”
only in view of the future incarnation. In fact, only because of its communion
with the son of Mary, the logos could be called Son and Christ. This recon-
struction is supported by the fact that a similar theology was professed in the
fourth century by Marcellus of Ancyra and Photinus of Sirmium, heirs of the
same tradition.338 Paul therefore did not accept that logos was a subsistent
entity, but, unlike Sabellius, he recognized the distinction between logos and
God. This distinction allowed him to distance himself from a theology such as
that of Noetus that identified the Father and the Son and declared that the
Father was born, suffered and rose again.339
If this reconstruction is correct, Paul of Samosata could declare the full
unity of God, the eternity of his logos, the full divinity of Christ’s divine ele-
ment, the integrity of the humanity of the son of Mary, and the communion
of the logos with Christ. The son of Mary, united with the logos/sophia of God,
became the Son of God. In any case, the impersonal character of the logos
guaranteed that there were neither two sons, nor two Christs.
Lucian of Antioch was a presbyter who belongs to the last period before
the outbreak of the Arian crisis.340 At this time, the adjectives “Alexandrian”

––––––––––––––––––––

335 Hyme., ep. 2 (de Navascués, 2004, 67).

336 Hyme., ep. 4 (de Navascués, 2004, 68).
337 One fragment states that the logos was begotten (fr. 37). However, the verb γεννάω did not
have the technical meaning it will have later (Simonetti, 2016, 56).
338 S. Fernández, L’eredità del Contro Noeto di Ippolito nella teologia di Marcello di Ancira e
Fotino di Sirmio, in: Girolami, 2019, 161–175.
339 See Hipp., Noët. 3.2.
340 G. Bardy, Recherches sur saint Lucien d'Antioche et son école, Paris 1936, 3–182; Simonetti,
2016, 63–68.
56 CHAPTER 1

and “Antiochene” have a cultural rather than geographical meaning. The

bishops of Antioch after Paul were Domnus, Timaeus, Cyril, Tyrannus, Vitali-
us, and Philogonius.341 The silence of the sources on the theological orienta-
tion of some of these bishops is significant. In the second half of the third
century, the Alexandrian theology was present in Antioch. Paul of Samosata,
representative of the Antiochene tradition, was defeated by Malchion, a
presbyter of Alexandrian orientation. Domnus, Paul’s successor in Antioch,
must have represented the triumphant tendency, that is, the Alexandrian one.
Later, the succession between Philogonius, Paulinus, Eustathius, and Eulalius
shows the alternation of the Antiochene and Alexandrian tendencies of the
bishops of Antioch.342 These data suggest that in the church of Antioch both
traditions coexisted – not without conflict – and had a comparable weight.
Lucian therefore developed his activity in a setting torn between two differ-
ent traditions. Eusebius of Caesarea, Eusebius of Nicomedia, and Arius ad-
mire Lucian. The historian bishop affirms:

Lucian, an excellent man in every respect, applauded for his life, his conti-
nence and his sacred knowledge, a presbyter of the paroikia of Antioch, was
taken to the city of Nicomedia, where the emperor at that time happened to
be staying, and on presenting his defense for the doctrine which he professed
was committed to prison and killed.343

Carefully Eusebius emphasizes not only his martyrdom, but the approval
aroused by his sacred knowledge (τοῖς ἱεροῖς μαθήμασιν). This evidence con-
trasts with the letter of Alexander of Alexandria, which states:

Lucian, the one who succeeded [Paul of Samosata], remained expelled [from
the church] by three bishops, for a long time. 344

The statement is enigmatic. On the one hand, it is not possible to trace a doc-
trinal link between Lucian and Paul. Alexander, possibly, wants to place Luci-
an and, therefore, Arius in a broader succession of heretics – without further
doctrinal precision. On the other hand, neither the orientation nor the moti-
vation of the three bishops who excluded Lucian from communion is clear.
Taking into account the date of his martyrdom (ca. 312), the bishops must be
Domnus, Timaeus, and Cyril. The closeness of Arius and the two Eusebii with

––––––––––––––––––––

341 See Eus., h.e. 7.32,2–4; R.W. Burgess, Studies in Eusebian and Post-Eusebian Chronography,
Stuttgart 1999, 183–184; de Navascués, 2010, 115–133.
342 See de Navascués, 2010, 124–129.
343 Eus., h.e. 9.6,3 (trans. FC 29, 215). See Eus., h.e. 8.13,2. Ar., ep. Eus. 5 (FNS 6.5).
344 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 36 (FNS 8.36).
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 57

the Antiochene presbyter confirms that Lucian belonged to the Alexandrian

tradition.345 Does this mean that the three bishops who expelled him were of
Antiochene tendency? Not necessarily. They could also exclude the more
extreme elements of their own theological group.346
Is it possible to delineate the theological tenets of the martyred priest?
Sozomen claims that the bishops of the synod of Antioch (341) credited their
profession of faith to Lucian.347 The formula contains elements of evident
Origenian taste.348 The last phrase, “they are three in hypostasis, but one in
harmony,” comes almost verbatim from Contra Celsum 8.12, a locus classicus of
Origen’s Trinitarian theology. Other expressions are found among the frag-
ments of Asterius of Cappadocia. According to Bardy, “such numerous and
characteristic similarities must not be the effect of chance, and the most
plausible explanation is that Asterius remained faithful to the symbol of his
teacher.”349 The agreement of the Antiochene formula (341) with Origen and
Asterius shows the reliability of Sozomen’s claim. If this conclusion is correct,
he would have developed the Trinitarian theology of Origen and would have
emphasized the distinction of the divine persons and other points that are
present in the theologies of both Eusebii, Asterius and Arius. However, if he
professed this symbol which seems adequate to third century standards of
orthodoxy, why was he expelled from the church of Antioch? It is necessary
to recall the difference between a profession of faith and its theological ex-
planation. Lucian could have professed a legitimate creed, but he could have
given a theological explanation that was considered unacceptable.

Appendix: Did Antioch (268) Condemn the Homoousios?

Some bishops of the fourth century claimed that the synod of Antioch (268)
condemned the term homoousios. Did this condemnation actually take place?
There is no agreement among scholars.350 According to Hilary and Athana-
––––––––––––––––––––

345 On the Alexandrian character of Lucian’s theology, see M. Simonetti, Teologia alessandri-
na e teologia asiatica al concilio di Nicea, in: Aug. 13 (1973), 369–398 (374).
346 See Simonetti, 2016, 66.
347 See Soz., h.e. 3.5,9; 6.12,4; Ath., syn. 23.2–10.
348 C.Ant. (341), fid. II (Ath., syn. 23.2–6; trans. CEECW 1, 175–176). See Or., Cels. 8.12; in Joh.
13.228; Novat., trin. 27.150.
349 Bardy, 1936, 127.
350 See P. Galtier, L’homoousios de Paul de Samosate, in: RSR 12 (1922), 30–45; F. Loofs, Paulus
von Samosata: Eine Untersuchung zur altkirchlichen Literatur- und Dogmengeschichte,
Leipzig 1924, 147–158; H.C. Brennecke, Zum Prozess gegen Paul von Samosata: Die Frage
nach der Verurteilung des Homoousios, in: ZNW 75 (1984), 270–290; de Navascués, 2004,
437–453; X. Morales, La théologie trinitaire d‘Athanase d’Alexandrie, Paris 2006, 320–334.
58 CHAPTER 1

sius, the synod of Antioch (268), which deposed Paul of Samosata, would
have condemned the theological use of the homoousios.351 They say that this
claim was found in a lost letter that was requested by Ursacius, Valens, and
Germinius from the delegates of the Ancyra (358) at the third synod of Sirmi-
um (358). They were Basil of Ancyra, Eustathius of Sabaste, and Eleusius of
Cizicus, the so-called Homoiousians.352 Loofs named this document the Epis-
tula Sirmiensis. Its content can only be reconstructed indirectly.
However, if the ὁμοούσιος was condemned at Antioch (268), why did no
author use this document to attack the controversial homoousios,353 before
358? Besides, neither the Letter of Hymenaeus (264), nor the extant fragments
of the synodal of Antioch (268) contain any allusion to it.354
According to Hilary, the lost letter adduced three reasons for rejecting the
ὁμοούσιος. The second one refers to Antioch (268). When Paul of Samosata
was declared a heretic, the bishops also repudiated the homoousios. Address-
ing the Homoiousians, led by Basil of Ancyra, Hilary says:

The second reason that you added was that “Our fathers, when Paul of Samo-
sata was declared a heretic, also rejected (repudiaverint) the word ὁμοούσιος,”
because (quia) with this denomination of a single essence, he affirmed that
the Father and the Son was in himself solitary (solitarium) and unique.355

The words following quia do not belong to the Homoiousians, but to Hilary –
the expression solitarius is typical of his language. Hence, the lost letter stated
just that the bishops who condemned Paul rejected the ὁμοοούσιος, and Hilary
explained the reason in his own words. In De trinitate, without explaining the
context, Hilary presents this same error:

When the bishops used this expression ‘of one and the same substance,’
which in Greek is homoousios, they gave it this sense: as if the same were Fa-
ther and Son (tamquam ipse sit pater et filius).356

Both the Homoiousians and Hilary understood the synod of the third century
in light of the controversies of the fourth. The other testimony comes from De
synodis by Athanasius:
––––––––––––––––––––

351 See Hil., syn. 81; Ath., syn. 43.1; 45.4. The testimony of Basil of Caesarea is also preserved
(Bas., ep. 52.1). However, this testimony is of limited value because it depends on the
words of Athanasius, according to most scholars, see de Navascués, 2004, 438.
352 See Hil., syn. 90.
353 See Eus., ep. Caes. 7–13 (FNS 37.7–13); Socr., h.e. 1.23,6–7; Ath., decr. 18.1–21.4 et passim.
354 See Bardy, 1929, 333; de Navascués, 2004, 437.
355 Hil., syn. 81 (BAC 756, 172–173).
356 Hil., trin. 4.4 (BAC 481, 143).
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 59

Paul [of Samosata] intended it in his sophism, when he said, “If it is not that
Christ, from being man became God (εἰ μὴ ἐξ ἀνθρώπου γέγονεν ὁ Χριστὸς θεός),
then he is homoousios with respect to the Father, and necessarily (καὶ ἀνάγκη)
there are three ousiai: one preceding, the other two coming from it.”357

The syllogism, “as transmitted by Athanasius, is far from comprehensible.”358

Besides, Athanasius presents as one thought two arguments that Hilary pre-
sents separately. The testimony of Athanasius, then, is more problematic than
that of Hilary. Furthermore, the bishop of Poitiers was in a better position to
understand the Epistula Sirmiensis because he had more intellectual affinity
with the authors of the letter.359
To understand the testimonies of Hilary and Athanasius, it is necessary to
read them in light of the documents coming from the theological circle of the
Homoiousians, namely the Synod of Ancyra (358) and the Treatise on the Faith
of Basil of Ancyra (359).360 The Treatise on the Faith explains why the term
homoousios should be rejected:

Paul the Samosatian and Marcellus took advantage of the text in the Gospel
according to John which says: “In the beginning was the Logos.” No longer
willing to call the Son of God truly a Son, they took advantage of the term
“logos” – I say – they wished to declare the Son of God “voice” and “sound”
proceeding from the mouth (ἐκ στόματος ῥῆμα καὶ φθέγμα).361 Hence, the fa-
thers who tried Paul of Samosata for such a heresy, to show that the Son pos-
sesses hypostasis, is subsistent, and existent (ὅτι ὁ υἱὸς ὑπόστασιν ἔχει καὶ
ὑπάρχων ἐστὶ καὶ ὤν ἐστιν), and is not a voice (ῥῆμα), were forced to call οὐσία
also the Son (ἠναγκάσθησαν… οὐσίαν εἰπεῖν καὶ τὸν υἱόν), to show, by means of
the term οὐσία, the difference between what exists and what does not exist by
itself (ἀνύπαρκτος).362

Basil’s Treatise and the Synod of Ancyra (358) faced a double challenge. On
the one hand, they supported the likeness of the Son to the Father “according
––––––––––––––––––––

357 Ath., syn. 45.4 (AW 2, 269–270; trans. CEECW 1, 203, mod.).
358 de Navascués, 2004, 499.
359 Hilary and Athanasius knew the contents of the lost letter, but neither of them had access
to the letter of Antioch (268). When Athanasius said that he did not have “the letter” (syn.
43.1), he was possibly referring to the letter of Antioch (268). In any case, directly or indi-
rectly, he knew the content of the Epistula Sirmiensis. See Morales, 2006, 312–313.
360 See Epiph., haer. 73.2–11 (GCS 37, 268–284); 73.12,1–22,4 (GCS 37, 284–295). For the author,
text, translation, and analysis of the Treatise, see Martin / Morales 2013 (SC 563, 107–151);
X. Morales, Basil of Ancyra's Treatise on Faith: Confirming the Authorship, in: VC 72 (2018),
71–92. DelCogliano attributes the treatise to George of Laodicea, M. DelCogliano, The Lit-
erary Corpus of George of Laodicea, in: VC 65 (2011), 150–169.
361 See C.Anc. (358), ep. syn. 8.1 (Epiph., haer. 73.8,1).
362 Epiph., haer. 73.12,2–3 (GCS 37, 284–285; trans. NHMS 79, 458, mod.).
60 CHAPTER 1

to the ousia” (κατ’ οὐσίαν), and thus they defended the use of the term οὐσία,
forbidden by the formulae of 357 and 359.363 On the other hand, the Homoio-
ousians professed that the Son was a subsistent being, i.e. that he had οὐσία of
his own, against Marcellus and Photinus – Basil took the place of Marcellus in
Ancyra and conducted the banishment of Photinus.364 Then, the term οὐσία
was necessary to confront both the Anomeans and Marcellus. In this polemi-
cal context, the Epistula Sirmiensis turns to the synod of Antioch (268).
The Treatise acknowledges that the fathers of Antioch (268) did not spon-
taneously introduce the term οὐσία, but that they “were forced” (ἀναγκάζω) to
use it. With these words the Homoiousians sought to justify the theological
use of a term not found in Scripture. Then, the Treatise explains that Antioch
(268) introduced the term οὐσία to reject the teaching of Paul of Samosata,
according to which the Logos was not a subsistent being, but a “voice” with-
out hypostatic existence. In the Treatise on the Faith, Basil of Ancyra insists on
this point:

And therefore lest, to deceive the simple, the heretics should say that the Son
is the same as the words (λόγοι) which are spoken by God, the fathers [of An-
tioch], as I say, called the Son an ousia to show the difference between the Son
of God and the words of God (ῥήματα τοῦ θεοῦ).365

A little further down, Basil points out:

For, the [spoken words] have their being in the speaker, on the other hand, the
[Son] has his being in virtue of his begetting by the Father, his hearing of the
Father, and his service to the Father. The fathers called ousia this hypostasis.366

When this text alludes to “the fathers,” it refers to the bishops of the Antioch
(268) who condemned Paul of Samosata. The Treatise, then, does not men-
tion the homoousios, but states that the bishops of Antioch (268) “were forced
to call also the Son ousia,” to guarantee the subsistence of the Logos. Hence,
the Synod of Antioch (268) would have condemned Paul of Samosata be-
cause he refused to profess that the Logos had ousia of its own, distinct from
that of the Father, that is, because he did not profess the subsistence of the
Logos of God. This statement is in continuity with the Letter of Hymenaeus.
Now, if the synod of Antioch did not condemn the use of homoousios, why is
this claim found in the Epistula Sirmiensis?
––––––––––––––––––––

363 See Hil., syn. 11; Ath., syn. 8.7.

364 See C.Anc. (358), ep. syn. 3–8; can. 12; 19 (Epiph., haer. 73.3–8; 73.11) ; Epiph., haer. 71.
365 Bas. Anc., ep. fid. (Epiph., haer. 73.12,6 [GCS 37, 285]; trans. NHMS 79, 459, mod.).
366 Bas. Anc., ep. fid. (Epiph., haer. 73.12,8 [GCS 37, 285]; trans. NHMS 79, 459, mod.).
ANTECEDENTS TO NICAEA 61

As has been said, the formulae of Sirmius (357) and the so-called Dated
Creed (359), forbade the theological use of the term ousia.367 Besides, Basil of
Ancyra had confronted Photinus – Marcellus’ heir – who claimed that logos
was not a subsistent being.368 In this complex context, the Homoiousians,
defenders of the likeness according to the ousia (κατ’ οὐσίαν), must prove the
legitimacy of the term οὐσία and, at the same time, reject the homoousios. In
fact, the likeness according to the ousia presupposes that the Son has ousia of
his own, distinct from that of the Father.
They wanted to make it clear that the use of the term οὐσία did not imply
an endorsement of the Nicene ὁμοοούσιος.369 Hilary says to the Homoiousians
that he read the letter that, “in Sirmium, Valens, Ursacius and Germinius re-
quested from you about the exposition of homoousios and homoioousios.”370
The authors of the letter must show the difference between homoousios and
homoioousios, and explain why they supported the language of ousia and
rejected homoousios.
In this polemical context, the Homoiousians would have made a logical
deduction: if the synod of Antioch (268) condemned Paul for denying that
the Logos had ousia of its own, ergo, the Antioch (268) rejected the term
ὁμοοούσιος, which supposed that the Son has no ousia of its own. Then, the
Homoiousians would not have expressis verbis read the condemnation of the
discussed term in the documents of Antioch (268), but they deduced its con-
demnation, as a necessary consequence, from the decisions of the Antiochian
Synod. From the formal point of view, this deduction was legitimate and,
therefore, the Epistula Sirmiensis tended to present homoousios as if it were
supported by Paul of Samosata.
This reconstruction explains why the decisions of Antioch (268) did not
provoke a negative reaction in Dionysius of Rome, who received the synodal
letter.371 It elucidates why no one used Antioch (268) against homoousios be-
––––––––––––––––––––

367 Dated Creed (359), in Ath., syn. 8.7 (AW 2, 236; trans. CEECW 1, 159): “But the term ‘sub-
stance’ was affirmed by the fathers because of their relative naiveté. But since it is not un-
derstood by the people, it brings scandal; since the scriptures do not contain this term, we
have resolved that it should be removed and that in the future there should be no men-
tion of ‘substance’ whatsoever in the case of God, because the scriptures make no men-
tion of ‘substance’ concerning the Father and the Son. But we say that the Son is like the
Father in all respects as indeed the holy scriptures proclaim and teach.”
368 See Epiph., haer. 71 (GCS 37, 249–255); Fernández, 2019, 161–175.
369 C.Anc. (358), ep. syn. 8 (Epiph., haer. 73.8,8 [GCS 37, 279]).
370 Hil., syn. 81 (BAC 756, 172–173).
371 The synodal of Antioch (268) was sent to Dionysius of Rome, Eus., h.e. 7.30,1 (FC 29, 142):
“Now, the pastors, who had been assembled together, by unanimous consent composed a
single letter addressed personally to Dionysius, Bishop of Rome, and Maximus, Bishop of
Alexandria, and dispatched it to all the provinces...”
62 CHAPTER 1

fore 358. It explains why the decisions of Antioch were not used at Nicaea to
reject the problematic homoousios in the Creed (325). In addition, it accounts
for why Arius did not mention Paul of Samosata when he rejected the homo-
ousios.372 Moreover, it clarifies why the condemnation of homoousios is not
mentioned by the Synod of Ancyra (358) and the Treatise of Basil, documents
that come from the same circle.
Moreover, if Paul was condemned for not accepting that the Logos had his
own ousia, it is understandable why Eusebius of Caesarea had no apprehen-
sions in transmitting a fragment that presented himself affirming that there
were two ousiai in God.373 Besides, this reconstruction explains why the quo-
tation from the Epistula Sirmiensis, transmitted by Hilary, does not say that
the bishops at Antioch (268) “condemned” the homoousios, but uses a more
elusive expression: they “rejected” it (repudiaverunt).374 Finally, if the state-
ment that the Son has his own ousia intended to safeguard his subsistence, it
is understandable why many bishops of the Alexandrian tradition, who sup-
ported the full divinity of the Son, rejected the homoousios after Nicaea.

––––––––––––––––––––

372 See Ar., ep. Alex. 5 (FNS 11.5).

373 See Eus., Marcell. 1.4,39; Marcell., fr. 116–117; ch. 3.1.2.b.
374 See Loofs, 1924, 149; Brennecke, 1984, 284.
 CHAPTER 2

The Outbreak of the “Arian” Controversy

The previous chapter studied the theological and institutional background of

the Council of Nicaea. This chapter explores the backdrop and outbreak of
one of the crucial topics of the synod, namely, the theological crisis that is
usually called the Arian controversy. The chapter is divided into four parts.
The first studies the sources that witness to the beginning of the controversy,
as well as their chronology. The second part analyzes the theological tenets of
Eusebius of Caesarea regarding the doctrinal points that provoked the clash
between Alexander and Arius. The third section reconstructs the outbreak of
the crisis according to three perspectives: the accounts of Athanasius and the
historians, the contemporary documents, and social identity theory. The last
section analyzes the contrast between the theologies of Eusebius, Arius, and
Alexander. The study of these topics attempts to show that the theology of
Eusebius of Caesarea was not just an antecedent, but a decisive factor in the
outbreak of the controversy.

2.1 The Chronology of the Sources

The study of the outbreak of the Arian crisis requires special attention to the
sources, both their nature and chronology. The Introduction studied the na-
ture of the sources. The main point of this analysis is the distinction between
three levels of sources:

– The narratives of the Christian historians

– The testimonies of the protagonists
– The documents contemporary to the events

The Introduction states the criteria that guide the interpretation of the
sources: to avoid a retrospective reading of the sources, it is crucial to give
effective priority to contemporary documents over the testimonies of the
protagonists and the narratives of the Christian historians. In turn, this sec-
tion deals with the chronology of the third level of ancient sources, namely,
the contemporary documents. There is reasonable agreement on the identifi-
cation of the documents coming from the early period of the Arian crisis.
64 CHAPTER 2

However, their chronology has not yet achieved scholarly consensus.1 The
disagreement among scholars shows the complexity of the problem. The
chronology proposed by Opitz dominated academic circles for much of the
20th century and it has been discussed several times. The disagreement
among scholars revolves around the order of the texts, i.e., the relative chro-
nology, as well as the year of the beginning of the controversy, i.e., the abso-
lute chronology. On the latter aspect, scholars are divided between those who
accept the “long chronology” of Opitz, which places the beginning of the
crisis in 318, and the “short chronology” of Telfer, which places it around 323.
The following is an outline of the chronology of the documents from the first
stage of the controversy. A more complete justification of it is found in the
introduction to Fontes Nicaenae Synodi.
The first step is to study the chronology of the works of the protagonists,
i.e., the letters of Arius and Alexander. The letters and the so-called Thalia of
Arius can be arranged according to a discrepancy identified by Simonetti.2 In
his letter to Eusebius, Arius claimed that the Son was created “out of nothing”
(FNS 6.5). This shocking statement is not explicitly found in Arius’ other writ-
ings, i.e., the Thalia and his letters to Alexander and Constantine. The ab-
sence of this statement in the Thalia, which is later than the letter to Eusebius
of Nicomedia,3 indicates that Arius moderated his language – not his doctrine
– and that, therefore, his letter to Alexander (FNS 11) is later than the one
addressed to the bishop of Nicomedia (FNS 6). Besides, the conciliatory tone
of the letter to Alexander suggests that it predates the Thalia.

––––––––––––––––––––

1 See Opitz, 1934, 131–159; Telfer, 1946, 129–142; W. Schneemelcher, Zur Chronologie des
arianischen Streites, in: ThLZ 79 (1954), 393–400; M. Simonetti, La crisi ariana nel IV secolo,
Roma 1975, 25–41; T.D. Barnes, Emperors and Bishops, A.D. 324–344: Some Problems, in:
American Journal of Ancient History 3 (1978), 53–75; A. Martin, Le fil d’Arius: 325–335, in:
RHE 84 (1989a), 297–333; U. Loose, Zur Chronologie des arianischen Streites, in: ZKG 101
(1990), 88–92; Williams, 2001, 48–61; S. Parvis, Marcellus of Ancyra and the Lost Years of the
Arian Controversy 325–345, Oxford 2006, 68–81; W. Löhr, Arius Reconsidered (Part 1), in:
ZAC 9 (2006), 524–560; H.C. Brennecke / U. Heil / A. v. Stockhausen / A. Wintjes, Doku-
mente zur Geschichte des arianischen Streites, AW 3.1, Berlin 2007, xix–xxxvii; J. Vilella,
Consideraciones sobre las Urkunden del confllicto arriano preniceno, in: id. (ed.), Constan-
tino, ¿el primer emperador cristiano? Religión y política en el siglo IV, Barcelona 2015, 193–
217; X. Morales, Athanase a-t-il rédigé l’encyclique d’Alexandre d’Alexandrie?, in: RHE 114
(2019), 541–589; S. Fernández, Fontes Nicaenae Synodi: The Contemporary Sources for the
Study of the Council of Nicaea (304-337), CAMA 10, Paderborn 2024, xxiii–xxxiv.
2 See M. Simonetti, Ancora sulla datazione della Thalia di Ario, in: SSRel 4 (1980a), 349–354.
3 In his letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia (FNS 6), Arius informs the bishop of the beginning
of the controversy. In contrast, he wrote the Thalia “prompted by those of Eusebius”
(ἐπιτριβεὶς… παρὰ τῶν περὶ Εὐσέβιον), that is, when Eusebius of Nicomedia was fully in-
volved in the conflict (Ath., syn. 15.2 [AW 2, 242]).
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 65

Therefore, the order of Arius’ writings of this early period would be the
letter to Eusebius (FNS 6), the letter to Alexander (FNS 11) and then the Thalia
(FNS 18). In addition, Eusebius of Caesarea’s letter to Alexander of Alexandria
(FNS 12) quotes Arius’ letter to Alexander (FNS 11) and seems to react against
Alexander’s letter to the bishop of Byzantium (FNS 8). Besides, the letter of
Eusebius of Caesarea to Alexander (FNS 12) seems to be alluded to by Eusebi-
us of Nicomedia in his letter to Paulinus (FNS 15), which motivated Paulinus’
epistolary activity (FNS 16).
As for the order of Alexander’s letters, Williams claims – against Opitz –
that Alexander’s letter to his namesake in Byzantium (FNS 8) predates his
encyclical letter (FNS 25–26).4 Williams’ thesis can be supported by additional
arguments: Alexander wrote the letter to his Byzantine colleague when Phi-
logonius was still alive and the encyclical postdates his death.5 Moreover, the
expressions οἱ περὶ Ἄρειον and οἱ περὶ Εὐσέβιον do not appear in the longer
letter of Alexander (FNS 8), while they are found six times in the encyclical as
idiomatic expressions (FNS 25–26). Finally, if Colluthus was readmitted to the
Alexandrian church in the presence of Ossius,6 the encyclical, which was
signed by Colluthus, belongs to the last stage of the controversy and is subse-
quent to the letter of Constantine to Alexander and Arius, which was brought
by Ossius to Alexandria (FNS 24). The order of these writings would then be
as follows: the letter of Alexander to the bishop of Byzantium (FNS 8) and the
fragments of his letter to Philogonius (FNS 9), the letter of Constantine to
Alexander and Arius (FNS 24) and the encyclical of Alexander (FNS 25–26).
Is it possible to combine these data into a single chain? The letter of Euse-
bius of Cesarea to Alexander (FNS 12) must be later than the letter of Arius to
Alexander (FNS 11) and that of Alexander to the bishop of Byzantium (FNS 8).
Besides, the fragments of the presbyter George – later bishop of Laodicea –
and of Athanasius of Anazarbus (FNS 19–22), which use the idiomatic expres-
sion οἱ περὶ Ἄρειον, should belong to the last stage of the pre-Nicene contro-
versy. Considering the virulency of the polemic and the speed of the Roman

––––––––––––––––––––

4 See Williams, 2001, 50–56. The condemnation of Arius (FNS 25) seems to be the “cover
letter” of the encyclical (FNS 26). See Löhr, 2006, 543.
5 Philogonius received one of the versions of the tome to the bishop of Byzantium (FNS 8–
9), according to Theodoret (Thdt., h.e. 1.4,62). While Zeno received the encyclical from Al-
exander (FNS 25–26) when he was already in Tyre, i.e., after the transfer of Paulinus to An-
tioch, which was after Philogonius’ death (Epiph., haer. 69.4,3). Philogonius died on De-
cember 20, 323 and caused the transfer of Paulinus from Tyre to Antioch, and he was suc-
ceeded by Zeno in the see of Tyre (Burgess, 1999, 184–191).
6 This is affirmed by the letters of the clergy of Mareotis, see Cler. Mareot., ep. Tyr. 4 (FNS
70.4); Cler. Mareot., ep. Philar. 2–3 (FNS 71.2–3).
66 CHAPTER 2

post,7 it does not seem necessary to place the first document of the contro-
versy (FNS 6) before 322. Then, when the controversy developed, it is reason-
able to place the writing of the theological work of Asterius (FNS 17), the
Thalia of Arius (FNS 18) and the fragments of George of Laodicea (FNS 19–
20), Athanasius of Anazarbus (FNS 21–22) and Theognis of Nicaea (FNS 23).
In addition, the documents relating to the synod of Antioch (FNS 28–29)
postdate Ossius’ mission to Alexandria (ch. 3.3.2). The evidence does not
allow a complete reconstruction of the order of the documents, but the fol-
lowing chronology is proposed for the main documents:

Arius, Letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia (FNS 6).

Alexander of Alexandria, Letter to Alexander of Byzantium (FNS 8).
Alexander of Alexandria, Tome to Philogonius (FNS 9).
Arius and others, Letter to Alexander of Alexandria (FNS 11).
Eusebius of Caesarea, Letter to Alexander of Alexandria (FNS 12).
Eusebius of Nicomedia, Letter to Paulinus of Tyre (FNS 15).
Paulinus of Tyre, Letter (FNS 16).
Asterius the Sophist, Theological Fragments (FNS 17).
Arius, Thalia (FNS 18).
George [of Laodicea], Fragments (FNS 19–20).
Athanasius of Anazarbus, Fragments (FNS 21–22).
Constantine, Letter to Alexander and Arius (FNS 24).
Alexander of Alexandria, Encyclical letter (FNS 25–26).
Synod of Antioch (FNS 28–29).

According to this reconstruction, then, the Arian controversy broke out about
322 in Alexandria and rapidly reached the theological circles of the East. The
rapid spread of the controversy is better understood if it is taken into account
that the internal conflicts of the Alexandrian tradition were already present
inside and outside Egypt (ch. 2.3.3).

2.2 Eusebius of Caesarea: A Crucial Factor in the Crisis

What theology did Eusebius hold before the beginning of the crisis? The
Demonstratio evangelica allows us to reconstruct the central lines of Eusebius’
––––––––––––––––––––

7 See M. Ramsay, The Speed of the Roman Imperial Post, in: JRS 15 (1925), 60–74; A. Kolb,
Transport und Nachrichtentransfer im Römischen Reich, Berlin 2000, 321–332; S.L. Arcenas,
Mare ORBIS: A Network Model for Maritime Transportation in the Roman World, in: Medi-
terranean Historical Review 36 (2021), 169–198. On navigation season, see J. Beresford, The
Ancient Sailing Season, Leiden 2012, 9–52.
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 67

Trinitarian theology.8 This work should have been written after the end of the
persecutions and before the beginning of the “Arian” conflict. On the one
hand, the text fits with a triumphant atmosphere, “when God scattered the
enemies;”9 some passages, however, suggest that it was written shortly after
the end of the persecutions.10 On the other hand, the work does not mention
the “Arian” controversy, nor the conflict between Constantine and Licinius. It
is true that these arguments are ex silentio, but if Eusebius was a decisive
actor in the controversy, the silence about it becomes conclusive. Thus, it
seems safe to say that the Demonstratio evangelica was written before the
beginning of the crisis.11 Consequently, the doctrine of this work was not
shaped by the conflict and, thus, Eusebius’ theological thinking – which is
quite consistent over time – does not depend on the “Arian” theology.12 There-
fore, the question whether Eusebius was an “Arian” is in itself a poorly formu-
lated inquiry.13 The following pages do not intend to reconstruct the thought
of the bishop of Caesarea in general, but to study the theological topics that
were at stake in the conflict between Alexander and Arius.

––––––––––––––––––––

8 See R. Farina, L’Impero e l’Imperatore cristiano in Eusebio di Cesarea. La prima teologia

politica del cristianesimo, Zürich 1966, 36–69; A. Grillmeier, Christ in Сhristian Tradition:
From the Apostolic Age to Chalcedon (451), Atlanta 1975, 167–177; Simonetti, 1975, 60–66; C.
Luibhéid, Eusebius of Caesarea and the Arian Crisis, Dublin 1981, 28–41; R.P.C. Hanson, The
Search for the Christian Doctrine of God, Edinburgh 1988, 46–59; H. Strutwolf, Die Tri-
nitätstheologie und Christologie des Euseb von Caesarea: Eine dogmengeschichtliche Unter-
suchung seiner Platonismusrezeption und Wirkungsgeschichte, Göttingen 1999, 129–194; P.
Carrara (ed.), Eusebio di Cesarea, Dimostrazione evangelica, Milano 2000, 83–93; Williams,
2001, 171–174; F. Migliore (ed.), Eusebio di Cesarea, Dimostrazione evangelica, Roma 2008,
61–68; K. Anatolios, Retrieving Nicaea: The Development and Meaning of Trinitarian Doc-
trine, Grand Rapids 2011, 59–69; M. Fédou, La Voie du Christ II. Développements de la chris-
tologie dans le contexte religieux de l’Orient ancien. D’Eusèbe de Césarée à Jean Damascène
(IVe–VIIIe siècle), Paris 2013, 100–114; A.R. Renberg, The Son Is Truly Son: The Trinitarian
and Christological Theology of Eusebius of Caesarea, Turnhout 2021, 42–60.
9 Eus., d.e. 6.20,17 (GCS 23, 288).
10 See Eus., d.e. 3.5,78; 4.16,3.
11 See Hanson, 1988, 52; Migliore, 2008, 74; S. Morlet, La démonstration évangélique d’Eusèbe
de Césarée: étude sur l’apologétique chrétienne à l’époque de Constantin, Paris 2009, 86–87.
On the chronology of Eusebius’ works, see Morlet, 2009, 80–94; S. Morlet, Eusèbe de Césa-
rée: Biographie, chronologie, profil intellectuel, in: S. Morlet / L. Perrone (eds.), Eusèbe de
Césarée, Histoire ecclésiastique. Commentaire 1: Études d’introduction, Paris 2012, 13–22. Be-
sides, the bishop of Caesarea dedicated this writing to Theodotus of Laodicea, with whom
he was condemned at Antioch (325), see Eus., d.e. 1 pr. 1; Eus., h.e. 7.32,23; C.Ant. (325), ep.
syn. 14 (FNS 28).
12 Simonetti, 1975, 64: “Il sostanziale accordo della Demonstratio evangelica e del De ecclesia-
stica theologia sui fondamentali punti trinitari dimostra che l’insorgere della controversia
ariana non determinò modificazioni di rilievo nella teologia eusebiana.”
13 See Simonetti, 1975, 60–61; Williams, 2001, 171.
68 CHAPTER 2

2.2.1 The Unbegotten God and His Subsistent Son

The Demonstratio is an apologetic work. One of its aims is to justify the ra-
tional consistency of Christian discourse.14 Accordingly, Eusebius’ departing
point is what all humans take for granted, namely, that the first God is
unique, unbegotten, cause of everything, King, and Lord of the universe.15 As
an Alexandrian thinker, Eusebius affirmed that God is ousia simple (ἁπλῆ),
uncompounded (ἀσύνθετος), and unmixed (ἀμιγής).16 He states that every-
thing comes from God because nothing can come from nothing (ἐκ μὴ ὄντος)
and, therefore, everything that exists has received being from “Him who is.”17
Besides, he stressed transcendence: God is ineffable, incomprehensible, supe-
rior to any name, even superior to the principle of everything.
Like other Christian thinkers, Eusebius reflected on the origin of the Son
against the cultural backdrop of the philosophical discussion about God, the
cosmos, and time. The Timaeus was, of course, the point of departure, alt-
hough Middle Platonists postulated a literal and non-literal reading of it.18
Just to give a sense of the debate, Plutarch, Albinus, Calvenus Taurus, Atticus,
Alcinous, Plotinus, Porphyry, and others discussed the identity or distinction
between the Demiurge of the Timaeus, the One of the Parmenides, and the
Form of Good of the Republic. They disputed whether the cosmos was eternal
or temporal, created from formless matter. They argued over the relationship
between the cosmos and God, the existence of a “time” or “stage” before crea-
tion, and the eternity of chaotic matter. The bishop of Caesarea was well ac-
quainted with these discussions – in fact, much of our knowledge of Atticus
and Numenius relies on his citations in the Preparatio evangelica. These vari-
ous, conflicting interpretations of Platonic physics made up the intellectual
backdrop to Eusebius. However, he did not slavishly follow any of these au-
thors. Moreover, the bishop was drawing on intellectual predecessors, as Ori-
––––––––––––––––––––

14 See Eus., d.e. 1.1,12–15; Morlet, 2009, 17–21; P.F. Beatrice, Eusèbe de Césarée, in: Pouderon,
2017, 675–677.
15 See Eus., d.e. 4.1,2; 4.15,12; Eus., p.e. 11.13–14; L. Ayres, Nicaea and Its Legacy: An Approach to
Fourth-Century Trinitarian Theology, Oxford 2004, 52–61; Simonetti, 1975, 60–66.
16 Eus., d.e. 4.15,16 (GCS 23, 176). See Or., in Joh. 1.119.
17 Eus., d.e. 4.1,7 (GCS 23, 151). See Ex 3:14; Renberg, 2021, 42–47.
18 See D. Vázquez, Before the Creation of Time in Plato’s Timaeus, in: D. Vázquez / A. Ross
(eds.), Time and Cosmology in Plato and the Platonic Tradition, Leiden 2022, 111–133; G. Ka-
ramanolis, The Philosophy of Early Christianity, Oxford 2021, 55–102; G. Boys-Stones, Pla-
tonist Philosophy 80 BC to AD 250: An Introduction and Collection of Sources in Translation,
Cambridge 2017, 81–211; G. Karamanolis, The Platonism of Eusebius of Caesarea, in: R.C.
Fowler (ed.), Plato in the Third Sophistic, Berlin 2014, 171–191 (187–190); A. Gioè, Filosofi me-
dioplatonici del II secolo D.C. Testimonianze e frammenti, Napoli 2002; E.P. Meijering, ΗΝ
ΠΟΤΕ ΟΤΕ ΟΥΚ ΗΝ Ο ΥΙΟΣ: A Discussion on Time and Eternity, in: VC 28 (1974), 161–168; G.C.
Stead, The Platonism of Arius, in: JThS N.S. 15 (1964), 16–31.
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 69

gen, who had already sought to integrate Christian discourse into the philo-
sophical discussions of their time.19
As Eusebius addresses pagan charges against Christian theology, he had to
explain why professing the Son’s divinity does not undermine monotheism,
i.e., the unity of God. Hence, he had to explain the origin of the Son of God; a
problem at the heart of the Arian crisis. To explain it, Eusebius used several
metaphors that were already traditional,20 yet he used them in an original
way. The main metaphors are the light (φῶς) and its ray or radiance (αὐγή /
ἀπαύγασμα), which depends on Wis 7:26 and Heb 1:3; the pattern and its im-
age (εἰκών), which is based on Col 1:15; the perfume (εὐωδία), which Eusebius
builds on 2 Cor 2:15 and Cant 1:3; and the analogy between human and divine
birth, which is supported by Prov 8:25 and John 1:18. Yet he was deeply aware
of the limitations of human language to speak of divine realities. Corporeal
analogies are insufficient and at the same time necessary to envisage some-
thing about the origin of the Son of God, which “is beyond all example
(παράδειγμα) and takes nothing from corporeal things.”21 Besides, he observes
that images are not similar to their models (ὑποδείγματα) in every respect
(κατὰ πάντα τρόπον).22 Accordingly, he must distinguish what aspects of an
image bear a certain resemblance to the model and what do not.
A large section of the 4th book is devoted to show that the Son of God is
one and not many. Perhaps, Eusebius wanted to highlight the difference be-
tween his Alexandrian theology of the three hypostases and the Gnostic doc-
trine of the multiple aeons. In fact, an opponent of the Alexandrian tradition,
such as Marcellus of Ancyra, claimed that the theology of the three hyposta-
ses derived from Valentinus.23 To show that the Son is one, the bishop resorted
to various metaphors. The perfect image of the One must also be one. As the
light is one, so too should the ray be one, because the ray retains full analogy
with its model (πρωτότυπος).24 Besides, as the fragrant substance is unique, so
too is the perfume that comes from it. Therefore, as the Father is one, so too is
the Son one, perfect God begotten from God.25
Following Origen, Eusebius underlines the subsistence of the Son. This
teaching was characteristic of the Alexandrian tradition, and it contrasted
––––––––––––––––––––

19 See Simonetti, 2006, 157–173.

20 See Wis 7:25–26; John 8:12; Col 1:15; Heb 1:3; 1 John 1:5; Athenag., leg. 10.4; Hipp., Noët. 11.1;
Tert., adv. Prax. 27.1; Or., princ. 1.2,9–12; in Jer. hom. 9.4; in Joh. 13.234.
21 Eus., d.e. 4.3,13 (GCS 23, 154).
22 Eus., d.e. 5.1,18 (GCS 23, 213).
23 See Marcell., s.e. 9 (FuP 36, 278–281); Logan, 2000, 105–106.
24 See Eus., d.e. 4.3,8; 4.6,1. The Son alone bears the image of the ineffable God, and thus he is
the pattern of divine knowledge for all creatures, Eus., d.e. 4.2,2; 5.pr.,1; 5.1,4.
25 See Eus., d.e. 4.3,1–3; 4.3,8–10.
70 CHAPTER 2

with the Monarchian theologies. To illustrate this doctrine, the bishop uses
the traditional metaphor of the light and the ray:

The ray is inseparable (ἀχώριστος) from the light of sense, instead (δέ) the Son
exists in himself (ἰδίως), in his own essence apart from the Father. The ray has
its range of activity (ἐνέργεια) solely from the light, instead (δέ) the Son is
something different (ἕτερόν τι) from a channel of activity, having his being in
himself (καθ’ ἑαυτὸν οὐσιωμένος).26

Surprisingly, Eusebius uses the analogy to show the difference between the
ray and the Son; that is, he uses the metaphor as antithesis.27 The ray is insep-
arable from the light, but (δέ) the Son exists in himself (καθ’ ἑαυτὸν). The
same idea appears in another passage:

The ray (αὐγή), being connatural to the nature of light, and substantially coex-
istent (οὐσιωδῶς συνυπάρχουσα τῷ φωτί) with respect to light, could not exist
outside that in which it is. But (δέ), the Logos of God exists and subsists in
himself (καθ’ ἑαυτὸν), does not coexist in the Father in an unbegotten way (οὐκ
ἀγενήτως συνυπάρχει τῷ πατρί) but was begotten of the Father (ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς)
as His Only-begotten Son before all ages.28

Unlike light, the Logos of God is self-subsistent (καθ’ ἑαυτὸν). The antithesis
between the expressions οὐσιωδῶς συνυπάρχειν and οὐκ ἀγενήτως συνυπάρχειν
is noteworthy: the ray substantially coexists with the light, as opposed to the
Son that does not coexist unbegottenly with the Father. Eusebius tends to
identify what is substantial and what is unbegotten in the divine realm. Un-
fortunately, οὐσιωδῶς recurs only once in the Demonstratio evangelica. Yet, he
seems to challenge, although indirectly, Origen’s theology when it asserts that
“the Wisdom is eternal, existing substantially with God before the aeons.”29
Then, the text moves from the ray analogy to that of human birth. Precisely
because he has been begotten by the Father, the Son “does not coexist in the
Father in an unbegotten way.” In Eusebius’ view, true generation excludes
unbegotten coexistence. Accordingly, he uses the metaphor of the image,
again a contrario. The Son is the image of God, but not as earthly images:

––––––––––––––––––––

26 Eus., d.e. 4.3,4 (GCS 23, 153; trans. Ferrar, 1920, 166).
27 See Grillmeier, 1975, 170.
28 Eus., d.e. 5.1,19 (GCS 23, 213).
29 See Or., in Prov. fr. 8 (PG 17, 185A): ἡ δὲ σοφία ἀΐδιος, οὐσιωδῶς πρὸ αἰώνων παρὰ τῷ θεῷ
ὑπάρχουσα. This fragment has no modern edition, and its authenticity has been ques-
tioned (see S. Fernández / A. Fürst, Clavis Origenis, Münster 2024, 34.98). However, the
concepts expressed in the fragment are fully consistent with Origen’s theology.
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 71

Not as an image (εἰκών) of ours, [in which] one is the thing possessing the
substratum according to substance (τὸ κατ’ οὐσίαν ὑποκείμενον) and another
the figure (τὸ εἶδος). But (ἀλλά), he who is all figure, also resembles the Father
in being ousia in himself (αὐτοουσία).30

The substratum of the image is its model, but (ἀλλά) the Son possesses his
own ousia. The Logos is not a faculty connatural to God. Therefore, Eusebius
says that the Logos “is not the same as the unbegotten.”31 As the Son is sub-
sistent, he calls him “divine and excellent ousia,” intelligible ousia, living Wis-
dom, living and subsistent image, second ousia.32 As Eusebius tends to identi-
fy οὐσία and ὑπόστασις,33 he underlines that the Son has his own ousia to guar-
antee his subsistence, not to weaken his divine nature.

2.2.2 How the Son Does Not Come into Existence

How to describe the origin of the Son? All the analogies – the ray, the per-
fume, the image, and human birth – imply that the Son derives from the Fa-
ther. But they cannot fully express the origin of the Son of God. The bishop of
Caesarea recalls the limits of human language:

It is not licit to assimilate the birth of a creature with the ineffable and un-
speakable birth and constitution [of the Son]. Nor [is it licit] to associate with
him some passing and mortal image (εἰκών). For it is not pious to say that the
Son comes from the Father after the manner of the births of the animals
among us, ousia from ousia (οὐσίαν ἐξ οὐσίας), with passion, division, cutting,
and separation.34

The first part of the text matches Origen’s teaching.35 Aware of the limitations
of theological language, Eusebius clearly states what explanations of the
origin of the Son must be reject. Accordingly, he repeats the sentence of Isai-
ah: “Who will describe his birth?” (Isa 53:8).36
The bishop supports the simplicity and incorporeality of God.37 Therefore,
there can be no cutting, division, extending, contracting, diminishing, or
––––––––––––––––––––

30 Eus., d.e. 5.1,21 (GCS 23, 213).

31 Eus., d.e. 5.1,6 (GCS 23, 211).
32 See Eus., d.e. 5 pr. 1; 5.1,4; 5.1,5; 5.1,21; 6 pr. 1; p.e. 7.12,2; Hanson, 1988, 48.
33 See Giulea, 2024, 48–60; Renberg, 2021, 32–41.
34 Eus., d.e. 5.1,9 (GCS 23, 211). See Eus., d.e. 4.15,52.
35 See Or., princ. 1.2,4: “It is abominable and unlawful to equate the God and Father, in the
begetting of his only-begotten Son and in his giving [him] subsistence, with any genera-
tion of humans or other animals” (trans. Behr 2017, 45).
36 Isa 53:8: τὴν γενεὰν αὐτοῦ τίς διηγήσεται; Eus., d.e. 3.2,56; 4.3,13; 4.15,53; 5.1,18.25; e.th. 1.12,6.
37 See Eus., d.e. 4.1,5; 4.15,16; 5.1,10. The simplicity of God is a characteristic tenet of the Alex-
andrian tradition, see P.H. Ip, 2022, 85–118.
72 CHAPTER 2

increasing of the Father’s ousia.38 God is not the material cause of the Son.39
Thus, the Son does not come from the unbegotten nature of the Father like
perfume from ointment or like a ray from light.40 Nor can the origin of the Son
be compared to human birth, as his birth is not corporeal.41
The bishop of Caesarea rejects any material meaning of begetting: the
Savior “did not come into existence from the ousia of the Unbegotten (οὐδὲ
γὰρ ἐξ οὐσίας τῆς ἀγενήτου) by a certain passion or division (κατά τι πάθος ἢ
διαίρεσιν),” and “he did not coexist without beginning in/with the Father
(ἀνάρχως συνυφέστηκεν τῷ πατρι).”42 Is there a veiled criticism of eternal gen-
eration here? It cannot be excluded. However, as will be seen below, both
assertions could be related to the two-stage theology (ch. 1.2.1). In this con-
text, the bishop proposes the following principle:

All that is in anything (τὸ ἔν τινι) or is found like an accident (ὡς συμβεβηκός),
as white in the body; or like one in another (ὡς ἕτερον ἐν ἑτέρῳ), as that which
is conceived in the womb of the pregnant woman; or like a part in the whole
(ὡς μέρος ἐν τῷ ὅλῳ), as a hand, foot or finger, which are parts (μέρη). [...]. The
Son was not unbegotten in the Father (ἐν τῷ πατρί) from eternity and begin-
ningless ages (ἐξ ἀπείρων καὶ ἀνάρχων αἰώνων), like one in another (ὡς ἕτερον ἐν
ἑτέρῳ), as if he were a part (μέρος) of the [Father], who was born after he had
changed and gone outside. This is already proper to the change (τροπή) and
thus there would also be two unbegotten beings (ἀγένητα).43

Eusebius denies that the Son was in the Father as a part, “like one in another.”
Consequently, he rejects the traditional two-stage Logos theology – in the De
ecclesiastica theologia he is explicit.44 According to him, this doctrine implies
the eternal coexistence in God of an unbegotten logos – that is, two unbegot-
ten beings – and, moreover, it presents the begetting of the Logos-Son as a
change, a sort of emanation or division. The two-stage theology had different
versions.45 Some of them rely on Ps 44:2:46

––––––––––––––––––––

38 See Eus., d.e. 4.3,13; 5.1,8; 5.1,10.

39 See Aristot., phys. 2.3 (194b): ἐξ οὗ γίγνεταί τι ἐνυπάρχοντος.
40 See Eus., d.e. 5.1,18.
41 See Eus., d.e. 4.15,52; 5.1,8. For the same reason, Eusebius warns that the term “womb”
(γαστήρ) of Ps 109:3 is to be read figuratively (τροπικῶς), see d.e. 4.15,53 (GCS 23, 181).
42 Eus., d.e. 5.1,20 (GCS 23, 213). See Eus., d.e. 4.3,13.
43 Eus., d.e. 5.1,13 (GCS 23, 212).
44 Eus., e.th. 2.14,20 (GCS 14, 117): κατὰ δὲ τὸν Σαβέλλιον ἕνα καὶ τὸν αὐτὸν εἶναι ἀποφαινόμενος
υἱὸν καὶ πατέρα καὶ ποτὲ μὲν αὐτὸν ἐνδιάθετον εἰσάγων λόγον ποτὲ δὲ προφορικόν. See Eus.,
e.th. 2.11,1; 2.15,2–4.
45 See Thphl., Aut. 2.10,1–3; Marcell., fr. 70; 109–110; Fernández, 2019, 161–175.
46 See Just., Tryph. 38,3; Thphl., Aut. 2.10,1–3; 2.22,3–4; Or., in Joh. 1.151; 1.280.
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 73

The [expression] “My heart emitted a good logos” (Ps 44:2) – if indeed it is ut-
tered by the person of the Father and God of the universe – would indicate
the Only-begotten Logos of God, as the Son existing from the Father (ἐκ τοῦ
πατρὸς ὑφεστῶτα). But not by emanation, division, cutting off, or diminution
(κατὰ προβολήν, ἢ κατὰ διαίρεσιν, ἢ τομήν, ἢ μείωσιν).47

Eusebius was not comfortable with the Christological reading of Ps 44:2.

Against whom was he addressing these words? The opponents of this para-
graph could be bishops like Philogonius, Hellanicus, and Macarius, who rely
on Ps 44:2, according to Arius.48 Anyhow, once again the bishop of Caesarea
stresses that the origin of the Son does not imply any emanation, division,
cutting off, or diminution of God. In addition, Eusebius criticizes another
theological explanation for the origin of the Son of God:

But to assert simply that the Son came into being out of nothing (ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων
γενητὸν τὸν υἱὸν) just as (ὁμοίως) the other beings that have come into being is
not without danger (οὐκ ἀκίνδυνον).49

Eusebius is less specific than expected. On the one hand, he does not say that
the “out of nothing” is blasphemous, but he declares that it is not free from
danger. On the other hand, he affirms that it is problematic to state that the
Son comes out of nothing “just as” the other beings.50 One of Eusebius’ letter
proves that the phrase “just as the other creatures” was not an explanation,
but a qualification of the sentence.51 In other words, he does not take a stance
on whether the Son comes to be from nothing in a way that is different from
––––––––––––––––––––

47 Eus., d.e. 4.15,52 (GCS 23, 181).

48 See Ar., ep. Eus. 3–4 (FNS 6.3–4); G. Cerreti, Some Remarks on Philogonius of Antioch, in: A.
Melloni, / C. Bianchi (eds.), The Creed of Nicaea (325): The Status Quaestionis and the Ne-
glected Topics, Göttingen 2025, 85–101 (91–96).
49 Eus., d.e. 5.1,15 (GCS 23, 212). The Antiochian formula of 344, repeats the same idea: “For it
is not safe (οὐκ ἀσφαλής) to say that the Son comes from nothing” (Ath., syn. 26.3,1).
50 Grillmeier and Hanson go too far when they state, “What does decisively separate him
[Eusebius] from Arius is his denial that the Logos or the Son is created from nothing”
(Grillmeier, 1975, 176) and that Eusebius “specifically disowns the doctrine that the Son is
derived from non-existence” (Hanson, 1988, 52).
51 In his letter to Alexander, Eusebius denies that “the Son came into being ‘out of nothing,’
as one among all” (ὡς εἷς τῶν πάντων), and he stresses that Arius wrote that the Son was “a
perfect creature of God, but not like (οὐχ ὡς) one of the creatures,” Eus., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS
12.2); Ar., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 11.2). Years later, Eusebius maintains the same view: “For this rea-
son, one might rightly censure those who have dared to represent him as a creature,
which came into existence out of nothing, like the remaining creatures,” Eus., e.th. 1.9,1
(trans. FC 135, 169). See e.th. 1.9,6; 1.10,4; 3.2,8. See J.M. Robertson, Christ as Mediator: A
Study of the Theologies of Eusebius of Caesarea, Marcellus of Ancyra and Athanasius of Al-
exandria, Oxford 2007, 76–78.
74 CHAPTER 2

the creatures.52 Why does Eusebius deny that the Son comes from nothing in
such a fragile way, using a litotes? Rather than a sign of uncertainty, the
phrase indicates that, for the bishop, it is not legitimate to describe the birth
of the Son (Isa 53:8).53 It is noteworthy that Eusebius had already addressed
some of the central issues of the conflict between Alexander and Arius before
the crisis began, such as the two unbegotten beings and the “out of nothing.”

2.2.3 How the Son Comes into Existence

Despite his tendency towards negative theology, Eusebius describes some
positive features of the origin of the Son of God. In fact, he uses the metaphor
of light for highlighting a characteristic of the birth of the Son:

The ray does not shine by the free choice of light (οὐ κατὰ προαίρεσιν τοῦ φωτὸς
ἐκλάμπει), but because of something which is an inseparable accident of its
ousia. But (δὲ), the Son is the image of the Father by decision and free choice
(κατὰ γνώμην καὶ προαίρεσιν). By his will, in fact, God became the Father of the
Son (βουληθεὶς γὰρ ὁ θεὸς γέγονεν υἱοῦ πατήρ) and constituted him a second
light, in all things similar to himself.54

The ray does not shine by a decision of the light, while the Son exists by the
free decision of God. The existence itself of the Son depends on the will of
God.55 The same idea is in the Apologists and Theognostus (ch. 1.2.5–6). When
Eusebius intends to approach the discourse “about the more mystical theolo-
gy about him” (μυστικωτέρας θεολογίας), he says:

However, it seemed good (ἐδόκει) to the all-good Father, that the one only-
begotten and beloved Son must pre-exist the construction of all the creatures
(τῆς τῶν γενητῶν ἁπάντων δημιουργίας προϋφίστασθαι δεῖν), since He was about
to put forth (προβάλλεσθαι) one single world, as single and big body […].56

A tension can be perceived between “it seemed good” (ἐδόκει) and “must”
(δεῖν) that belongs to the complex issue of God’s freedom to beget the Son.
The Apologists and Theognostus said that the Son was begotten by an act of

––––––––––––––––––––

52 Later, Eusebius says that “the One who is” begot the one who did not exist, see Eus., ep.
Alex. 4 (FNS 12.4). This sentence suggests that before his begetting, the Son did not exist.
This last doctrine appeared to him a natural consequence of rejecting any material con-
notation of the Son’s origin.
53 See Eus., d.e. 3.2,56; 4.3,13; 4.15,53; 5.1,18; 5.1,25; e.th. 1.12,6.
54 Eus., d.e. 4.3,7 (GCS 23, 153). See Williams, 2001, 172; Anatolios, 2011, 59–65.
55 Simonetti, 1975, 62: “La generazione del Figlio è avvenuta per libera volontà del Padre, in
funzione della successiva creazione del mondo.”
56 Eus., d.e. 4.4,1 (GCS 23, 154).
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 75

the Father’s will. Origen used the language of will in relation to the Son’s be-
getting, but he wanted to show the spiritual character of this begetting, not
that the Son came into existence by an act of will, as Eusebius taught.57 Any-
how, the bishop of Caesarea emphasizes that the Father causes the existence
of his Son by an act of will. God decided that the Son must be his agent in
making the world:

For this reason, we have said that he has been put forth (προβεβλῆσθαι) before
all as a certain unique, ensouled, and living instrument (ὄργανον) of all ousiai
and natures.58

Thus, the bishop maintains the traditional link between the origin of the Son
and the divine plan of creation: the Son was begotten to be God’s agent in
making the world.59 The Middle Platonists debated a similar issue (not the
same). Some of them held that God acts by the fact of being (αὐτῷ τῷ εἶναι),
Plato affirmed that cosmos comes from an act of divine will, and Atticus
maintained that God exists even without acting.60 For Eusebius, as for the
apologists, “the existence of the Logos is, therefore, entirely deduced from the
Father’s providence: it derives from a providential act by which the Father
expresses his goodness towards his creation.”61 Instead, “Origen regards the
act of divine begetting as an act which is inwardly necessary to the nature of
the Godhead. Eusebius denies this necessity and regards the begetting as an
act of the Father which is free in every respect.”62 In this context, the Son’s
begetting is a precondition for the divine plan of creation. God needed an
instrument for creating and ruling the world.63 Therefore, the Son does not
coexist eternally with the Father, but he was begotten because of God’s free
decision to create the universe.64
This teaching clearly implies that the Son was begotten before creation.
But is it possible to further specify “when” the origin of the Son should be

––––––––––––––––––––

57 Just., Tryph. 61.1; 128.4; Tat., orat. 5.1; Thphl., Aut. 2.10,1; 2.22,4; Thgn., hypoth. fr. 3 (Gr. Nyss.,
Eun. 3.2,121); Or., princ. 1.2,6; 4.4,1; in Joh. fr. (Pamph., apol. 106); F. Ricken, Nikaia als Krisis
des altchristlichen Platonismus, in: ThPh 44 (1969), 321–341 (333).
58 Eus., d.e. 4.4,2 (GCS 23, 154–155).
59 See Simonetti, 1975, 60–66.
60 See Procl., in Tim. 1, 393.1–3 (Diehl); Plat., Tim. 44b; Attic., fr. 27 (des Places).
61 Morlet, 2009, 285.
62 Grillmeier, 1975, 176.
63 See Eus., d.e. 4.4,1–2 (instrument of creation); 4.2,2 (instrument for ruling).
64 See Williams, 2001, 172: “The Son enjoys the most perfect participation imaginable in the
life of the Father, and so too the fullest degree of access to the unknowable Father, but this
results from the Father’s decision.”
76 CHAPTER 2

placed? In dealing with this issue, the bishop of Caesarea once again explains
the limitations of human language:

The core of the theology expounded to us, as it is beyond all analogy, derives
nothing from corporeal things. But [these corporeal things] enable the acute
mind to glimpse that the begotten (γεννητός) Son did not lack existence at cer-
tain times (χρόνοι) and, afterwards, was born at a certain instant, but before
eternal times exists, pre-exists (πρὸ χρόνων αἰωνίων ὄντα καὶ προόντα), and ex-
ists unceasingly with the Father as Son (καὶ τῷ πατρὶ ὡς υἱὸν διὰ παντὸς
συνόντα). But, without being unbegotten, he is begotten by the Unbegotten,
being Only-begotten, Logos, and God from God (θεὸν ἐκ θεοῦ).65

Eusebius declares that the Son of God is prior to time and creation, which
was a traditional statement of Christian faith.66 Some scholars have regarded
the expression διὰ παντὸς συνόντα as an assertion of the Son’s eternity.67 How-
ever, the passage aims to assert that ever since the Son exists, he has existed
as Son (ὡς υἱὸν), against the two-stage Christology. In other words, the Son did
not exist first as the inner logos and then as the Son. The interpretation of this
passage is essential to the current discussion, because Williams says that this
is the only place in which Eusebius stated the co-existence of the Son with
the Father.68 In any case, these concepts show that the role played by the two-
stage Christology in the early fourth century has not received the scholarly
attention it deserves.
If everything was made through the Logos (John 1:3), the Logos must have
been before all times (χρόνοι). In fact, as stated by Plato’s Timaeus, “time was
born with heaven (χρόνος δ’ οὖν μετ’ οὐρανοῦ γέγονεν)”.69 Platonists, however,
disagreed on the meaning of this concept. Atticus, Plutarchus, and Harpocra-
tion asserted a temporal beginning for the cosmos and, thus, they affirmed
that there was time before the birth of the world (χρόνος μὲν ἦν καὶ πρὸ
οὐρανοῦ γενέσεως).70 Albinus says that the cosmos is both always existent and
begotten, but not begotten in time.71 Instead, Alcinous states that there was
never a time when the world did not exist, but rather that the world is per-
––––––––––––––––––––

65 Eus., d.e. 4.3,13 (GCS 23, 154). See Eus., d.e. 4.3,1; 4.15,15; 6 pr. 1; Eus., p.e. 11.14.
66 See Or., princ. 1 pr. 4.
67 See Anatolios, 2011, 61–62; Fédou, 2013, 109–110.
68 See Williams, 2001, 172: “Yet, as Luibhéid points out, there is at least one place where
Eusebius, while still emphasizing the role of the Father’s will in the Son’s generation, ap-
pears to assert eternal coexistence.” Williams quotes Luibhéid, 1981, 36–37.43–44.
69 See Plat., Tim. 38b. See Plat., Tim. 37d; 39e; Alcin., did. 14.6; Phil., opif. 26.
70 Procl., in Tim. 3, 37.12 (Diehl). See Attic., fr. 19 (des Places); 23; 25; Procl., in Tim. 1, 276.30–
277.7; 381.26–382.12; 2, 377.15–378.6 (Diehl).
71 Procl., in Tim. 1, 219 (Diehl).
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 77

petually in a state of becoming.72 The philosophical discussion about eternity,

the world, and time was the intellectual milieu of Christian discourse. In this
context, the bishop of Caesarea affirms that the Son subsists from before all
ages, was begotten before all things, exists substantially as the Son before
creatures, subsists from infinite ages, and is prior to all time and all ages,73
because time was created through him. This was a traditional teaching of the
Christian faith.74 However, Eusebius goes further and affirms that, since the
Son is not unbegotten, the Father should be somehow prior to him:

The ray coexists with light (συνυπάρχει τῷ φωτί) because it is something con-
stitutive of it (συμπληρωτική τις οὖσα αὐτοῦ) – for without the ray, light could
not exist – and that arises at once (ὁμοῦ) out of itself. Instead (δὲ), the Father
pre-exists with respect to the Son (ὁ πατὴρ προϋπάρχει τοῦ υἱοῦ) and exists be-
fore his birth (καὶ τῆς γενέσεως αὐτοῦ προϋφέστηκεν), since [the Father] is the
only unbegotten.75

The ray coexists with the light, but (δὲ) the Father preexists regarding the Son.
The opposition between the verbs is evident: συνυπάρχω / προϋπάρχω. The
antinomy of the sentences implies a serious consequence: the Son is not con-
stitutive of God. Therefore, in his view, the simultaneity of the ray with re-
spect to the light does not match the relationship between the Father and the
Son.76 In this point, the metaphor of the light is not fitting. Instead, for this
purpose, the analogy of human birth works well:

Since one is unbegotten and the other begotten (ὁ μὲν ἀγέννητος ὁ δὲ γεννητός),
one is the Father and the other is the Son, all should confess that the Father
pre-exists (προϋπάρχω) and exists before (προϋφίσταμαι) the Son.77

Eusebius does not propose the Father’s posteriority as his own theory, but as a
necessary consequence of begetting,78 as something that “all should confess”
(πᾶς… ὁμολογήσειεν). “Eusebius of Caesarea maintains that the idea of the
coeternity of Father and Son would eliminate their individual identities as

––––––––––––––––––––

72 See Alcin., did. 14.3.

73 See Eus., d.e. 4.1,3; 4.2,1; 4.4,1; 4.5,13; 5 pr. 1; 5.1,4; 5.1,6; 5.1,9; 5.1,17–18; 5.1,27–28; 5.2,1.
74 See Just., 1apol. 21.1; 23.2; Hipp., Noët. 10.1; Tert., praescr. 13.2; adv. Prax. 2.1; Or., princ. 1 pr. 4.
75 Eus., d.e. 4.3,5 (GCS 23, 153). See Eus., d.e. 5.1,19; Williams, 2001, 172.
76 See Anatolios, 2011, 62–63.
77 Eus., d.e. 5.1,20 (GCS 23, 213).
78 Farina, 1966, 39: “L’eternità, dunque, del Logos non è la stessa eternità del Padre: questi ha
l’éternità in senso proprio, il Logos, come γενόμενον, l’ha derivata.” Renberg, 2021, 53: “The
idea of the Father’s ‘pre-’existing the Son is for Eusebius an expression of the relationship
of origin and derivation, not a temporal interval.” See Grillmeier, 1975, 175–176.
78 CHAPTER 2

father and son.”79 In fact, Eusebius accuses Marcellus of asserting that the
Logos is eternal and, consequently, unbegotten.80 As the Son exists as begot-
ten, he cannot be coeternal with the unbegotten God. This view contrasts
with Origen’s theology, which supported the strict co-eternity of the Son and
the Father.81 Indeed, in De principiis, Origen uses the metaphor of light:

Now [God’s] Wisdom is the splendor of the light, not only in respect of its be-
ing light, but also in respect of its being everlasting light, so that his Wisdom
is eternal and everlasting splendor.82

Both theologians use the same metaphor with opposite aims. Origen intends
to prove that the Son is simultaneous with the Father, whereas Eusebius aims
to deny this simultaneity. The opposition is significant because the bishop of
Caesarea knew De principiis well. “Origen had maintained the eternal genera-
tion of the Logos as a process, and against this Eusebius saw it as an act of the
Father’s will, an event rather than a process.”83 The Origenian theological
tradition, however, was not a fix body of doctrine, but rather a method, as
Pamphilus emphasized (ch. 2.3.3).84
What type of posteriority was Eusebius referring to? It is difficult to an-
swer. However, if the language of “priority” stands for logical or ontological
dependence, he could have used the metaphor of light in a positive sense, not
in an antithetical way. In fact, the Middle Platonist Calvenus Taurus uses the
metaphor of light to describe ontological dependence and co-eternity:

In this way, even for those for whom the world is directly eternal (ἄντικρυς
ἀίδιος), the light that the moon gets from the sun is produced (γενητόν), even
though there never was when it was not illuminated by it (καίτοι οὐδέποτε ἦν,
ὅτε οὐ πεφώτισται ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ).85

Both Origen and Taurus used the metaphor of light to express ontological
dependence and strict simultaneity. Therefore, the very fact that Eusebius of
Caesarea used this metaphor as an antithesis indicates that he wanted to

––––––––––––––––––––

79 Widdicombe, 2000, 135.

80 See Eus., Marcell. 1.1,17; 2.2,2.
81 See Or., princ. 1.2,2; Hanson, 1988, 52; Anatolios, 2011, 61.
82 Or., princ. 1.2,11 (trans. Behr, 2017, 62–63, mod.). See Or., princ. 1.2,4.
83 D.S. Wallace-Hadrill, Eusebius of Caesarea, Maryland 1961, 131.
84 See Or., princ. 3.6,9; 1.5,1; 1.6,3; 1.7,1; 2.3,7; 2.8,3–5; 3.3,3; 3.4,5; 3.6,9; 4.3,13; in Matt. 13.18 (TU
193, 340): Καὶ ἄλλη δὲ διήγησις παρὰ τὴν ἁπλούστερον λεγομένην λελέχθω, εἴτε ὡς δόγμα εἴτε
ὡς γυμνασίου ἕνεκεν. See Pamph., apol. 1–3.
85 Calv. Tau., fr. 23 (Phlp., aet. 6.8, 47, 7–9; Gioè, 2002, 261; trans. Share, 2014, 29 mod.). The
sentence recalls the “Arian” sentence, ἦν ποτε ὅτε οὐκ ἦν, which is not verbatim in Arius.
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 79

show that the Son is not co-eternal with the Father. Of course, it is not possi-
ble to speak about a chronological priority because the begetting of the Son is
before the creation of time (χρόνος), but the bishop believes that “eternity”
cannot be applied to the begotten Son in the same way as it is applied to the
unbegotten Father. Thus, on the one hand, Eusebius declares that the Son is
prior to time and, on the other, affirms that the Father “pre-exists” the Son. Do
these statements contradict each other? The same question arises in a philo-
sophical context. Indeed, Plato says, “There are being, space, and becoming
(γένεσιν), three distinct things which existed even before the universe came to
be (καὶ πρὶν οὐρανὸν γενέσθαι).”86 However, the interpretation of this text was
disputed. In the Christian context, Origen declares:

To be sure, when we speak these words, such as “always” or “was” or adopt any
similar word with temporal significance, they are to be taken simply and with
due allowance, since the significations of these terms are temporal, but the
things of which we speak, though spoken of by a stretch of language in a tem-
poral mode, yet surpass in their nature every idea of a sense of time. 87

From the second century onward, Christian thought distinguished between

ab aeterno, which implies strict coeternity with God, and ante tempora, which
indicates what is before creation and, therefore, before time (χρόνος). In this
framework, it was possible to think of an atemporal posteriority of the Son
without introducing an interval of time (χρόνος) between the Father and the
Son of God.88
Wallace-Hadrill says that, according to Eusebius, the Logos was begotten
“as an act of God before time, to which it is difficult to attach meaning.”89
However, Hilary distinguishes between ab aeterno and ante tempora, and he
complains that others do not: “They hear ante tempora and suppose that ante
tempora is the same as always.”90 Even Marcellus distinguishes “when” (ποτέ)

––––––––––––––––––––

86 Plat., Tim. 52d (Burnet). See Vázquez, 2022, 121–124.

87 Or., princ. 1.3,4 (trans. Behr, 2017, 73). See Plat., Tim. 37e; Or., in Gen. hom. 1.1.
88 See Williams 2001, 172; Anatolios 2011, 62–63. Instead, Beeley and Giulea affirm that Euse-
bius asserted that the Son was strictly coeternal with the Father. See C.A. Beeley, Eusebius’
Contra Marcellum. Anti-Modalist Doctrine and Orthodox Christology, in: ZAC 12 (2009),
433–452 (450): “It is also Eusebius who advances a stronger sense of the Son’s eternity, de-
spite the conventional view to the contrary […]. Eusebius is pushing for the Son’s eternal
generation from the Father against Marcellus’ confined sense of the economy.” See Giulea,
2024, 52–53. Beeley and Giulea question the authenticity of Eus., ep. Euphrat. (FNS 13) and
Eus., ep. fr. (FNS 14).
89 Wallace-Hadrill, 1961, 132.
90 See Hil., Aux. 6 (PL 10, 613): Audiunt ante tempora, putant idipsum ante tempora esse quod
semper est.
80 CHAPTER 2

the logos was resting in God from “when” (ποτέ) the logos was active with
God.91 The problem of the “moment” of the origin of the Son of God will be a
crucial issue in Nicaea. In fact, when Marcellus of Ancyra told Julius of Rome
about his participation in the Nicene assembly, he said that he confronted
those who declare “that the Father existed before the Son” (προϋπάρχειν τοῦ
υἱοῦ τὸν πατέρα), a sentence which is found verbatim in the writings of Euse-
bius of Caesarea – not in Arius.92

2.2.4 The Son Receives His Divinity from the Father

The Father, by himself, is perfect and first, as Father, and He is the cause of
the constitution of the Son. The Son is second with respect to the Father be-
cause he receives his being from him.93 The language of the “First” and the
“Second” comes from Middle Platonism. However, the bishop of Caesarea
draws on the words of Jesus, “That they may know you, the only true God”
(John 17:3) and comments: “In an extremely orthodox manner [the Savior]
calls the Father ‘the only true God’ (μόνον γοῦν ἀληθινὸν θεὸν).”94 The Father is
the only true God because He does not receive His divinity from another;
whereas the Son receives his “being God” (τὸ θεὸν εἶναι) from the Father.95
Marcellus and Athanasius criticized – and deformed – Eusebius’ claim.96 The
Son “is not the first God – says Eusebius – but the only-begotten Son of God,
and for this reason he is God (καὶ διὰ τοῦτο θεός).”97 He “does not hold his be-
ing and his divinity from himself (ἐξ ἑαυτοῦ), but from the Father (παρὰ δὲ τοῦ
πατρὸς).”98 This condition places the Son in a unique position as the Mediator:

According to his position (κατὰ τάξιν), he is the only one who knows how to
worship God, who is in the midst (μέσος) of the unbegotten God and the be-
ings originated after him; therefore, he assumes the care of the universe and
officiates as Priest before the Father in favor of all those who obey. 99

The Son, then, is begotten God, Perfect from the Perfect one, “God from God”
(θεὸν ἐκ θεοῦ).100 Therefore, he is second with respect to the Father, the second

––––––––––––––––––––

91 See Marcell., fr. 70; 110; Eus., Marcell. 1.1,22; 2.1,2; 2.2,43; e.th. 2.11,1.
92 See Eus., d.e. 4.3,5; 4.4,1; 5.1,20.
93 See Eus., p.e. 7.15,9; d.e. 4.3,6; 5.30,3; Grillmeier, 1975, 171.
94 Eus., d.e. 5.17,5 (GCS 23, 240).
95 Eus., d.e. 5.4,14 (GCS 23, 226). See Renberg, 2021, 44.
96 See Marcell., fr. 122; Eus., Marcell. 1.4,51–52; Ath., syn. 17.3; Eus., ep. Euphrat. 3 (FNS 13.3).
97 Eus., d.e. 5.4,11 (GCS 23, 225).
98 Eus., d.e. 5.4,9 (GCS 23, 225).
99 Eus., d.e. 4.10,15 (GCS 23, 167–168).
100 Eus., d.e. 6 pr. 1 (GCS 23, 251). See Eus., d.e. 4.3,1; 4.3,13; 4.15,15; Eus., p.e. 11.14.
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 81

after the God of the Universe (μετὰ τὸν τῶν ὅλων θεὸν), the second Lord and
God, the second God (θεὸν δεύτερον), or simply “the second.”101
The idea of a “second God” is reminiscent of philosophers such as Nu-
menius and Alcinous, authors whom Eusebius actually read. In fact, he cites a
fragment of Numenius that speaks about the second God (δεύτερος θεός).102
The bishop of Caesarea, hoewver, had Christian predecessors. On the one
hand, the language of the second God was already used by biblical scholars
like Philo and Origen.103 On the other hand, Numenius himself affirms that
ancient philosophers learned from Moses.104 Of course, the modern distinc-
tion between philosophy and theology, in the fourth century, was meaning-
less. In any case, Eusebius highlights the Son’s divinity: he is Son by nature,
not by external (ἔξωθεν) adoption, he is God by nature (φύσει θεὸς) and the
authentic Son of God.105
In summary, Eusebius declares the priority of the Father and, at the same
time, emphasizes the divinity of the Son and his clear distinction with respect
to creation. As for the origin of the Son, he clearly rejects some explanations:
the Son is not born by cutting, division, extension, contraction, diminution,
or increase. All these explanations have a corporeal connotation. In addition,
he opposes the two-stage Christology because, before the begetting of the
Son, he was not in God as unbegotten logos. Finally, he says that to affirm that
the Son comes from nothing is not without danger. It seems that Eusebius did
not modify these ideas after Nicaea.106
As for the “moment” of the origin of the Son, Eusebius affirms that he is
prior to creation and all times (χρόνοι), according to Christian faith. However,
since he is not unbegotten, the Son does not coexist in/with the Father with-
out beginning. The bishop “seems to take it for granted that co-eternity means
the simultaneity of independent realities,”107 which implies two unbegotten
beings. The Son of God is not simultaneous with the Father, as the ray is to
the light. He asserts an atemporal priority of the Father regarding the Son.

––––––––––––––––––––

101 See Eus., d.e. 4.7,2; 5 pr.,23; 5.1,24; 5.1,28; 5.3,3; 5.3,9.
102 See Eus., p.e. 11.18 = Num., fr. 11 (des Places).
103 See Phil., quaest. Gen. 2.62; Or., Cels. 5.39; Eus., p.e. 11.15.
104 See Num., fr. 1c; 8–9 (des Places).
105 Eus., d.e. 5.4,11 (GCS 23, 225). Eus., d.e. 5.1,4 (GCS 23, 210): ὁ γνήσιος καὶ μονογενὴς τοῦ τῶν
ὅλων θεοῦ υἱός. See Eus., d.e. 5.1,26.
106 In his letter to his church, Eusebius states: “And we consider harmless the anathema
published by them after the [formula] of faith, for it forbids the use of unscriptural terms,
owing to which almost every confusion and disorder in the Church is produced. For no di-
vinely inspired Scripture affirms that of ‘out of nothing,’” Eus., ep. Caes. 15 (FNS 37.15).
107 Williams, 2001, 172.
82 CHAPTER 2

Eusebius proposed this doctrine before the outbreak of the controversy, and
he maintained it after the beginning of the controversy.108
Many elements of Eusebius’ theology have some Middle Platonic parallels.
However, Middle Platonism encompasses a large variety of views, many times
mutually conflicting. Beyond the parallels, the bishop of Caesarea did not
conform his teaching to a particular author or school. This implies that Euse-
bius was not slavishly following the ideas of one philosophical system, but he
was using their categories to express his original thought.
The reader of the Demonstratio evangelica can follow the rationale of Eu-
sebius’ theological discourse. He wrote pages and pages to justify the biblical
and philosophical foundations of his doctrines before the beginning of Arius’
activity. The bishop made an original attempt to integrate Platonic philoso-
phy and Christian thought starting from a fresh examination of sources.109
The result is a voluminous work that contains a consistent doctrine. All this
shows that Eusebius was an independent thinker. His starting point was the
theology of Origen. However, he did not rigidly adhere to the teachings of
Origen; he reassesed them with creativity and freedom. He followed the
method of his teacher, but, in some cases, departed from his teachings. As an
original thinker, his theology is self-standing. Therefore, there is no need to
assume any influence of Arius on Eusebius. In other words, the coherent
rationale of his theology, and the chronology of his works, prove that the
bishop of Caesarea was not influenced by Arius.110
This survey did not aim to present the full picture of Eusebius’ theology,
but to focus on the topics discussed at Nicaea. Nevertheless, as it will be
shown (ch. 2.4.4), almost all the elements that were at stake in the Alexander-
Arius conflict were already present in the Demonstratio evangelica before the
controversy began. The language of Eusebius suggests that his Trinitarian
theology was not elaborated in a polemical setting. Unfortunately, no theolog-
ical texts of Alexander and Arius prior to the controversy have survived.
However, the matches, contrasts, and parallels between Eusebius, Alexander,
and Arius indicate – as will be seen below – that the theology of the bishop of
Caesarea was not just an antecedent, but a crucial factor in the outbreak of
the conflict. In short, my contention is that the events leading up to the clash
––––––––––––––––––––

108 See Eus., ep. Alex. 4 (FNS 12.4); ep. Euphrat. 1 (FNS 13.1); ep. Caes. 16 (FNS 37.16); Simonetti,
1975, 40.
109 See Eus., p.e. 11.7–38; S. Morlet, The agreement of Christianity and Platonic philosophy from
Justin Martyr to Eusebius, in: P.G. Pavlos et al. (eds.), Platonism and Christian Thought in
Late Antiquity, London 2019, 17–32 (21–22).
110 Grillmeier, 1975, 169 (trans. mod.): “As far as he [Eusebius] differs from Origen in im-
portant points, he is influenced by the Alexandrian school of the post-Origenian period,
not, of course, by Arius.”
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 83

between Arius and his bishop must be framed within the theological contrast
between Alexander of Alexandria and Eusebius of Caesarea, two important
bishops who held different versions of Origen’s legacy.

2.3 The Outbreak of the “Arian” Conflict

The following pages deal with the outbreak of the so-called Arian crisis from
three perspectives. First, the beginning of the controversy is reconstructed
according to the retrospective accounts, that is, the writings of Athanasius
and the ancient Christian historians. Then, the outbreak is studied taking into
account only the contemporary sources. The contrast between the narratives
that emerge from the retrospective and the contemporary sources confirms
the need to give hermeneutical priority to the latter. Finally, the institutional
aspect of the controversy is reconstructed in light of Social Identity Theory.

2.3.1 The Outbreak According to the “Master Narrative”

How did the “Arian” crisis begin? Books of historical theology usually state
that Arius’ deviating doctrine caused the reaction of Alexander, his bishop,
who condemned him so that his heresy would not spread.111 This assertion
implies two suppositions: 1) that, in the first decades of the fourth century, a
theology such as that of Arius was considered heretical and 2) that it was
Alexander who accused Arius of heresy.
It has been discussed whether it makes sense to speak of “theological or-
thodoxy” before Nicaea.112 According to the previous chapter, it is evident that
theologies of different orientations were accepted in the churches. However,
it is also clear that the Christian churches had already established certain
limits of orthodoxy by means of the rule of faith, or the rule of truth, that is,
what the ecclesial consensus considered the essential elements of Christian
kerygma.113 An author as enthusiastic about theological investigation as Ori-
gen describes the boundaries between heresy and orthodoxy several times.114
Such descriptions are found in authors from diverse cultural backgrounds,

––––––––––––––––––––

111 See B. Studer, Trinity and Incarnation: The Faith of the Early Church, Edinburgh 1993, 102–
103; B. Sesboüé / J. Wolinski, Histoire des dogmes: Le Dieu du salut, Paris 1994, 237; Grill-
meier, 1975, 219.
112 See R. Williams, Does it Make Sense to Speak of Pre-Nicene Orthodoxy?, in: Id. (ed.), The
Making of Orthodoxy: Essays in Honour of Henry Chadwick, Cambridge 1989, 1–23.
113 Iren., epid. 3; 6; Tert., praescr. 12–13; adv. Prax. 2; Or., princ. 1 pr. 3–4; Grech, 1998, 589–601;
Ferguson, 2015, 48–66; W. Kinzig, A History of Early Christian Creeds, Berlin 2024, 101–120.
114 Or., princ. 1 pr. 3–10; in Tit. 3 (Pamph., apol. 33); in Joh. 32.187–193; R. Trevijano, Orígenes y
la regla de fe, in: H. Crouzel (ed.), Origeniana, Bari 1975, 327–338.
84 CHAPTER 2

indicating that Origen’s view represented an ecclesial consensus. Therefore, it

makes sense to speak of pre-Nicene orthodoxy. However, it cannot be af-
firmed with certainty to what extent the rule of faith left out the concrete
theological proposals of Arius. To deal with this problem adequately, it is
necessary to take into account only the authentic writings of Arius, and to
free him from the polemical summaries elaborated by tradition.
The second supposition refers to the beginning of the quarrel. According
to the methodology proposed in the Introduction, it is necessary to decon-
struct the “master narrative.” Therefore, the first step will be to study the nar-
ratives of the historians. That of Gelasius of Caesarea is the oldest compre-
hensive account. It emphasizes the peace that reigned in the church of Alex-
andria and then explains the causes of the conflict:

For a certain presbyter from among those who were in Alexandria, Arius by
name, a man who was pious in appearance rather than in truth and, further-
more, a fervent lover of glory and innovation, began to advance certain
strange notions (τινὰ ξένα) concerning belief in Christ, which had never be-
fore been expounded in public (εἰς μέσον). Attempting to divide our only-
begotten Lord Jesus Christ from the Father’s ineffable and eternal divinity, he
became the cause of much turmoil in the Church. 115

According to this account, Arius was the cause of many disorders because he
preached strange doctrines about Christ. Rufinus and Cyzicenus follow this
account.116 Theodoret states that Arius acted out of envy and declares that the
enemy of truth – the devil – convinced Arius to oppose the apostolic teaching
of Alexander.117 Sozomen and Epiphanius also claim that Arius’ doctrine was
the cause of the conflicts in Alexandria.118 In addition, some authors include
Melitius of Lykopolis in the account, albeit, in different ways.119 Historians
also describe Alexander’s attitude. Thus continues the account of Gelasius:

But since Alexander, due to his natural mildness, wanted to change Arius for
the better through suitable admonitions and did not judge it right to issue a
decree just yet, it happened because of this that the pestilential condition of
heresy spread to many. And thereafter, as if from a small spark, a great fire was

––––––––––––––––––––

115 Gelas., h.e. F11 (GCS.NF 25, 50–51). Wallraff reconstructs the text based on textual parallels
between independent historical works. These parallels are explained by the fact that these
works depend on Gelasius’ lost Historia ecclesiastica. (Wallraff, 2018, xix–lxxx).
116 See Ruf., h.e. 10.1; An.Cyz., h.e. 2.1,16–2.2,3.
117 See Thdt., h.e. 1.2,10.
118 See Epiph., haer. 69.2,1; Soz., h.e. 1.15,1–3.
119 Sozomen and Epiphanius say that Melitius accused Arius before Alexander (Soz., h.e.
1.15,1; Epiph., haer. 69.1–3). Socrates affirms that Melitius joined Arius (Socr., h.e. 1.6,39).
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 85

kindled, and the evil which had begun in the church of the Alexandrians
spread through cities and provinces. Finally, as he saw that the situation was
going from bad to worse, he communicated the matter to his colleagues120.

The account presents Alexander as a moderate man, who tried to lead Arius
back to the right path and then was forced to condemn him when the situa-
tion had become untenable. Alexander’s moderation appears in Gelasius,
Rufinus, Theodoret, Cyzicenus and, to some extent, in Sozomen.121 In contrast,
Epiphanius affirms: “But all this went on in the church without the
knowledge of the blessed Alexander.”122 These two explanations – moderation
and ignorance – seem to be two alternative ways of justifying Alexander’s
inaction against Arius. In fact, Sozomen conveys that Alexander was blamed
for tolerating Arius’ novelties.123 In short, almost all historians accuse Arius of
being the cause of the conflict. However, Socrates offers a quite different ac-
count. According to him, it was Arius who contested Alexander’s theology.124
What are these narratives based on? Historians had access to sources that
are not preserved today, such as some collections of letters, the work of Sabi-
nus, or a Melitian tradition used by Epiphanius.125 However, the main sources
of these accounts seem to be Athanasius and Eusebius. The bishop of Alex-
andria gives the following account:

Because Arius and those with him thought and said, “God made the Son from
nothing and named him his own Son,” and “the Logos of God is one of the
creatures,” and “there was once when he did not exist,” and “he is mutable and
can change whenever he wishes,” they were cast out of the church
(ἐξεβλήθησαν τῆς ἐκκλησίας) by the blessed Alexander.126

In another letter, he offers a similar account: “The blessed bishop Alexander

cast Arius out of the church for thinking and professing thus: ‘God was not
always a Father’… ‘the Son of God was made out of nothing.’”127 Athanasius
takes for granted that the cause of the conflict was Arius. 128 All these passages

––––––––––––––––––––

120 Gelas., h.e. F11 (GCS.NF 25, 50–53, mod.).

121 See Gelas., h.e. F11 (GCS.NF 25, 51); Ruf., h.e. 10.1; Thdt., h.e. 1.2,12; An.Cyz., h.e. 2.2,3; Soz.,
h.e. 1.15,4.
122 Epiph., haer. 69.3,3 (GCS 37, 154; trans. NHMS 79, 335).
123 See Soz., h.e. 1.15,4. This reproach may be related to Colluthus and the Melitians.
124 See Socr., h.e. 1.5,1–2.
125 See Martin, 1996, 261–285.
126 Ath., syn. 15.1 (AW 2, 242; trans. CEECW 1, 166, mod.).
127 Ath., ep. Aeg. Lib. 12.1–2 (AW 1, 51). A similar account is found in the encyclical of the
synod of Alexandria (338), which depends on Athanasius (apol. sec. 6.1).
128 See Ath., ep. mort. Ar. 2.1.
86 CHAPTER 2

agree in affirming that the controversy broke out because Arius departed
from sound doctrine and Alexander reacted against him. This is the conven-
tional view of the matter in academic circles.
In addition, Christian historians take elements from the Vita Constantini
by Eusebius. Some of these elements are the peace of the churches before the
crisis,129 the relevance of envy in the outbreak of the conflict,130 idle quarrels
under the pretext of divine doctrines,131 the small spark that lit a great fire,132
and Constantine’s distress when he learns of the controversy.133 Some of these
elements do not contradict Athanasius’ account. However, there is one point
of conflict between the accounts. While Athanasius blames Arius exclusively,
Eusebius reproaches Alexander and Arius equally and points to both as “the
causes (αἴτιοι) of the dispute.”134 Regarding the controversy, he states:

Indeed, it set even the bishops against each other, imparting divisive quarrels
with divine doctrines as the excuse. Then it broke out like a great fire from a
little spark (ὡς ἀπὸ μικροῦ σπινθῆρος μέγα πῦρ ἐξεκάετο). It began from the
summit (ἀπὸ κορυφῆς ἀρξάμενον) of the Alexandrian church and spread
through all Egypt and Libya and the further Thebaid.135

Historians took from the Vita Constantini a metaphor of fire that is not found
in Athanasius. However, Gelasius, Epiphanius, Socrates, and Cyzicenus affirm
that the fire was caused by the doctrine of Arius.136 Instead, Eusebius, who
does not depend on Athanasius, speaks of a dispute between bishops and
affirms that it began from the summit (κορυφή) of the church of Alexandria.
The “summit” of the Alexandrian church, in the singular, must most likely be
the bishop.137 Accordingly, Eusebius points out that the cause of the great fire
was most likely Alexander, or maybe the clergy, but not Arius alone.
Theodoret develops these ideas and states that Arius “begot (ἐγέννησε) this
blasphemy” and goes on to list many bishops who cultivated his seeds.138 Ari-

––––––––––––––––––––

129 See Eus., v.C. 2.61,1–2; Gelas., h.e. F11, 1–4; Ruf., h.e. 10.1; Thdt., h.e. 1.2,4; An.Cyz., h.e. 2.1,16.
130 See Eus., v.C. 2.61,3; Epiph., haer. 69.2,1; Ruf., h.e. 10.1; Thdt., h.e. 1.2,5.9.
131 See Eus., v.C. 2.61,4; Soz., h.e. 1.15,1.
132 See Eus., v.C. 2.61,4; Gelas., h.e. F11; Epiph., haer. 69.2,1; Socr., h.e. 1.6,1; An.Cyz., h.e. 2.2,3.
133 See Eus., v.C. 2.63; Gelas., h.e. F11; Ruf., h.e. 10.1.
134 Eus., v.C. 2.73 (GCS 7, 79). See Eus., v.C. 2.63.
135 Eus., v.C. 2.61,4 (GCS 7, 72–73; trans. Cameron / Hall, 1999, 115).
136 See Gelas., h.e. F11 (GCS.NF 25, 52); Epiph., haer. 69.2,1; Socr., h.e. 1.6,1.
137 Eusebius avoids the names of his rivals in the Vita Constantini. He refers to Ossius as “that
man” (Eus., v.C. 2.64; 2.73; Gelas., h.e. F11, 169–172; An.Cyz., h.e. 2.3,22), and he omits the
name of the first speaker at the inaugural session of Nicaea (Eus., v.C. 3.11). See R.T. Ridley,
Anonymity in the Vita Constantini, in: Byz. 50 (1980), 241–258.
138 Thdt., h.e. 5.7,1.
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 87

us, then, was presented as a theological progenitor. The metaphor of the

spark illustrates an interesting situation: even when historians take elements
from Eusebius’ account, they modify them to match Athanasius’ interpreta-
tion. Socrates’ account, instead, states that the cause of the conflict was Alex-
ander’s public preaching:

On one occasion, [Alexander] before his presbyters and the rest of the clergy,
with excessive love for honor (φιλοτιμότερος),139 investigated theologically
about the holy Trinity, reflecting that in the Trinity there is unity (ἐν τριάδι
μονάδα εἶναι). But Arius, a presbyter of his jurisdiction, a man not lacking in
dialectical discourse, thinking that the bishop was introducing the doctrine of
Sabellius, the Libyan, strongly opposed what was said by the bishop. 140

The text states that the cause of the conflict was not Arius, but Alexander’s
public teaching. In its first part, Socrates’ account does not reproduce the
“master narrative” of Athanasius, but rather it relies on another source trans-
mitting the events prior to Nicaea.141 If this is correct, one would have to ask
about the setting for this type of meeting: Why did Alexander gather the
presbyters together to carry out such a “campaign” of Trinitarian theology? As
shown above, in Alexander’s time, there were several churches (ἐκκλησίαι) in
which the presbyters taught the people. Arius was the head of one of these
churches-didaskaleia (ch. 1.1.2). In this scenario, it is reasonable to suppose
that Alexander wanted to bring the preaching of the presbyters in line with
his own Trinitarian teaching.
Getting back to the initial question, who accused whom of heresy? The
main tradition, coming from Athanasius, claims that Alexander reacted
against Arius’ heresy. In contrast, the tradition of Eusebius and Socrates sug-
gests that it was Arius who accused Alexander of heresy. Which tradition is
more reliable? After having studied the narratives and testimonies, it is time to
analyze the documents contemporary to the events.

––––––––––––––––––––

139 The “master narrative” influenced translators. They do not transmit the negative meaning
of φιλοτιμότερος. Thus, they translate as “with perhaps too philosophical minuteness”
(NPNF 2, 3); “avec beaucoup de zèle” (SC 477, 61); “muy apasionadamente” (BPa 106, 41);
“mit vielleicht zu philosophischer Minutiösität” (Beritski / Schaff / Wace, 2024, 30).
140 Socr., h.e. 1.5,1–2 (GCS.NF 1, 5).
141 Socrates relies on a source other than Athanasius; some scholars believe it to be Sabinus,
while others suppose it to be an Alexandrian collection. The expression ἐν τριάδι μονάδα
εἶναι indicates the reliability of the source, because the expression is not configured ac-
cording to later language, see M. Simonetti, Studi sull’arianesimo, Roma 1965, 113 n. 9; P.
van Nuffelen, Un héritage de paix et de piété: Étude sur les histoires ecclésiastiques de Soc-
rate et Sozomène, Leuven 2004, 315–319; Morales, 2019, 548, n. 35). Instead, the reference to
Sabellius belongs to a later phase of the Arian controversy.
88 CHAPTER 2

2.3.2 The Outbreak According to Contemporary Sources

The main contemporary documents that transmit information about the out-
break of the conflict are Arius’ letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia (FNS 6), Alex-
ander’s letter to his colleague in Byzantium (FNS 8), and Constantine’s letter
to Alexander and Arius (FNS 24). As has been said, the documents are more
authoritative than the retrospective accounts because they are contemporary.
Constantine’s letter is addressed to Alexander and Arius alike. Some
scholars have suggested that this letter was not directed to these two clerics,
but to the council of Antioch.142 The epistle could be “a sort of open letter,” but
there are some specific features that indicate that the letter was addressed to
the two Alexandrian clerics.143 The emperor places himself “in the midst of
your reciprocal (πρὸς ἀλλήλους) dispute, as a judge of peace.”144 He treats Arius
as a fellow-servant (συνθεράπων) of Alexander.145 It is noteworthy that the very
fact of treating a bishop and a presbyter on equal footing is per se a reproach
to the bishop. The emperor considers the cause of the conflict – not the con-
flict itself – to be insignificant:

I have learned, then, where the ground of the present dispute begins. For
when you, Alexander, examined the presbyters (παρὰ τῶν πρεσβυτέρων ἐζήτεις)
– what each of them understood about a certain passage written in the law, or
rather, about an idle point of dispute – you, Arius, unexpectedly contested
something which, in principle, was not to be examined, or which, once exam-
ined, was proper to keep in silence.146

A little later, the letter speaks of the “imprudent question” (ἐρώτησις

ἀπροφύλακτος) of Alexander and the “hasty answer” (ἀπόκρισις ἀπρονόητος) of
Arius.147 Both the quoted paragraph, and these last expressions, suggest that
Alexander’s “imprudent question” was the cause of the conflict, and that
Arius was reacting against the teaching of his bishop.
Constantine reproaches both antagonists. According to him, these ques-
tions do not imply a new heresy, so ecclesial unity should not be hurt by the
discussion of insignificant points.148 Just as philosophers do, Christian believ-
––––––––––––––––––––

142 S. Hall, Some Constantinian Documents in the Vita Constantini, in: S.N.C. Lieu / D. Montser-
rat, Constantine: History, Historiography and Legend, London 1998, 86–103 (88); Parvis,
2006, 89–95; S. Cartwright, The Theological Anthropology of Eustathius of Antioch, Oxford
2015, 15–16.
143 The references to Alexander and Arius do not occur only in the heading of the letter.
144 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 4 (FNS 24.4).
145 See Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 7 (FNS 24.7).
146 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 6 (FNS 24.6).
147 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 9 (FNS 24.9). See Simonetti, 1975, 35–36.
148 See Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 9 (FNS 24.9).
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 89

ers can maintain the unity of religion even when there are disagreements on
some minor point.149 These issues can be discussed in private, as an exercise
(γυμνασία), but they should not be exposed to public assemblies (δημοσία
σύνοδος), which lack adequate training. In fact, the discussion of these ques-
tions divided (σχίζω) the most holy people of God.150
Surprisingly, these ideas recall some elements of Origen’s method. On the
one hand, the letter distinguishes between primary and secondary elements
of doctrine and affirms that only the former are necessary to maintain the
unity of the faith. This aspect is present in the preface of De principiis, which
distinguishes between the necessary points that the apostles preached and
those that belong to investigation.151 On the other hand, Origen’s method
highlights the need to adapt a discourse to its audience: one should not dis-
cuss disputable topics in public.152 Constantine therefore received infor-
mation and advice from an Origenian cleric before writing his letter. If the
epistle was written in Nicomedia, it is likely that this cleric was Eusebius of
Nicomedia.153 Thus, in the emperor’s view, Alexander and Arius were discuss-
ing matters that did not compromise the rule of faith, but they were doing so
before an audience that was not trained for such a discussion.
Another outstanding document is Arius’ letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia.
This may be the oldest surviving document of the Arian crisis. In it, he in-
forms the bishop of Nicomedia about the conflict in Alexandria:

For the bishop [Alexander] dispossesses us, persecutes us very severely and
sets in motion every means against us (καθ’ ἡμῶν), even to the point that he
expelled us from the city as men without God because (ἐπειδὴ) we do not
agree with him when he says in public: “Always God, always Son; simultane-
ously Father, simultaneously Son. The Son, in an unbegotten manner, coexists
with God, always-begotten, unbegotten-offshoot. Neither in thought nor for a

––––––––––––––––––––

149 See Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 10 (FNS 24.10).

150 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 6–8 (FNS 24.6–8).
151 See Or., princ. 1 pr. 3; S. Fernández, Origen’s Theological System in On First Principles: A
Reconsideration of its Nature, Rationale, and Outline, in: MoTh 38 (2022), 225–227.
152 See Or., in Num. hom. 27.12,11 (GCS 30, 277; trans. Scheck, 2009, 181–182, mod.): “For the
person who can contemplate the mystery of Christ and of the Holy Spirit, even if he sees
or hears things ‘which it is not permissible for men to speak,’ will necessarily have moder-
ation of the mouth (oris parsimonia), being able to know to whom, when and how (quibus
vel quando vel quomodo) he ought to speak about the divine mysteries.” See also Or., in Ez.
hom. 3.8; philoc. 27.4; in Joh. 32.311.
153 See V.C. de Clercq, Ossius of Cordova: A Contribution to the History of the Constantinian
Period, Washington 1954, 197; M. Gurruchaga, Eusebio. Vida de Constantino, Madrid 1994,
250, n. 96; J. Vilella, Biografía de Osio de Córdoba, Barcelona 2020, 66–67 n. 71; 70 n. 79.
90 CHAPTER 2

certain instant is God prior to the Son. Always God, always Son. The Son is
from God himself.”154

The paragraph offers first-hand information. Arius declares that Alexander

mistreats him “because (ἐπειδὴ) we do not agree with him (οὐ συμφωνοῦμεν
αὐτῷ),” about what he says in public (δημοσίᾳ λέγοντι). Two terms must be
analyzed. It is clear that the conjunction ἐπειδὴ has causal meaning, not tem-
poral. But what kind of plural does Arius use in this text? Is it the plural of
modesty or of representation?155 As will be seen below, Arius uses the plural of
representation, i.e., he speaks on behalf of a group.
The text transmits the oldest explanation of the beginning of the conflict.
It is meaningful because it comes from one of the protagonists of the contro-
versy and was elaborated during the development of the events. Arius’ expla-
nation is clear: Alexander is persecuting “them” because “they” reject the
bishop’s public teaching. Furthermore, a presbyter confronting his own bish-
op had some glorious forerunners in the Alexandrian tradition. Perhaps, Ari-
us was inspired by the memory of Malchion, the presbyter who publicly ac-
cused his own bishop, Paul of Samosata, at Antioch (268), or by the memory
of Origen, another presbyter who, about 230, came into conflict with his
bishop Demetrius, and had to seek refuge in Palestine.156
The letter, moreover, offers Arius’ summary of the doctrine that Alexander
expounds in public, which will be studied later. There are coincidences and
discordances between Arius’ explanation and Constantine’s letter. Both texts
coincide in pointing out the public nature of the controversy and in affirming
that Arius reacted against Alexander’s teaching, not vice-versa, as Athanasius
and almost all the Christian historians do. However, the sources differ on two
points: Constantine claims that the disagreement is irrelevant, while Arius
says that it is a crucial doctrinal point. Moreover, according to the emperor’s
letter, the conflict is between the bishop and a single presbyter, while Arius’
words show that the clash was between the bishop and a group represented
by Arius.
Alexander’s extensive letter to his colleague in Byzantium contains valua-
ble contemporary data about the outbreak of the conflict (FNS 8). The text
does not provide a narrative, but it transmits useful information for assessing
the reliability of Arius’ and Constantine’s claims. The theological content of
the letter will be analyzed later. For now, it is sufficient to consider the points

––––––––––––––––––––

154 Ar., ep. Eus. 2 (FNS 6.2).

155 See A.G. Katsouris, Plural in Place of Singular, in: RMP 120 (1977), 230–232.
156 See Eus., h.e. 7.29,2; Epiph., haer. 69.4,1; Telfer, 1946, 137; T. Kopecek, A History of Neo-
Arianism, Philadelphia 1979, 6.
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 91

of agreement and disagreement between the accounts of Arius and Constan-

tine in light of Alexander’s words.
According to this letter, the controversy touched on central points of faith.
Alexander says that his adversaries are opposed to the apostolic doctrine. 157
According to the letter, those who are with Arius fight against Christ and
against the divinity of the Son of God.158 Their teaching is impious.159 They are
successors of Ebion, Artemas, Paul of Samosata, and Lucian of Antioch. 160 For
this reason, Alexander has expelled them from the church, as he considers
them heretics.161 These statements show that Alexander and Arius agree –
against Constantine – that the controversy revolved around points that were
crucial to Christian faith. The vehemence of the quarrel and other contempo-
rary sources confirm this fact.
Alexander’s letter shows the group dimension of the conflict. The bishop
never mentions Arius alone. He says that Arius and Achillas have made a
conspiracy (συνωμοσία), and he speaks of “the group around Arius and Achil-
las, and the enemies of the truth with them” (οἱ ἀμφὶ τὸν Ἄρειον καὶ Ἀχιλλᾶν
καὶ οἱ τῆς ἀληθείας σὺν αὐτοῖς πολέμιοι).162 At the end of the letter, the bishop
mentions the members of the group: “Arius, Achillas, Aëithales, Sarmates,
[Carpones], another Arius. And from the deacons, [Gaius], Euzoius, Lucius,
Sarmates, Julius, Menas, Helladius.”163 Moreover, when the bishop describes
the actions or teachings of his adversaries, he always speaks about “them.”164
Besides, contemporary sources do not present those belonging to the group
of Arius as his “disciples.” but as his allies (σὺν).165 Again, the letters of Alexan-
der and Arius indicate – against that of Constantine – that the bishop of Al-
exandria was not confronted by an individual, but by a group headed by Arius
and Achillas. Other contemporary sources confirm this statement.166
In addition, Alexander confirms the public character of the conflict. Arius
mentions the public teaching of the bishop, “in the midst of the church,” and
––––––––––––––––––––

157 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 1; 4; 35; 42 (FNS 8.1; 8.4; 8.35; 8.42).
158 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 3; 5; 41; 43–44 (FNS 8.3; 8.5; 8.41; 8.43–44).
159 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 9; 14; 22; 26 (FNS 8.9; 8.14; 8.22; 8.26).
160 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 35–36 (FNS 8.35–36).
161 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 6; 8; 56–57; 61 (FNS 8.6; 8.8; 8.56–57; 8.61).
162 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 56 (FNS 8.56). See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 3–4; 36 (FNS 8.3–4; 8.36).
163 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 61 (FNS 8.61). See G. Loeschckes, Zur Chronologie der beiden großen
antiarianischen Schreiben des Alexander von Alexandrien, in: ZKG 31 (1910), 584–586.
164 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 10–13; 41; 44; 57; 59 (FNS 8.10–13; 8.41; 8.44; 8.57; 8.59).
165 See Hanson, 1988, 123–128; M. Wiles, Attitudes to Arius in the Arian Controversy, in: M.R.
Barns / D.H. Williams (eds.), Arianism after Arius: Essays on the Development of the Fourth
Century Trinitarian Conflicts, Edinburgh 1993, 31–43.
166 See Eus., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 12.2); Geo. Laod., ep. Alex. Al. (FNS 19); Geo. Laod., ep. Ar. (FNS
20); Ath. Anaz., ep. Alex. Al. (FNS 21).
92 CHAPTER 2

Constantine complains about the discussions “in public assemblies” that

divide the holy people. Alexander, for his part, claims that his orthodoxy has
been slandered “in front of all” (παρὰ πᾶσι).167
Who accused whom? Both Arius and Constantine assume that it was Ari-
us who reacted against the bishop’s teaching. Alexander does not provide a
narrative of the events. However, two elements support the idea that the
conflict was provoked by Alexander’s preaching. On one hand, the bishop
states several times that “Arius, Achillas and others” have attacked him: Alex-
ander speaks of a persecution “against us,” and he says that they have slan-
dered his orthodoxy.168 On the other hand, the bishop devotes large sections
of the letter to defending his theology. Then, the bishop’s teaching was under
attack, because it was questioned by Arius, Achillas and others.
The analyzed letters transmit the most reliable information about the
outbreak of the controversy. These three letters are not neutral, but they do
not offer a retrospective view because they were written during the events.
They report the same events from the perspective of three crucial actors. The
letters agree in pointing out that the conflict had a public character and that
it was caused by Alexander’s preaching and the subsequent reaction of Arius
and his allies. Moreover, Alexander and Arius coincide in pointing out that
the bishop was not confronted by an individual, but by a group, led by Arius
and Achillas, and that the controversy revolved around crucial points of the
Christian faith and not irrelevant issues, as Constantine states.

2.3.3 The Outbreak from an Institutional Perspective

How did the Arian crisis break out? As has been said, the answer to this ques-
tion has consequences for the theological interpretation of the sources. In
this section, the outbreak is studied from two approaches. First, it is analyzed
from the perspective of social identity theory. Then, the institutional dimen-
sion of the crisis is explored. For this purpose, it is crucial to take into account
the findings of the previous pages and the institutional development of the
church of Alexandria as described above (ch. 1.1.2).
Social Identity Theory offers interesting clues to understand the initial con-
figuration of the controversy. As has been shown, the letters of Arius, Alexan-
der, and Constantine indicate that the starting point of the conflict was the
public teaching of the bishop. Moreover, the letters of the protagonists show
that Arius did not react against Alexander as an individual but acted together
with Achillas on behalf of a group.

––––––––––––––––––––

167 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 9 (FNS 8.9).

168 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 3; 5; 7; 9; 40–41; 43–44 (FNS 8.3; 8.5; 8.7; 8.9; 8.40–41; 8.43–44).
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 93

Social identity theory offers conceptual tools for understanding the con-
figuration and dynamics of groups.169 If the formation of Arius’ group comes
from the reaction against Alexander, then the subjective frame of reference
that shaped the group was not Arius’ theology, but the opposition to the bish-
op’s teaching.170 Consequently, what gave cohesion to the group was the
common rejection of Alexander, rather than the adherence to the doctrine of
Arius. Those around Arius and Achillas formed a single group because they
had a common adversary. This remark explains one inconsistency between
the master narrative and the contemporary documents: according to Athana-
sius’ narrative, all those who did not adhere to Nicaea were followers of Arius,
yet according to contemporary documents no one in the fourth century
claimed to be a follower of Arius.171 The clerics associated with him were his
allies and protectors, not his disciples or followers. In this point, the master
narrative has influenced many of the modern studies that continue to speak
of Arius and his “followers.” For example, ancient and modern historians
portray Asterius of Cappadocia and Eusebius of Nicomedia as followers of
Arius, whereas it is likely that Arius learned from them.172 Moreover – and this
is a critical issue – if the identity of the group was not defined by the specific
theology of Arius, but by opposition to the teaching of Alexander, then “those
around Arius and Achillas” could profess different versions of a broad theo-
logical tradition; a state of affairs that is indeed confirmed by the sources.173
According to social identity theory, the term “group” implies a “cognitive
entity” that is meaningful to the individual, and that is the result of a process
of categorization.174 Consequently, when Alexander categorized the scenario,
he divided the world into “them” and “us.” This binary categorization tends to
emphasize differences between groups – “them” and “us” – and to minimize
differences within groups.175 This theory makes it possible to explain the po-
larization process without, in this case, accusing Alexander of strategically
––––––––––––––––––––

169 See H. Tajfel, Human Groups and Social Categories: Studies in Social Psychology, Cambridge
1981; M.A. Hogg / D. Abrams, Social Identifications: A Social Psychology of Intergroup Rela-
tions and Group Processes, London 1998; P.F. Esler, An Outline of Social Identity Theory, in:
J.B. Tucker / C.A. Baker (eds.), T&T Clark Handbook to Social Identity in the New Testament,
London 2014, 13–39.
170 See Hogg / Abrams, 1998, 20.
171 See Ath., decr. 20.6; Hanson, 1988, 123–128; Willes, 1993, 31–43.
172 See M. DelCogliano, How Did Arius Learn from Asterius? On the Relationship between the
Thalia and the Syntagmation, in: JEH 69 (2018), 447–492; M. Vinzent, Asterius von Kappa-
dokien, Die theologischen Fragmente, Leiden 1993, 22.
173 See Simonetti, 1975, 32.
174 See Tajfel, 1981, 254; Hogg / Abrams, 1998, 18–19.
175 See M.A. Hogg, Social Identity Theory, in: S. McKeown / R. Haji / N. Ferguson (eds.), Under-
standing Peace and Conflict through Social Identity Theory, New York 2016, 3–17.
94 CHAPTER 2

deforming his adversaries. The cognitive dimension of this theory indicates

that the bishop did not misrepresent his opponents strategically, but he per-
ceived them as a homogeneous group defined by their more negative charac-
teristics. Moreover, the process of categorization implies that Alexander per-
ceived a group of people as belonging to “those of Arius and Achillas” that
could be broader than the set of those who in fact gathered around them. In
other words, the group of the “Arians” constructed by Alexander did not nec-
essarily coincide with the group of people who actually gathered around
Arius and Achillas. This does not at all mean that the “Arians” were just a
polemical construction. Contemporary sources show them acting as a group,
united by shared traditions and personal bonds.176 Nevertheless, the actual
group and the group constructed by the adversaries coincide partially. As will
be seen below, this remark indicates that it was possible to label as “Arian”
different theologies that were not consistent with one another (ch. 2.4.2).
What can be said about group identity? Some clues stem from a few pas-
sages by Pamphilus and Marcellus. Alexander links the group of Arius and
Achillas with Ebion, Artemas, Paul, and Lucian.177 Only the association be-
tween Lucian and Arius is historically supported. In fact, Arius links himself
and the bishop of Nicomedia to the memory of the presbyter of Antioch with
the well-known expression Colucianists (συλλουκιανιστά).178
Arius therefore recognized himself as a member of a group, whose identi-
ty was linked to Lucian (+312). Besides, Eusebius of Caesarea twice praised
him as an excellent man in every respect.179 Hence, the attitude towards Luci-
an was a criterion of differentiation between the group of Alexander and that
of Arius.180 Shortly thereafter, Alexander describes the group of his adver-
saries in polemical terms:

For those lined up in battle against the divinity of the Son of God in no way
decline to speak ill-mannered, drunken slurs against us. For they do not think
it worthy to compare some of the men of old to themselves, nor are they con-
––––––––––––––––––––

176 See M. DelCogliano, The Eusebian Alliance: the Case of Theodotus of Laodicea, in: ZAC 12
(2008), 250–266.
177 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 35 (FNS 8.35).
178 Ar., ep. Eus. 5 (FNS 6.5). See H.C. Brennecke, Lukian von Antiochien in der Geschichte des
Arianischen Streites, in: U. Heil / A. von Stockhausen / J. Ulrich (eds.), Hanns Christof
Brennecke, Ecclesia est in re publica: Studien zur Kirchen- und Theologiegeschichte im Kon-
text des Imperium Romanum, AKG 100, Berlin 2007, 177–180 (170–192).
179 See Eus., h.e. 8.13,2; 9.6,3.
180 Philostorgius records the disciples of Lucian: “Eusebius of Nicomedia, Maris of Chalce-
don, Theognis of Nicaea, Leontius, who later became bishop of Antioch, Antony of Tarsus
in Cilicia, Menophantus, Noominius, and Eudoxius. He also mentions Alexander and As-
terius the Cappadocian” (Philost., h.e. 2.14; trans. Amidon, 2007, 30).
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 95

tent to be on the same level with those teachers with whom we kept company
since childhood. And, in measure of wisdom, they do not regard any of the
fellow-ministers today, since they say that they alone are wise and poor and
discoverers of dogmas, and that those things are revealed to them alone
which never entered naturally into the thought of anyone under the sun. 181

Those who support Arius have read the same teachers as Alexander because
they belong to the same tradition. However – in Alexander’s view – they feel
superior to their teachers and consider themselves “the only wise ones.” In
concrete terms, according to the bishop, these supporters of the Alexandrian
tradition believe themselves capable of surpassing their teacher, namely,
Origen. How to interpret these affirmations?
Pamphilus recounted the complex reception of Origen’s legacy at the be-
ginning of the fourth century. The Apologeticum describes two opposing
groups. On the one hand – as expected – it speaks of those who slander Ori-
gen and consider his teaching heretical. On the other hand, it describes cer-
tain Christians – whom Pamphilus labeled as “simpletons” (simpliciores) –
who “are devoted to Origen with excessive affection (propensior adfectus)” to
the point of placing him among the apostles and prophets.182 These men hon-
or Origen beyond measure and do not recognize the provisional character of
his proposals. Therefore, Pamphilus insisted on the provisional nature of
Origen’s theological discourse. This emphasis was intended to defend Origen
against the charge of heresy: his orthodoxy cannot be judged on the basis of
what he expressed as conjecture.183
However, this argument also implied that those who belong to the Ori-
genian tradition must not hold as a dogma what Origen proposed as a conjec-
ture. Besides, he underlined that one should not “regard his statements or
books as equal to the discourse of the apostles,” in fact, Origen affirmed, “If
anyone has spoken about or explained in a better way the passages he has
discussed, that person who has spoken more correctly deserves to be listened
to, rather than himself.”184 Consequently, fidelity to the teacher does not ex-
clude holding theological conclusions different from those he held. Those
who keep the Origenian theories as if they were definitive statements are not
truly faithful to him.
––––––––––––––––––––

181 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 41 (FNS 8.41).

182 Pamph., apol. 1–2 (SC 464, 36).
183 Pamph., apol. 3 (trans. FC 120, 40, mod.): “In the exposition of [Scripture], his frequent
custom is to add an admission that he is not declaring these things by a definitive pro-
nouncement, nor is he defining them as secure dogma, but he is investigating to the best
of his ability and discussing the meaning of the Scriptures.” See Pamph., apol. 3–9.
184 Pamph., apol. 3 (trans. FC 120, 41).
96 CHAPTER 2

In addition, Marcellus accuses Asterius and Paulinus, his adversaries from

the Alexandrian tradition, of two conflicting charges: of putting Origen on
the same level as the apostles and of not being faithful to the doctrine of their
teacher. These charges match Pamphilus’ account of Origen’s reception. In
fact, on the one hand, the Bishop of Ancyra says that Paulinus quotes words
of Origen as if they “could be more convincing than the evangelists and the
apostles.”185 On the other hand, he quotes a fragment from Origen’s Commen-
tary on Genesis that affirms the coeternity of the Father and the Son,186 de-
nied by Paulinus, and then he questions the attitude of the bishop of Tyre:

Therefore, if Origen also wrote this, how did the blessed (according to [Aste-
rius]) Paulinus think it was not free from danger to conceal this [passage], but
that he should use contradictory passages for the support of his own opinions,
for which we might say Origen himself could not take responsibility? 187

Marcellus, then, also criticizes Asterius and Paulinus for not following Ori-
gen’s teachings. Although the evidence is fragmentary, these texts suggest that
there were opposing tendencies within the Origenian tradition. Some authors
emphasize the provisional character of Origen’s doctrine, and accordingly
they feel authorized to propose conclusions different from the teacher’s theo-
ries and to call “simpletons” those who stick to Origen’s speculations. Those of
the other tendency criticize their opponents for considering themselves su-
perior to Origen and not following the teacher’s doctrines. In abstract terms,
one tendency focuses on Origen’s method, whereas the other sticks to the
contents of his teachings. These two tendencies are attested by Pamphilus
and Alexander, who belong to the Alexandrian tradition, and by Marcellus, an
opponent of it. If this analysis is on the right track, those of Arius belonged to
the Origenian tradition, but – according to Alexander – they did not stick to
his teaching. Marcellus’ fragment indicates that the doctrine at stake was the
eternal begetting of the Son of God, a distinctive Origenian theory, which was
supported by Alexander and rejected by Eusebius of Caesarea and Arius.
Finally, it is necessary to analyze the public character of the dispute in
light of the development of ecclesial organization and theological method in
Alexandria. The relationship between the episcopate and the school in Alex-
andria changed remarkably over time (ch. 1.2.2). Both institutions, initially
independent, gradually became linked until the school was subordinate to
the bishop. In addition, two specific aspects of the theological method in

––––––––––––––––––––

185 Marcell., fr. 19 (trans. FC 135, 102).

186 See Or., in Gen. fr. D 4 (OWD 1/1, 66; Marcell., fr. 21).
187 Marcell., fr. 21 (trans. FC 135, 103, mod.).
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 97

Alexandria need attention. First, the programmatic preface to Origen’s De

principiis draws a distinction between the points which the apostles an-
nounced clearly for all believers and those which were left for the investiga-
tion of the lovers of wisdom.188 This distinction implies that the first points,
which belong to the rule of faith, are necessary for all believers, while the
others belong to the realm of free theological investigation. Second, Origen’s
pedagogy declares that these different levels correspond to degrees of spiritu-
al progress. Based on the Pauline metaphor of food, the Alexandrian teacher
stresses that apostolic discourse belongs to all believers, while theological
speculation, like strong food, is proper to advanced circles because it can
harm the believer who is not trained for it.189 This idea establishes the distinc-
tion between doctrines that are suitable for public exposition in the church
and the theological discourse proper to private research in the school. The
difference between public and private Christian discourse was well estab-
lished in the fourth century.
A passage in the Apologeticum shows that both Pamphilus and his ad-
dressees recognize this distinction (in publico, in communi Ecclesiae auditorio
and in secreto, apud semet ipsum).190 Likewise, Asterius, Eusebius of Nicome-
dia, and Paulinus of Tyre distinguish these two kinds of teaching, according to
the testimony of Marcellus.191
In light of the ecclesial organization and the Alexandrian theological
method, a new element of the reaction of the group of Arius against the bish-
op can be clarified. Contemporary sources show that Alexander dealt publicly
in the church with subjects that belonged to the field of scholastic research.
According to Origen, the public apostolic preaching affirmed about the origin
of the Son that “Jesus Christ himself, who came, was born of the Father (natus
ex patre) before all creatures (ante omnem creaturam).”192 The apostolic
preaching professed that the Son was born of the Father before creation, but
did not explain how he was born. Hippolytus, in the third century, also distin-
guishes between the fact (ὅτι) and the way (πῶς) of the Son’s begetting: Alt-
hough through the prophet God indicates that the Logos was begotten (ὅτι
γεγέννηται), he keeps the how (τὸ δὲ πῶς) until the time appointed by him
––––––––––––––––––––

188 See B.E. Daley, Origen’s De principiis: A Guide to the Principles of Christian Scriptural Inter-
pretation, in: J. Petruccione (ed.), Nova et Vetera Patristic Studies in Honor of Thomas Pat-
rick Halton, Washington 1998, 3–21; Fernández, 2022, 220–246.
189 See Soler, 2021, 146–175.
190 See Pamph., apol. 36 (SC 464, 90–92): quae quidem non in publico ab eo dicta sunt, id est in
communi Ecclesiae auditorio […] sed ex illis hace libris protulimus quos in secreto apud
semet ipsum nullo arbitro intercedente dictabat.
191 See Marcell., fr. 18.
192 Or., princ. 1 pr. 4 (Behr, 2017, 14–15).
98 CHAPTER 2

when he will reveal it.”193 Hence, the conflict arose when Alexander dared to
explain in public, in the church, how the Son was born of the Father before
every creature. It is a movement from the language of confession to the lan-
guage of reflection.194 The bishop taught the Origenian postulate of the eter-
nal begetting as if it were part of the apostolic preaching. Arius and Alexan-
der agree in affirming that the bishop, in the church, proposed a theological
explanation for the origin of the Son. The letter of Constantine reproaches
Alexander’s imprudence in asking publicly what should be kept in the mind.
Consequently, the bishop is accused of not respecting the boundaries be-
tween the apostolic faith and its scholastic explanation. The following sec-
tions study the theological agreements and disagreements between Alexan-
der and Arius.

2.4 The Theological Conflict at Alexandria

Many factors, political, theological, and institutional, played a role in the

outbreak of the Arian crisis. But the crisis was mostly a theological one.
Therefore, this section studies the teaching of Arius and the views of his
group, analyzes Alexander’s doctrine, and finally compares the theologies
professed by Eusebius, Arius, and Alexander.

2.4.1 The Theology of Arius

Social identity theory has shown that opposition to Alexander was a relevant
factor in the configuration of the group around Arius and Achillas, and that
the “Arians” according to Alexander may not have coincided fully with those
who in fact gathered around Arius and Achillas. Besides, the polemical con-
text tends to amplify the distance between groups and minimize the differ-
ences within groups. Therefore, Alexander perceived as a homogeneous front
a group of people who could profess very different versions of a broad theo-
logical tradition. These findings have consequences for the historical and
theological interpretation of the documents. A chief outcome of this analysis
is the need to distinguish between the personal theology of Arius and the
theologies of other members of the group. Therefore, the first step is to recon-
struct Arius’ own doctrine, and the second one is to analyze the doctrines of
the “Arians.” For the first step the main sources are, of course, the letters of
Arius. The fragments of the Thalia are less reliable (ch. 3.2.2).
––––––––––––––––––––

193 Hipp., Noët. 16.7 (Simonetti, 2000, 182–184; trans. CEECW 1, 70).
194 See J.T. Lienhard, The “Arian” Controversy: Some Categories Reconsidered, in: Theological
Studies 48 (1987), 420–421.
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 99

Arius’ letters convey the theology he subscribes to and represents. Alt-

hough only three letters survived, they are of exceptional theological density
and present his teaching to three different addressees: Eusebius of Nicome-
dia, Alexander of Alexandria, and Constantine, i.e., an ally, an adversary, and
the emperor. To study the outbreak of the crisis, it is necessary to analyze only
the first two, because the third letter postdates Nicaea.195 Of course, it is pos-
sible to identify some Middle Platonic concepts and categories in his teach-
ing. However, all of them were already present in the Alexandrian theological
tradition, especially in Eusebius of Caesarea, and, what is more, the evidence
does not indicate that Arius read philosophical texts directly. One should not
overestimate Arius’ philosophical education.196 Thus, it does not seem neces-
sary to search for the philosophical sources of Arius’ teaching.
These documents contain different types of doctrinal statements: some
hold to the rule of faith, others belong to the Alexandrian tradition and, final-
ly, others represent Arius’ personal tenets. The first step is to study the theo-
logical solutions that Arius rejected. His letter to Eusebius declares:

The Son is not unbegotten (ἀγέννητος), nor in any sense part of the unbegot-
ten, nor does he come from a certain substratum (ὑποκείμενος).197

The brief text transmits three statements. The first is a traditional teaching:
only God the Father is unbegotten. The third rejects that the Son comes from
an alleged uncreated matter, which seems to be a theoretical objection relat-
ed to Platonism because there is no record of any Christian author who
claimed that the Son came from an uncreated substratum alien to God.198 In
contrast, the second assertion is complex because, according to Arius, it had
variants (τρόποι). In his letter to Alexander, he rejected several explanations:

Not as Valentinus decreed, that what is begotten of the Father is an emission

(προβολή); nor as Mani, who proposed that the begotten is a homoousios part
(μέρος) of the Father; nor as Sabellius who, dividing the monad, called it Son-

––––––––––––––––––––

195 Ar. Euz., ep. Const. (FNS 65). Regarding the date of the letter, I follow Martin, who dates it
in 335, see Martin, 1989a, 319. See also Opitz, 1934, 64 (late 327); Brennecke, 2007a, xxxviii
(326–327); T.D. Barnes, The Exile and Recalls of Arius, in: JThS N.S. 60 (2009), 128 (in 328).
196 See C. Markschies, ἦν ποτε ὅτε οὐκ ἦν oder: Schwierigkeiten bei der Beschreibung dessen, was
vor aller Zeit war, in: E.M. Becker / H. Strutwolf, Platonismus und Christentum. Ihre Bezie-
hungen und deren Grenzen, Tübingen 2022, 11–40 (40); Ricken, 1969, 323.
197 Ar., ep. Eus. 4 (FNS 6.4).
198 A few Christian authors, however, supported the existence of uncreated matter. This is the
case of Hermogenes, who said that matter semper fuerit neque nata nequefacta nec initium
habens omnino nec finem (Tert., adv. Hermog. 1.3 [SC 439, 80]). He was opposed by The-
ophilus of Antioch and Tertullian (Eus., h.e. 4.24; Tert., adv. Hermog.).
100 CHAPTER 2

Father (υἱο-πατήρ); nor as Hieracas, [who taught] torch from torch or as a

lamp that duplicates itself; nor that existing first (πρότερον), he was then be-
gotten or recreated as Son (ὕστερον γεννηθέντα ἢ ἐπικτισθέντα εἰς υἱόν).199

An Origenian passage rejects that the Son is an emission (προβολή) of the

Father, for its materialistic connotation, because an emission implies a cut-
ting.200 This was a well-known passage in the fourth century – this text was
read by Pamphilus, Paulinus, Marcellus, and Eusebius.201 Arius, in his letters,
credits this error to Valentinus, and he loosely attributes this assertion to
three bishops who are the opposite of Gnostics, namely, Philogonius, Hellan-
icus, and Macarius.202 It is not clear which one supported each error: “some
call the Son eructation (ἐρυγή), while others emission (προβολή), and others
co-unbegotten (συναγέννητος).”203
The first two proposals suppose, according to Arius, that God is corporeal
and divisible. The same is true for the doctrine he attributes to Manes: to
consider the Son as a homoousios part (μέρος) of the Father is equivalent to
declaring that the Father is divisible and therefore corporeal.204 In addition,
these proposals suppose a two-stage Christology (internal logos / emitted
Logos). The expression co-unbegotten (συναγέννητος) may indicate the Sabel-
lian theology of the Son-Father (υἱο-πατήρ) or the two-stage Christology that
supposes an unbegotten, eternal logos in God that, before creation, was be-
gotten by God. In fact, the last words of the quotation clearly reject the two-
stage Logos theology, which affirms that first (πρότερος) the internal logos
existed in God, and that later (ὕστερος) the Logos was begotten as the Son.205
This Christology had a deep-rooted tradition in the third century and, with
certain modifications, was still present in authors of the fourth century, such
as Marcellus of Ancyra. In summary, according to Arius, there are not two
unbegotten beings, the Son is not the same as the Father, the Son is not a part
detached from the Father and, finally, there was not an internal, unbegotten
logos (first stage) that, before creation, was begotten as Son (second stage).

––––––––––––––––––––

199 Ar., ep. Alex. 3 (FNS 11.3).

200 See Or., princ. 4.4,1 (Behr, 2017, 562–563): “In regard to the Father, as he is indivisible and
undivided, he becomes the Father of the Son not by emitting him (οὐ προβαλὼν αὐτὸν), as
some think. For if the Son is an emanation (πρόβλημά ἐστιν) of the Father, and an off-
spring from him, of the same kind as the offspring of animals, then by necessity both the
one emitting and the emanation are, of necessity, bodies.”
201 See Pamph., apol. 104; Eus., Marcell. 1.4,19–20. See Orbe, 1958, 674–678.
202 See Ar., ep. Alex. 3 (FNS 11.3); ep. Eus. 3 (FNS 6.3).
203 Ar., ep. Eus. 3 (FNS 6.3). See Ps 44:2.
204 See Ar., ep. Alex. 5 (FNS 11.5).
205 See Parvis, 2006, 55–56.
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 101

After the pars destruens, it is necessary to study the pars construens. In

what way did Arius explain the origin of the Son? In his letter to Alexander,
he wrote this profession of faith:

We know one God, alone unbegotten (ἀγέννητος), alone eternal (ἀίδιος), alone
without beginning (ἄναρχος), alone true, alone possessing immortality, alone
wise, alone good, alone powerful, judge, ruler, and administrator of all, immu-
table and unalterable, just and good, the God of the Law, of the prophets and
of the New Testament. He who has begotten the Only-begotten Son before the
agelong times (πρὸ χρόνων αἰωνίων), by whom He has made the ages and all
things; He has begotten [him] not in appearance, but in truth; for He has
made him to subsist by his own will (ὑποστήσαντα ἰδίῳ θελήματι), immutable
and unalterable (ἄτρεπτος καὶ ἀναλλοίωτος), a perfect creature of God (κτίσμα
τοῦ θεοῦ τέλειον), but not like one of the creatures; begotten (γέννημα), but not
as one of the begotten beings.206

The first article of this profession of faith omits the title “Father,” a central
element of Christian teaching. This omission expresses the subordinate place
that Arius gives to the divine fatherhood, as will be shown later. The anti-
Marcionite expression “just and good” suggests that the statement relies on a
traditional formula of faith.207 The second article places the origin of the Son
before creation, affirms that the Son comes from the will of God, and declares
that the Son is “immutable and unchangeable.” It was not easy for Christian
theology to justify the immutability of a derived being. A sentence of Plato,
well-known among Christians,208 affirmed the sharp distinction between “that
which is always and does not become” (τὸ ὂν ἀεί, γένεσιν δὲ οὐκ ἔχον) and “that
which continuously becomes but never is” (τὸ γιγνόμενον μὲν ἀεί, ὂν δὲ
οὐδέποτε).209 Hence, only what has no cause is immutable. In the same vein,
regarding created rational beings, Origen affirmed that those entities that
have received being in time are changeable and mutable.210 Arius did not face
––––––––––––––––––––

206 Ar., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 11.2). See Kinzig, 2017, 269–271.
207 These kinds of faith statements were traditional, see Just., 1apol. 23.2; 32.10; 2apol. 13.4;
Tat., orat. 5.1; Or., princ. 1 pr. 4; 1.2,6; 1.2,10; 4.4,1; in Joh. fr. 108 (Pamph., apol. 106); Eph. fr.
1.1. The anti-Arian Antiochene formula also affirms that God is “just and good,” “the Lord
of the law, the prophets, and the new covenant,” C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 8 (FNS 28.8). In-
stead, Kinzig, 2024, 217, says “that no fixed declaratory creed existed in Alexandria.”
208 Plat., Tim. 27d–28a was quoted several times in Christian tradition, for instance, Athenag.,
leg. 19.22; (Ps.)Just., coh. Gr. 20; 21; 22; (Ps.)Hipp., univ. 3.8; Eus., p.e. 11.9–10.
209 Plat., Tim. 27d–28a. See J. Whitaker, Timaeus 27D 5 ff., in: Phoenix 23 (1969) 181–185; id.,
Textual Comments on Timaeus 27 c–d, in: Phoenix 27 (1973) 387–391; L. Roig-Lanzillota,
Platón, Timaeus 27d–28a y su recepción en la tradición platónica y cristiana, in: A. Sáez
(ed.), Proverbs 8,22–31: Text, Context, Reception, Filiación 10, Madrid 2024, 277–300.
210 See Or., princ. 2.9,2 (text in ch. 1.2.4).
102 CHAPTER 2

this problem directly. However, a possible solution was to link mutability to

becoming in time; as the Son came into existence before time, he could be
declared immutable.
The emphasis that the Son was begotten “in truth” has an anti-Sabellian
purpose and may come from Lucian of Antioch.211 The last phrase, “perfect
creature of God, but not as one among creatures; begotten, but not as one of
the begotten beings,” is a key to the interpretation of Arius’ teaching and ex-
presses the inadequacy of human language to speak about the origin of the
Son. In fact, neither the verb “create” (κτίζω), nor the verb “beget” (γεννάω)
adequately describes the birth of the Son of God.212
Now, how does the Son differ from the rest of the derived beings? Arius’
texts point to three elements: 1) unlike creatures, the Son is prior to time and
creation, 2) he is immutable, and 3) he is the only being that derives exclu-
sively from the Father,213 for everything else came into existence from the
Father, through the Son (John 1:3). The characteristic features of Arius’ doc-
trine are to be found in his theological explanations of the origin of the Son,
which – in his view – are necessary consequences of the fact that he is begot-
ten. The letter addressed to the bishop of Nicomedia offers valuable theologi-
cal elements. Its text deserves a detailed comment:

However, by [God’s] will and decision (θελήματι καὶ βουλῇ) [the Son] began to
exist before time and before the ages (πρὸ χρόνων καὶ πρὸ αἰώνων), fully God
(πλήρης θεὸς), Only-begotten, unalterable (ἀναλλοίωτος).214

The Son is not something constitutive of God, but he began to exist by God’s
will and decision (θελήματι καὶ βουλῇ). Although it is not explicit, the divine
will and decision must refer to God’s plan of creation.215 The continuity of
Arius with Eusebius of Caesarea is evident. He follows the theological tradi-
tion represented by the bishop of Caesarea.
Besides, since the Son began to exist before time, he is unalterable
(ἀναλλοίωτος). Change is associated with time. Arius declares that the Son is
“fully God Only-begotten” (πλήρης θεὸς μονογενής). This expression is unex-
pected in the writings of an author who became an archetype of the heretic
––––––––––––––––––––

211 See Eus., Marcell. 1.1,15 (Eusebius); 1.4,7 (Asterius); Eus., ep. Caes. 5 (FNS 37.5). The second
formula of Antioch of 341, attributed to Lucian, affirms “that the Father is truly Father and
that the Son is truly Son” (Ath., syn. 23.6).
212 The term “creature” (κτίσμα) did not yet have the technical meaning it will have later. Prov
8:22 justifies its use. Ancyra (358) addressed this topic. See Fernández, 2021, 9–23.
213 See Eus., ep. Alex. 4 (FNS 11.4), see apparatus FNS 11.4, l. 24.
214 Ar., ep. Eus. 4 (FNS 6.4).
215 See Ath., or. Ar. 2.24,5.
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 103

who denies the divinity of the Son. In fact, Opitz corrected Arius’ text.216 This
is an interesting case study on the relationship between pre-comprehension
and textual evidence. This expression emphasizes both the fullness of the
Son’s divinity and his full dependence on the only unbegotten God. The letter
continues:

And before he was begotten, created, constituted, or established (πρὶν γεννηθῇ

ἤτοι κτισθῇ ἤτοι ὁρισθῇ ἢ θεμελιωθῇ), he was not (οὐκ ἦν), as he was not unbe-
gotten (ἀγέννητος γὰρ οὐκ ἦν).217

The text makes it clear that for Arius these four verbs are synonymous, and
they mean to cause existence, in general terms. Each one has biblical support:
γεννάω (Prov 8:25; John 1:18; 1 John 5:1); κτίζω (Prov 8:22); ὁρίζω (Rom 1:4) and
θεμελιόω (Prov 8:23). In this context, however, Arius does not use ποιέω (Gen
1:1) for the Son. The letter speaks about “before” (πρὶν) he was begotten. For
Arius – as for Eusebius – the fact that the Son is not unbegotten and that he
comes from the will of God implies an atemporal priority of the Father. The
Son is ante tempora – prior to time and creation – but he is not ab aeterno,
because God is prior to him, and the Son began to exist by God’s will. In fact,
the well-known sentence “that there was when the Son of God was not” is not
found in Arius’ authentic works, but it expresses his opinion accurately. Arius
states that before the Son was begotten, he was not (οὐκ ἦν). This expression
sheds light on the following sentence:

And we are persecuted because we say: “The Son has a beginning, but God is
without beginning (ἀρχὴν ἔχει ὁ υἱός, ὁ δὲ θεὸς ἄναρχός ἐστι).” We are persecuted
for this [reason] and also because we say: “He is from nothing” (καὶ ὅτι εἴπομεν·
“ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων ἐστίν”).218

The expression the Son is from nothing (ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων ἐστίν) is the most shock-
ing statement of Arius, and it stands explicit only in his letter to his supporter,
the bishop of Nicomedia.219 Simonetti proposes that the bishops of Caesarea
and Nicomedia compelled Arius to silence this doctrine.220 In fact, Arius omit-
ted the disturbing expression both in his letter to Alexander and in the Tha-

––––––––––––––––––––

216 Nothing in the textual tradition indicates a corruption of the text. However, Holl suggest-
ed a correction in the apparatus: πλήρης ‹χάριτος καὶ ἀληθείας› θεὸς μονογενής? (GCS 37, 157
ad l. 13). Opitz integrated Holl’s conjecture in the text (AW 3.1.1; 3 l. 2).
217 Ar., ep. Eus. 5 (FNS 6.5). See Wallace-Hadrill, 1961, 126; Markschies, 2022, 11–40.
218 Ar., ep. Eus. 5 (FNS 6.5).
219 Theognostus had rejected that the Son was “ἐκ μὴ ὄντων,” hypoth. fr. 2 (Ath., decr. 25.3).
220 See Simonetti, 1980a, 349–354.
104 CHAPTER 2

lia, which he wrote “urged by those of Eusebius.”221 This indicates that Arius
moderated his language – not his doctrine.
What is the meaning of the statement? A few parallel expressions shed
light on it. Arius’ letter to Eusebius affirms, “before he was begotten… he was
not” (πρὶν γεννηθῇ… οὐκ ἦν).222 In his letter to Alexander, he says that the Son
“did not exist before being begotten (οὐκ ἦν πρὸ τοῦ γεννηθῆναι),”223 which is
exactly the same. A parallel expression stands in the Thalia, “there was the
monad, but there was not the dyad until it came into existence (ἡ μονὰς ἦν, ἡ
δυὰς δὲ οὐκ ἦν, πρὶν ὑπάρξῃ).”224 In his letter to Alexander, Arius denies that
what existed first (τὸν ὄντα πρότερον) then (ὕστερον) was begotten or recreated
as Son (γεννηθέντα ἢ ἐπικτισθέντα εἰς υἱόν).225
The theology of Arius – normally understood as opposing Sabellianism
and the eternal begetting – can also be interpreted as a rejection of the two-
stage Christology. According to Theophilus, before the Son was begotten, he
did exist in the heart of God.226 Athenagoras affirms that from the beginning,
the logos existed in God, however, in order to minister the work of creation,
the Logos proceeded from God.227 In the same vein, Hippolytus states that the
logos did exist eternally in God, and when God chose to create the world, He
showed forth his Logos.228 The teaching of these authors implies that the log-
os did exist before he was begotten as Son.
In this light, it becomes clearer the meaning of the sentence “the Son is
from nothing.” For the sake of clarity, let me take Theophilus as an example of
the supporters of the two-stage Logos theology, and allow me to rephrase his
statements with some flexibility. Theophilus would say: “Before the Son was
begotten, there was an unbegotten logos in God, which then became the Son.”
Instead, Arius would say: “Before the Son was begotten, there was nothing.”
Accordingly, he affirms that the Son comes from “nothing” to deny that the
Son comes from “something” that was in God. As Theophilus, Arius also dis-
tinguishes two stages before creation. However, whereas Theophilus affirms

––––––––––––––––––––

221 Ath., syn. 15.2 (AW 2, 242). Although only fragments of the Thalia are preserved, if it had
said that the Son is “from nothing”, Athanasius would undoubtedly have denounced it.
222 Ar., ep. Eus. 5 (FNS 6.5).
223 Ar., ep. Alex. 4 (FNS 11.4).
224 Ar., Thal. (FNS 18).
225 Ar., ep. Alex. 3 (FNS 11.3).
226 See Thphl., Aut. 2.22,3–4: “The truth describes the Logos, always innate in the heart of
God. For before anything came into existence, He [scil. God] had this as his counsellor, his
own mind and intelligence. When (ὁπότε) God wished (ἠθέλησεν) to make what he had
planned to make, he begot (γεννάω) this Logos” (trans. Grant, 1970, 63).
227 See Athenag., leg. 10.2.
228 See Hipp., Nöet. 10.1–2.
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 105

that in the first stage there was God with his internal logos, Arius asserts that
in the first stage there was God and nothing else. This understanding is con-
sistent with one of the better-known sayings credited to the group of Arius.
Again, if I am allowed to paraphrase the authors, Theophilus would say,
“there was once when the Son of God was an internal logos,” but Arius would
affirm, “there was once when the Son of God was not.” Arius and the two-
stage theologians thought within the same framework: God alone decided to
create the world, and “then,” God-Father begot the Logos-Son. The difference
was that, for Arius, God did not beget the Son out of an internal, impersonal,
unbegotten logos, but “out of nothing.” In fact, the two-stage theology implies
that, before the begetting of the Son, the logos was an unbegotten reality in
God.229 All in all, the “out of nothing” was a precarious way to stress the abso-
lute incorporeality of the Son’s begetting and the Father’s priority.
For Arius, the concept of “out of nothing” was a necessary consequence of
three theological tenets: 1) as the Son is neither unbegotten nor constitutive
of the Christian God, he began to exist; 2) therefore, the Father has an atem-
poral priority over the Son; 3) the Son does not come from a “part” of the
Father, due to the incorporeal nature of his begetting. These tenets are pre-
sent in Eusebius’ Demonstratio evangelica.
According to Arius, an authentic begetting implies that the begotten is
posterior to the begetter, and that the begotten did not exist before it was
begotten. God precedes the Son and “exists before Him (πρὸ αὐτοῦ ὤν).”230
Thus, the Son “is neither eternal (ἀΐδιος) nor coeternal (συναΐδιος), nor co-
unbegotten with the Father (συναγέννητος τῷ πατρί),” neither does he have
being “simultaneously with the Father, according to some who speak of rela-
tionship (ὥς τινες λέγουσι τὰ πρός τι).”231 Arius denies that the Son, who is be-
gotten, is coeternal with the Father on account of the relationship. Indeed,
Aristotle say that correlative entities (τὰ πρός τι) must be simultaneous (ἅμα)
by nature.232 In this point, Arius opposed Alexander and, in general terms, the
Origenian tradition that developed the “argument of the correlatives” to
prove the coeternity of the Father and the Son.233
Both Arius’ letters alike show that a crucial point of his theology was the
atemporal posteriority of the Son with respect to the Father, a teaching ex-
plicitly supported by Eusebius of Caesarea before the outbreak of the contro-

––––––––––––––––––––

229 See the words of Constantine quoted by Eusebius, Eus., ep. Caes. 16 (FNS 37.16).
230 Ar., ep. Alex. 5 (FNS 11.5).
231 Ar., ep. Alex. 4 (FNS 11.4). See ch. 4.4.3.
232 See Aristot., categ. 7b,16: δοκεῖ δὲ τὰ πρός τι ἅμα τῇ φύσει εἶναι. See Aristot., metaph. 5.15.
233 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 26 (FNS 11.26); Or., princ. 1.2,2; 1.2,10; in Joh. 10.246; Morales, 2006,
201–208; R. Arnou, Arius et la doctrine des relations trinitaires, in : Gr. 14 (1933), 269–272.
106 CHAPTER 2

versy. This posteriority of the Son implies that God is not Father ab aeterno,
because eternal fatherhood requires a co-eternal Son. In the same vein, he
declares that the existence of the Son depends on God’s free decision to cre-
ate the world.234 Arius, then, denies the eternal fatherhood of God, a distinc-
tive feature of Origen’s theology that will be held by Alexander.235 For this
reason, he omits the traditional title “Father” in his profession of faith to Al-
exander.236 In fact, one of the reliable fragments of the Thalia says that when
the Son was not, “God was not Father” (οὐ πατὴρ θεός ἐστι).237
In summary, the “first principles” of Arius’ theology are that God is prior to
the Son, because he is not unbegotten, but his existence depends on the will
of God; that the Son’s begetting is fully bodyless, and, therefore, the Son does
not come from a “part” or “something” of the Father, but “from nothing.” Ac-
cordingly, the characteristic features of Arius’ teaching are two tenets: the Son
is posterior to the Father, and he is “from nothing.” It seems that the second is
a consequence of the first one, and not vice-versa.
It should be noted that, in the extant sources, Arius does not manifest par-
ticular interest in the human condition of the Son of God. All his theology
revolves around the pre-cosmic origin of the Son. Besides, it is important to
highlight the doctrinal harmony of the letters to his protector, Eusebius of
Nicomedia, and to his adversary, Alexander of Alexandria. The doctrine ex-
posed to his supporter coincides with that professed before his opponent.
The shocking statement addressed to Eusebius, that “the Son is from nothing,”
is also present in his letter to Alexander, when he said that before the Son was
begotten “he was not.” The difference between the two lies in tone rather than
doctrine. However, the key controversial point, the posteriority of the Son
with respect to the Father, is explicitly stated in both letters. This finding
shows the rhetorical nature of the charges of duplicity that have weighed on
Arius from ancient chroniclers to modern studies.

2.4.2 The Theologies of the Group of Arius and Achillas

There are two frequent misconceptions in the study of the theological crisis
of the fourth century. One is attributing to Arius the teachings that Alexander,
Athanasius, and others credit to “the Arians” in their polemical accounts.238
The other is to suppose that the different doctrines labeled as “Arian” are
––––––––––––––––––––

234 See Ar., ep. Eus. 4 (FNS 6.4). See Eus., d.e. 4.3,7.
235 See Or., in Joh. 2.9–12; 10.246; dial. 4; princ. 1.2,2; 1.2,10; in Gen. fr. D 4 (OWD 1/1, 66; Mar-
cell., fr. 21); Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 26 (FNS 8.26); Orbe, 1991, 51; Widdicombe, 2000, 69.
236 See Ar., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 11.2).
237 Ar., Thal. (FNS 18).
238 See Löhr, 2006, 549: “The catalogue [of Alexander] is structured by particles like γάρ or διό
that suggest an implication or an inference.”
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 107

variations of an original theology elaborated by Arius himself, as if he had

been the founder of a school of Christian thought. However, if opposition to
the bishop was one relevant factor in shaping the group of Arius and Achillas,
then the members of the group could profess different theologies within a
broad tradition (ch. 2.3.3).239 In other words, the different theologies that in
the fourth century were labeled as “Arian” did not depend on Arius’ own theo-
logical elaborations. Alexander’s polemical summaries explicitly and consist-
ently describe “their” theology in the plural, not “his” doctrine. Consequently,
no one should expect from these résumés a presentation of Arius’ personal
doctrine. Besides, when Alexander’s accounts do not match Arius’ own teach-
ing, the bishop should not be accused of distorting Arius’ doctrine, since he
explicitly aims to describe the doctrine of “them,” the members of a group.
The oldest polemical summaries of the “Arian” teaching are found in Al-
exander’s letters. To deal with these texts, we first present the résumé trans-
mitted in his letter to the bishop of Byzantium and then integrate the ele-
ments contained in other documents.240 Alexander, after narrating the activi-
ties of his adversaries, exposes “their” theology:

Because of this very thing, I stirred myself without delay, beloved, to expose to
you the lack of faith of those who say (λεγόντων) that “there was once when
the Son of God was not” and that “he who did not exist at first later came to
be” and that “when he came to be in this way, at that time, he came to be such
as every human is by nature.” “For God made everything out of nothing,” they
say, including even the Son of God together with the creation of all that is ra-
tional and irrational. Consequently, they even say that his nature is mutable
(τρεπτός), capable of both virtue and vice. And they do this by their premise
“out of nothing” and by denying those passages of the holy Scriptures con-
cerning his existing always, which signify the immutability (τὸ ἄτρεπτον) of
the Logos and the divinity of the Logos, of Wisdom, which is Christ. In fact,
the pernicious men say: “even we are able to become sons of God just like that
one, for it is written, ‘I have begotten and raised up sons’” (Isa 1:2). But when
the subsequent saying of the speaker is cited to them, “but they denied me”
(Isa 1:2) – the very thing that is not natural to the Savior, whose nature is truly
immutable – they, having stripped themselves of all reverence, say this: that
God knew about him in foreknowledge and [saw] in foresight that He [God]
would not refuse to choose him out of everyone. For [God] chose him – alt-
hough he does not have something natural and exceptional out of all other

––––––––––––––––––––

239 M. Simonetti, Le origini dell’arianesimo, in: RSLR 7 (1971), 317–330 (328): “Sarebbe estre-
mamente semplicistico sostenere che questi Collucianisti possono essere stati convinti da
Ario stesso ad abbracciare in tutto e per tutto la sua causa.”
240 According to our chronology, Alex. Al., ep. Alex. (FNS 8) predates Alex. Al., ep. encycl.
(FNS 26).
108 CHAPTER 2

sons (for they say that neither is anyone a son of God by nature nor does any-
one have some specific property in God’s sight) but is even of a mutable na-
ture – on account of the attentiveness he paid to his habits and training, since
he did not turn himself toward what is base. Just as, if both Paul and Peter had
“taken this by force,” their sonship would in no way differ from his. But in set-
ting forth this deranged teaching they drunkenly assault even the Scriptures,
and they cite in their favor the statement in the Psalms concerning Christ:
“You have loved justice and hated injustice; because of this God, your God,
has anointed you with the oil of gladness beyond your fellows” (Ps 44:8). 241

The sentences of this account are not always consistent with each other. Con-
sidering not only this summary, but also that handed down by the Encyclical
letter,242 their statements can be classified into three groups: 1) statements
that match the teaching of the letters, 2) those that do not appear in the let-
ters, but are in harmony with their doctrine, and 3) assertions that are in-
compatible with the teaching of Arius’ letters.
1) The summary contains statements that are in full continuity with Arius’
letters. They revolve around two elements: that there was when the Son of
God was not, and that the Son is “from nothing.” These elements are con-
sistent with the letters of Arius and they have antecedents in the Christian
tradition.243 The atemporal posteriority of the Son with respect to the Father
appears in all the testimonies.244 However, that the Son is “from nothing” is in
Alexander’s summaries and in Arius’ letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia,245 while
it is not explicit in his other extant works.
2) The Encyclical contains statements that are not found in Arius’ letters
but are consistent with them. One of them declares that “God was not always
Father, but that there was when God was not Father.”246 This teaching is a
consequence of the posteriority of the Son with respect to the Father. Accord-
ing to the Encyclical, those of Arius affirmed that the Son “was made in order
to serve us, so that God might create us through him, as by an instrument (ὡς
δι’ ὀργάνου).”247 This idea, present in Eusebius of Caesarea and in previous
tradition,248 supposes that the Son is a unique and exceptional being, which
––––––––––––––––––––

241 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 10–14 (FNS 8.10–14).

242 See Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 7–10 (FNS 26.7–10).
243 A fragment by Theognostus rejects that the Son was “from nothing,” (Thgn., hypoth. fr. 2:
Ath., decr. 25.3); E. Prinzivalli, La metamorfosi della scuola alessandrina, in Perrone, 2003,
911–937; Ip, 247–278.
244 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 4–5; 10 (FNS 8.4–5; 8.10); Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 7 (FNS 26.7).
245 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 5; 11 (FNS 8.5; 8.11); Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 7 (FNS 26.7).
246 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 7 (FNS 26.7).
247 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 9 (FNS 26.9).
248 See Eus., d.e. 4.4,2; Hipp., Noët. 10.3; ch. 2.2,3; Thgn., hypoth. fr. 3 (Gr. Nyss., Eun. 3.2,121).
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 109

God originated as a minister of the work of creation. Besides, according to the

Encyclical, those of Arius declare that the Father is ineffable for the Son.249
This assertion is related to another: the Logos is foreign to the ousia of the
Father. In this context, the rejection of the unity of ousia does not have an
anti-Sabellian purpose but seeks to defend the incorporeality and simplicity
of the divine nature, which cannot be divided and has no parts. A final ele-
ment holds that the Son “is not the true and natural logos of the Father, nor is
he his true wisdom.”250 This doctrine seems to be the answer to a traditional
argument in favor of the eternity of the Logos: “If the Son is Logos and Wis-
dom of God, how ‘was there once when he did not exist’? For, it is equivalent
to say that at one time God lacked logos and wisdom.”251 To resolve this objec-
tion, the “Arians” distinguished between the natural logos of God – the divine
rationality – and the Logos-Son, begotten by the Father.252 This theological
shift may have motivated Alexander’s claim: “We have put them to shame
many times, but again, they have changed like chameleons.”253 The doctrinal
points denounced by the Encyclical are found in Arius’ Thalia (ch. 3.3.2), with
the exception that the Son is “from nothing” and that he was made to be an
instrument of creation. The Encyclical, then, reacts against a more developed
“Arian” doctrine. This remark confirms the chronology of the sources.
3) Finally, both résumés contain doctrines incompatible with the letters of
Arius. The central assertion, from which the others are derived, is that the Son
is a creature like other creatures. In fact, according to the summaries, the
“Arians” state that the Son came into existence “such as (οἷος) every man that
is born;” that “he is of a mutable nature (τρεπτῆς εἶναι φύσεως), capable of
both virtue and evil,” and that his sonship differs in no way from that of the
other sons of God, because he has nothing exceptional by nature.254 These
statements contradict Arius’ letters.255 In them, he affirms that the Son is “a
perfect creature of God, but not as one among creatures” and that he is “im-
mutable and unchangeable.”256 Moreover, Arius declares that the Son is prior
to the ages, while the creatures were created in time.257
––––––––––––––––––––

249 See Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 8 (FNS 26.8).

250 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 7 (FNS 26.7).
251 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 13 (FNS 26.13). This argument is found in Hipp., Noët. 10.2, and has
antecedents in Tat., orat. 5; Athenag., leg. 10; Thphl., Aut. 2.10,1–2; Tert., adv. Prax. 5.2.
252 On the contrary, Marcellus of Ancyra declares that before the incarnation the logos was
strictly and only logos. See Marcell., fr. 5; 7; 65; 76.
253 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. (FNS 26.16).
254 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 10–14 (FNS 8.10–14); Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 7–10 (FNS 26.7–10).
255 Eustathius affirms that the “Arians” have declared the Son unalterable, Eust., fr. 6 (FNS 40).
256 Ar., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 11.2); Eus., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 12.2).
257 See Ar., ep. Eus. 4 (FNS 6.4); ep. Alex. 3 (FNS 11.3).
110 CHAPTER 2

Were these teachings a figment of Alexander’s polemic imagination? All

the doctrines that are not consistent with Arius’ letters had real supporters.
Athanasius of Anazarbus, who is not suspected of distorting the Arian doc-
trine, reports that “they” say that “the Son of God was made (ποιέω) as a crea-
ture out of nothing, and one among all (ἓν τῶν πάντων).”258 George of Laodicea
supports that the Son is just like (οὕτως ὥσπερ) the others.259 Therefore, some
clerics, who belonged to or were associated with the group of Arius, did sup-
port that the Son is one of the creatures, a teaching incompatible with Arius’
personal doctrine.
That the Son was chosen by God on account of his merits contradicts Ari-
us’ doctrine.260 This teaching was underpinned by Ps 44:8, a verse used by
Origen to affirm that the soul of Christ was chosen by its virtue. 261 Therefore,
it is reasonable to postulate that this claim was present in Alexandria as a
warping of Origen’s Christology.
The discrepancy between Arius’ teaching and Alexander’s polemical ré-
sumés was already denounced in the fourth century. Eusebius of Caesarea
blames Alexander for distorting the teaching of Arius.262 In addition, the au-
thors of the libellus poenitentiae claim that the Anathema does not represent
the doctrine of those who were accused at Nicaea.263 In turn, Athanasius ac-
cuses Arius of hiding his more radical doctrines:

Indeed, if according to you [the Son] is wholly a creature (κτίσμα), how is it

that you pretend by saying that “he is not like one of the creatures”? 264

These explanations are present in modern historiography. Some scholars have

said that Alexander’s descriptions of Arius’ doctrine are nothing more than a
tendentious summary “designed to horrify rather than to inform.”265 Other,
instead, have said that Arius concealed his more shocking doctrines.266 The
biblical justification of the “Arian” claims and other testimonies suggest that
––––––––––––––––––––

258 Ath. Anaz., ep. Alex. Al. (FNS 21).

259 Geo. Laod., ep. Ar. (FNS 20).
260 This claim is present in an alleged fragment of Arius’ Thalia (Ath., Ar. 1.5,8). However, the
bishop of Alexandria does not allude to Arius’ Thalia, but to “their” writings (αὐτῶν
σύγγραμμα, Ath., Ar. 1.5,7).
261 See Or., princ. 2.6,4.
262 See Eus., ep. Alex. (FNS 12).
263 Lib. poenit. 2 (FNS 66.2). Martin shows that this letter should be credited to Secundus of
Ptolemais and Theonas of Marmarica, see Martin, 1989a, 318; Philost., h.e. 2.1.
264 Ath., Ar. 2.19,3 (AW 1, 196). See Hil., trin. 6.4 (CChr.SL 62, 198): haereticae inpietatis obum-
braretur intentio.
265 T.D. Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius, London 1981, 203.
266 See B. Boularand, L’hérésie d’Arius et la «foi» de Nicée, Paris 1972, 51–52.
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 111

the summaries reflect elements of actual debates. Moreover, each of the doc-
trines denounced by the bishop had supporters in the time of the dispute or
in the earlier Christian tradition.267 This evidence indicates that Alexander
reacted against actual, not fictitious doctrines. Therefore, the discrepancy can
be explained if we seriously acknowledge that the summaries describe the
theology of “them,” that is, of a group that was not defined by a single mono-
lithic doctrine but included people who professed different versions of a
broad theological tradition.

2.4.3 Alexander’s Theology

Only a few writings of Alexander are preserved, and none of them predate
the outbreak of the Arian crisis.268 The only complete writings are his letter to
Alexander of Byzantium, the deposition of Arius, and the Encyclical letter to
the bishops. Arius’ deposition conveys more historical than theological evi-
dence, and, according to many scholars, the Encyclical reflects the theology of
Athanasius.269 Thus, the key document for reconstructing Alexander’s theolo-
gy is the extensive letter to his colleague in Byzantium. It not only denounces
the theology of Arius but also contains extensive sections in which the bishop
expounds his doctrine. The main topic is the origin of the Son of God. In this
context, Alexander professes his faith, describes the theological solutions he
rejects – not only that of Arius – and proposes his own theology. The starting
point is the apostolic preaching:

About these things, we believe just as it seems best to the apostolic church,
namely, in one unbegotten Father, who has no cause of his existence, is im-
mutable and inalterable, who always has the same things and in the same
manner, admitting neither progress nor diminishment.270

The text offers brief theological explanations of the rule of faith. Instead of
the traditional “we believe in one God”, Alexander professes his faith in “one
unbegotten Father.” This unusual formula avoids the idea of an eternal God
who, at some point, became Father. Besides, immutability excludes any kind
of progress (προκοπή). In this way, the formula criticizes the two-stage Logos
theology. In fact, Origen, in his defense of the eternity of the Son, declares it

––––––––––––––––––––

267 See S. Fernández, Who Accused Whom of What? The Outbreak of the “Arian” Controversy, in:
JECS 31 (2023), 445–450.
268 See X. Morales, Deux évêques alexandrins dans la crise arienne: Alexandre et Athanase, in:
S. Morlet, 2024, 49–86 (50–57). Some fragments of uncertain dating are preserved.
269 On the authorship of the encyclical letter, see G.C. Stead, Athanasius’ Earliest Written
Work, in: JThS N.S. 39 (1988), 76–91; Morales, 2019, 541–589.
270 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 46 (FNS 8.46).
112 CHAPTER 2

absurd that God has progressed (proficere) until He has begotten Wisdom.271
The profession of faith in the Son also provides some theological explanation:

And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the Only-begotten Son of God, begotten not
from what is not but from the really existing Father, not by scissions nor by
emanations out of divisions according to the likeness of bodies, as Sabellius
and Valentinus thought, but unspeakably and inexplicably, according to what
was said above: “Who will explain his begetting? (Isa 53:8).”272

These words, on the one hand, emphasize the uniqueness of the sonship of
the Lord Jesus Christ and, therefore, his distinction from creatures. On the
other hand, they reject some explanations of the origin of the Son. Based on
John 1:18, Alexander, like Origen, marks the difference between the Son, “he
who is” (ὁ ὢν) and the creatures who “have become” (γενόμενοι).273 The Logos
is creator, while all other beings are creatures.274 Unlike creatures, the Son
“has an immutable nature, being perfect and altogether in need of nothing
(ἀνενδεής).”275 Here, instead, the bishop Alexander distances himself from
Origen who denied that the Son was (ἀνενδεής) and reserved this property
only to the Father.276 Moreover, the bishop emphasizes the contrast between
sonship by nature and by adoption. Human beings, who come into existence
through the Son, become adopted sons through the natural Son:

His sonship – since he has the paternal divinity by nature (κατὰ φύσιν
τυγχάνουσα τῆς πατρικῆς θεότητος) – differs by unspeakable preeminence from
those adopted sons who are adopted through him. 277

The Son by nature “is adored by all,” and his sonship is stable.278 According to
Alexander, the biblical expressions “his own Son” (Rom 8:32), “my Son” (Matt
3:17) and “You are my Son” (Ps 2:7) “openly point out the natural sonship of
the paternal birth from the Father, which he possesses through a distinctive
property of nature.”279

––––––––––––––––––––

271 See Or., princ. 1.2,2.

272 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 46 (FNS 8.46).
273 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 15 (FNS 8.15). John 1:18 uses ὁ ὢν for the Son: ὁ μονογενὴς υἱός ὁ ὢν εἰς τὸν
κόλπον τοῦ πατρός. See Or., in Joh. 2.8.
274 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 17 (FNS 8.17).
275 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 29 (FNS 8.29). The Son is immutable, Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 12 (FNS 8.12).
276 See Or., in Joh. 13.219; in Ps. 15 hom. 1.3; 1.9.
277 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 29 (FNS 8.29). Besides, Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 28 (FNS 8.28): “The sonship of
our Savior has not one thing in common with the sonship of the rest.” See Or., princ. 1.2,4.
278 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 31; 34 (FNS 8.31; 8.34).
279 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 32 (FNS 8.32).
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 113

Alexander affirms that the Father and the Son are “two mutually insepa-
rable realities” (ἀλλήλων ἀχώριστα πράγματα δύο) and two natures in terms of
hypostasis (τῇ ὑποστάσει δύο).280 The words ἀλλήλων ἀχώριστα denote the mu-
tual relationship between two distinct, subsistent, yet inseparable entities.
Thus, the compact formula conveys distinction, unity, and relationship. The
terms πράγμα and ὑπόστασις give some clues of the otherwise unknown the-
ology of the recipient of the letter. The addressee must have shared the Ori-
genian tradition, otherwise he would not have used technical terms that were
controversial outside of this tradition. Alexander adds:

We have learned that, just as the Father, so too the Son is immutable and inal-
terable, in want of nothing and perfect; he resembles the Father, falling short
of him only with respect to that one being unbegotten, as he is the exact and
indistinguishable image of the Father (εἰκὼν γάρ ἐστιν ἀπηκριβωμένη καὶ
ἀπαράλλακτος τοῦ πατρός).281

The Son preserves the paternal likeness in an exact manner; he is the indis-
tinguishable image of the prototype, the immaculate mirror, and divine living
image.282 As a perfect image, he participates in all the Father’s properties:
immutability, self-sufficiency, and perfection. However, as he is the begotten
Son and not the unbegotten Father, he is the image and not the pattern. Be-
cause he is the image, the Lord says: “My Father is greater than I am,”283 and
because he is an indistinguishable image, he says: “I and the Father are one.”284
This double condition of equality and inferiority places the Son between the
unbegotten Father and the creatures:

The nature of the Only-begotten, through whom (δι’ ἧς) the Father of the
God-Logos made the universe “out of nothing,” is between the two (ὧν
μεσιτεύουσα φύσις μονογενής) and is begotten from the really existing Father. 285

Alexander attributes to the divine Logos a certain inferiority with respect to

the Father. In turn, Marcellus and Athanasius credit to the humanity of the
Son the biblical expressions that imply inferiority.286 Alexander was accused
of professing two unbegotten beings. He declares:
––––––––––––––––––––

280 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 15; 38 (FNS 8.15; 8.38); Alex. Al., fr. (FNS 10). See Or., Cels. 8.12.
281 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 47 (FNS 8.47). On the “indistinguishable image,” see M. DelCogliano,
Eusebian Theologies of the Son as the Image of God before 341, in: JECS 14 (2006), 465–471.
282 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 38–39 (FNS 8.38–39).
283 John 14:28: ὁ πατὴρ μείζων μού ἐστιν.
284 John 10:30: ἐγὼ καὶ ὁ πατὴρ ἕν ἐσμεν.
285 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 45 (FNS 8.45).
286 See Marcell., fr. 75; Ath., Ar. 3.43; Studer, 1993, 110–112.
114 CHAPTER 2

For those inventors of nonsensical myths say that we teach two unbegottens
since we turn away from the impious and unscriptural blasphemy against
Christ that he is “out of nothing.” The uneducated men say that, for the two to
be different, it is necessary either to think that he is “from nothing” or that the
two are entirely unbegotten.287

The text indicates that Alexander’s faith was questioned. The dilemma pro-
posed by the bishop’s accusers is better understood if one considers that Al-
exander and his adversaries held the subsistence of the Son, rejected that the
Son was a part of the Father, and that he came from a certain substratum.288
Moreover, the bishop’s opponents seem to have a second reason for accusing
him of professing two unbegotten beings:

But let no one take “always” as really meaning unbegotten, as those men sup-
pose who have numbed the senses of their soul. For neither “was” nor “always”
nor “before ages” is identical to unbegotten.289

The bishop’s opponents supposed that the strict eternity of the Son implies
that he is unbegotten. This concept is supported by Eusebius of Caesarea and
Asterius.290 Alexander confronts them on the two crucial points of the “Arian”
theology: he declares that the Son is not “from nothing” and that he is strictly
coeternal with the Father. Two questions arise: Where does the Son come
from? When should his origin be placed?
Alexander is clear in what he rejects, while he is not specific in what he
sustains. He rejects three solutions: that the Son is unbegotten, that he has his
origin in cuts or emanations, and that he comes from nothing.291 The bishop
devotes ample space to refuting the theory that the Son is “from nothing,”
which he considers blasphemous: “it is insane to think that the Son came to
be out of nothing;”292 “the premise ‘out of nothing’ is shown to be most impi-
ous (ἀσεβέστατος);”293 and he speaks about the “the impious and unscriptural
blasphemy against Christ that he is ‘out of nothing.’”294 Besides, Alexander
devotes many passages to argue against the posteriority of the Son in relation
to the Father.295 Behind these claims could be Eusebius (ch 2.2.2–3).
––––––––––––––––––––

287 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 44 (FNS 8.44). See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 19 (FNS 8.19).
288 See Ar., ep. Eus. 4–5 (FNS 6.4–5); Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 46 (FNS 8.46).
289 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 48 (FNS 8.48).
290 See Eus., e.th. 2.3,3; 2.12,2; ep. Euphrat. 1 (FNS 13.1); Ast. Soph., fr. 2 (FNS 17.2).
291 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 46 (FNS 8.46).
292 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 22 (FNS 8.22).
293 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 26 (FNS 8.26).
294 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 44 (FNS 8.44).
295 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 15; 17; 22–24 (FNS 8.15; 8.17; 8.22–24).
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 115

In contrast, Alexander is less specific in describing the origin of the Son in

positive terms. To justify this choice, he uses biblical arguments. The Savior
did not transmit the knowledge of his origin to the apostles, “No one knows
the Son except the Father” (Matt 11:27), and the prophetic spirit asks: “Who
will describe his birth?” (Isa 53:8). In fact – he says – the evangelist John did
not describe the origin of the Son because “he considered it unsuitable to
speak of his begetting and making (γένεσιν αὐτοῦ καὶ ποίησιν).”296 The use of
ποίησις indicates that still this kind of terms did not have a technical meaning.
The prologue of John shows the Logos who “was” (ἦν) already before God and
presents the Only-begotten as “the one who is” (ὁ ὢν) toward the bosom of
the Father (John 1:18).297 The origin of the Son in itself, therefore, is not de-
scribed by John and remains a mystery:

His hypostasis is inscrutable to every originated nature, just as the Father him-
self is also inscrutable, because the nature of rational beings does give way to
the knowledge of the Father’s divine childbearing. 298

These statements of negative theology, with the expression of Isa 53:8, are
also found in Eusebius of Caesarea.299 In positive terms, Alexander repeats
that the Son has been begotten “from the really existing Father” (ἐξ αὐτοῦ τοῦ
ὄντος πατρὸς).300 This text seeks to express true begetting and real fatherhood.
Possibly, he tries to show that strict coeternity of the Son is not incompatible
with his true begetting and, thus, with the true fatherhood of God.
When should the origin of the Son of God be placed? This second ques-
tion was at the center of the discussion. The rule of faith established that the
Son was prior to creation.301 As said above, among those associated with Ari-
us, some declared that the Son was a creature like the others, created in time,
but Arius himself clearly affirmed that the Son was prior to creation. There-
fore, Alexander not only had to argue that the Son was prior to creation,302 but
also he had to reject any kind of timeless priority and posteriority, even be-
fore the creation. Arius professed that the Son was begotten ante tempora, but
denied that he existed ab aeterno.

––––––––––––––––––––

296 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 19; 21; 46 (FNS 8.19; 8.21; 8.46).
297 For Alexander, the biblical text marks the difference between the Son who “is” (εἰμί) with
respect to the creatures who “become” (γίγνομαι). See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 18 (FNS 8.18).
298 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 46 (FNS 8.46).
299 See Eus., d.e. 3.2,56; 4.3,13; 4.15,53; 5.1,18; 5.1,25; e.th. 1.12,6.
300 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 45–46 (FNS 8.45–46).
301 See Or., princ. 1 pr. 4.
302 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 17–18 (FNS 8.17–18).
116 CHAPTER 2

Alexander proposes two kinds of arguments to affirm the strict coeternity

of the divine persons. The first is based on John 1:3, and the second is based
on metaphors that show the correlative character of the Father and the Son.
As for the first argument, he states:

For if “everything came to be through him,” how is it that he “once” “was not”
(ποτε οὐκ ἦν;) who freely gave existence to those that come into existence? 303

This argument assumes that time and ages are created realities, according to
Plato’s Timaeus 37d. Arius never asserted that there was a “time” (χρόνος)
when the Son did not exist – as many modern translations suggests. He af-
firmed that before the Son was begotten, he was not.304 His doctrine implies
that there was “once” when (ποτέ) the Son did not exist.305 Alexander specifi-
cally rejects the terms his opponents use to express the point when the Son
was not. Again, John 1:3 makes part of the argument:

Therefore, if it is true that “all things came to be through him,” then it is clear
that every age (αἰών), time (χρόνος), interval (διάστημα) and the “once” (τὸ
ποτέ), in which the “was not” (τὸ οὐκ ἦν) is found, came to be through him.”306

The passage seeks to exclude any kind of posteriority of the Son, even before
the creation of time. Alexander closely follows Origen, who affirmed that the
Son receives existence from the Father “but without, however, any beginning,
not only that which may be distinguished by periods of time, but even that
which intellect alone is accustomed to contemplate within itself or to con-
template, if we may thus speak, with the bare intellect and reason.”307 The
bishop stresses the point: “there is no interval (διάστημα) between the Father
and the Son, nor is the soul even able, in some notion, to imagine this.”308 The
claim about the strict coeternity of the Son and the Father not only rejects
the theology of Arius, but also addresses the teaching of Eusebius of Caesa-
rea. Indeed, the bishop of Caesarea affirmed the posteriority of the Son with
respect to the Father before the outbreak of the crisis.309

––––––––––––––––––––

303 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 17 (FNS 8.17).

304 See Ar., ep. Eus. 4 (FNS 6.4).
305 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 10; 15; 18; 23; 27 (FNS 8.10; 8.15; 8.18; 8.23; 8.27); Geo. Laod., ep. Alex.
Al. (FNS 19); Alex. Al. ep. Encycl. 7; 12–13 (FNS 26.7; 26.12–13).
306 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 23 (FNS 8.23); John 1:3. See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 22 (FNS 8.22): “The ‘was
not’ either inhabits time (χρόνος) or some interval of an age (αἰῶνός τινι διαστήματι).”
307 Or., princ. 1.2,2 (trans. Behr, 2017, 42–43).
308 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 18 (FNS 8.18).
309 See ch. 2.2.2; Eus., ep. Alex. 4 (FNS 12.4); ep. Caes. 16 (FNS 37.16).
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 117

The bishop of Alexandria resorts to three metaphors to express the coe-

ternity of the Son and the Father. The correlative character of the names “fa-
ther” and “son” demands simultaneity:

It is necessary that the Father is always Father; but he is Father of the always
present Son because of whom he is called Father. And while the Son is always
present to him, the Father is always perfect, since he lacks nothing good, be-
getting the Only-begotten Son neither temporally nor from an interval nor
“out of nothing.”310

The argument of the correlative names was in Origen and Dionysius. Alexan-
der also makes use of the metaphor of the light: “We also believe the Son to
be always from the Father; for he ‘is the radiance of his glory and the exact
representation’ (Heb 1:3) of the paternal hypostasis.”311 The bishop concludes:

For to say that “the radiance of [God’s] glory” did not exist also destroys at the
same time the archetypal light whose radiance he is.312

This metaphor had a long tradition. Origen used it to emphasize the coeterni-
ty of the Father and the Son.313 The metaphorical use of light shows the con-
trast between Alexander and Eusebius. As said above, the bishop of Caesarea
uses the same metaphor of light, but he does so a contrario, to deny the coe-
ternity of the Son with respect to the Father.314
Alexander uses the metaphor of the image and the model to affirm the
simultaneity of the Son and the Father. The analogy is based on Col 1:15 and
rejects any posteriority of one with respect to the other: “If the image of God
did not always exist, it is evident that neither did he always exist whose image
he is.”315 The Son, as an indistinguishable image, participates in the strict eter-
nity of the Father, his model. This metaphor was inacceptable to Marcellus,
who asserted that pre-cosmic logos was not image (ch. 5.4.4).

––––––––––––––––––––

310 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 26 (FNS 8.26). See Morales, 2006, 201–208.
311 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 48 (FNS 8.48).
312 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 27 (FNS 8.27).
313 See Or., princ. 1.2,11 (trans. Behr, 2017, 62–63, mod.): “Now his Wisdom is the splendour of
that light, not only in respect of its being light, but also in respect of its being everlasting
light, so that his Wisdom is eternal splendour and [splendour] of [God’s] eternity” (ita ut
aeternus et aeternitatis splendor sit sapientia sua).
314 See Williams, 2001, 172: Eusebius “expresses some dissatisfaction with the venerable im-
agery of light and ray to describe Father and Son.”
315 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 27 (FNS 8.27). He speaks of the “living image” to avoid the impersonal
and insubstantial connotation of the image, cf. Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 39 (FNS 8.39).
118 CHAPTER 2

Besides, Alexander does not mention a traditional metaphor, namely, that

the Son comes from the Father as the will from the mind (sicut a mente volun-
tas).316 It is not easy to interpret the silence of the sources. In this case, how-
ever, the omission can be explained by the fact that this metaphor – central
for Origen, Eusebius, and Arius – did not fit the theological agenda of the
bishop of Alexandria. He did not want to relate the begetting of the Son with
the will of God, so as not to associate begetting with any kind of contingency.
Finally, it is important to examine how Arius understood and communi-
cated Alexander's public preaching:

Always God, always Son (ἀεὶ θεὸς ἀεὶ υἱός); simultaneously Father, simultane-
ously Son. The Son, in an unbegotten manner, coexists with God (συνυπάρχει ὁ
υἱὸς ἀγεννήτως τῷ θεῷ), always-begotten, unbegotten-offshoot (ἀειγγεννής,
ἀγεννητογενής). Neither in thought nor for a certain instant is God prior to the
Son (προάγει ὁ θεὸς τοῦ υἱοῦ). Always God, always Son. The Son is from God
himself (ἐξ αὐτοῦ τοῦ θεοῦ ὁ υἱός).317

Three elements can be distinguished in this report. Arius claims that his
bishop professes the strict coeternity of the Father and the Son. This state-
ment is in full agreement with Alexander’s writings. Besides, the presbyter
supposes that strict coeternity of the Father and the Son somehow denies
authentic begetting, which implies that the Son is unbegotten. This idea does
not match the bishop’s letters, but no doubt this tenet was part of the debate,
given that Alexander felt the need to stress that he did not profess two unbe-
gotten beings. Finally, Arius denounces the sentence: “the Son proceeds from
the Father himself.” This statement is present in the bishop’s letters; however,
it could be misunderstood as if the bishop affirmed that the Son is an emis-
sion of the Father, i.e., as if the Father was the material cause of the Son.

2.4.4 Eusebius, Arius, and Alexander

This section compares the theologies of Eusebius, Arius, and Alexander. In
order to make this comparison – it must be emphasized – a twofold process is
necessary: on the one hand, one must free Arius from the doctrines which he
never supported, but which were held by some of his associates, and consider
only his teaching as expressed in his own writings. In fact, ancient and mod-
ern scholars often attribute to Arius doctrines held by some of his associates
that he did not support or even oppose. On the other hand, it is necessary to
take seriously the “problematic” statements of Eusebius of Caesarea because

––––––––––––––––––––

316 Just., 1apol. 23.2; 32.10; 2apol. 13.4; Tat., orat. 5.1; Or., princ. 1.2,6; 4.4,1; Orbe, 1958, 387–503.
317 Ar., ep. Eus. 2 (FNS 6.2).
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 119

scholarship tends to stress the doctrinal difference between Eusebius and

Arius. Roughly speaking, historiography frequently offers a “worsened” Arius
and an “improved” Eusebius.318
The theologies of Eusebius, Arius, and Alexander show convergences and
divergences. Some points of agreement are part of the rule of faith. All three
clerics agree that God the Father is one, that he is the only unbegotten, that
the Son was begotten by God before creation, that everything – including
time – came into being through the Son, and that he performs mediation.
Undoubtedly, none of them accepts that the Son is like the creatures. Besides,
these authors share other aspects of Alexandrian theology, to which all of
them belong. They all reject the theologies of Valentinus and Sabellius, dis-
tinguish the Father and the Son in terms of hypostasis, criticize the two-stage
Logos theology, deny that the Son is a “part” or “emanation” of the Father, i.e.,
that the Son was begotten by cutting or division,319 and exclude any material
connotation of the Son’s begetting. These elements form the common Alex-
andrian framework in which the first steps of the theological controversy
developed and, at the same time, confirm that the Arian crisis was a conflict
that arose within the Alexandrian tradition.
The contrast between Alexander and Arius is evident. The central conflict-
ing points are the posteriority of the Son with respect to the Father and the
tenet that the Son is “from nothing.” In fact, the bishop declares: “John the
Evangelist taught sufficiently that the Son of God, in fact, neither came to be
‘out of nothing’ nor ‘was there once when he was not.’”320 The other issues at
stake largely depend on these two doctrinal points.
If Eusebius is compared with Arius – not with the alleged “Arianism” –
although their teachings have differences, their theologies are very similar. In
addition to the general coincidences already pointed out, Eusebius and Arius
agree on a central point: the real begetting implies that the Father is atempo-
rally prior to the Son. This controversial tenet is explicitly stated by both the
authors. This means that both maintain that the divine Son is not constitutive
of God. Rather, for Eusebius and Arius, the existence of the Son depends on
God’s free decision to create the world. In addition, Arius declares that the
Son is “from nothing,” but not as the other of the creatures, whereas Eusebius
states that it is not free from danger to affirm that the Son is from nothing just

––––––––––––––––––––

318 This tendency, however, has exceptions. See B. Montfaucon, Collectio nova patrum et
scriptorum graecorum, Paris 1706, xxviii: ab exordio enim Arianismi ad obitum ufque [Euse-
bius], cum Arianis concordissime vixit.
319 As God is incorporeal, He cannot be divided. See Or., princ. 1.2,6.
320 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 15 (FNS 8.15).
120 CHAPTER 2

as the other creatures (ch. 2.2.2). The crucial qualification “as the other crea-
tures” shows that, strictly speaking, Eusebius does not reject Arius’ statement.
The present chapter claims that the contrast between Eusebius and Alex-
ander played a major role in the outbreak of the crisis. Therefore, it is crucial
to assess the theological divergencies between these two influential bishops.
They have severe disagreements regarding the origin of the Son. Eusebius
affirms an atemporal priority of the Father with respect to the Son, which
denies their coeternity, while Alexander declares that both are simultaneous
and, therefore, coeternal. This contrast is critical because the priority or sim-
ultaneity of the Father with respect to the Son – it must be repeated – was
one of the critical points at stake in the so-called “Arian” controversy. Eusebi-
us states that the Son does not coexist without beginning (ἀνάρχως) with the
Father; instead, Alexander ascribes to the Son a birth without beginning (τὴν
ἄναρχον… γέννησιν).321 Alexander says that some men “who have numbed the
senses of their soul” suppose that “always” means “unbegotten,” whereas Eu-
sebius of Caesarea equates these two concepts.322 This sharp discrepancy
should not be undervalued, because to affirm or deny the coeternity of the
Son with the Father was enough to set up the controversy. Indeed, the very
Trinitarian nature of the Christian God was at stake.
In addition, the bishop of Caesarea affirms that the Son was begotten by
the will of God to be the instrument (ὄργανον) of creation,323 while the bishop
of Alexandria denounces this doctrine as heresy.324 It is noteworthy that the
doctrine declaring that the Son was begotten to be the instrument of creation
– denounced by Alexander – stands explicit in Eusebius’ writings, while it is
only implicit in the extant works of Arius. Eusebius says that to affirm that
the Son is “from nothing” like all the creatures is not free from danger (οὐκ
ἀκίνδυνον), whereas Alexander declares that this doctrine is blasphemous,
most impious, and insane.325 In addition, the bishop of Caesarea denies that
the Son and the Father are simultaneous as the ray and the light, whereas
Alexander affirms that.326 The opposition between their statements is strict.
The contrast between the two bishops is clearer according to Arius’ ac-
count of Alexander’s teaching. Eusebius affirms that the Son “does not coexist

––––––––––––––––––––

321 See Eus., d.e. 4.3,13; 5.1,13; 5.1,20; Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 52 (FNS 8.52).
322 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 48 (FNS 8.48); Eus., e.th. 2.3,3: ἀίδιον, τοῦτ᾽ ἔστιν ἀγένητον. See also
Ast. Soph., fr. 2 (FNS 17.2): Ἀγένητον εἶναι τὸ μὴ ποιηθέν, ἀλλ’ ἀεὶ ὄν. See also Eus., e.th. 2.12,2;
ep. Euphrat. 1 (FNS 13.1); Ath., decr. 28.6; Anatolios, 2011, 61.
323 See Eus., d.e. 4.4,1; 4.2,2.
324 See Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 9 (FNS 26.9).
325 See Eus., d.e. 5.1,15; Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 19; 26; 44 (FNS 8.52).
326 See Eus., d.e. 4.3,4–5; 5,1,19; Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 22; 48; Alex. Al., fr. (FNS 10).
THE OUTBREAK OF THE “ARIAN” CONTROVERSY 121

with the Father in an unbegotten way (οὐκ ἀγενήτως συνυπάρχει τῷ πατρί);”327

in contrast, according to Arius, Alexander affirms that “the Son, in an unbe-
gotten manner, coexists with God (συνυπάρχει ὁ υἱὸς ἀγεννήτως τῷ θεῷ).”328 The
Bishop of Caesarea states: “the Father pre-exists with respect to the Son (ὁ
πατὴρ προϋπάρχει τοῦ υἱοῦ) and exists before his birth (καὶ τῆς γενέσεως αὐτοῦ
προϋφέστηκεν);”329 instead, in Arius’ account, the bishop of Alexandria de-
clares that “neither in thought nor for a certain instant is God prior to the Son
(προάγει ὁ θεὸς τοῦ υἱοῦ).”330 These two theologies are opposed using the same
terms: οὐκ ἀγενήτως / ἀγεννήτως; προϋπάρχει / συνυπάρχει. The contrast be-
tween the statements of these two bishops is strict.331 This does not seem to
be casual. The account of Alexander’s doctrine elaborated by Arius is fairly
consistent with the bishop’s letters, but it cannot be said that Alexander used
these very expressions. In any case, even if the account emphasized the con-
trast, it reveals Arius’ understanding of the conflict. In his letter to the bishop
of Nicomedia, he claimed that Alexander’s public teaching was diametrically
opposed to the theology of Eusebius of Caesarea. In this light, it is possible to
read the words that Arius addresses to the bishop of Nicomedia:

And given that Eusebius, your brother who is in Caesarea, Theodotus, Pauli-
nus, Athanasius [of Anazarbus], Gregory, Aetius, and all the Eastern [bishops]
say “God exists without beginning before the Son,” they became anathema. 332

In other words, Arius denounced that Alexander had publicly condemned the
theology headed by Eusebius of Caesarea and supported by “all the Eastern
bishops.” Arius did not present himself as a theologian persecuted by his
bishop because of his original ideas, but as a representative of the teaching
lead by the bishop of Caesarea that was under attack. If this interpretation is
correct, the chief threat for Alexander was Eusebius, not Arius. Similar ideas
are found in the synod of Alexandria (338). The synodal letter refers to the
same events from the opposing point of view:

When the impious Arius – from whom the heresy of the Ariomaniacs has its
name – was expelled from the Church by the blessed bishop Alexander, those
around Eusebius, who were [his] disciples and shared his impiety, considering

––––––––––––––––––––

327 Eus., d.e. 4.3,4 (GCS 23, 153). See Eus., d.e. 4.3,13; 5.1,20.
328 Ar., ep. Eus. 2 (FNS 6.2).
329 Eus., d.e. 4.3,5 (GCS 23, 153).
330 Ar., ep. Eus. 2 (FNS 6.2).
331 In contrast, Strutwolf affirms that Eusebius was theologically closer to Alexander than to
Arius. See Strutwolf, 1999, 25–26.
332 Ar., ep. Eus. 3 (FNS 6.3). See Thdt., h.e. 1.5,5.
122 CHAPTER 2

that they themselves were expelled, wrote many times requesting the bishop
Alexander not to leave the heretic Arius out [of the Church]. 333

The parallels between the two texts are significant. The Egyptian bishops, in
338, focused their attention on Eusebius and his disciples, and affirmed that
“those around Eusebius” assumed that the expulsion of Arius implied their
own condemnation – just as Arius claimed in his letter. The bishops were not
concerned with the fate of Arius himself, but with their own standing. Be-
sides, the synodal letter affirms that they sent correspondence to Alexander;
some of these letters survive, those of Eusebius of Caesarea, Teognis, and
presbyter George.334 The wording of the synodal letter indicate that the key
problem was Eusebius and his disciples, not Arius himself – in fact, the au-
thor of the letter felt the need to explain who Arius was. To which Eusebius
does the synodal letter refer? It is not clear.335 In any case, the letter supports
the contention that the main threat to Alexander was not Arius, but those
bishops who stood behind the Alexandrian presbyter.
This reconstruction explains why the entire East was immediately in-
volved in the controversy. Behind a seemingly local quarrel there was a
broader conflict between two influential bishops who could claim to be heirs
to the Origenian legacy, the bishop of Caesarea and that of Alexandria.
Some scholars have tried to understand the teachings and behavior of Eu-
sebius in light of the clash between Arius and Alexander. It is clear, however,
that Eusebius’ doctrine did not depend on Arius. The bishop of Caesarea
developed his Trinitarian thinking before the beginning of the controversy.
The critical point, then, is that Eusebius’ Trinitarian doctrine was not just an
antecedent – let alone a consequence – but a cause of the controversy. In
other words, Alexander saw Eusebius behind Arius and attacked Arius to
confront Eusebius’ Trinitarian theology. Consequently, the question about the
“Arianism” of Eusebius is wrongly formulated.336 If this reading is correct, it is
necessary to reassess the role that the bishop of Caesarea played in the so-
called Arian controversy.

––––––––––––––––––––

333 C.Alex. (338), ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 6.2 [AW 2, 91–92]).
334 See Eus., ep. Alex. (FNS 12); Theog. Nic., ep. (FNS 23); Geo. Laod., ep. Alex. Al. (FNS 19).
335 The synodal letter of Alexandria was written in 338, after the condemnation of Athanasius
in 335, and it has a retrospective vision. At this stage, Eusebius of Nicomedia was regarded
as the key figure of the “Arian” party.
336 See Williams, 2001, 171; C. Luibhéid, The Council of Nicaea, Galway 1982, 1–27.
 CHAPTER 3

The Expansion of the Controversy

3.1 Letter Warfare

As previous sections have shown (ch. 2.3.2–3), the Arian controversy was a
public phenomenon from the very beginning. According to contemporary
sources, Arius publicly reacted against what Alexander said “in public”
(δημοσίᾳ).1 Besides, bishop Alexander complained that Arius and his compan-
ions were slandering his orthodox faith “in the sight of all” (παρὰ πᾶσι).2 Even
the emperor was aware of the controversy and complained about the public
nature of the dispute.3 Such a public conflict could not be resolved in private.
Moreover, the conflict was not a local one. Arius belonged to a network of
influential clerics who were active beyond the borders of Egypt. These clerics
supported him. The first part of this section deals with the publication of
letters, that is, with their strategies, significance, and dissemination (ch. 3.1.1).
The second part addresses the contents of the letters that circulated mostly
within the Alexandrian circle (ch. 3.1.2). The third part focuses on two out-
comes of the letter-writing campaign, namely the work of Asterius of Cappa-
docia and the Hymn by Arius (ch. 3.1.3).

3.1.1 Strategies for Publishing Letters

Letters played a crucial role in shaping Christian culture.4 “We possess more
than nine thousand letters written by Christians in antiquity” – excluding
papyri.5 The “Arian” controversy was not an exception. When he was con-
demned by Alexander, Arius sought support outside of Egypt and found it in
the bishops of Caesarea and Nicomedia. These two influential bishops backed
Arius and promoted a letter-writing campaign. In a revealing letter Eusebius
of Nicomedia wrote to Paulinus of Tyre, he explicitly demanded that Paulinus
engage in this letter campaign. The heading of the letter is threatening:

––––––––––––––––––––

1 Ar., ep. Eus. 2 (FNS 6.2).

2 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 9 (FNS 8.9).
3 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 8 (FNS 24.8).
4 A. Fürst, Brief und Bildung: Grundaspekte ihres Verhältnisses in der Antike, in: E.M. Becker /
A. Fürst (eds.), Brief und Bildung: Von der Antike bis zur Moderne, Berlin 2024, 3–34.
5 S.K. Stowers, Letter Writing in Greco-Roma Antiquity, Philadelphia 1989, 15; L.H. Blumell,
The Message and the Medium: Some Observations on Epistolary Communication in Late An-
tiquity, in: JGRChJ 10 (2014), 24–67 (53).
124 CHAPTER 3

My master, neither the zeal (σπουδή) of my master Eusebius [of Caesarea] for
the true doctrine, nor your silence (σιωπή) about it, has gone unnoticed, but
has reached even us! Consequently, we have rejoiced for my master Eusebius,
but we grieve for you because we suppose that even the silence of such a man
is a defeat for us.6

The bishop of the imperial city of Nicomedia praised his colleague in Caesa-
rea, who had written letters to support Arius’ cause, and complained about
Paulinus’ silence. He then added: “I exhort you to begin to write your
thoughts about it, moved by the Spirit.”7 Then, the bishop concluded:

When you have received and pondered [my letter], according to the divine
grace that characterizes you, hasten to write to my master Alexander [of Alex-
andria]. For I am convinced that if you were to write to him, you would con-
vince him.8

Of course, Paulinus did write at least one letter.9 We do not know how many
other bishops received a letter like this from the influential bishop of Ni-
comedia, but it is likely that the bishop of Tyre was not the only one. Eusebius
of Caesarea, for his part, wrote a letter to Alexander.10 One of its extant frag-
ments shows an aspect of the dissemination of letters:

Your letter accuses them of saying that the Son came into being out of noth-
ing as one among all [creatures]. But they themselves published a letter,
which they produced for you, in which, setting forth their own faith, they pro-
fess in these very terms: “the God of the law, of the prophets…”11

On the one hand, the paragraph indicates that Eusebius of Caesarea read the
letter that Alexander sent to Arius and those with him. On the other hand, it
shows that Eusebius of Caesarea knew the contents of Arius’ letter to Alexan-
der. These lines illuminate the public character of these letters. They had
specific addressees, but their target was broader. Eusebius of Caesarea was
not at all embarrassed to say that he had read letters that were not addressed
to him. Therefore, although these letters were explicitly addressed to specific
recipients, they were implicitly intended to be read by a larger audience. Oth-
er letters, however, seem to have a more private character – for example, Ari-

––––––––––––––––––––

6 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 1 (FNS 15.1).

7 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 2 (FNS 15.2).
8 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 8 (FNS 15.8).
9 Paulin., ep. (FNS 16).
10 See Eus., ep. Alex. (FNS 12); ep. Euphrat. (FNS 13); fr. (FNS 14); C.Nic. (787), act. V; VI.
11 Eus., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 12.2).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 125

us’ letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia, which contains harsh remarks about

other bishops. The long letter of Alexander to his colleague of Byzantium
describes a salient aspect of the “Arian” strategy:

For they are going around the cities, desiring nothing other than to give and
receive letters (γράμματα διδόναι καὶ λαμβάνειν) through hypocrisy and flattery
under the pretense of friendship and in the name of peace. 12

This text shows the centrality of letters in the strategy of his opponents. Other
passages of the same writing describe features of the Arian strategy: 1) “Ari-
ans” approached bishops “through cleverly fabricated letters, which are able
to mislead someone who has attended to a simple and pure faith;”13 2) they
looked for signatures to their letters in order to be admitted into the church;14
and 3) they requested “verbose letters from them” allowing them to claim
support from these bishops.15 In short, “Arians” produced letters, sought for
signatures, and asked for letters of support. Interestingly, Alexander himself,
who criticized this strategy, used similar tactics. His long letter ends with the
following paragraph:

So, beloved brothers who are one in soul, while turning away from these men
[…] be unanimous against their manic boldness. Do the same thing as our
displeased fellow-ministers who wrote to me against them and have co-signed
this tome, which I have sent through my son Apion, the deacon, to you, to all
of Egypt and Thebaid as well as to Libya, Pentapolis, Syria, and, further, to Ly-
cia, Pamphylia, Asia, Cappadocia, and the other lands around it. I trust that,
likewise, it is received by you.16

Thus, Alexander sent letters to many bishops asking for their signatures, and
he received letters of support from them. According to a Syriac fragment,
about two hundred bishops signed the letter that Alexander sent to Philogo-
nius, Bishop of Antioch, confirming their acceptance of his teaching. The
Syriac manuscript lists the places that the letter reached:

And after the subscriptions of those who came from all Egypt, the Thebaid,
Libya, and the Pentapolis, and [of] those from the upper regions, with [those
of] Palestine, Arabia, Achaia, Thrace, the Hellespont, Asia, Caria, Lycia, Lydia,
Phrygia, Pamphylia, Galatia, Pisidia, Pontus, Polemoniacus, Cappadocia, Ar-

––––––––––––––––––––

12 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 58 (FNS 8.58).

13 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 8.2).
14 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 9 (FNS 8.9).
15 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 7 (FNS 8.7).
16 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 59 (FNS 8.59).
126 CHAPTER 3

menia, there subscribed Philogonius, Bishop of Antioch [in] Syria, and all
those of the East, God-loving bishops of Mesopotamia, Augusta Euphratense,
Cilicia, Isauria, and Phoenicia.17

Around 375, Epiphanius said that about seventy letters of Alexander were
preserved by scholars.18 Perhaps ecclesiastical archives collected various cop-
ies of the same letters with the bishops’ signatures. It is possible that letters
were sent to the chief bishops of each region and that these prominent bish-
ops were responsible for collecting the signatures of their subordinate col-
leagues. Besides, some evidence suggests that Alexander did not send the
same letter to all the bishops, but different versions adapted to various recipi-
ents (ch. 3.1.2).
The practice of collecting signatures was traditional in Christianity. Euse-
bius’ Church History mentions a private letter (ἰδία ἐπιστολή) against Monta-
nism written by Serapion of Antioch, a bishop of the second century. It says
that “in this letter of Serapion signatures of various bishops are preserved.”19
According to the testimony of a Syriac fragment, the signatures did include
short messages. The manuscript mentions a large number of signatories,20
and then transmits this remark:

Philogonius, bishop of the catholic church of Antioch: “Lauding abundantly

the faith contained in the tome of my teacher Alexander, dear to my soul, I
agree with it and with the consensus of the holy clergy, [composed] of unan-
imous [members]. I subscribed, along with all the [bishops] who are in the
East, to the things written above.”21

This evidence suggests that prominent bishops added not only their names,
but also short messages to the letter. The Tomus ad Antiochenos, coming from
the synod of Alexandria (362), preserved the signatures and the messages of
some bishops. The length of each signature depended on the bishop’s status.22
Ancient evidence, then, shows that, in some cases, the value of a letter de-
pended on the number of signatures and the reputation of its signatories.
Signatures were a form of reception because these kinds of letters did not
achieve their goal without the signatures of other bishops. The number of
signatures, in turn, depended on the network that circulated the letter.
––––––––––––––––––––

17 See the footnote to Alex. Al., ep. Philog. 4 (FNS 9.4).

18 Epiph., haer. 69.4,3 (GCS 37, 155).
19 Eus., h.e. 5.19,1–4; Junod, 1988, 169.
20 See the footnote of Alex. Al., ep. Philog. 4 (FNS 9).
21 Alex. Al., ep. Philog. 5 (FNS 9.5).
22 C.Alex. (362), tom. 10–11 (AW 2, 350–351; SC 622, 122–127). See C.Sard. (343), ep. Mareot.
(EOMIA 1.2, 658).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 127

How could Alexander and Arius afford such a demanding strategy? The
process involved not only writing letters, but also sending and collecting
them with the signatures. At this time, the cursus publicus was reserved for
official communication.23 Hence, in general terms, private persons had two
options: 1) send the letter through a trusted person or a stranger, 2) or pay a
messenger to carry the letter.24 However, “with the rise of an organized eccle-
siastical hierarchy and the gradual emergence of bishoprics one begins to see
church correspondence conducted between bishops or other church leaders
primarily via trusted clergy.”25
Alexander relied on the ecclesiastical resources of the Alexandrian
church. He sent his letter to the bishop of Byzantium through the deacon
Apion – a trusted cleric. Were clerics the regular carriers for sending episco-
pal letters? Note that the number of Alexandrian clerics is impressive during
this period.26 However, it must have been necessary to commit a lot of re-
sources to this process. Arius, instead, did not rely on the institutional ma-
chinery of the Alexandrian church. These material conditions had conse-
quences: the first lines of one of his letters are noteworthy: “Since my father
Ammonius was leaving for Nicomedia, I thought it reasonable and fitting to
greet you through him…”27 These words indicate that Ammonius’ journey to
Nicomedia was to some extent the favorable occasion – the καιρός – of Arius’
writing of the letter to Eusebius.28 The heading of some IV century private
letters match this situation: “Finding the opportunity of this letter carrier I
salute…” (SB XIV 11881.4–6); “Having just been given a favorable opportunity
by a man who is going to you, I thought I must send you a greeting…” (P.Oxy.
xvii 2156.3-5).29 However, bishops such as Eusebius of Caesarea and Eusebius
of Nicomedia were behind Arius. Therefore, although he was not a bishop,
Arius could count on a network of influential ecclesiastical supporters. Alex-
ander and Arius could not count on the Roman imperial post. They had to
rely on the resources of the powerful Alexandrian church or on the Eusebian
network. However, these means were successful because they achieved an

––––––––––––––––––––

23 See L. Lemcke, Imperial Transportation and Communication from the Third to the Late
Fourth Century: The Golden Age of the cursus publicus, Bruxelles 2016, 46.
24 See Blumell, 2014, 47–48.
25 Blumell, 2014, 53.
26 Martin lists 28 names of presbyters and 33 names of deacons who belonged to Alexandria
between 320 and 330. See Martin, 1996, 206–210.
27 Ar., ep. Eus. 2 (FNS 6.2).
28 On the “favorable occasion” (καιρός) to write a letter, see G. Tibiletti, Le lettere private nei
papiri greci del III e IV secolo d.C. Tra paganesimo e cristianesimo, Milan 1979, 80–82.
29 These examples are taken from Blumell, 2014, 48.
128 CHAPTER 3

active circulation of letters. Only a few letters have survived, yet they allow us
to reconstruct the outline of this battle.
Another significant function of letters was to perform and express com-
munion. According to Alexander, Arius’ supporters desired nothing other
than to give and receive letters (γράμματα διδόναι καὶ λαμβάνειν).30 They were
not just intended to transmit ideas but to produce and testify communion:
they were instruments of unity. This function was well established in previous
centuries. For example, in 268 the synod that deposed Paul of Samosata and
appointed Domnos at Antioch wrote a letter to the bishops of Rome and
Alexandria. It concludes with a warning about epistolary communion:

We have made this clear to you, that you may write to him [Domnos] and re-
ceive letters of communion from him (ὅπως τούτῳ γράφητε καὶ παρὰ τούτου τὰ
κοινωνικὰ δέχησθε γράμματα). But let him [Paul of Samosata] write to Artemas
(τῷ δὲ Ἀρτεμᾷ οὗτος ἐπιστελλέτω); and let those who think as Artemas does,
have communion with him (κοινωνείτωσαν).31

Writing and receiving letters implied ecclesiastical communion. The bishops

of Rome and Alexandria were to have epistolary correspondence with Dom-
nos, whereas Paul of Samosata could write to Artemas, a heretic of the second
century who was the archetype of the heresy that denies Christ’s divinity. The
synod of Antioch (325), regarding the condemned bishops, warns its address-
ees: “Beware of communion with these [bishops] and of writing to them or
receiving from them letters of communion.”32 In the context of the Melitian
conflict, Arsenius declares that he does not have correspondence with schis-
matics.33 Later, in 359, Hilary of Poitiers wrote a letter to the bishops of Gaul.
He addressed the bishops of the various provinces – but he addressed “the
people of Narbonensis.” There is an explanation for this anomaly: Hilary did
not want to address a letter to the bishops of Gallia Narbonensis because they
had embraced Arianism.
The pamphlet warfare relied on letter carriers, who were a sort of herald
or messenger. That is, the carrier of a letter did not simply deliver the docu-
ment, but also explained and supplemented its content. Several examples of
this practice are extant.34 According to Alexander’s testimony, “those of Arius”
went around the cities (περιέρχονται γὰρ τὰς πόλεις) under the pretense of

––––––––––––––––––––

30 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 58 (FNS 8.58).

31 Eus., h.e. 7.30,17 (GCS 9/2, 712; trans. FC 29, 147–148).
32 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 15 (FNS 28.15).
33 Arsen., ep. Ath. 2 (FNS 60.2).
34 See C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 11 (FNS 34.11); Blumell, 2014, 57–65.
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 129

friendship and in the name of peace.35 Therefore, the bishop warned his col-
leagues: “You may watch out for these men, lest one of them dare to approach
your paroikia in person (δι᾽ ἑαυτῶν).”36 Ancient sources testify to some such
cases. Marcellus recalled that Eusebius of Caesarea “preached in the church
one time when he was passing through Ancyra;”37 this stay in Galatia could be
part of the Eusebian doctrinal campaign. The same bishop of Ancyra affirmed
that Paulinus of Tyre “even once said in front of us, when he was passing
through Ancyra (τὴν Ἀγκύραν διιών), that Christ is a creature.”38 In addition,
Athanasius complained:

[Asterius] wandered about the churches in Syria and elsewhere (περιήρχετο

τὰς ἐν τῇ Συρίᾳ καὶ τὰς ἄλλας ἐκκλησίας) with the endorsement of the Eusebi-
ans (κατὰ σύστασιν τῶν περὶ Εὐσέβιον) […]. And so this totally insolent man en-
tered into places where he was not allowed. Sitting himself down in the cler-
ics’ place, he publicly read the syntagmation (ἀνεγίνωσκε δημοσίᾳ τὸ
συνταγμάτιον), even though the others were greatly annoyed at him. 39

In light of these testimonies, it is likely that at least Eusebius of Caesarea,

Paulinus of Tyre, and Asterius of Cappadocia participated in the warfare.
Indeed, Marcellus, in his book, describes “how he [Asterius] went about trav-
eling, and where and when and who he intended to visit.”40 Besides, if the
syntagmation was a sort of letter, Asterius’ activity fits Alexander’s narrative.
The evidence suggests that “those who went around the cities” were not mes-
sengers of Arius sent from Alexandria, but rather emissaries from those of
Eusebius. Arius was a presbyter; he had neither the resources nor the authori-
ty to send messengers all over the world. In fact, Alexander denounced that
Eusebius of Nicomedia “has attempted to write everywhere.”41 Arius, then, did
not divide the Christian world; his clash with Alexander made visible a pre-
existing division between two branches of Origen’s legacy (ch. 2.5). As stated,
the actual leader of Alexander’s opponents was Eusebius, not Arius.

––––––––––––––––––––

35 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 58 (FNS 8.58).

36 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 8.2). The same warning as in Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 20 (FNS 26.20):
εἰ προπετεύσαιντο πρὸς ὑμᾶς ἐλθεῖν.
37 Eus., Marcell. 1.4,45 (trans. FC 135, 110). Some scholars think that Eusebius went to Ancyra
on his way to Nicaea. However, it is unlikely that after his condemnation in Antioch (325)
Eusebius was allowed to preach in the church.
38 Marcell., fr. 121 (trans. FC 135, 112).
39 Ath., syn. 18.3 (AW 2, 245; trans. CEECW 1, 170, mod.). Athanasius’ testimony was written
about 359 and may overstate the fact. Yet, the mention of Syria seems to be trustworthy.
40 Eus., Marcell. 1.4,48 (trans. FC 135, 111).
41 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 4 (FNS 26.4). See Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 20 (FNS 26.20).
130 CHAPTER 3

A last topic related to letters is the language of “us” and “them.” As seen in
chapter two (ch. 2.3.3), Arius and Alexander wrote to, and on behalf of,
groups. Alexander never mentioned Arius alone: he spoke about “Arius, Achil-
las and those who are with them,” “those who are around (οἱ ἀμφὶ) Arius and
Achillas,” and “those who are with them.” In turn, Arius wrote that Alexander
persecutes “us,” acts against “us,” and has driven “us” from the city. In addition,
Alexander complained that “they” made fun of “us,” and “they” insulted “us.”
Did the discourse about “us” and “them” refer to actual or constructed
groups? The epistolary networks referred to actual and constructed groups.
On the one hand, the expression co-Lucianist indicates that Arius saw himself
as part of a group to which Eusebius of Nicomedia belonged. On the other
hand, when Alexander described the theological teaching of “them” he put
together doctrines that were incompatible, a fact that indicates that the bish-
op saw as one single group people who professed incompatible theologies
(ch. 2.3.2). Hence, when Alexander spoke of “them” in his letters, he referred
to a group of people that did not coincide with the people who Arius indicate
with the expression “us.” Scholars should not take for granted the content of
the expressions “we” and “they” in these letters. A close examination of the
letters of Arius and Alexander is necessary to distinguish the real from the
constructed groups involved in the conflict.
In the light of Social Identity Theory, this kind of language fosters polari-
zation (ch. 2.3.3). In addition, the practice of signing letters implied a binary
framework: a bishop who received a letter from Alexander of Alexandria or
Eusebius of Nicomedia had two possibilities, to sign or not to sign! Thus, sign-
ing a letter implied a critical choice. After receiving one of these letters, it was
not possible to stay neutral. Again, letters were used not only to transmit
ideas; they were instruments for creating and expressing communion and
consolidating parties. This idea sheds light on the interpretation of letters:
beyond the words contained in the letter, the very act of sending or receiving
a letter was meaningful.

3.1.2 The Letter Debate: Historical Framework and Theology

The previous section addressed some material and practical issues that
framed the epistolary warfare. The present section deals with its theological
aspect, between the outbreak of the crisis and the intervention of Constan-
tine. According to my reconstruction, eighteen letters or fragments of letters
are extant from this period. As Arius was not a theological progenitor, but
rather a representative of a broader theological tradition, these eighteen doc-
uments did not depend on Arius’ doctrine and represent some quite inde-
pendent views. Hence, they do not belong to a single chain. The present sec-
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 131

tion relies on the chronology that was proposed in chapter two (ch. 2.1). The
first surviving letters are those from Arius to Eusebius of Nicomedia (FNS 6)
and from Alexander to his colleague in Byzantium (FNS 8). Since chapter two
analyzed the content of these documents, this section frames them within a
broader narrative.
1) First Steps. The first document that deals explicitly with the controversy
is Arius’ letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia. The presbyter wrote the letter after
breaking from Alexander, his bishop. This breakup must have been the final
step in a series of disagreements. Christian historians of the late fourth and
fifth centuries say that Alexander, because of his mildness, gave Arius time to
see if he would change by admonition.42 However, this may be a way of excus-
ing the bishop’s inaction regarding Arius’ heresy. In any case, Alexander rec-
ognized that his reaction was slow because Arius’ heresy was undetected.43
Hence, ancient sources support a rather long period between the first disa-
greements and the final breakup between Alexander and Arius.
Arius says that Alexander “dispossesses us, persecutes us very severely,
and sets in motion every means against us, even to the point that he expelled
us from the city as men without God.”44 It is not clear the juridical status of
Arius at this point. He was expelled (ἐκδιώκω) from the Alexandria or from his
parish – Baucalis, if Epiphanius is right45 – but not from the catholic Church;
it seems that he was not yet formally excommunicated. The main message of
the letter was that the public preaching of Alexander declared heretical the
theology of Eusebius of Caesarea and his associates (ch. 2.4.4). On the other
hand, Arius stated two major theological points: 1) that the Son of God is
timelessly posterior to the Father and 2) that the Son comes from nothing (ch.
2.4.1). The last statement suggests that Arius wrote his letter before arriving in
Palestine to take refuge under the protection of Eusebius of Caesarea.46 In
fact, the bishop of Caesarea thought that it was at least imprudent to declare
that the Son comes from nothing. Therefore, it is difficult to assume that Ari-
us wrote his letter to the bishop of Nicomedia from Caesarea. When he pro-
duced this letter, he had been expelled from the city of Alexandria, but he
could still have been in Egypt. The presbyter explained that he had taken

––––––––––––––––––––

42 Gelas., h.e. F11 (GCS NF 25, 50–53); Ruf., h.e. 10.1; Thdt., h.e. 1.2,12; An.Cyz., h.e. 2.2,3; Soz.,
h.e. 1.15,4.
43 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 6 (FNS 8.6); Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 4 (FNS 26.4): “I wanted to pass over
such an issue [Arius’ heresy] in silence – says Alexander – so that the evil would be wast-
ed in the apostates alone…”
44 Ar., ep. Eus. 2 (FNS 6.2).
45 Epiph., haer. 69.4,2; 69.1,2; 69.2,4.
46 Epiph., haer. 68.4,4; Simonetti, 1980a, 349–354.
132 CHAPTER 3

advantage of Ammonius’ journey to send the letter to Nicomedia.47 Was this

simple information or a kind of apology for not sending a letter before? If the
latter is true, it is likely that Arius had previously sent some letters to other
clerics. If the core of the message was that Alexander contradicted Eusebius
of Caesarea in public, the bishop of Caesarea could have been the first recipi-
ent of Arius’ correspondence.
Arius’ letters to addressees who were outside of Egypt added a new di-
mension to the conflict. The letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia must be one of
many letters. This letter-writing campaign could not have been conducted by
Arius alone; he did not have the resources to afford such an operation. It is
likely, therefore, that after the clash with his bishop, Arius reported the situa-
tion to some of his influential supporters – in primis Eusebius of Caesarea –
and they started a campaign to defend their theological tradition, not the
person of Arius specifically. Indeed, Arius transmitted a clear message: the
orthodoxy of the whole theological tradition led by the bishop of Caesarea
was under attack because Alexander’s public discourse condemned to anath-
ema Eusebius of Caesarea, Paulinus of Tyre, Athanasius of Anazarbus, Grego-
ry of Berytus, Aetius of Lydda, and all the Eastern bishops.48
In response to these letters, the bishop Alexander launched his own letter-
writing campaign. Similarities and differences between Alexander’s letter to
the bishop of Byzantium and the Syriac fragment of his letter to Philogonius
suggest that both are different versions of the same document.49 Perhaps
Alexander prepared special versions for specific recipients. In fact, the long
letter to the bishop of Byzantium uses the language of two hypostases, and it
contains the statement that the Father and the Son are “two things”
(πράγματα δύο).50 Such statements were unbearable for Philogonius to hear,
and it is difficult to believe that the bishop of Alexandria, who was aware of
the seriousness of the situation and was looking for allies, would have sent a
letter with such a shocking theological expression to bishops who possibly
supported the doctrine of one divine hypostasis. If this is true, Alexander’s
long letter provides a few elements for indirectly reconstructing the theology
of Alexander of Byzantium.
Since the theology of Alexander has been analyzed (ch. 2.4.3), it is useful
to say something about its historical setting. Arius said that Alexander “ex-
pelled us from the city.” In turn, the bishop declared that “we unanimously
expelled them from the Church;” “they were even driven out;” “Arius and
––––––––––––––––––––

47 Ar., ep. Eus. 2 (FNS 6.2).

48 Ar., ep. Eus. 3 (FNS 6.3).
49 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 53–56 (FNS 8.53–56) and Alex. Al., ep. Philog. 2–4 (FNS 9.2–4).
50 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 15–21; 38 (FNS 8.15–21; 8.38).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 133

Achillas, and the enemies of the truth with them […] were driven out of the
Church;” and indirectly declared them anathema.51 Do these expressions indi-
cate different levels of condemnation? It seems that Alexander´s epistle refers
to a more severe condemnation. However, the rhetorical character of both
letters makes it difficult to answer this question with certainty.
In addition, the letter develops two influential clichés that belong to po-
lemical literature. The first is the genealogy of heretics.52 Referring the group
of Arius and Achillas, the bishop affirmed:

The teaching that has just now risen up against ecclesial piety is of Ebion and
of Artemas and is an imitation of Paul of Samosata from Antioch, who was
publicly banished from the Church by a synod and by the judgment of bish-
ops from everywhere (τῶν ἁπανταχοῦ ἐπισκόπων). The one who succeeded him
(ὃν διαδεξάμενος), Lucian, remained as an outcast from the assembly for a long
time under three bishops.53

The succession of Ebion, Artemas, Paul, Lucian, Arius, and Achillas has no
historical grounds. Lucian’s doctrine was opposed to that of Paul of Samo-
sata;54 their link was rhetorical rather than historical. In fact, it is most likely
that Ebion, the fictional founder of Ebionite Christology, never existed. The
common feature of all these names is that they were labeled as heretics. The
only link that had real historical significance was that between Lucian and
Arius. In fact, as was already shown, the figure of Lucian marked the division
between two opposing groups: Eusebius of Caesarea and Arius praised Luci-
an, whereas Alexander counted him among the heretics (ch. 2.3.3).
The second rhetorical cliché that the letter developed is that of the hypoc-
risy of heretics. Alexander described his opponents in the following terms:
they are “sorcerers, who are capable of acting in deceit;” they write “cleverly
fabricated letters;” they “play the role of peace and unity” but they “endeavor
to snatch away some of these fellow-ministers into their own illness through
flattery;” they are going around “desiring nothing other than to give and re-
ceive letters through hypocrisy and flattery under the pretense of friendship
and in the name of peace.”55 However, one aspect of their alleged hypocrisy
played a particular role in historiography:

––––––––––––––––––––

51 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 6; 8; 56 (FNS 8.6; 8.8; 8.56).

52 On the “historical fiction” of the genealogy of heretics, see A. Le Boulluec, La notion
d’hérésie dans la litterature grecque IIe–IIIe siècles, Paris 1985, 95–110.
53 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 35–36 (FNS 8.35–36).
54 See Simonetti, 1973, 373–374.
55 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 2; 7; 58 (FNS 8.2; 8.7; 8.58).
134 CHAPTER 3

They do not confess to them, at any rate, the very things that they both wick-
edly taught and carried out, because of which they were even driven out. But
either they hand these things over in silence or they lead [fellow ministers]
astray by cloaking their [teachings] with fabricated speech and writings. Be-
cause they hide their destructive teaching in rather specious and bottom-
feeding homilies, they snatch away the one that is caught in their deceit. 56

Alexander declared that the “Arians” hide their real teaching. In the encyclical
letter, the bishop denounced them as chameleons because they transform
themselves, i.e. they accommodate their discourse.57 These ideas were later
promoted and further developed by Athanasius.58 However, the assumption
that Arius and the “Arians” were hypocrites and therefore their statements are
not trustworthy has had lasting consequences in historiography because it
has worked as a hermeneutic principle.
2) The Intervention of Eusebius of Caesarea. It is likely that Arius promptly
informed Eusebius of Caesarea about his clash with his bishop Alexander. In
fact, Arius put him at the top of the list that enumerated the bishops whose
theology Alexander attacked.59 After the clash, according to Epiphanius, Arius
sought refuge with Eusebius of Caesarea: “Later though, since [Arius] had
been discovered and exposed in the city and excommunicated, he fled from
Alexandria and made ‹his› way to Palestine.”60 Perhaps, Arius was inspired by
the memory of Origen, another presbyter who, about 230, came into conflict
with his bishop Demetrius and had to seek refuge in Palestine.61 On his side,
Eusebius followed the example of Theoctistus, his predecessor who wel-
comed Origen in Caesarea.62
According to our chronology, the next group of letters consisted of those
of Arius and Eusebius to Alexander (FNS 12–13). There is little contemporary
evidence about this period. Therefore, any historical reconstruction of these
events can only be speculative. Nevertheless, the conciliary tone of Arius’
letter to his bishop, the lack of any explicit assertion that the Son comes from
nothing, and the familiarity of Eusebius with Arius’ letter to Alexander shed
some light for the reconstruction of the events. These three elements suggest
that Arius wrote the letter to his bishop from Palestine, on the eaves of Euse-
bius. Probably, the bishop of Caesarea himself invited or pressured Arius to

––––––––––––––––––––

56 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 8–9 (FNS 8.8–9).

57 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 16 (FNS 26.16).
58 Ath., decr. 20.3; Ath., syn. 45.8; Ath., or. Ar. 1.1,1.
59 Ar., ep. Eus. 3 (FNS 6.3).
60 Epiph., haer. 69.4,1 (trans. NHMS 79, 336).
61 See Kopecek, 1979, 6; Parvis, 2006, 75.
62 Eus., h.e. 6.23,4; Phot., cod. 118; P.F. Beatrice, Eusebe de Césarée, in: Pouderon, 2017, 650.
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 135

write a conciliatory letter to Alexander, as a sense of moderation drove Euse-

bius’ ecclesiastical politics. The lack of an explicit mention of the “out of
nothing” could have been inspired by Eusebius.63 Arius did not change his
doctrine, but he moderated his language. Moreover, Eusebius’ detailed
knowledge of Arius’ letter is better explained if we assume that he wrote it on
the eaves of the bishop of Caesarea in Palestine.
Arius’ theology has already been analyzed (ch. 2.4.1). Nevertheless, it is
suitable to add one further element. His letter to his ally, the bishop of Ni-
comedia, and to his opponent, Alexander, are consistent. The timeless poste-
riority of the Son regarding the Father is equally stated in both letters. Alt-
hough Alexander reacted heavily against this doctrine, Arius maintained it
invariably. Besides, the omission of the “out of nothing” did not imply a doc-
trinal change, because he still declared that the Son “did not exist before be-
ing begotten.”64 Therefore, no textual evidence backs Arius’ alleged hypocrisy.
Some fragments of Eusebius’ letters to Alexander and Euphration of Bala-
nea survived because they were cited in the Acts of the second council of
Nicaea (787). The archive of the city probably kept a dossier of letters related
to the synod of 325. The fragments were selected with a polemical aim. There
is no reason to deny their authenticity, as “the reader of the Demonstratio
evangelica will recognize some typical themes.”65 The fragments focus on two
issues: the assertions in which the bishop of Caesarea charges Alexander of
misinterpreting Arius’ doctrine and the statements in which Eusebius de-
clared the Son posterior to the Father. Eusebius’ complaint needs attention:

Your letter accuses them of saying that the Son came into being out of noth-
ing as one among all [creatures] (ὡς εἷς τῶν πάντων). But they themselves pub-
lished a letter, which they produced for you, in which, setting forth their own
faith, they profess in these very terms: “the God of the law, of the prophets,
and of the New Testament has begotten the Only-begotten Son before the age-
long times, by whom He has made the ages and all things; He has begotten
[him] not in appearance, but in truth; for He has made him to subsist by his
own will, immutable and unalterable (ἄτρεπτον καὶ ἀναλλοίωτον), a perfect
creature of God (κτίσμα τοῦ θεοῦ τέλειον), but not like one of the creatures
(ἀλλ’ οὐχ ὡς ἓν τῶν κτισμάτων).”66

––––––––––––––––––––

63 Eusebius affirmed that to assert that the Son came from nothing like the creatures is not
without danger (οὐκ ἀκίνδυνον), Eus., d.e. 5.1,15 (GCS 23, 212). See ch. 2.2.2.
64 Ar., ep. Alex. 4 (FNS 11.4).
65 Luibhéid, 1981, 42. Some scholars challenge the authenticity of these fragments of Eusebi-
us of Caesarea, see Giulea, 2024, 52–53.
66 Eus., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 12.2).
136 CHAPTER 3

Strictly speaking, Eusebius did not deny that, according to the group of Arius,
the Son came out of nothing. He stressed that they did not say that the Son of
God came out of nothing “like one of the creatures,” as Alexander de-
nounced.67 Instead, according to Arius, the Son came from nothing “but not
like one of the creatures.” Alexander did not falsify Arius’ doctrine; he de-
nounced the more heretical voices of “them,” the actual or constructed group
of Arius.68 Eusebius was not playing with words; he wanted to make some
doctrinal distinctions in this complex topic, about which, he had his personal
standpoint. In fact, according to Eusebius’ apophatic approach, it was not licit
to describe the origin of the Son (ch. 2.2.2).
In summary, Arius, Eusebius, and Alexander believed that the Son came
from God not like one of the creatures, whereas other “Arians” believed that
the Son was one of the creatures. Alexander considered heretical the doctrine
that declares “the Son came from nothing;” Arius held the doctrine with the
restriction “but not as one of the creatures,” and Eusebius had an apophatic
approach to the topic. Besides, Eusebius addresses the Son’s posteriority:

Moreover, you accused those who said: “‘The One who is’ begot the one who
did not exist” (“ὁ ὢν” τὸν μὴ ὄντα ἐγέννησε). But I am surprised that anyone can
speak differently. For if one alone is “the One who is,” it is evident that from
Him has come everything that is after Him (μετ’ αὐτόν).69

The expression, based on Ex 3:14, indirectly implied that there was once when
the Son did not exist. In this case, Eusebius did not say that Alexander mis-
understood Arius but rather defended the debated expression. The fragment
of Eusebius’ letter to Euphration confirms this:

For we do not say that the Son coexisted (συνυπάρχειν) with the Father, but
that the Father preexisted (προϋπάρχειν) the Son. For if they coexisted, how
would the Father be father and the Son be son? Or how would one be the first
(πρῶτος) and [the other] the second (δεύτερος), and one unbegotten, while the
other begotten?70

The fact that only the Father is unbegotten, while the Son is begotten, implies
a timeless succession and a hierarchical order: the Father preexists the Son,
––––––––––––––––––––

67 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 10–11 (FNS 8.10–11).

68 Once again, Social Identity Theory helps to understand the situation (ch. 2.3.3). Alexander
accused “them” to declare that the Son came from nothing “like one of the creatures,” and
in fact some members of the group of Arius – at least from Alexander’s perspective – as-
serted this doctrine.
69 Eus., ep. Alex. 4 (FNS 12.4).
70 Eus., ep. Euphrat. 1 (FNS 13.1).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 137

and the Father is the first, whereas the Son is second. This hierarchy is re-
quested by the alterity of the Son from the Father: when the Son said: “The
Father who sent me is greater than I” (John 14:28), he acknowledged himself
to be other (ἕτερος) than the Father.71
Eusebius stressed the distinction between the Father and the Son: they are
“two ousiai, two things, and two powers (δύο μὲν οὐσίαι καὶ δύο πράγματα καὶ
δύο δυνάμεις).”72 In the same vein, Eusebius explained in what sense the Son
says, “That they may know you, the only true God” (John 17:3). According to
the bishop, “the Son himself is God, but not ‹the› true God” because “the true
God is one and alone,” and “the Son himself is true, but as the image of the
true God” so that the Son is God, “but not as the only true God.” 73 However,
the bishop did not understand “the true God” in opposition to “false gods” but
as counterpart to “the image of the true God.”
According to Eusebius, the Son is God “because he fully keeps the animat-
ed and living intelligible image of the one God” (τὸ δι’ ὅλου σῴζειν τοῦ μόνου
θεοῦ τὴν ἔμψυχον καὶ ζῶσαν νοερὰν εἰκόνα).74 Indeed, according to him, saying
that the Son is not “the only true God” means that the Son is not the Father.
All these remarks are anti-Sabellian.
Eusebius sought to keep together three concepts: 1) Monotheism, 2) alteri-
ty of the Son in relation to the Father, and 3) the Son’s full divinity. The Son –
who is not the Father – is fully divine because he is the perfect image of the
only true God. It is noteworthy that the bishop of Balanea was present at
Antioch (325) and signed the letter against Eusebius.75 It is likely that Euphra-
tion himself brought this letter to Antioch (325) and Nicaea (325) to incrimi-
nate Eusebius.
3) Eusebius of Nicomedia and Paulinus of Tyre. Theodoret transmits the on-
ly complete surviving document of the bishop of Nicomedia, namely his let-
ter to Paulinus.76 This is a crucial text because it is the only document that
provides his own voice and allows us to reconstruct his doctrine not from his
opponents’ view.77 Incidentally, it is highly intriguing that Athanasius, who
presents Eusebius as the head of the Arians and who quotes more than eighty
––––––––––––––––––––

71 Eus., ep. Euphrat. 2 (FNS 13.2).

72 Eus., ep. fr. (FNS 14).
73 Eus., ep. Euphrat. 3 (FNS 13.3). See Ath., syn. 17.3. The “only true God” indicates what Ori-
gen calls the αὐτόθεος (Or., Joh. 2.17; 2.20).
74 Eus., d.e. 5.4,12 (GCS 23, 225).
75 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 1 (FNS 28.1).
76 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. (FNS 15); Thdt., h.e. 1.6,1–8 (GCS.NF 5, 27–29); Latin version, Mar.
Victorin. (CSEL 83.1, 49–53; SC 68, 180–182).
77 Following Martin, I credit the libellus poenitentiae (FNS 66) to Secundus of Ptolemais and
Theonas of Marmarica, see Martin, 1989a, 318.
138 CHAPTER 3

documents in his works, cites only one short, innocuous fragment of him.78
This eloquent silence suggests that, on the one hand, the bishop of Nicome-
dia did not profess a doctrine as heretical as later historiography has claimed
and, on the other hand, that the bishop of Nicomedia played a political rather
than theological role in the controversy.79 The letter to Paulinus confirms
these two suggestions.
The opening paragraph of the letter reveals the political leadership that
he played in the “pamphlet warfare.” The bishop of Nicomedia criticized the
bishop of Tyre: “Your silence has not gone unnoticed but has reached even
us!” and said to him: “I exhort you to begin to write.” 80 This threatening ex-
pression and the fact that Paulinus did follow his advice show Eusebius’ au-
thority over the bishops. He not only urged Paulinus to write, but he also gave
him the points for the letter. The discussion revolved around the pre-cosmic
origin of the Son. As in other contemporary letters, Eusebius started his dis-
course by rejecting some theological solutions:

For, my master, we have never heard that there are two unbegotten beings, nor
have we learned or believed that something has been divided into two, or that
it has suffered anything corporeal. 81

The two unbegotten beings implied two gods, the division into two seems to
criticize the two-stage Christology, and the division and suffering denounced
a materialistic idea of God. These concepts were rejected by the Alexandrian
tradition. Alexander was accused of professing two unbegotten beings, but he
denied it emphatically.82 No Christian thinker supported strict ditheism; it
was always a doctrinal accusation.83 Eusebius declared that there is one “who
is unbegotten and one who has truly come into being through Him, but not
out of His ousia” (οὐκ ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας αὐτοῦ γεγονός).84 This statement contains
two topics. First, the Son does not come from God’s ousia. From a post-Nicene
perspective, this statement supports radical “Arianism.” In its pre-Nicene,
Alexandrian setting, however, it is a rejection of any material idea of the di-
vine nature. In other words, the Son is not a part of God’s ousia as if divine
nature could be divided. The Son “came into being wholly other (ὁλοσχερῶς
––––––––––––––––––––

78 Eus. Nic., ep. Ar. (FNS 7); Ath., syn. 17.2.

79 M. Vinzent, in: P. Gemeinhardt, Athanasius Handbuch, Tübingen 2011, 127.
80 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 1–2 (FNS 15.1–2).
81 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 3 (FNS 15.3).
82 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 19; 44; 46 (FNS 8.19; 8.44; 8.46).
83 See (Ps.)Hipp., haer. 9.12,16. Ditheism, as supported by Gnostics and Marcionites, was not
properly ditheism because the demiurge was not God strictly speaking.
84 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 3 (FNS 15.3).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 139

ἕτερον) with regard to nature and power.”85 It seems that the expression “whol-
ly other” did not have a primarily anti-Sabellian aim, but rather it stressed
that the Son was not something that existed in God and then came out. In the
same vein, when the bishop of Nicomedia said that the Son did not partake
(μετέχω) God’s ousia, he did not aim to deny the divinity of the Son, but to
affirm that divine ousia cannot be divided. The perfect likeness (τελεία
ὁμοιότης) indicates the Son’s divine character.
The second topic deals with the verb γίγνομαι. The letter uses this verb to
describe the origin of the Son. Once again, this statement must not be inter-
preted from a post-Nicene perspective. In fact, Eusebius did not give a tech-
nical meaning to this verb:

We say this, not as though proposing our own thoughts, but, instructed by ho-
ly Scripture, we say that he is created, established, and begotten with respect
to the ousia (κτιστὸν εἶναι καὶ θεμελιωτὸν καὶ γεννητὸν τῇ οὐσίᾳ), the unalterable
and ineffable nature, and the likeness to the Maker. As the Lord himself said:
“God created me (ὁ θεὸς ἔκτισέ με), the beginning of his ways. Before the ages,
he established me. Before the hills he begets me” (Prov 8:22–23.25). But he
would no longer be said to be created or established if he came from Him,
that is, from Him as if he were a part of Him or as an emanation of His ousia.86

The bishop stressed that his doctrine was not a personal theory but the teach-
ing of Scripture. Like Arius, the letter used the verbs to create (κτίζω), to es-
tablish (θεμελιόω), and to beget (γεννάω) as synonyms, based on Prov 8:22–
23.25. However, his argument intended to show that the Son was not a part of
God, but started to exist. If in any sense the Son did exist “in God” and then
came forth from God, the Scripture would not say that he was created, estab-
lished, or begotten. Again, the two-stage Christology seems to be the target of
these words.87
Against what theological tendencies did Eusebius warn Paulinus? Of
course, against any theology that, through Stoic influence, would support a
materialistic divine nature.88 Besides, it does not seem that the bishop of
Nicomedia was dealing with Sabellianism. Instead, when Eusebius rejected
that “something has been divided into two,” “that the Son came from God,” or
that God “has suffered anything corporeal,” he could have been criticizing the

––––––––––––––––––––

85 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 3 (FNS 15.3).

86 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 4–5 (FNS 15.4–5).
87 See Eus., d.e. 5.1,13. The bishop of Caesarea affirms that the two-stage Christology implies
two unbegotten beings.
88 See Or., in Gen. hom. 3.1; 8.10; in Num. hom. 23.2; Cels. 1.21; 4.14; C. Markschies, God’s Body:
Jewish, Christian, and Pagan Images of God, Waco 2019, 182–216.
140 CHAPTER 3

two-stage Christology. The Son was not something that belonged to divine
ousia that came out from Him (ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ) and became Son, because divine
nature is unalterable (ἀναλλοίωτος).89 In the same vein, the bishop of Nicome-
dia wanted to explain the meaning of the verb γεννάω in a way that did not
compromise God’s indivisibility:

Yet, if the fact that he is called begotten (γεννητός) gives some grounds for say-
ing that he came to be from the ousia of his Father and has thereby the same
nature (ταὐτότης τῆς φύσεως), we recognize that Scripture does not speak of
him alone as begotten but also of things totally unlike him by nature (ἐπὶ τῶν
ἀνομοίων αὐτῷ κατὰ πάντα τῇ φύσει). Thus, concerning human beings, the
[Scripture] says: “I have begotten and brought up sons (υἱοὺς ἐγέννησα καὶ
ὕψωσα), and they have rebelled against me” (Isa 1:2).90

The bishop did not intend to say that the Son was by nature totally different
from God. He sought only to show that divine Scripture uses the verb to beget
(γεννάω) in a tropological way and applies it to the creatures as well.91 Hence,
when Scripture calls the Son begotten, it does not mean that the Son is part of
the ousia of Father, as is the case with human sonship. In the same line, ac-
cording to the bishops of the synod of Ancyra (358), the Scripture used the
verb “beget” (γεννάω) to express the likeness of the substance (οὐσία) of the
Father and His Son, and it used the verb “create” (κτίζω) in order to reject
passion in the Father and to affirm the subsistence of the Logos, that is, the
real distinction between the Father and the Son.92 The bishop of Nicomedia
did not place the Son at the same level of the creatures. The Son came direct-
ly from the will of God, yet all the creatures were produced by God through
the Son (John 1:3). Consequently, the Son is the perfect likeness of God,
whereas the creatures participate in God’s likeness through the Logos.93
Where did the Son come from, according to Eusebius? According to the
extant sources, the bishop of Nicomedia kept a respectful silence about the
origin of the Son – like his colleague in Caesarea. The text ended with an
exhortation to Paulinus: “Hasten to write to my master Alexander. For I am
convinced that if you were to write to him, you would convince him.”94 Placed
in its proper theological context, the letter does not appear to be “the vomit”
––––––––––––––––––––

89 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 4 (FNS 15.4).

90 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 6–7 (FNS 15.6–7). See also Isa 1:2; Deut 32:18; Job 38:28.
91 This argument was not new. Alexander had already reacted against a more radical version
of it, see Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 11; 35 (FNS 8.11; 8.35).
92 The Epistula synodalis of Ancyra (358), is transmitted by Epiph., haer. 73.2–9 (AW 3.3,4,
Dok. 55, 386–408). Fernández, 2021, 22.
93 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 8 (FNS 15.8).
94 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 8 (FNS 15.8).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 141

of Eusebius impiety, as Theodoret calls it,95 but rather a document that testi-
fies to a pre-Nicene step in the search for the Christian doctrine of God.
Marcellus said that Asterius defended a letter of Eusebius. If he alluded to
the same letter, this indicates that the epistle was criticized. To defend it,
Asterius relied on the Origenian pedagogy: Eusebius was not “expounding the
dogma in the manner of a teacher (οὐ διδασκαλικῶς),” for his letter “was writ-
ten neither to the church nor to the unlearned but to the blessed Paulinus.”96
In Origenian terms, Eusebius was not teaching points delivered with clarity to
all believers by the Apostles, but he was discussing with an educated Chris-
tian bishop, Paulinus, some points that were subject to investigation.97
Paulinus was a presbyter of Antioch. He then became bishop of Tyre. After
the death of Philogonius, who died on December 20, 323, he was called back
as bishop of Antioch, where he ruled the church for about seven months until
his death. After that, Eustathius took his place.98 This iter shows, on the one
hand, that Paulinus belonged for a while to the same presbyterium as Lucian;
and, on the other hand, the succession Philogonius – Paulinus – Eustathius
indicates that the church of Antioch was divided into two tendencies that
had comparable weight and, thus, alternated control of the church: the “Anti-
ochene” tradition, represented by Philogonius and Eustathius, and the “Alex-
andrian” one, represented by Paulinus.
Eusebius of Caesarea praised Paulinus calling him “thrice-blessed”
(τρισμακάριος) and man of God (τοῦ θεοῦ ἀνήρ).99 Paulinus received the letter
from his colleague of Nicomedia when he was bishop of Tyre. He followed his
request and engaged in the letter-writing battle. Only a few fragments of Pau-
linus’ letters survived as citations within Marcellus’ writings, which, in turn,
survive as citations in the polemical works of Eusebius of Caesarea. Accord-
ing to Clavis Patrum Graecorum, the extant fragments belong to a letter ad-
dressed to Alexander;100 this is a reasonable supposition, but there is no posi-
tive information about the context and the addressee of the fragments.
What remains of the letter consists of some sentences and a citation of
Origen. The first sentence is related to the topic of theological tradition.101 At
the beginning of the fourth century, some Christian authors were regarded as
––––––––––––––––––––

95 Thdt., h.e. 1.5,6 (GCS.NF 5, 27): ταύτην δεξάμενος Εὐσέβιος τὴν ἐπιστολὴν ἤμεσε καὶ αὐτὸς τὴν
οἰκείαν ἀσέβειαν.
96 Marcell., fr. 18 (Eus., Marcell. 4.1,17).
97 Or., princ. 1 pr. 3.
98 Eus., Marcell. 1.4,2 (GCS 14, 18); Burgess, 1999, 184–191.
99 Eus., Marcell. 1.4,2; 1.4,48 (GCS 14, 18; 28).
100 See M. Geerard / J. Noret, Clavis Patrum Graecorum, Turnhout 2023, 19 (CPG 2065).
101 Paulin., ep. (FNS 16): “Some were moved thus by themselves, but others were led this way
by reading the men spoken of before.”
142 CHAPTER 3

theological authorities in addition to Scripture.102 Accordingly, Paulinus’ letter

handed down a substantial citation of On First Principles, in which Origen
rejected any corporeal understanding of the Sons’ begetting.103 The fragment
cited by Paulinus coincides with that quoted by Pamphilus in his apologeti-
cum. In addition, Marcellus of Ancyra cited an Origenian fragment that is also
found with the same scope in the apologeticum.104 This suggests that some
bishops knew Origen’s writing through Pamphilus’ apologetic work.
In another place, the bishop of Ancyra cited some short sentences of Pau-
linus, which were chosen to show that he was a heretic. Marcellus denounced
that Paulinus said that “Christ is a second God” (δεύτερον θεὸν τὸν Χριστὸν),
that “he is a creature” (κτίσμα αὐτὸν εἶναι), and that “Christ was a created
thing” (κτίσμα εἶναι τὸν Χριστὸν). Again, these expressions must be placed in
the pre-Nicene theological setting. The verb κτίζω did not have the post-
Nicene technical meaning, and it was backed by Prov 8:22. Besides, the ex-
pression second God was developed by Platonic tradition,105 and it was ap-
plied to the Son by Christian authors like Eusebius of Caesarea.106 The prob-
lem was not the expression itself but the meaning with which Paulinus used
it. In fact, the expression δεύτερος θεός encompasses a wide spectrum of
meanings.107 As Paulinus’ fragments have no context, it is not possible to clari-
fy their meaning. Nevertheless, it seems safe to assume that it was in continu-
ity with the theology of Origen and Eusebius. Moreover, if the letter was ad-
dressed to Alexander and was intended to convince him, it must exclude any
radical subordinationism from δεύτερος θεός in Paulinus’ fragment.
4) The Presbyter George, Athanasius of Anazarbus, and Theognis of Nicaea.
Instead of speaking of George of Laodicea, at this stage of the controversy, it
is better to name him as a presbyter. In 359, Athanasius remarked, “George,
who is now in Laodicea, but was then (τότε) a presbyter in Alexandria, who
spent time in Antioch.”108 According to the synod of Alexandria (338) and that
of Sardica (343), George was deposed (καθαιρέω / deicio) by Alexander.109 It is
likely that the presbyter moved to Antioch when Paulinus became the bishop
––––––––––––––––––––

102 See Fiedrowicz, 2010, 259–260.

103 Or., princ. 4.1,1. This fragment is in Pamph., apol. 104.
104 Marcell., fr. 21 contains Or., in Gen. fr. D 4 (OWD, 2010, 66), see Pamph., apol. 47–48.
105 Num., fr. 20–21 (DP); Plot., enn. 2.3,18.
106 Eus., d.e. 4.3,6; 4.2,1–2; 4.3,1; 4.3,8; 4.3,13; 4.6,4; 4.7,2; 4.15,15; 5 pr. 23; 5.1,7; 5.1,24; 5.1,28; 5.3,3;
5.3,9. See above, ch. 2.2.3.
107 Segal, 2002, 159–181; Boyarin, 2004a, 113–119; I.L.E. Ramelli, The Father in the Son, the Son in
the Father in the Gospel of John: Sources and Reception of Dynamic Unity in Middle and Ne-
oplatonism, ‘Pagan’ and Christian, in: JBR 7 (2020), 31–46.
108 Ath., syn. 17.5 (AW 2, 245). See Burgess, 1999, 184–191.
109 C.Alex. (338), ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 8.3); Hil., coll. antiar. B 2.1,8 (CSEL 65, 124).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 143

of that see, at the beginning of 324 (ch. 2.1). The letter was written when
George was presbyter in Alexandria. The fragments do not belong to the early
stage of the controversy, as they use the idiomatic expression οἱ περὶ Ἄρειον.
The letter to Alexander highlights the posteriority of the Son:

Do not reproach those around Arius for saying: “there was once when the Son
of God was not.” Indeed, Isaiah also became the son of Amoz, and Amoz ex-
isted before Isaiah came to be. Isaiah did not exist before, but he came to be
after that.110

The text links two concepts, sonship and posteriority. True begetting implies a
kind of posteriority. This doctrine was shared by Eusebius and Arius. Instead,
the other letter entails a crucial difference with them:

Why do you reproach papas Alexander when he says that the Son is from the
Father? For even you do not fear to say that the Son is from God. If the apostle
wrote, “All things are from God” (1 Cor 8:6), and it is clear that all things were
made “from nothing,” then the Son is also a creature and one of the things
that were made. The Son should be said to be from God in this manner
(οὕτως), just as (ὥσπερ) all things are said to be from God.111

First, the text declares that the expressions “the Son is from God” and “the
Son is from nothing” are not incompatible according to Paul (1 Cor 8:6). Then,
George states that the Son comes from the Father just as (ὥσπερ) all creatures.
This statement is not only irreconcilable with Alexander’s doctrine, but also
with that of Eusebius and Arius. In fact, according to Arius, the Son comes
from the Father “but not like (οὐχ ὡς) one of the creatures.”112 George’s teach-
ing is incompatible with that of Eusebius and Arius.
The fragments present George as an independent thinker, one who did
not depend on Arius or Alexander. His independence confirms the difference
between the constructed and the actual group of Arius. George did not con-
sider himself as one of “those around Arius,” while Alexander possibly count-
ed him as one of them.113 In fact, when Alexander summarized the teaching of
“them,” he referred to doctrines that were professed by George, but not by
Arius.114 In other words, George was a disciple of Arius only in Alexander’s
mind and later historiography, as his doctrine did not depend on Arius, but
on a broad theological tradition to which Arius also belonged.
––––––––––––––––––––

110 Geo. Laod., ep. Alex. Al. (FNS 19).

111 Geo. Laod., ep. Ar. (FNS 20).
112 Ar., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 11.2).
113 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 3–4; 36; 56 (FNS 8.3–4; 8.36; 8.56).
114 Fernández, 2023b, 445–450.
144 CHAPTER 3

Athanasius of Anazarbus’ letter to Alexander should be from the same pe-

riod as the fragments of George. It affirms that “those around Arius” say that
“the Son of God was made as a creature out of nothing, and he is one of all
creatures.”115 It is noteworthy that the bishop of Anazarbus credited to the
group of Arius a doctrine that Arius did not endorse. Again, this fact indicates
that the group was not configured by followers of Arius’ own doctrine. Possi-
bly, the subjective frame of reference, that is, what gave cohesion to the group
was not Arius’ specific teaching, but the common opposition to Alexander of
Alexandria (ch. 2.3.3).
The following lines of the fragment intend to prove that the Son is a crea-
ture like all other creatures. The bishop of Anazarbus held the Christian sharp
distinction between God and creatures and placed the Son among creatures.
The other fragment credited to him is preserved in Latin (Vat. lat. 5750), and
some points of its text are corrupt.116 Anyhow, it insists on the priority and
superiority of the Father over the Son, because the Father exists before the
Son and is his source. The Son himself declared that the Father was greater
than him (John 14:28), because of His eternity. The Father subsists in Himself
(non ex aliquo), whereas the Son subsists because of the Father (ex eo qui eum
fecit).117 The same Latin manuscript contains a short fragment attributed to an
enigmatic Bithenus episcopus et cognitus or cteognius (f. 275), who De Bruyne
identifies with Bithenus episcopus Theognius, that is, Theognis, the bishop of
Nicaea in Bithynia.118 The short fragment suggests that Theognis placed the
Son under the Father, the only unbegotten being, and above the creatures,
because the Son deserves worship (veneramur autem filium).119 According to
historian Philostorgius, Theognis “thinks that God is a father even before
begetting the Son, because he has the power to beget” (ἅτε δὴ τὴν δύναμιν
ἔχοντα τοῦ γεννῆσαι).120 In summary, Theognis’ theology was closer to Eusebius
and Arius than to the presbyter George and Athanasius of Anazarbus.
Although only fragments of the letter-writing warfare are preserved, it is
clear that those who were labeled as “those around Arius” asserted at least
two different theologies. Alexander, within this polarized scenario, did not
distinguish but merged irreconcilable doctrines into one single “Arianism.”

––––––––––––––––––––

115 Ath. Anaz., ep. Alex. Al. (FNS 21).

116 D. De Bruyne, Deux lettres inconnues de Theognius l’évêque arien de Nicée, in: ZNW 27
(1928), 106–110, 106–110 (106).
117 Ath. Anaz., ep. (FNS 22).
118 See the critical apparatus of Theog. Nic., ep. (FNS 23); De Bruyne, 1928, 106–107; R. Gryson
(ed.), Scripta arriana latina, CChr.SL 87, Turnhout 1982, 235.
119 Theog. Nic., ep. (FNS 23).
120 Philost., h.e. 2.15 (GCS 21, 25; trans. Amidon, 2007, 31).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 145

A final word on the topic of the letters. The episcopal correspondence had
political dimensions and implied matters of group identity. Networking strat-
egies are not absent, but the main topic of these letters revolves around Trini-
tarian theology. At least, in this group of letters, theology does not seem to be
an excuse to deal with other issues.

3.2 Asterius’ Syntagmation and Arius’ Hymn

Two important documents circulated after the outbreak of the controversy,

namely, Arius’ Thalia and the booklet of Asterius, the so-called Syntagmation.
Both were prompted by those around Eusebius as part of the theological
pamphlet warfare.121 What is the relationship between them? Bardy affirms
that “Arius drafted his Thalia during his stay in Nicomedia with his friend
Eusebius.”122 Robertson’s translation of Ath., syn. 15.2 supported the same
interpretation: “when Arius was with Eusebius and his fellows, he drew up his
heresy upon paper.”123 However, in 1970 Kannengiesser published an article in
which he challenged this assumption.124 He discusses the meaning of παρά,
and affirms that the sentence means that Arius wrote his hymn incited by
(παρά) those of Eusebius.
Following this remark, Simonetti proposes that Eusebius pushed Arius to
clarify his position and moderate his language. As a result of this pressure,
Arius wrote the so-called Thalia.125 Based on two passages of Athanasius,126
DelCogliano shows that “the Thalia was written after the Syntagmation, and
thus Arius could have borrowed, that is, copied from Asterius.”127 Therefore,
after being expelled from Alexandria, Arius took refuge in Caesarea and, at
the urging of Eusebius, clarified his doctrine. For doing so, Arius borrowed
from Asterius’ writings.

3.2.1 Asterius’ Syntagmation

Athanasius called Asterius’ tract συνταγμάτιον or σύνταγμα. This suggests that
he was not mentioning the title of the work but referring to its literary form,

––––––––––––––––––––

121 See Ath., syn. 18.2; Ath., decr. 8.1; 20.2; Ath., or. Ar. 1.22,4.
122 G. Bardy, Saint Alexandre d’Alexandrie a-t-il connu la Thalie d’Arius, in: RSR 6 (1926), 527.
123 NPNF II 4, 457.
124 C. Kannengiesser, Où et quand Arius composa-t-il la Thalie?, in: P. Granfield / J.A. Jung-
mann (eds.), Kyriakon: Festschrift Johannes Quasten, Münster 1970, 346–351.
125 Simonetti, 1980a, 349–354. See also Ath., or. Ar. 1.22,4; ch. 2.1.
126 According to Ath., decr. 8.1, Arius copied (ὁ δὲ Ἄρειος μεταγράψας) from Asterius’ writings.
Ath., decr. 20.2 says that Arius learnt from Asterius (παρ' αὐτοῦ δὲ Ἄρειος μαθών).
127 DelCogliano, 2018, 491.
146 CHAPTER 3

that is, a “little tract.”128 On the other hand, Marcellus mentioned a letter of
Asterius in defense of Eusebius of Nicomedia.129 Is it necessary to distinguish
these two works? Bardenhewer, Schwartz, Loofs, and Opitz identify these two
writings; Tillemont, Zahn, Gwatkin, Harnack, Bardy, Simonetti, and Vinzent
consider them as two different works.130 One argument to distinguish them is
that no fragment is cited by Marcellus and Athanasius, which suggests that
they dealt with different works. However, the theological concerns of these
authors were different, for example, Asterius’ sentence, “the Son differs from
the Father in hypostasis” was shocking for Marcellus but not for Athanasius.131
Besides, Marcellus said that “the main point of the letter is to attribute the
begetting of the Son to the will of the Father,”132 and several fragments trans-
mitted by Athanasius declare that the Son comes from the Father´s will.133
Therefore, it cannot be excluded that both authors were dealing with the
same work of Asterius. As mentioned above, Asterius went around the
churches with the support of the Eusebians. Athanasius said that Asterius
read his syntagmation publicly (δημοσίᾳ), in front of the clergy (3.1.1).
The following pages do not aim to provide a full presentation of Asterius.
They rather intend to place his teaching within the doctrinal framework of
Eusebius of Caesarea and Arius.134 The fragments that are explicitly credited
to Asterius form the point of departure for this reconstruction, while those
that are attributed to “them” or to “the Arians” in general must have a second-
ary place. One seemingly unimportant phrase implies a crucial methodologi-
cal issue. To defend Eusebius of Nicomedia’s letter, he affirmed:

First [Eusebius] did not compose the letter as one who teaches a dogma (οὐ
διδασκαλικῶς) – he says – for the writing was addressed neither to the church
nor to the unlearned but to the blessed Paulinus.135

––––––––––––––––––––

128 Ath., syn. 18.2; 18.3; 18.4; or. Ar. 1.32,4 (συνταγμάτιον); or. Ar. 1.30,7 (σύνταγμα). Besides,
Athanasius called the work of Theognostus syntagmation (Ath., ep. Serap. 4.2,1).
129 Marcell., fr. 1; 18.
130 K. Seibt, Die Theologie des Markell von Ankyra, AKG 59, Berlin 1994, 251 n. 6.
131 Ast. Soph., fr. 54 (FNS 17.54).
132 Ast. Soph., fr. 5 (FNS 17.5).
133 Ast. Soph., fr. 15–16; 19.
134 After Bardy, Vinzent collects the material related to him (Vinzent, 1993, 147–326). Vinzent
includes both direct quotations and accounts in indirect speech, that is, fragmenta and
testimonia; besides, some of these extracts are credited to Asterius, whereas others are
credited to “them” or to “the Arians” in general. As a result, it is not always clear if a given
text should be attributed to Asterius, Arius or other anonymous “Arians” (M. DelCogliano,
Asterius in Athanasius’ Catalogues of Arian Views, in: JThS N.S. 66 [2015], 625–650).
135 Ast. Soph., fr. 7 (FNS 17.7).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 147

Asterius distinguished two kinds of discourse, the language of public teach-

ing in the church and that of theological research in the school. This idea
echoes Origen’s distinction between the points that the apostles preached
openly and those that were reserved for rational investigation.136 It seems that
the syntagmation was addressed to learned people. The confusion between
these two languages is a source of misunderstandings.137 Consequently, the
reader of Asterius must not take for granted that every sentence of his is a
definitive teaching, as his discourse could be of hypothetical character. In
addition, Asterius’ theological works are preserved in fragments that were
handed down by his opponents. These observations call for prudence in the
interpretation of his theology.
According to the extant fragments, Asterius’ theology focused on the
origin of the Son. He claimed that the Son came from the will of God. 138 If the
Son came from the will of the Father, then God begot or created him freely.

For if it is unworthy of the Demiurge to create willfully (τὸ θέλοντα ποιεῖν), let
his will be equally removed in the case of all [creation], so that his dignity
may be preserved pure. Or if the fact of willing befits God (εἴτε προσῆκον τῷ
θεῷ τὸ βούλεσθαι), then let that which is better be present in the case of the
first offspring (ἐπὶ τοῦ πρώτου γεννήματος).139

Behind this dilemma lies the opposition between willfulness and necessity. If
it is not worthy of the Maker to act out of necessity, then – as Eusebius taught
– God begot/made his Son out of willfulness.140 In fact, the Son was created by
a beneficent desire (εὐεργετικῇ φιλοτιμίᾳ ἐκτίσθη ὁ υἱός).141 In Origen’s theolog-
ical tradition, however, freedom does not mean arbitrariness.142 He used the
metaphor of will for the origin of the Son to explain the spiritual character of
the Son’s begetting,143 not to declare that the Son came into existence by an
act of will, as Asterius and Eusebius did.

––––––––––––––––––––

136 Or., princ. 1 pr. 3; Fernández, 2022, 225–227.

137 Not only Asterius, but also Pamphilus, Marcellus, and Athanasius recalled the importance
of this principle of interpretation.
138 Ast. Soph., fr. 16 (FNS 17.16).
139 Ast. Soph., fr. 19 (FNS 17.19).
140 See Eus., d.e. 4.3,7 (GCS 23, 153): βουληθεὶς γὰρ ὁ θεὸς γέγονεν υἱοῦ πατήρ.
141 Ast. Soph., fr. 15 (FNS 17.15).
142 According to Eusebius of Caesarea, the God decided (ἐδόκει) that it was necessary (δεῖν)
for the Only-begotten to pre-exist the creatures as an instrument (ὄργανον) of creation
(Eus., d.e. 4.1,1–2). See Eus., d.e. 4.3,7. See A. Fürst, Origen of Alexandria: Christian Philoso-
phy of Freedom, in: K. Seigneurie (ed.), A Companion to World Literature 1, Hoboken 2020,
255–266.
143 Or., princ. 4.4,1.
148 CHAPTER 3

In Asterius’ view, as the Son came from the Father’s will, the Son was not
coeternal to God. As such, he could speak about “before the birth of the Son”
(πρὶν τῆς γενέσεως τοῦ υἱοῦ).144 Most likely, the begetting/creation of the Son
was linked to the divine plan of the creation of the world. Therefore, “the
Logos was begotten before the ages (πρὸ τῶν αἰώνων).”145 Accordingly, he
thought that the Son was not coeternal to God and that the Son was prior to
creation of time, as did Eusebius of Caesarea and Arius. For him, an authentic
begetting implied that the Son is somehow posterior to the Father.
A traditional argument to prove the Son’s coeternity with the Father stat-
ed that if the one who is Logos, Wisdom, and Power of God is not coeternal
with the Father, then it must conclude that, at some point, God “was without
logos nor without wisdom nor without power” (ἄλογος οὔτε ἄσοφος οὔτε
ἀδύνατος).146 To address this reductio ad absurdum, Asterius argued:

Blessed Paul did not say that he proclaims Christ as the power or wisdom of
God himself, but without the article, “Power of God and Wisdom of God;” in-
stead he proclaims the power of God himself, which is natural to Him and co-
existent in Him unbegottenly (τὴν ἔμφυτον αὐτῷ καὶ συνυπάρχουσαν αὐτῷ
ἀγενήτως). This [power] is procreative of Christ indeed, and is fabricator of
the whole world.147

Asterius distinguished the power of God, as a divine faculty that is eternal

and unbegotten, from the Power of God who is His begotten Son, who is nei-
ther coeternal with the Father nor unbegotten.148 Origen said that the Son was
Power that comes from the power of God (virtus ex virtute), in an exegetical
context.149 In addition, Asterius tried to solve another problem, namely, the
conflict between the non-coeternity of the Son and God’s immutability:

Before the birth of the Son, the Father had a preexisting knowledge of the be-
getting (προϋπάρχουσαν εἶχε τὴν τοῦ γεννᾶν ἐπιστήμην), just as a physician has
knowledge of healing before healing.150

The ability of begetting the Son is eternal, but not his actual existence, which
is posterior to the Father and prior to creation. He uses ideas similar to those
––––––––––––––––––––

144 Ast. Soph., fr. 14 (FNS 17.14).

145 Ast. Soph., fr. 17 (FNS 17.17).
146 Hipp., Noët. 10.2 (Simonetti, 2000, 170; trans. CEECW 1, 67).
147 Ast. Soph., fr. 64 (FNS 17.64).
148 Ast. Soph., fr. 64.66 (FNS 17.64; 17.66).
149 Or., princ. 1.2,9 (FuP 27, 194): Secundum apostolum vero dicentem quia Christus dei virtus
est, iam non solum vapor virtutis dei, sed virtus ex virtute dicenda est. See Wis 7:25.
150 Ast. Soph., fr. 14 (FNS 17.14).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 149

developed by Origen to resolve a different, yet analogous, problem, namely

the tension between the creation of the world and God’s immutability.151
How did Asterius understand the relationship between the Father and the
Son? As an Alexandrian thinker, he highlighted the subsistence of the Son
and his otherness regarding the Father. Begetting implies otherness: the be-
gotten of God is another (ἄλλος).152 In this sense, he insisted that “the Father is
truly Father, that the Son is truly Son.”153
In a couple of fragments he asserts that the Father and the Son are two
hypostases.154 Besides, some fragments suggest that the Father does not shares
his ousia with the Son.155 Yet, Asterius sought to express the unity of the Fa-
ther and the Son in the following terms:

The Savior says, “I and the Father are one” (John 10:30) on account of the ex-
act agreement in all [their] words and actions (διὰ τὴν ἐν ἅπασιν οὖν λόγοις τε
καὶ ἔργοις ἀκριβῆ συμφωνίαν).156

This explanation of John 10:30 implies that “the unity of the Father and the
Son is moral, not substantial.”157 In a similar way, Asterius used John 10:38 as
prooftext.158 Both John 10:30, 10:38, and 14:9 were loci classici of Marcellus’
theology and, in general, of the Monarchian doctrine.159 Another way to ex-
press unity was the biblical concept of image. Asterius affirmed that the Son
is the undistinguishable image of God’s ousia, will, glory, and power (οὐσίας τε
καὶ βουλῆς καὶ δυνάμεως καὶ δόξης ἀπαράλλακτον εἰκόνα).160 The same expres-
sion is found in the second creed of Antioch (341).161 This match suggests that
both texts echo the theology of Lucian of Antioch.162
––––––––––––––––––––

151 See Or., princ. 1.4,3–5.

152 Ast. Soph., fr. 11 (FNS 17.11).
153 Ast. Soph., fr. 60 (FNS 17.60). See Ast. Soph., fr. 10 (FNS 17.10).
154 Ast. Soph., fr. 52.54 (FNS 17.52; 17.54).
155 Ast. Soph., fr. 10.32–33 (FNS 17.10; 17.32–33).
156 Ast. Soph., fr. 39 (FNS 17.39).
157 Hanson, 1988, 37.
158 Ast. Soph., fr. 38 (FNS 17.38).
159 Eus., e.th. 3.19,2: “Marcellus and those who, in his same way, support Sabellius, frequently
make use of three expressions trying to prove that the Father and the Son are one, repeat-
ing sometimes: ‘I and the Father are one’ (John 10:30), sometimes: ‘The Father is in me
and I am in the Father’ (John 10:38), and ‘Whoever has seen me has seen the Father’ (John
14:9)” (trans. FC 135, 335). See Hil., syn. 85. T.E. Pollard, The Exegesis of John X. 30 in the Ear-
ly Trinitarian Controversies, in: NTS 3 (1957), 334–349; Morales, 2006, 542–550.
160 Ast. Soph., fr. 10 (FNS 17.10).
161 Ath., syn. 23.3 (AW 2, 249): τῆς θεότητος οὐσίας τε καὶ βουλῆς καὶ δυνάμεως καὶ δόξης τοῦ
πατρὸς ἀπαράλλακτον εἰκόνα.
162 See Bardy, 1936, 125–127.
150 CHAPTER 3

How did Asterius understand the relationship between the Son and the
creatures? The Son and the creatures came from the will of God: “If the will of
God passes through all the things He made in an orderly manner, it is evident
that the Son too, as something made, was originated and was made by his
will.”163 However, he did not consider the Son as “one among the creatures,” as
other authors did.164 He declared the Son as the first creature or offspring.165
Furthermore, he conceived the Son as a unique creature:

Since the rest of the creatures could not bear the action of the direct hand of
the Unbegotten, only the Son was produced by God alone (μόνος ὁ υἱὸς ὑπὸ
μόνου τοῦ θεοῦ γέγονε), while the other things have been produced through the
Son as a collaborator and assistant. 166

The Son is not just the first creature. God begot the Son directly, so that all
creatures could come into existence through the Son. This idea is present in
Eusebius of Caesarea.167 In addition, Asterius asserted that the Son and the
rational creatures are not of the same ousia.168 Therefore, both, Asterius and
Arius declared the Son to be a creature but not as one of the creatures. The
extant fragments say nothing about the Son’s being created out of nothing.169
In this case, the silence is eloquent: if such a teaching had been present in his
writings, Athanasius would surely have quoted it.
In summary, according to Asterius, the Son does not share ousia or hypos-
tasis with the Father. He intended to affirm the individual existence of the
Son rather than to deny his divinity. Yet, as the Son comes from the Father, he
is one with Him, because the Son is the undistinguishable image of the Fa-
ther, and, therefore, there is a perfect agreement between them. The concept
of begetting, therefore, affirms the individual subsistence of the Son and his
true divinity.
Besides, Asterius considered the Son to be a creature but not as the other
creatures. However, it is necessary to consider that the fragments that sur-
vived were selected by his adversaries to prove that he affirmed that the Son
was alien to God.

––––––––––––––––––––

163 Ast. Soph., fr. 16 (FNS 17.16).

164 See Geo. Laod., ep. Ar. (FNS 20).
165 Ast. Soph., fr. 19.23 (FNS 17.19; 17.23).
166 Ast. Soph., fr. 27 (FNS 17.27). See also Ath., or. Ar. 2.24,5; 2.38,1.
167 Eus., d.e. 4.2,2. See ch. 2.2.3.
168 Ast. Soph., fr. 32 (FNS 17.32).
169 Hanson, 1988, 37.
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 151

3.2.2 Arius’ Hymn

Before, studying the so-called Thalia, it is crucial to recall that the essential
information about this work comes from Athanasius – Arius’ arch-enemy.
Therefore, this evidence should be evaluated critically.170 The main piece of
information about this work is the following:

When Arius was cast out, he composed his own heresy on paper at the
prompting of the Eusebians, and in doing so as if in a “Festivity” (Θαλία) he
emulated none of the wise, but rather Sosates the Egyptian (ὁ Αἰγύπτιος
Σωσάτης) in the character and laxity of his verse. He writes at great length,
and what follows here is from a portion of it.171

According to Bardy, “these few lines from St. Athanasius contain just about
everything we know more closely about the Thalia, the circumstances of its
composition, and its literary character.”172 The text was written “at the prompt-
ing of the Eusebians” and, therefore, under the theological influence of the
Eusebii and Asterius.173 In another place, Athanasius affirmed that Arius
wrote the Thalia in a ridiculous style like “Sosates the Egyptian (ὁ Αἰγύπτιος
Σωσάτης).”174 But, in his first Oratio contra Arianos, the bishop of Alexandria
said that when Arius wrote the Thalia, he took as a model the dissolute lan-
guage of “a certain Sotates (Σωτάτης τις).”175 That is to say, in two places, Atha-
nasius mentioned Sosates (Σωσάτης), and in one place he named “a certain
Sotates” (Σωτάτης τις). Sosates (Σωσάτης) “was a Jewish writer who rendered
an unknown portion of a probably historical portion of the Old Testament
into Homeric hexameters during the second quarter of the first century
B.C.E.”176 Instead, Sotates (Σωτάτης) seems to be the Greek poet Sotades
(Σωτάδης) of Maroneia, who invented an Ionic metre that bears the name of
“Sotadean” and wrote notorious and obscene poetry, particularly against Ptol-
emy II.177 However, none of Athanasius’ works mentioned Sotades or the So-

––––––––––––––––––––

170 See G.C. Stead, The Thalia of Arius and the Testimony of Athanasius, in: JThS N.S. 29 (1978),
20–52; M.L. West, The Metre of Arius’ Thalia, in: JThS N.S. 33 (1982), 98–105; B.M. Palumbo-
Stracca, Metro ionico per l’eresia di Ario, in: Orph. 11 (1990), 65–83; A. Padrini, Citazioni let-
terali dalla “ΘΑΛΕΙΑ” in Atanasio, Ar. I,5–6, in: Orph. 12 (1991), 411–428; A. Camplani, Studi
atanasiani: Gli Athanasius Werke, le ricerche sulla Thalia e nuovi sussidi bibliografici, in:
Adamantius 7 (2001), 115–130.
171 Ath., syn. 15.2 (AW 2, 424; trans. CEECW 1, 166 mod.).
172 Bardy, 1936, 246.
173 DelCogliano, 2018, 477–492.
174 Ath., Dion. 6.1 (AW 2, 50).
175 Ath., or. Ar. 1.2,2 (AW 1, 111); or. Ar. 1.4,2; 1.4,5.
176 R.W. Burgess, Another Look at Sosates, the “Jewish Homer”, in: JSJ 44 (2013), 195–217 (212).
177 Burgess, 2013, 211.
152 CHAPTER 3

tadean metre properly.178 Only in the fifth century, Church historians identi-
fied Sotates with the Greek poet Sotades. Socrates said that Arius’ Thalia was
“similar to the Sotadean song” (τοῖς Σωταδίοις ᾄσμασιν παραπλήσιος).179
Sozomen described the character of the Thalia and affirmed that it was like
the futile songs of Sotades (ὡς ἐμφερὴς εἶναι τῇ χαυνότητι τοῖς Σωτάδου
ᾄσμασιν), but he confessed that he never had it in his hands.180
Therefore, a close examination of the sources shows that the evidence for
the Sotadean literary form of the Arius hymn is less compelling than scholar-
ship usually assumes.181 Athanasius’ confusion between Sosates, Sotates, and
Sotades shows that the bishop was not an expert on literary matters and,
thus, the evidence he provides on this issue is not trustworthy.182 In addition,
some scholars affirm that Arius’ fragments “do not provide any Sotadean
metre, nor anything that would resemble one.”183 According to Palumbo-
Stracca, the ionic component of the rhythm of the Thalia is evident, but not
necessarily in the form of Sotadean metre.184 Thus, given the lack of scholarly
consensus on the metrical disposition of Arius’ text and the polemical nature
of the evidence, it cannot be excluded that Athanasius’ association of Arius
with the Sotadean style was nothing more than a strategy to denigrate his
opponent’s hymn. In fact, what would have motivated Arius to imitate a cyni-
cal and dissolute poet and to follow the Sotadean verses, which were ignoble
for teaching theological topics? Indeed, “Sotadeans were primarily associated
with vulgar entertainment, especially of a salacious sort.”185
Was the name Thalia part of Athanasius’ strategy? In other words, was the
title Thalia a derogative nickname for Arius’ poem? Philostorgius affirmed
that Arius “wrote songs for sailing, grinding, traveling, and so on, set them to
the music he thought suitable to each, and through the pleasure given by the
music stole away the simpler folk for his own heresy.”186 It seems, therefore,
that the historian did not know the title of the writing. Thalia was one of the
Muses, and the meaning of the term θαλία – festival, party – does not suggest

––––––––––––––––––––

178 See Palumbo-Stracca, 1990, 66.

179 Socr., h.e. 1.9,16 (GCS.NF 1, 31).
180 Soz., h.e. 1.21,3 (GCS.NF 4, 42).
181 Some translations simply assume the identification between Σωσάτης, Σωτάτης, and
Σωτάδης, and translate both Σωσάτης and Σωτάτης as Sotades.
182 Burgess, 2013, 211–212: “The name ὁ Αἰγύπτιος Σωσάτης does make it look as though Atha-
nasius, an Alexandrian himself, has confused the names of Sotades and Sosates.”
183 See the conclusions of Maas and Koster in West, 1982, 98–99.
184 Palumbo-Stracca, 1990, 68. See also Geerard / Noret, 2023, 12: De ipsissimis uerbis Arii et de
metro rhythmico multum discepatum est.
185 West, 1982, 105.
186 Philost., h.e. 2.2 (GCS 21, 13; trans. Amidon, 2007, 16).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 153

theological teaching. In short, although the evidence is not compelling, it

seems likely that Athanasius associated Arius’ hymn with the Sotadean meter
and called it the Thalia as a rhetorical strategy to vilify this work.
The reconstruction of the so-called Thalia is highly problematic. It sur-
vives only in fragments handed down by Athanasius with a polemical pur-
pose. Two substantial fragments are clearly recognizable: about seven lines of
its beginning, transmitted in Oratio I contra Arianos,187 and a long fragment
quoted in De synodis.188 There are also several short fragments, mainly in Ora-
tiones contra Arianos. These latter fragments present serious critical problems
because of Athanasius’ citation technique. On the one hand, many of these
quotations are attributed to “the Arians” or simply to “them,” so that it is not
possible to attribute them to Arius or, more specifically, to the Thalia. In fact,
sometimes, the same texts are attributed to Arius and Asterius by different
scholars.189 On the other hand, these quotations are embedded in the polemi-
cal discourse of Athanasius in such a way that it is not clear which words
came from Arius’ pen and which belong to Athanasius’ paraphrase.
Besides, some of these fragments are incompatible with Arius’ letters and
with each other. For example, according to Ar. 1.6,2, Arius states that the Log-
os “belongs to the things that have come to be (γενητῶν) and to the creatures
(κτισμάτων), and happens to be one of them” (εἷς αὐτῶν).190 Meanwhile, in the
passage from syn. 15, he declares that God “established the Son as the begin-
ning of the things that have come into being.”191 This discrepancy cannot be
explained as an evolution in Arius’ theology or as a strategic choice, for both
statements are attributed to the same work. Consequently, to discern the
authenticity of the fragments of the Thalia it is necessary to turn to the most
reliable writings of Arius, that is, to his letters. This method – it must be said –
implies a “hermeneutical tyranny” of the letters, because only the fragments
that at least do not contradict the theology of the letters should be consid-
ered authentic. Following this criterion, the passages of syn. 15.3 and Ar. 1.5
are reliable, because their theology is in line with the letters. In contrast, the
other fragments of Ar. 1.5–6 do not seem reliable. Accordingly, the doctrinal
reconstruction of the Thalia relies on these two substantial fragments.
––––––––––––––––––––

187 Ar., Thal. (FNS 18) = Ath., or. Ar. 1.5 (AW 1, 113).
188 Ar., Thal. (FNS 18) = Ath., syn. 15.3 (AW 2, 242–243).
189 See the apparatus of AW or SC for Ar., or. Ar. 1.5–6.
190 Ar., Thal. fr. 6 (Ath., Ar. 1.6,2 [AW 1, 115]). Likewise, Ar., Thal. fr. 4 (Ath., Ar. 1.5,8 [AW 1, 115]):
“For, for this reason,” he says, “God knowing beforehand that he [Christ] was to be good,
taking this glory, granted it to him, he was a man and subsequently obtained it for the
sake of virtue (διὰ τοῦτο γάρ, φησί, καὶ προγινώσκων ὁ θεὸς ἔσεσθαι καλὸν αὐτὸν προλαβὼν
ταύτην αὐτῷ τὴν δόξαν δέδωκεν, ἣν ἂν καὶ ἐκ τῆς ἀρετῆς ἔσχε μετὰ ταῦτα).
191 Ar., Thal. (FNS 18).
154 CHAPTER 3

The beginning of the Thalia contains a self-presentation. It says that he

has learned the faith from wise men taught by God. He did not present him-
self as an original thinker, but as an inheritor of an orthodox theological tra-
dition. His authority, therefore, relies on his predecessors and, in addition, on
the sufferings that he has endured for the glory of God.
Regarding theology, the pamphlet is consistent with Arius’ letters, but it
adds some assertions that indicate a later stage of the controversy and the
influence of Asterius. Its main topic is the superiority of God over the Son
with regards to knowledge. God is ineffable to everyone (ἄρρητος ἅπασιν). He
is invisible to the creatures and to the Son himself. God is unsayable
(ἄλεκτος).192 “The Son does not grasp the things spoken in full so as to express
them fully.” This sentence echoes a well-known sentence of Plato’s Timaeus.193
As the Father is his beginning, the Son “does not comprehend or grasp the
beginningless as such.” The Son “endures to see the Father within the appro-
priate measures, to the extent that it is right.” Indeed, “the Son himself does
not know His own ousia.” Accordingly, the Son partially praises (ἐκ μέρους
ὑμνεῖ) God, who is the Greater one.
Like the letters, Arius’ pamphlet declares a clear-cut distinction between
God and his Son. God is unbegotten, beginningless, and eternal, whereas the
Son is begotten, has a beginning, and was born. The Son “has nothing peculiar
of God’s property according to the hypostasis,” “the Father is foreign (ξένος) to
the Son according the ousia,” and the Son is not homoousios to God.
Arius integrated the Holy Spirit in his text: “there are three glories that are
not similar. Their hypostases are mutually unmixed; with regard to glory, one
surpasses the other to infinity.” Besides, following Asterius (ch. 3.2.1), Arius
distinguished two wisdoms: “The Wisdom exists as Wisdom by the will of the
wise God.” One is the wisdom by which God is wise and another is the created
or begotten Wisdom, the Son of God. In addition, as in Eusebius’ Demonstra-
tio and Arius’ letters, the Thalia declares the posteriority of the Son:

Understand that there was the monad, but there was not the dyad until it
came into existence (ἡ δυὰς δὲ οὐκ ἦν, πρὶν ὑπάρξῃ). At any rate, since the Son
was not, God was not Father (αὐτίκα γοῦν υἱοῦ μὴ ὄντος οὐ πατὴρ θεός ἐστι). The
Son, then, who was not, began to exist by the paternal will.194

––––––––––––––––––––

192 On ἄλεκτος / λεκτόν, see A. Usacheva, Knowledge, Language and Intellection from Origen to
Gregory Nazianzen, ECCA 18, Frankfurt am Main 2017, 76–80.
193 Plat., Tim. 28c: “But it would be a hard task to discover the maker and father of this uni-
verse of ours, and even if we did find him, it would be impossible to speak of him to eve-
ryone” (trans. Waterfield, 2009, 17).
194 Ar., Thal. (FNS 18).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 155

Three key concepts stand in these lines. First, the atemporal posteriority of
the Son, who subsisted out of God “since once” (ἐξ ὅτε), “from a point” (ἀφ’
οὗ), and “from when” (ἀπὸ τότε). All three tortuous expressions intend to de-
scribe the subsequence of the Son without mentioning “time” (χρόνος), be-
cause the Son was begotten before time, as the letters clearly state. Although
indirectly, the Thalia states that there was once when the Son was not (οὐκ
ἦν). Second, the Thalia affirms that when “the Son was not, God was not Fa-
ther.” This assertion directly contradicts Origen’s teaching and Alexander’s
letter, both of which state the eternity of the Son on account of the eternity of
the Father.195 Of course, the atemporal posteriority of the Son implies that
God is not Father ab aeterno. Finally, the hymn develops the role of God’s will
in the Son’s begetting: as the Son is not coeternal, he began to exist by the
paternal will (ὑπῆρξε δὲ θελήσει πατρῴᾳ). In fact, the Son “truly subsisted by
the Father’s will.” It is true that Origen claimed that the Son comes from the
Father “as the will from the mind” (sicut voluntas ex mente),196 but this com-
parison, in Origen’s pen, aimed to remove any material connotation from the
Son’s begetting. Arius, however, said that the Son’s begetting was an act of will
to show that the Son was a contingent being, a concept alien to Origen.
Finally, Arius distinguishes between the Son and the creatures: “The Be-
ginningless set the Son as the beginning of the originated beings.” The Son is
not one among the creatures but the beginning of the creatures (ἀρχή τῶν
γενητῶν). The extant fragments stress more the superiority of the Father re-
garding the Son than the superiority of the Son in relation to the creatures.
However, it is crucial to consider that the fragments that survived were cho-
sen to demonstrate the heretical character of the pamphlet.

3.3 Two Overlapping Controversies

The Arian crisis broke out within the Alexandrian theological tradition. All
the major figures of the first stages of the controversy belonged to this tradi-
tion. During the first stage of the “letter warfare,” all the authors of the extant
documents belong to the Alexandrian tradition. In fact, Eusebius of Caesarea,
Arius, Alexander, Eusebius of Nicomedia, Paulinus, Asterius, George of Laodi-
cea, Athanasius of Anazarbus, Theognis of Nicaea, and Narcissus of Neronias
belong to the Origenian legacy. It is true that Alexander sought support from
some bishops who did not belong to the Alexandrian tradition, such as Phi-
––––––––––––––––––––

195 Or., in Joh. 2.9–12; 10.246; dial. 4; princ. 1.2,10; Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 26 (FNS 8.26); Orbe 1991,
51; Widdicombe, 2000, 69.
196 Or., in Joh. fr. (Pamph., apol. 106: SC 464, 172); princ. 1.2,6; 4.4,1.
156 CHAPTER 3

logonius of Antioch, and that Arius alluded to Hellanicus of Tripoli and Mac-
arius of Jerusalem; nevertheless, these bishops were not active in the first
phase of the dispute – as far as the sources say. This situation changed when
Constantine got involved in the controversy. The emperor’s intervention and
the consequent embassy of Ossius changed the map of the conflict.

3.3.1 Intervention of Constantine

Constantine learned of the conflict in Alexandria after defeating Licinius in
September 324.197 According to the sources, the emperor took the ecclesial
problem personally, and without delay he sent “a man very famous for his
religious confessions in earlier times, as a mediator to reconcile the dispu-
tants in Alexandria,” that is, Alexander and Arius.198 The Vita Constantini
transmits the letter carried by the emissary.199 Eusebius omits the name of the
emissary (he simply calls him ἀνήρ).200 This is not surprising, since the bishop
of Caesarea tends to omit the names of Constantine’s rivals, as well as his own
adversaries.201
However, the account by Socrates, which closely follows that of Eusebius,
provides the name of this man: Constantine “sent a letter to Alexander and
Arius by a trustworthy man (ἀνήρ) named Ossius, who was bishop of Cordo-
ba, one of the cities in Spain;” the historian added: “The emperor greatly
loved him and held him in high esteem.”202 Warmington has argued that the
carrier of the letter could be the notarius Marianus,203 but – as shown by
Wallraff – the textual similarities between Socrates, Anonymous Cyzicenus,
and Vita Metrophanis et Alexandri indicate that the insertion of the name of
Ossius was already in the lost Historia ecclesiastica of Gelasius, Eusebius’
successor at Caesarea.204 This work, written prior to 387, supports the fact that
Ossius of Cordoba was the envoy of the emperor.205 Besides, although the
evidence is scarce and difficult to interpret, the bishop of Cordoba may have
acted as intermediary between the emperor Constantine and the bishop of

––––––––––––––––––––

197 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 3–4 (FNS 24.3–4); Const., orat. Nic. 3 (FNS 31.3); Barnes, 1981, 208–223.
198 Eus., v.C. 2.63 (GCS 7, 73; trans. Cameron / Hall, 1999, 116).
199 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. (FNS 24); Eus., v.C. 2.64–72 (GCS 7, 74–79).
200 See Eus., v.C. 2.63; 2.73.
201 Ridley, 1980, 250: “The council of Nicaea is replete with anonymous major actors.”
202 Socr., h.e. 1.7,1 (GCS.NF 1, 13).
203 B.H. Warmington, The Sources of Some Constantinian Documents in Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical
History and Life of Constantine, in: StPatr 18 (1985), 93–98.
204 See Socr., h.e. 1.7,1 (GCS.NF 1, 13); An.Cyz., h.e. 2.3,11 (GCS.NF 9, 30); Vita Metrophanis et
Alexandri (Winkelmann, 1982, 160); Gelas., h.e. F11 (GCS.NF 25, 64).
205 See also Philost., h.e. 1.7; 1.7a (GCS 21, 8).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 157

Carthage in the Donatist crisis.206 The date of the letter depends on the
chronological reconstruction of events. On 18 September 324, Constantine
defeated Licinius in the decisive battle of Chrysopolis.207 After his victory, the
emperor went to Nicomedia and planned to travel towards Egypt, but he
changed his mind:

After I had stopped in the city of the Nicomedians, immediately I decided to

hasten to the East. When I was already approaching you in haste and was
halfway to you, the news of this issue made me revoke the plan and return, so
that I would not be obliged to behold with my own eyes that which I did not
even imagine possible on hearing of it. 208

It is not clear whether Constantine actually began his journey or only

planned to go to Egypt.209 A literal translation of the text says: “I hastened
towards the East in mind” (πρὸς τὴν ἑῴαν ἠπειγόμην τῇ γνώμῃ). Nonetheless,
external ancient evidence confirms that Constantine planned to visit Egypt.210
Anyhow, this visit did not materialize.211 When he was in Nicomedia or on his
way to Egypt, Constantine learned of the conflict between Alexander and
Arius. Only at this point was he able to draft the letter to the Alexandrian
clerics and dispatch Ossius on his mission for reconciliation in Egypt.212
The emperor’s account of the outbreak of the controversy has been ana-
lyzed (ch. 2.3.2). However, it is worth studying the way he intervened in the
quarrel. Constantine explained that the harmony among the ministers of God
––––––––––––––––––––

206 Aug., c. Parm. 1.7–10; 1.13; Eus., h.e. 10.6,2. Besides, Cod. Thds. 4.7,1; A. Hogrefe, Umstrittene
Vergangenheit: Historische Argumente in der Auseinandersetzung Augustins mit den Dona-
tisten, Berlin 2009, 324–328; V. Grossi, Para una relectura de la documentación sobre Osio de
Córdoba y la cuestión donatista (311–357), in: A.J. Reyes Guerrero (ed.), El siglo de Osio de
Córdoba, Madrid 2015, 300–303; Vilella, 2020, 36–37, n. 53; O. Kreis, Ein hispanischer Bis-
chof am Hof des römischen Kaisers: Welchen Einfluss hatte Ossius von Corduba auf die
Kirchenpolitik Konstantins des Großen?, in: S. Panzram (ed.), Oppidum – Civitas – Urbs:
Städteforschung auf der Iberischen Halbinsel zwischen Rom und al-Andalus, Berlin 2017,
401–427. According to Kreis, it cannot be excluded that Ossius was a theological advisor to
Constanine, but the evidence is less compelling than usually assumed.
207 T.D. Barnes, Constantine: Dynasty, Religion and Power in the Later Roman Empire, New
Jersey 2014, 106. On 8 November, he initiated the refoundation of Byzantium as Constan-
tinople, see N. Lenski (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Constantine, Cam-
bridge 2006, 75–77.
208 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 15 (FNS 24.15).
209 Barnes, 1978, 54–56.
210 See P. Oxy. 10 1261 (13 Jan. 325); P. Oxy. 14 1626 (26 May 325); a coin suggests that the em-
peror has just reached Antioch; the Antiochene coin, dated 324/325, bears the legend AD-
VENTUS AVGVSTI N (RIC 7, 685, nr. 48); Barnes, 1978, 54–56.
211 Burgess, 1999, 191 n. 43.
212 For the discussion on the chronology, see below, ch. 3.3.2.
158 CHAPTER 3

would benefit public affairs. In his view, his intervention in religious affairs
was not an intrusion of political power into ecclesiastical matters. As Pontifex
maximus, the emperor considered religious affairs to be his own business.213
In addition, he declared that he received a “deadly wound” when he learned
about the conflict, he felt “the urgent necessity” of sending the letter, and he
placed himself in the midst “as a judge of peace.”214 Thus, the emperor was
committed to resolving the conflict in a personal way. He pleaded:

Give me serene days and nights without anxiety, so henceforth a certain de-
light of pure light and gladness of peaceful life may be preserved for me. Oth-
erwise, I will inevitably weep and constantly break down in tears, and I will
even face the rest of my life without peace.215

Constantine declared that his personal, emotional peace depended on the

unity of the Church. It is not easy to judge whether, or to what extent, these
words were part of his rhetorical strategy or reflected his authentic feelings.
Nevertheless, the emperor’s actions and letters indicate that he was personal-
ly committed to the unity of the common body of the Church: “You may be
aware of the immense sorrow I have for this.”216
Regarding the seriousness of the conflict, it is necessary to distinguish two
aspects. It is true that the emperor repeatedly insisted that the reasons for the
conflict were futile: the ground of conflict revolved around “an idle point of
dispute.”217 However, this words did not mean that he did not see the serious-
ness of the conflict: “the dissension that arose among you was much more
serious than that which still subsisted in” Africa.218 Thus, the emperor high-
––––––––––––––––––––

213 P. Maraval, Constantin le Grand. Empereur romain, empereur chrétien (306–337), Paris 2011,
265–307; C. Balmaceda, Constantino Emperador Cristiano – Emperador Romano, in: TyV 61
(2020), 131–161.
214 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 3–4 (FNS 24.3–4).
215 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 15 (FNS 24.15).
216 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 15 (FNS 24.15).
217 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 6; 8–10; 13–14 (FNS 24.6). Besides, “No law necessarily prescribes these
subjects of dispute, but they are fostered by the quarrels of useless idleness” (FNS 24.8);
“therefore, incontinent loquacity must be restrained” (FNS 24.8); “the alleged motive of
the quarrel does not compromise the core of what is commanded in your law” (FNS 24.9);
the emperor talks about “your small and exceedingly unimportant mutual quarrels” (FNS
24.9); “These things are vulgar and more fitting for childish follies than for the intelligence
of consecrated and prudent men” (FNS 24.10), and he named it as “a rather silly dispute”
(FNS 24.13) and an “irrelevant disputes” (FNS 24.14).
218 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 4 (FNS 24.4). In addition, “your own regions […] required a greater
cure” (FNS 24.4); “I place myself […] as a judge of peace” (FNS 24.4); “when the controver-
sy had arisen, the synodos was dissolved, and the holy people, divided between the two
factions, became estranged from the harmony proper to a common body” (FNS 24.6).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 159

lighted both, the futileness of the grounds of the conflict and the seriousness
of its effects for the Church and the Empire.219 Accordingly, Constantine urges
reconciliation between the two parties so that he can visit them in common
accord in the future:

For, with the assistance of the Almighty, even if the starting point of the dis-
cord (ἀφορμὴ διχονοίας) had been greater, I would have been able without dif-
ficulty to shift each of them for the better by providing reason to the pious
minds of my hearers.220

The tone of these words indicates that he was confident that sending his
emissary with a letter would be sufficient to resolve the conflict and achieve
reconciliation, “giving pardon by common consent.”221 Moreover, the emperor
said: “Often, when enmity is put aside and reconciliation returns, love be-
comes sweeter.”222 Therefore, it is not plausible that, at this point, Constantine
would have asked Ossius to prepare a great council to resolve the conflict.
Rather, the emperor must have supposed that to achieve peace his letter and
the efforts of his delegate were sufficient. Therefore, the idea to convene a
great episcopal assembly must have arisen after the beginning of the mission
of the bishop of Cordoba.
The letter contains some elements of Origenian pedagogy (ch. 2.3.2) and
other concepts that echo Origen’s understanding of theology. At one point,
Constantine affirmed:

As I have said, one is the faith among us and one is the understanding of our
doctrine, and the commandment of the law connects the whole with its parts
for the sake of a single spiritual purpose. 223

This assertion recalls the preface of On First Principles, in which Origen de-
clared that it is possible “to construct a certain structure and body of all these
things, in accordance with reason,” and that, with these elements, “by clear
and cogent arguments,” it is possible to form “one body” with the assertions of
holy Scriptures and those coming “from investigation and right reason.”224
This observation is intended to show that Constantine must have written the
letter relying on the advice of an Origenian cleric. The emperor did not have a
––––––––––––––––––––

219 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 4; 10 (FNS 24.4; 24.10).

220 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 5 (FNS 24.5).
221 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 7 (FNS 24.7). Besides, “you have one and the same way of thinking, so
you can come together under the sign of communion” (FNS 24.9).
222 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 14 (FNS 24.14).
223 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 12 (FNS 24.12).
224 Or., princ. 1 pr. 10 (trans. Behr, 2017, 21).
160 CHAPTER 3

specific theological education. As Ossius was alien to the Origenian tradition,

Eusebius of Nicomedia seems the most likely bishop for this task (ch. 2.3.2).
Given his weak position,225 instead of attacking Alexander and defending
Arius, he preferred to downplay the content of the controversy. If this is cor-
rect, the letter was written in Nicomedia.

3.3.2 Ossius’ Mission in Alexandria

What were the stages and aims of Ossius’ mission? The fragmentary sources
indicate that three cities were part of the bishop’s journey: Alexandria, Anti-
och, and Ancyra. Alexandria was the center of the conflict, the addressees of
the letter were there, and further evidence confirms that Ossius was present
in a synod at Alexandria.226 Antioch was a disputed territory between Asian
and Alexandrian traditions;227 accordingly, the church was divided, and the
election of Eustathius was disputed. Therefore, Ossius had good reasons to go
to Antioch to support the new bishop. In addition, a few pieces of evidence
suggest that Ancyra faced struggles as well: at least, Eusebius of Caesarea and
Paulinus of Tyre preached some “Arian” doctrines at Ancyra itself.228 Most
likely, they performed this preaching when they “went around the cities,” as
Alexander denounces in his letters (3.1.1).
What was the sequence of the journey? Ancyra was the last stop of Ossius’
planned journey.229 But it is not evident which city he visited first, Alexandria
or Antioch. The conventional reconstruction assumes that he went first to
Alexandria and then to Antioch. However, a new chronology has been pro-
posed, which questions this assumption.230 Nevertheless, I prefer to keep the
conventional order: After his victory over Licinius, in September 324, Con-

––––––––––––––––––––

225 Eusebius of Nicomedia had been a supporter of Licinius (Ath., decr. 41.9).
226 Cler. Mareot., ep. Tyr. 3–4 (FNS 70.3–4); Cler. Mareot., ep. Philar. 2–3 (FNS 71.2–3).
227 Between late 323 and early 325 three successive bishops held opposing traditions: Phi-
logonius (Asian tradition), Paulinus (Alexandrian tradition), and Eustathius (Asian tradi-
tion). Besides, for example, George, an Alexandrian presbyter, who was close to Arius,
transferred from Alexandria to Antioch (Ath., syn. 17.5).
228 Eus., Marcell. 1.4,45; Marcell., fr. 121 (Eus., d.e. 1.4,49).
229 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 15 (FNS 28.15).
230 Simperl proposes that the Antiochene synodal letter (FNS 28) predates Constantine’s
letter to Alexander and Arius (FNS 24). Accordingly, he suggests that Ossius went first to
Antioch, where the synod was gathered, and then visited Alexandria. See M. Simperl, Das
Schreiben der Synode von Antiochia 324/325 (Urk. 18): Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Einord-
nung, Edition, Übersetzung und Kommentar, ch. 5 (forthcoming). I do not think that we
should follow Sozomen against Gelasius (Soz., h.e. 1.16,4–5; Gelas., h.e. F11, 167–172). Be-
sides, as stated above, it is not totally clear whether Constantine actually began his jour-
ney or only planned to go to Egypt. In addition, the emperor’s failed trip to the East can
also be placed just after his victory over Licinius, that is, before his visit to Byzantium.
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 161

stantine went to Nicomedia. When he was planning to visit Egypt in his mind
(τῇ γνώμῃ), he became acquainted with the Alexandrian controversy. With
the advice of Eusebius of Nicomedia, the emperor wrote his letter to Alexan-
der and Arius and dispatched Ossius as his emissary to Alexandria, the center
of the conflict, the place that required the most urgent attention. Afterward,
on 8 November, the emperor initiated the refoundation of Byzantium as Con-
stantinople.231 Considering the distances and journeys, it seems reasonable to
suppose that the mission of the bishop of Cordoba did not begin before mid-
October of 324, that is, shortly before the beginning of mare clausum.232 After
his stay in Alexandria, Ossius went to Antioch and participated in the synod
of that city. Then, he planned to go to Ancyra, for the “great priestly synod.”
However, after the publication of the letter of Antioch (325), Constantine
moved the synod to Nicaea.233
Another question must be addressed. Were Antioch and Ancyra part of
Ossius’ original plan, or did he intend to go only to Alexandria before other
circumstances led him to Antioch and Ancyra (Nicaea)? One option is that
Ossius’ original plan consisted of sailing to Alexandria – the center of the
conflict – before the mare clausum, then going to Antioch by land or coastal
navigation, which was possible in wintertime, and finally reaching Ancyra to
participate in the “great priestly synod.” The second possibility is that when
the bishop of Cordoba was in Alexandria, he leaned about the difficult situa-
tion of the newly appointed bishop of Antioch, Eustathius, and decided to go
there. Then, because of the condemnation of Eusebius of Caesarea and other
bishops, who appealed for a larger synod, Ossius convened the synod at An-
cyra or took advantage of an already called assembly. The evidence is not
conclusive and gives room for various interpretations, especially because the
reconstruction of Ossius’ journey depends on debated issues.234
Ossius of Cordoba arrived in Alexandria from Nicomedia in November
324. His presence in the capital of Egypt is testified by some letters that be-
long to the dossier related to the synod of Tyre (335). A letter, drafted by the
clergy of Mareotis, affirms that Ischyras was never a minister of the Church:

However, because he [Ischyras] assigned this title to himself, he was deposed

and received as a layman in the synod assembled at Alexandria, in the pres-
––––––––––––––––––––

231 Lenski, 2006, 75–77.

232 See O. Tammuz, Mare clausum? Sailing Seasons in the Mediterranean in Early Antiquity, in:
Mediterranean Historical Review 20 (2005), 145–162; J. Rougé, La navigation hivernale sous
l’empire romain, in: REA 54 (1952), 316–325.
233 Const., ep. episc. (FNS 30).
234 See Kreis, 2017, 401–427; S. Fernández, Who Convened the First Council of Nicaea: Constan-
tine or Ossius?, in: JThS N.S. 71 (2020), 196–211.
162 CHAPTER 3

ence of our father Ossius (ἐπὶ τῇ παρουσίᾳ τοῦ πατρὸς ἡμῶν Ὁσίου). And he re-
mained as such after that, having fallen from the alleged rank of presbyter. 235

The text does not assert that the synod was presided over by Ossius, but that
the assembly was celebrated in his presence. Another letter of the same dos-
sier, affirms:

But this one [Ischyras] is not a presbyter; he was ordained by the presbyter
Colluthus, who strutted about the episcopate. Then, [Colluthus] was ordained
a presbyter, as he was before, by a common synod of Ossius and all the bish-
ops (ὑπὸ κοινῆς συνόδου Ὁσίου καὶ τῶν σὺν αὐτῷ ἐπισκόπων).236

The letter describes the ecclesial disputes addressed by “a common synod of

Ossius and all the bishops with him.” Again, the text does not affirm that the
meeting was chaired by the bishop of Cordoba. Hence, the synod must have
been presided over by Alexander himself, with the presence of the bishop of
Cordoba. This is not the place to analyze the issue of Ischyras, but the status
of Colluthus provides some chronological clues. In his letter to his colleague
in Byzantium, Alexander affirmed:

Now that Arius and Achillas have made an alliance, they have desired a baser
love-of-power than that of Colluthus. For he [Colluthus] discovered a plea for
his own depraved conduct by accusing them.237

This letter criticizes Colluthus for having broken with the church, whereas his
name heads the list of the presbyters who signed the encyclical of Alexander.
Hence, Colluthus changed his ecclesial status between the two letters. The
reconciliation of Colluthus with the church of Alexandria happened in the
presence of the bishop of Cordoba. Therefore, Ossius’ stay in Egypt must be
placed after Alexander’s letter to the bishop of Byzantium and before his
encyclical letter (Ch. 2.1). This last document mentions a synod:

Since those around Arius were saying these things and were shameless about
them, assembling with the bishops of Egypt and the Libyas – almost a hun-
dred in number – we anathematized them and those who follow them. 238

The synod of a hundred bishops must be posterior to Alexander’s letter (FNS

8), because the letter does not mention it and predates the encyclical letter
––––––––––––––––––––

235 Cler. Mareot., ep. Tyr. 4 (FNS 70.4).

236 Cler. Mareot., ep. Philar. 3 (FNS 71.3).
237 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 3 (FNS 8.3). Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 21 (FNS 26.21). Williams, 2001, 50–56.
238 Alex. Al. ep. encycl. 11 (FNS 26.11).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 163

(FNS 26). Thus, unless we suppose two different large episcopal assemblies in
this period, the “common synod of Ossius and all the bishops with him”
would be the same synod that gathered almost a hundred bishops.239
The evidence for the synods of Bithynia and Palestine, which would have
rehabilitated Arius, is problematic. On the one hand, it depends only on
Sozomen’s narrative, which was written in the fifth century;240 on the other
hand, the term σύνοδος did not always have a technical meaning.241 Anyhow, if
some episcopal meetings supported Arius outside of Egypt, Ossius may have
induced Alexander to gather a synod to counteract the other assemblies.242 In
short, Alexander condemned Arius out of his own authority, and he did not
feel the need to back his verdicts with a synod, due to the unique position of
the Alexandrian bishop in the church of Egypt and Libya – a structure that
does not foster synodal activity. Then, some episcopal meetings rehabilitated
Arius outside of Egypt. Afterwards, when the bishop of Cordoba arrived in
Alexandria, he internalized the content of the conflict, understood the gravity
of what was at stake, and aligned himself with Alexander’s theological posi-
tion. Then, inspired by Ossius, who was experienced in synods,243 Alexander
convened a synod to back the condemnation of Arius and, thus, counteract
the assemblies of his adversaries.
To rehabilitate a presbyter outside his own jurisdiction was irregular. The
canonical principle stated that those excommunicated by one bishop are not
to be accepted by another one (ch. 4.1.1). However, these kinds of irregulari-
ties were frequent, so they triggered the production of a large number of
canons related to episcopal jurisdiction.244 For this reason, the theological
controversy and the disciplinary canons of the beginning of the fourth centu-
ry are not two independent topics, but they are to be studied together.
The synod of Alexandria (324), then, had at least two topics, the ecclesias-
tical status of Colluthus and the condemnation of Arius. The first issue was
––––––––––––––––––––

239 In Egypt, Libya, and Pentapolis, there were about hundred bishops, see Ath., apol. sec. 71.4.
240 See Soz., h.e. 1.15,10–11. It is true that Sozomen relies on written sources. However, it is not
possible to clearly distinguish what comes from the sources and what is a deduction made
by the historian. In fact, the synods of Bithynia and Palestine could be a deduction by
Sozomen based on Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 3 (FNS 8.3): “they hold unending synodoi both by
night and by day.” See also van Nuffelen, 2004, 254: “La recherche archivistique de Sozo-
mène est donc très limitée.”
241 Lumpe, 1974, 40–53; Montanari, 2015, 2047.
242 In fact, Alexander’s long first letter speaks about the condemnation of Arius several times,
but it does not mention any synod. See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 6 (FNS 8.6: ἐξελαύνω); ep. Alex. 8
(FNS 8.8: ἐξωθέω); ep. Alex. 35 (FNS 8.35: ἀποκηρύσσω).
243 Ath., fug. 5.1–2.
244 C.Arl. (314), can. 2; C.Nic. (325), can. 5 (FNS 33.5); C.Ant. (329), can. 4; 6; 12 (FNS 51.4; 51.6;
51.12).
164 CHAPTER 3

part of the Melitian controversy. According to Alexander’s letter, Colluthus

took advantage of the crisis provoked by Arius as an excuse to consolidate his
schismatic activity.245 He claimed to be a bishop and, therefore, performed
ordinations.246 The sources say nothing about his theology; this issue revolved
around discipline, not doctrine. The synod, then, witnessed Colluthus’ reinte-
gration to the church presided over by Alexander. Most likely, his episcopal
ordination was declared null and void, yet his ordination as a presbyter,
which should have been regular, was confirmed. “Consequently, all those who
were ordained by Colluthus returned to the same rank they had before.”247
Our knowledge about this affair comes from the documents related to the
case of Ischyras, which will be studied in the section on the synod of Tyre (ch.
5.3.2). The readmission of Colluthus must have been celebrated by Alexander
as an achievement. In fact, Colluthus’ name is not only at the top of the list of
signatures of the presbyters in the encyclical letter, but he was the only pres-
byter who had the chance to write a short message:

I, Colluthus, presbyter, ratify what has been written and the deposition of Ari-
us and those who are impious with him. 248

In the encyclical letter, Alexander states that with the bishops of Egypt and
the Libyas, almost a hundred in number, we anathematized the “Arians.”249
What was the relationship between the synod of the hundred bishops and
the encyclical letter? The sources are not explicit. However, the encyclical
supposes a span of time between the synod and the composition of the letter,
the encyclical does not have episcopal signatures, and it does not address the
issue of Colluthus, so it was not the synodal letter of the gathering. Neverthe-
less, the salient signature of Colluthus suggests that the encyclical could be
something like a late outcome of the synod. The context of the letter is pro-
vided by the Deposition of Arius, a short document that could be like the cov-
er letter of the encyclical.250 Alexander needed the clerical signatures to con-
solidate the internal unity of the churches in Egypt:

I deemed it necessary to gather you, the clergy of the city [of Alexandria], and
to summon you who are from Mareotis, so that you may know what I am writ-

––––––––––––––––––––

245 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 3 (FNS 8.3); Williams, 2001, 45–46.55–58.
246 Cler. Mareot., ep. Tyr. 3 (FNS 70.3); Cler. Mareot., ep. Philar. 3 (FNS 71.3); Aeg. episc. in Tyr.,
ep. Tyr. 5; 8 (FNS 72.5; 72.8); C.Alex. (338), ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 12.1).
247 Cler. Mareot., ep. Philar. 3 (FNS 71.3).
248 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 21 (FNS 26.21); Williams, 2001, 55–56.
249 Alex. Al. ep. encycl. 11 (FNS 26.11).
250 Alex. Al., depos. (FNS 25); Löhr, 2006, 543.
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 165

ing now, you may show mutual harmony with it, and you may ratify the depo-
sition of those around Arius and those around Pistus.251

The enigmatic expression “those around Pistus” as a different group than

“those around Arius” (τῶν περὶ Ἄρειον καὶ τῶν περὶ Πιστὸν) shows once again
that Alexander’s adversaries were not a monolithic group holding a single
theology. This evidence illustrates once again the fragmentary nature of the
sources and, therefore, the fact that many of the historical events are inacces-
sible to scholars. In addition, the evidence shows the interaction between
disciplinary and doctrinal issues. Therefore, it is not possible to order all the
different actors according to a single doctrinal axis.
The theological reasons for Arius’ deposition have been analyzed previ-
ously (ch. 2.4.1). Nevertheless, it is worth mentioning a political aspect of the
encyclical letter. The document can be understood as a response to Constan-
tine’s letter to Alexander and Arius, especially if we assume that Ossius wit-
nessed the composition of the letter. On the one hand, the very incipit of the
encyclical holds to the emperor’s program for the unity of the church. The
first lines of the letter stress that “the catholic Church is one body” and that
“there is a command in the divine Scriptures to preserve the bond of harmo-
ny and peace.”252 With these words Alexander wanted to show that he himself
was the first to be concerned with the unity of the Church. On the other
hand, the bishop, in a polite manner, defends himself from the charge of
dividing the Church over unimportant issues, as stressed by Constantine.
Alexander justifies his reaction against those around Arius. The bishop makes
it clear that they are “enemies of Christ who teach an apostasy which, with
good reason (εἰκότως), some might consider as a kind of precursor to the
Antichrist.”253
Besides, Alexander denounces the leading political role of Eusebius of Ni-
comedia: he has sent letters everywhere and, therefore, “I felt compelled to
keep silent no longer.”254 In other words, the bishop of Alexandria claims that
it is not himself, but Eusebius of Nicomedia who must be blamed. Why did
Alexander denounce the bishop of Nicomedia and not that of Caesarea, if the
latter was the theological leader of the conflicting group? It is difficult to
interpret silence, but from the political point of view it seems easier to hit the
bishop of Nicomedia for two reasons: his former closeness to Licinius and his
weak position due to his transfer from one city to the other. Besides, if the

––––––––––––––––––––

251 Alex. Al., depos. 1–2 (FNS 25.1–2).

252 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 2 (FNS 26.2).
253 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 3 (FNS 26.3).
254 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 4 (FNS 26.4).
166 CHAPTER 3

bishop of Nicomedia advised Constantine in the drafting of his letter to Alex-

ander and Arius, the bishop of Alexandria had an additional reason to hit
him. On the other hand, it was highly problematic to openly attack the theol-
ogy of Eusebius of Caesarea, one of the more respected bishops of the East.
In addition, the emperor’s letter affirms that “the quarrel does not com-
promise the core of what is commanded in your law,” and that “a new heresy”
was not at stake.255 Instead, Alexander stresses that he is facing “heresy,”
“apostasy,” and “blasphemy;”256 this is a dispute between “Christ and Belial,”
and that they attempt “to destroy the divinity of the Logos.”257 The bishop
labeled their doctrine as “deceitful spirits and demonic teachings.”258 Finally,
he grounds and justifies his behavior in Christ himself:

Therefore, since our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ himself instructed [us]
about such people and gave a sign through the apostle, consequently we, who
became ear-witnesses to their impieties, anathematized them. 259

Although we have very little information about Ossius’ theology. The similari-
ties between the encyclical and the synodal letter of Antioch (325) shows that
the bishop of Cordoba supported the strong policy of Alexander against those
around Arius. In fact, the idea that the controversy revolves around irrelevant
issues will not be heard again.

3.3.3 The Synod of Antioch: Eusebius of Caesarea in the Dock

Our knowledge of the synod of Antioch (325) depends almost exclusively on
one Syriac document, namely its synodal letter. This document was published
for the first time by Schwartz in 1905. Its publication raised a complex discus-
sion on its authenticity that has not yet concluded.260 The main argument
against its genuineness is that some of its theological statements fit the post-
Nicene context rather than the pre-Nicene doctrinal setting. Nevertheless,

––––––––––––––––––––

255 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 9 (FNS 24.9).

256 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 3–6; 15–16 (FNS 26.3–6; 26.15–16).
257 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 11; 16 (FNS 26.11; 16).
258 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 18 (FNS 26.18).
259 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 19 (FNS 26.19).
260 Brennecke, 2007a, xxxiv–xxxvi; H. Strutwolf, Das Konzil von Antiochien 324/25 und sein
vermeintliches Symbol – einige metakritische Bemerkungen, in: ZKG 122 (2011), 301–324; A.
Camplani, Fourth-Century Synods in Latin and Syriac Canonical Collections and their
Preservation in the Antiochene Archives (Serdica 343 CE – Antioch 325 CE), in: S. Torallas To-
var / J.P. Monferrer-Sala (eds.), Cultures in Contact: Transfer of Knowledge in the Mediterra-
nean Context, Córdoba 2013, 69–72. For an up-to-date assessment of the discussion and
the reasons for accepting the genuineness of the document, see Simperl, ch. 5 §1 (forth-
coming); Kinzig, 2017, 276–279 (with bibliography).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 167

most scholars accept the authenticity of the document. Once the document
is considered authentic, questions arise about its chronology and authorship.
As the letter contains the signature of the bishop of Cordoba, the chro-
nology depends on a reconstruction of his journey. As stated above (ch. 3.3.2),
the bishop left Nicomedia for Alexandria around the middle of October; he
stayed for a while in Alexandria, where he participated in a synod, and then
he traveled to Antioch. Proposing dates for each step would be too hypothet-
ical. Yet, Ossius should have reached Antioch around the end of 324. If this
reconstruction is on the right path, the synod of Antioch must be placed in
the first months of 325.
The authorship of the synodal letter of Antioch (325) depends on the re-
construction of the events. Scholarship credits the letter to Ossius, who heads
the list of signatories, according to the most plausible reconstruction of the
text.261 However, Simperl challenges this assumption and proposes Eustathius
as the writer of the synodal letter. The problem is complex because some
sections of the letter are written in the first-person singular, whereas other
use the first-person plural. There are sentences that express the point of view
of an individual: “For, when I came into the region of Antioch and saw the
church […] it seemed good to me that…”262 Yet, other statements indicate the
collective character of the text.263 Who is the speaker, Ossius or Eustathius? I
cannot see definitive arguments either way, but I am inclined to hold Ossius’
authorship of the letter.264 In any case, regardless of the authorship of the
letter, the text presents itself as a synodal document in which Ossius, Eu-
stathius, and other bishops were involved. Hence, the authorship of the text
affects more the historical reconstruction of the events than the theological
understanding of the synod of Antioch (325).
Burgess’ reconstruction of the Chronicle of Antioch has changed two
points: the dating of Philogonius’ death and the order of succession of the
––––––––––––––––––––

261 See C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 1 (FNS 28.1); H. Kaufhold, Griechisch-syrische Väterlisten der
frühen griechischen Synoden, in: OrChr 77 (1993), 70–71 (Mard. Orth. 309, f. 55); H. Chad-
wick, Ossius of Cordova and the Presidency of the Council of Antioch, in: JThS N.S. 9 (1958),
292–304; Simonetti, 1975, 38.
262 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 3 (FNS 28.3).
263 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 8 (FNS 28.8): “the faith that was first presented, as it were, by spiritual
men, […] is this…” See also C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 14 (FNS 28.14): “when this faith was first
presented and the whole priestly synod agreed and confessed that this was the apostolic
and saving doctrine…”
264 The following reasons substantiate this option: the place of his signature, his leading role
in the proceedings of the synod, his imperial authority, and Eustathius’ weak standing af-
ter a problematic appointment. It is true that Ossius’ intervention in Antioch is problem-
atic from the point of view of canon law; however, in the first decades of the fourth centu-
ry there are plenty of canonical irregularities and innovations.
168 CHAPTER 3

Antiochene bishops.265 On the one hand, Philogonius of Antioch died on 20

December 323, not in 324. On the other hand, Paulinus was the predecessor,
not the successor of Eustathius. Hence, Paulinus of Tyre was appointed as
bishop of Antioch in the early months of 324 and died seven months after
that,266 that is, he died around August or September 324. After the death of
Paulinus, Antioch remained without a bishop for some months until the ap-
pointment of Eustathius, former bishop of Beroea.
The shifts from Philogonius (Asian tradition) to Paulinus (Alexandrian
tradition) and then to Eustathius (Asian tradition) show that the Christian
factions in Antioch had comparable weight. This explains the unstable situa-
tion of that church and the fragile standing of Eustathius. These changes
would have encouraged the movement of clergy like George, a presbyter from
Alexandria who at some point moved to Antioch (because of the appoint-
ment of Paulinus?), then was expelled from Antioch (by Eustathius), and
afterwards became bishop of Laodicea.267
The dating of Eustathius’ appointment in Antioch is uncertain. It must be
placed between the last months of 324 and the first months of 325. Nor is the
relationship between the election of Eustathius and the synod of Antioch
clear. One possibility is that the nomination of Eustathius and the synod of
Antioch took place at the same meeting, in the presence of Ossius.268 This
would explain the large number of bishops in Antioch, fifty-six in total, de-
spite the promptness with which the assembly was convened. Another possi-
bility is that Eustathius was appointed in a quite irregular way due to the
struggles caused by Licinius, and then Ossius and the synod supported his
fragile position. Eustathius was informed about the “Arian” threat since he
was bishop of Beroea, where he received Alexander’s long letter.269 Besides,
the eastern synod of Serdica (343) speaks about a friendship between Ossius
and Eustathius,270 yet it is not clear whether it goes back to before Nicaea.
1) The Setting of the Synod. The beginning of the letter is a list of the fifty-
six bishops who participated in the synod and signed the document.271 The
––––––––––––––––––––

265 For the chronology of Philogonius, Paulinus, and Eustathius, see Burgess, 1999, 183–196.
266 Burgess, 1999, 165: “(324) 19. Antioch: the twenty-second bishop was Paulinus, for seven
months, and after him the twenty-third was Eustathius, for four years.” The name of “Pau-
linus” (Syriac: Pwlynws) is a well-grounded correction of “Flavianus” (Syriac: Plwynws),
Burgess, 1999, 184.
267 Ath., syn. 17.5; h. Ar. 4.2.
268 Chadwick, 1958, 292–304; Simonetti, 1975, 39.
269 Thdt., h.e. 1.4,62. Besides, according to the lemma of a fragment, Eustathius sent a letter to
Alexander about exegetical topics, see Eust., fr. 113 (CChr.SG 51, 172–173).
270 C.Sard. (343), ep. orient. 27 (Hil., coll. antiar. A 4.1,27 [CSEL 65, 66]).
271 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 1 (FNS 28.1).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 169

first name is that of Ossius, then stands that of Eustathius of Antioch. A de-
tailed analysis of the names has been done by Simperl.272 However, it is worth
mentioning a couple of bishops. Hellanicus of Tripolis was at Antioch: he was
cited by Arius in his letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia as a heretical and igno-
rant bishop, whereas Athanasius mentioned him, along with Eustathius, as a
bishop who hated the heresy.273 Euphration of Balanea was also at the synod:
he received a letter from Eusebius of Caesarea and was mentioned by Atha-
nasius together with Eustathius as a champion of orthodoxy.274 It is likely that
both Eusebius’ letter to Euphration and that to Alexander – brought by Ossius
– were used to accuse the bishop of Caesarea. These two letters may have
been part of a dossier that survived until Nicaea II (787).275 In short, according
to Simperl, five bishops were clear opponents of Arianism: Ossius of Cordoba,
Eustathius of Antioch, Macarius of Jerusalem, Hellanicus of Tripolis, and
Euphrantion of Balanea. Six bishops are considered orthodox by Athanasius:
Amphion of Epiphanias, Jacob of Nisibis, Lupus of Tarsus, Eupsychius of
Tyana, Asclepius of Gaza, and Longinus of Neocaesarea (whose participation
in the synod is not certain). Besides, three bishops were condemned as “Ari-
ans,” Eusebius of Caesarea, Theodotus of Laodicea, and Narcissus of Neronias.
They were close to Aetius of Lydda and perhaps to Gregory of Berytus.276
The incipit of the document echoes that of Alexander’s letter.277 By doing
so, the bishops support the decisions of Alexander and express that they
share the emperor’s concern for the unity of the Church. Then, the letter – in
first-person singular – describes the difficult situation of Antioch:

For, when I came into the region of Antioch and saw the church, namely that
it was greatly troubled by tares concerning doctrine and by the rebellion of
certain people, it seemed good to me that such a thing should not be repudi-
ated and rejected by me alone. Instead, [it seemed] also right that I should
urge our fellows in spirit and in the ministry, those who are in greater proxim-
ity […] so that, discerning and investigating with a common purpose, we may
unanimously determine these matters that are found in the Church.278

The fact that the speaker did not want to address the doctrinal problem indi-
vidually shows that he was aware that it was not a local problem, but a com-
––––––––––––––––––––

272 Simperl, ch. 5 §1 (forthcoming).

273 Ar., ep. Eus. 3 (FNS 6.3); Ath., h. Ar. 5.2.
274 Eus., ep. Euphrat. (FNS 13); Ath., h. Ar. 5.2; fug. 3.1–3.
275 Eus., ep. Alex. (FNS 12): C.Nic. (787), act. VI (ACO 2, 734–736); Eus., ep. Euphrat. (FNS 13):
C.Nic. (787), act. V; VI (ACO 2, 560–562; 736); Ath., syn. 17.3.
276 Simperl, ch. 5 §1 (forthcoming).
277 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 2 (FNS 28.2); Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 2 (FNS 26.2).
278 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 3 (FNS 28.3).
170 CHAPTER 3

mon concern of the fellow-ministers. The historical reconstruction of the

events depends on the speaker’s identity. If Ossius is the author of the letter,
then, the paragraph describes the situation of the Antiochene church when
he arrived from Egypt about the end of 324. The text does not mention any
vacancy of the see. Therefore, Eustathius had already taken possession of
Antioch. As in Alexandria, so in Antioch: Ossius promoted a synod.
The document mentions Licinius’ ban of gathering synods and introduces
the doctrinal problem regarding the Son of the living God.279 At some point,
the text starts speaking on behalf of all the bishops. The letter says that Alex-
ander “our brother and fellow” expelled from the church “those around Ari-
us.” It does not question the condemnation of those around Arius by Alexan-
der. Rather, the letter takes for granted that their teaching is blasphemous. For
the Antiochene assembly the issue at stake was not those of Arius, 280 but
rather those who “received them into communion.”281 In fact, those who are
opposed to Alexander’s statements against those around Arius “may too be-
come alien to the Church.”282 In addition to the doctrinal question, there was
a canonical one: a cleric excommunicated by his bishop could not be received
by other bishops (ch. 4.1.1).
2) The Profession of Faith. The synodal letter offers a statement of faith,
“which we have learned from the Scriptures and from the apostles and re-
ceived from the fathers,”283 a faith that was presented by “spiritual men.” It is
possible to classify the statements of the formula into three groups: tradition-
al elements, rejection of “Arian” teachings that Arius never supported, and
reaction against doctrines that Eusebius, Arius, and others did hold.
The formula professes traditional expressions about the Father, the Son,
the Spirit, the Church, the resurrection, and the final judgement. Some sen-
tences react against heresies that were no longer a threat, like Marcionism
and Docetism: God is “just and good,” the Lord of the law and the new cove-
nant, the Son was born “in the flesh of Mary.”284 It seems, therefore, that be-
hind these sentences there were traditional statements of faith (ch. 2.4.2).
Second, the letter denounces doctrines that were labeled as Arian, such as the
Son’s mutability, that the Son was like all creatures, that his sonship was by
adoption, or that the Son was immutable by his own free will; these state-
ments were held by authors associated with Arius, but not by Arius himself

––––––––––––––––––––

279 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 5 (FNS 28.5). See Eus., v.C. 1.51,1–2.
280 With a different aim, Strutwolf emphasizes the same (Strutwolf, 2011, 309).
281 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 6 (FNS 28.6).
282 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 7 (FNS 28.7).
283 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 7 (FNS 28.7).
284 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 8; 11 (FNS 28.8; 28.11).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 171

(ch. 2.4.2).285 Finally, other statements deals with doctrines that Arius, Euse-
bius, and others actually held:

And in one Lord Jesus Christ, Only-begotten Son, who was begotten not from
his inexistence but from the Father, not as a handiwork but as a begotten in a
proper sense.286

The document takes up some topics addressed by Alexander. The Son does
not come from nothing, but from the Father, two statements that strictly
speaking are not contradictory.287 The letter opposes “begotten” (γέννημα) and
“handiwork” (ποίημα), as will be found in the Nicene Creed. However, this
opposition does not match Eustathius’ theology, which opposes begotten
(γεννητός) and created (κτιστός).288 Then the letter affirms that the Son “always
exists, and it is not the case that he previously did not exist.” This sentence
strikes at the doctrines that Eusebius stated in the letters to Euphration and
Alexander: “the Father preexisted the Son” and “’the One who is’ begot the
one who did not exist.”289 Then, the bishops of Antioch deny that they affirm
that the Son is unbegotten. This assertion could also be a reaction against
Eusebius’ letter to Euphration, which argues that if the Son coexists with the
Father, both would be unbegotten.290 Then, the letter of Antioch states:

And [the Scriptures do] not [say] that he was begotten or came into existence
by will or by adoption, whereby it would be evident that he exists out of his
nonexistence.291

Eusebius of Caesarea, Arius, Eusebius of Nicomedia, and Asterius affirm that

the Son comes from the Father’s will.292 The synodal letter connects two con-
cepts: if the Son comes into existence by God’s will, the Son ergo comes from
nothing.293 The need for this deduction implies that the sentence was not
––––––––––––––––––––

285 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 10; 13 (FNS 28.10; 28.13); Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 11; 47 (FNS 8,11; 8.47); Ar.,
ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 11.2); Eus., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 12.2).
286 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 9 (FNS 28.9). The expression γέννημα κυρίως is problematic, because
human concept of begetting must be purified to express the origin of the Son of God.
287 Geo. Laod., ep. Alex. Al. (FNS 19); ep. Ar. (FNS 20).
288 Eust., fr. 107 (FNS 41): εἰ δὲ γεννητὸς [the Son], οὐ κτιστός.
289 Eus., ep. Euphrat. 1 (FNS 13.1); Eus., ep. Alex. 4 (FNS 12.4). Eus., d.e. 4.3,5; Williams, 2001, 172.
290 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 10 (FNS 28.10); Eus., ep. Euphrat. 1 (FNS 13.1).
291 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 10 (FNS 28.10).
292 Eus., d.e. 4.3,7; ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 12.2); Ar., ep. Eus. 4 (FNS 6.4); ep. Alex. 2–3 (FNS 11.2–3);
Thal. (FNS 18); Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 7 (FNS 15.7); Ast. Soph., fr. 5; 10; 16; 19 (FNS 17.5; 17.10;
17.16; 17.19).
293 As shown above (ch. 2.4.1), the “out of nothing” means that before the Son’s begetting, he
was not an inner reality in God, but nothing – against the two-stage Christology.
172 CHAPTER 3

addressed against Arius himself, who explicitly stated that the Son was “from
nothing,” but against Eusebius. Indeed, the bishop of Caesarea affirms that
God became the Father of the Son by his will (βουληθεὶς), because God decid-
ed (ἐδόκει) that the Son must pre-exist as an instrument (ὄργανον) of creation
(ch. 2.2.3). It is worth mentioning that the topics of the letter of Antioch (325)
fit well with the theological topics discussed shortly before Nicaea.294
The letter, then, reacts against a particular doctrine: “For the [Logos] is the
image not of the will nor of anything else but of the very hypostasis of the
Father.”295 If the equivalence between the Syriac and Greek text is right, this
statement presupposes that the Son has his own hypostasis. This doctrine was
not held by Ossius and Eustathius – at least according to the scarce infor-
mation about their Trinitarian theology.296 Instead, the distinction by hyposta-
sis between the Son and the Father is found in Alexander.297 Thus, it seems
that to reject the “Arian” teaching, the Antiochene document used a point of
Alexander’s theology that was not familiar to Ossius and Eustathius. Hence,
the document did involve the hand of several bishops, not only those of Os-
sius and Eustathius.
3) Eusebius of Caesarea in the Dock. After the profession of faith with its
anathema, the letter resumes the narrative of the synod and states the con-
demnation of three bishops. The report highlights the doctrinal harmony of
the bishops precisely because it is about to inform the condemnation of one
of the most respected bishops of the East:

Therefore, when this faith was first presented and the whole priestly synod
agreed and confessed that this was the apostolic and saving doctrine, and all
the fellow ministers were of one mind about these things, only Theodotus of
the [church] of Laodicea, Narcissus of Neronias, and Eusebius of Caesarea in
Palestine, as people who had forgotten the holy Scriptures and the apostolic
teachings, were shown to be introducing doctrines opposed to these. 298

The narrative is generic about the reasons for the sentence against these
three bishops. The text continues:

––––––––––––––––––––

294 Strutwolf, 2011, 313–320; Camplani, 2013, 69–72.

295 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 11 (FNS 28.11).
296 C.Sard. (343), ep. syn. 1 (Thdt., h.e. 2.8,39); Eust., fr. 88 (CChr.SG 51, 156–157); R.V. Sellers,
Eustathius of Antioch: And his Place in the Early History of Christian Doctrine, Cambridge
1928, 72. Regarding Marcellus, see Marcell., ep. Jul. 2.4; fr. 50; 75; 85–86; 91; 97; eccl. 9; Eus.,
e.th. 1.10,4; 3.19,2.
297 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 16–21; 28; 38; 48 (FNS 8.16–21; 8.28; 8.38; 8.48).
298 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 14 (FNS 28.14).
THE EXPANSION OF THE CONTROVERSY 173

For, based on the very facts and on the things that they were asked and that
they asked, they were reproved as agreeing with those who were with Arius,
and that they were of an opinion contrary to those that had been previously
established. From then, being thus undaunted and not respecting the holy
synod that had dealt and troubled itself with these things, we all, fellows in
the ministry, those who are at the synod, have judged not to be in communion
with them and that they be not worthy of communion because of their faith,
which is alien to the catholic Church.299

Again, the text highlights the harmony of the bishops in contrast with the
facts and words of the excommunicated bishops. Again, the issue at stake was
not Arius, but whether these bishops were of the same opinions as Arius or
not. Moreover, the bishops of Antioch had Eusebius, Theodotus, and Narcis-
sus in their sights. Their teaching was uncovered by “the things that they were
asked and that they asked.” This statement allows us to relate a fragment from
Marcellus’ work to the proceedings of the synod:

For as I [Marcellus] learnt in a letter of Narcissus, who presides at Neronias,

written to a certain Chrestos, Euphronius, and Eusebius [of Nicomedia], that
Ossius the bishop asked [Narcissus] if he would also say in this way, as Euse-
bius of Palestine does, that there are two ousiai, I learned from his writings
that he answered that he believed that there were three ousiai.300

The text is tricky, because, in it, Eusebius cited Marcellus, who cited Narcis-
sus, who cited Ossius, who in turn cited Eusebius! Nevertheless, it is most
likely that Marcellus’ fragment and the synodal letter describe the same
event, namely, the interrogation conducted during the synod of Antioch
(325). Hence, at Antioch, Eusebius and Narcissus underwent an interrogation
conducted by Ossius.
The fragment transmits the question: how many divine ousiai are there,
one or two? Eusebius answered “two,” whereas Narcissus affirmed “three.” In
fact, Marcellus recalls that the bishop of Caesarea, in Ancyra, declared that
God and His image are “two ousiai, two things, and two powers.”301 Eusebius
could be confident with his answer because at Antioch itself, in 268, Paul of
Samosata was condemned when he did not accept that the Son has his own
ousia (ch. 1.2.5). However, Eusebius of Caesarea and the other two bishops
were convicted. This condemnation sealed the overlap of two controversies.
The first stage of the conflict was shaped by the opposition between two in-

––––––––––––––––––––

299 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 14 (FNS 28.14).

300 Narc. Ner., ep. 1 (FNS 29.1); Marcell., fr. 116.
301 Eus., ep. fr. (FNS 14); Marcell. fr. 120; Eus., Marcell. 1.4,45.
174 CHAPTER 3

terpretations of the Alexandrian tradition; in general terms, it revolved

around two questions: whether the Father and the Son are strictly coeternal
and whether the Son comes from nothing. When Constantine intervened and
Ossius and Eustathius joined the debate, another theological question en-
tered the debate, namely the number of divine ousiai / hypostases. The theo-
logical map, therefore, became more complex and less clear. For example,
Alexander was closer to Eusebius and Arius than to Eustathius and Ossius
regarding the number of divine ousiai / hypostases, but he, like Eustathius,
maintained the strict eternity of the Logos against Eusebius and Arius. All the
bishops involved in the controversy had to choose between two positions,
while the scenario was shaped by several theological issues.
The letter of Antioch warned the addressee: “beware of communion with
them and of writing to them or receiving from them letters of communion.”302
However, the document goes further and affirms that “because of the synod’s
abundant love of humanity we have given these a place for repentance and
acknowledgment of the truth at the great and priestly synod of Ancyra.”303
What is the meaning of these words? There is little evidence to envisage
Eusebius’ exact juridical status after the synod of Antioch (325). It is possible
to visualize two scenarios. Frequently, scholars speak about a “provisional
condemnation.” The second possibility is suggested by the development of
the ecclesial appeals process at that time.304 If the second scenario is the right
one, when the bishop of Caesarea was condemned by Ossius, Eusebius would
have appealed to a larger synod. Both, Ossius and Eusebius, knew this prac-
tice. Hence, the bishop of Cordoba could not but accept Eusebius’ request of
appeal. Thus, if this hypothesis is correct, the “great and priestly synod” to be
held at Ancyra, which occurred at Nicaea, acted as a court of appeal for Euse-
bius of Caesarea and the other condemned bishops. This hypothesis will be
addressed at the beginning of the next chapter (ch. 4.1.1).

––––––––––––––––––––

302 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 15 (FNS 28.15).

303 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 15 (FNS 28.15).
304 Girardet, 2009, 217–249; Pergami, 2000, 45–119; H. Hess, The Early Development of Canon
Law and the Council of Serdica, Oxford 2002, 179–200; Humfress, 2007.
 CHAPTER 4

The Synod of Nicaea

The significance of some historical events is not perceived by their protago-

nists but is only recognized a posteriori. This was not the case with Nicaea.
According to contemporary sources, the bishops who attended Nicaea real-
ized that they were taking part in a crucial event. The universal scope of the
synod, the number of bishops, and specially the active presence of the em-
peror, a few years after great persecutions, clearly must have been seen as the
beginning of a new era. In fact, contemporary documents refer to Nicaea as a
“great synod.”1 As such, it is surprising that contemporary sources for the syn-
od are frustratingly scarce. Why did an event that its own actors recognized as
crucial leave so few written records? It is true that chance can often explain
the scarcity of sources for a given event. For Nicaea, however, the situation is
different. The writings of prominent bishops, such as Eusebius and Athana-
sius, have been preserved; they participated at Nicaea and wrote historical
works on topics related to Nicaea. Nevertheless, they did not hand down nar-
ratives as substantial as the event would seem to require. Their accounts are
intentionally vague.2
Besides, it is difficult to assume that an event of such relevance, in which
the emperor took part, was not recorded by secretaries. Photius says that he
read the Acts of the Synod of Nicaea (τὰ κατὰ τὴν ἐν Νικαίᾳ σύνοδον πραχθέντα)
in three books,3 but his account clearly indicates that he read the so-called
Anonymus Cyzicenus (CPG 6034). Some scholars, therefore, assume that
proper acts of the synod of Nicaea were never published.4 Hence, in the case
of Nicaea, the scarcity of contemporary sources is itself a research topic.5

––––––––––––––––––––

1 See C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 15 (FNS 28.15). C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 1–2 (FNS 34.1–2); Eust., fr. 79
(FNS 39); Eus., ep. Caes. 1 (FNS 37.1); v.C. 3.7,1; 3.10,1–5; Ath., apol. sec. 85.2; h. Ar. 66.3; syn.
5; Jul., ep. Dian. (Ath., apol. sec. 23.1).
2 In the letter to his church, Eusebius does not mention the authors of the Creed, Eus., ep.
Caes., 7 (FNS 37.7). Athanasius, in his narrative of Nicaea, gives no names, but speaks
about οἱ περὶ Εὺσέβιον (Ath., decr. 19.1). On Eusebius’ anonymity, see Ridley, 1980, 241–258.
See also Brennecke, 2007b, 104.
3 See Phot., cod. 88 (Henry, 1960, 12–14). Photius himself says that it is not the Acts of the
council, but a historical account of it, see Phot., cod. 15.
4 See Graumann, 2021, 18; Simonetti, 1975, 77–78; M. Simonetti, Il concilio ecumenico, in: A.
Melloni et al. (eds.), Enciclopedia Costantiniana, Roma 2013, 222–223.
5 Strictly speaking, the retrospective accounts of Christian historians do not belong to the
first layer of sources.
176 CHAPTER 4

As primary sources are scarce, the actual course of Nicaea is “bafflingly

obscure.”6 The absence of contemporary records was fertile ground for anach-
ronistic interpretations, that is, for understanding the assembly with parame-
ters that only took shape from the second half of the fourth century. Conse-
quently, the scarce contemporary records must enjoy hermeneutical priority
over retrospective accounts, as has been stated above.7

4.1 The Setting of Nicaea

To study the Council of Nicaea, it is necessary to address some preliminary

questions. The first part explores the juridical framework of the assembly,
providing insight into its interpretation and implications. The second part
examines the relocation of the great synod, emphasizing that the choice of
location was not neutral. Finally, the last section compiles the available in-
formation on the participants, themes, and place of the assembly.

4.1.1 Did Nicaea Act as a Court of Appeal for Eusebius of Caesarea?

Before addressing the synod itself, it is necessary to study its relationship to
the synod of Antioch (325), which condemned the bishop of Caesarea and
determined his status at Nicaea. A classic book described Eusebius’ promi-
nence at the Nicene assembly:

At this point Eusebius came forward. Though neither a great man nor a clear
thinker, he was much the most learned member of the council. He occupied
an important see, stood high in the emperor’s favor, and with regard to doc-
trine held a conservative position which commanded general respect by its
safe moderation.8

Gwatkin wrote his book in 1900, when historians still did not know about
Eusebius’ excommunication at Antioch (325). However, although his con-
demnation became known in 1905, accounts of Eusebius’ role at Nicaea have
not changed accordingly since then. Therefore, his status at the synod of Ni-
caea must be reassessed.
Two key elements framed his situation at Nicaea. The first one is a result
of chapter 2, namely, that Alexander saw the bishop of Caesarea as one of the
leading figures of his opponents, the one who was behind Arius (ch. 2.4.4).
Thus, Eusebius was not just an antecedent, but a chief factor in the conflict.
––––––––––––––––––––

6 J.N.D. Kelly, Early Christian Creeds, London 1972, 212.

7 See Introduction and ch. 2.1; Fernández, 2024a, xv–xxxiv.
8 H.M. Gwatkin, Studies of Arianism, London 1900, 41.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 177

The second element is his juridical status. The assembly of Antioch had con-
demned Eusebius and other bishops (ch. 3.3.3).9 However, its synodal letter
declared that, out of philanthropia, the assembly gave them an opportunity
for repentance: the synod of Ancyra, the assembly that eventually gathered at
Nicaea.10 There is little evidence to envisage Eusebius’ juridical status at Ni-
caea, and there are no ecclesiastical antecedents for this kind of sentence.11
However, some light comes from the development of the practice of appeal
processes, which shows a shift in ecclesial legislation. In fact, at the beginning
of the fourth century, canon law stated that a cleric condemned by his bishop
could only be readmitted by the same bishop:

Concerning those who for a crime of theirs are separated from communion,
we have decided that in those places where they were excluded, in that same
place they should be readmitted to communion, so that no bishop may harm
the [rights] of another bishop. 12

According to this canon, episcopal decisions were not appealable, or were

only appealable to the bishop who pronounced the sentence. The same prin-
ciple was held by Cyprian and the canons of Elvira.13 This practice observes
the following tenet: no one should constitute himself bishop of bishops
(episcopum se episcoporum constituit).14 However, a few years later, in 329, the
synod of Antioch proposed different legislation:

If a presbyter or a deacon deposed by his bishop, or a bishop deposed by a

synod, dares to go and disturb the emperor, when his duty is to take his case
to a larger synod, set out his justification in front of a larger number of bish-
ops and submit to their investigation and decision […].15

This canon takes for granted that a bishop condemned by a synod can appeal
to a major episcopal synod (ἐπὶ μείζονα σύνοδον επισκόπων τρέπεσθαι). The
wording of the canon does not present the appeal to “a larger synod” as a
novelty, but it assumes this legal practice. In addition, can. 4 supports the

––––––––––––––––––––

9 See C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 14 (FNS 28.14).

10 See C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 14 (FNS 28.14); Const., ep. episc. (FNS 30).
11 There are some testimonies of provisional condemnations later, during the Nestorian
controversy, Graumann, 2021, 224.
12 C.Arl. (314), can. 17 (16).
13 See Cypr., ep. 59.14,2; C.Elib. (ca. 302), can. 53. On the critical problems with Elvira’s ca-
nonical collection, see M.J. Lázaro Sánchez, L’état actuel de la recherche sur le concile
d’Elvire, in: RevSR 82 (2008), 517–546.
14 See C.Cart. (256), sent. episc. 87, pr. (CSEL 3.1, 435).
15 C.Ant. (329), can. 12 (FNS 51.12). See C.Ant. (329), can. 6 (FNS 51.6).
178 CHAPTER 4

same doctrine.16 Both canons imply a modification regarding the previous

legislation. This shift has been described by historians of ecclesiastical law.17 It
involves a change in the understanding of episcopal authority: a bishop’s
decision was no longer unappealable; moreover, it was even possible to ap-
peal to the decision of a synod of bishops. What brought about this change?
Pergami has studied the appellatio in Roman law.18 In his monograph, he
shows that Constantine, before 324, reformed and strengthened the practice
of appeal.19 This practice developed first in the West – where Constantine had
more power – and, after the defeat of Licinius in 324, also in the East. This
legal procedure was “emblematic of the innovations of Constantine in law,
administration, and imperial control.”20
Thus, the development of the appeal shows a parallelism between Roman
and ecclesiastical law. As stated above, when Bishop Caecilian was con-
demned by a synod in Carthage (312), he was readmitted by a synod in 313,
which was promoted by Constantine (ch. 1.1.1).21 After that, an unending suc-
cession of appeals took place. In fact, when Constantine heard about the
outbreak of the Arian crisis after September 324, he was planning to appoint
Eastern bishops to resolve the Donatist quarrel.22
The evidence suggests that the bishop of Caesarea was seen as one of the
key figures among Alexander’s opponents (ch. 3.3.3).23 In fact, Ossius went to
Antioch after his stay in Alexandria, and he attended the assembly after hear-
ing Alexander’s version of the conflict. At Antioch, Eusebius was put to trial
by Ossius himself. Euphration – who signed against Eusebius – should have
shown the “blasphemous” letter that he received from the bishop of Caesarea.
Eusebius and other bishops were condemned “as agreeing with those who
were with Arius.”24 Yet, the letter continues:

––––––––––––––––––––

16 C.Ant. (329), can. 4 (FNS 51.4): “If a bishop deposed by a synodos, or a presbyter or deacon
[deposed] by his own bishop, dares to practice part of the ministry – either the bishop ac-
cording to the extended custom, or the presbyter or deacon – it will be no longer licit for
him to have hope of restoration in another synodos or occasion for defense.”
17 See Pergami, 2000, 45–119; Hess, 2002, 179–200; Humfress, 2007; Girardet, 2009, 217–249;
A. Thier, Konfliktlösung durch Synoden, in: D. von Mayenburg (ed.), Konfliktlösung im Mit-
telalter, Berlin 2021, 135–145.
18 Pergami, 2000, 45–119. The book devotes an entire chapter to the topic: “L’appello nella
normativa del IV e V secolo.”
19 Pergami, 2000, 48–49.
20 Dillon, 2012, 11; on appellatio see 214–250.
21 See Eus., h.e. 10.5,18–22; Aug., ep. 88; Optat., Parm. 1.19–23; Maier, 1987, 128–135.
22 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 3 (FNS 24.3).
23 See Marcell., fr. 116; C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 14 (FNS 28.14); Eus., ep. Euphrat. (FNS 13).
24 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 14 (FNS 28.14).
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 179

But know this also: that because of the synod’s abundant love of humanity we
have given these a place for repentance and acknowledgment of the truth at
the great and priestly synod of Ancyra.25

In light of the practice of appeal, this passage suggests that the condemned
bishops appealed to a larger episcopal synod, according to the practice used
by Constantine in the Donatist controversy. This practice was known by both
the bishop of Cordoba and that of Caesarea. Ossius had extensive experience
in synods,26 had participated in the Donatist crisis, and may have experienced
such a process: Ossius ab Hispanis damnatus a Gallis est absolutus.27 Eusebius
of Caesarea was also familiar with the Donatist quarrel.28
It must have been shocking, unexpected, and unacceptable for Eusebius,
one of the most prestigious Eastern bishops,29 to be condemned for theologi-
cal reasons by a Latin cleric. In intellectual matters, Greeks looked down on
Latins.30 Eusebius then must have used every means to reject this condemna-
tion.31 As is well-known, “the great priestly synod” of Ancyra was finally held
in Nicaea, so, if this reconstruction is right, the synod of Nicaea acted as a
court of appeal for Eusebius and the other condemned bishops. This hypoth-
esis is consistent with other sources. In his letter of 341, addressed to the East-
ern bishops in Antioch, Julius of Rome pointed out:

Therefore, even the bishops who gathered for the great council at Nicaea, fol-
lowing divine guidance, allowed for the acts of one council to be reviewed by
a later council (συνεχώρησαν ἐν ἑτέρᾳ συνόδῳ τὰ τῆς προτέρας ἐξετάζεσθαι).32

It has been said that this passage alludes to can. 5 of Nicaea, but it has a dif-
ferent content. Julius states that the synod of Nicaea consented (συγχωρέω) to
review (ἐξετάζω) the decisions of a previous synod.33 Thus, the passage is con-
sistent with the hypothesis that Nicaea reexamined the case of Eusebius of
––––––––––––––––––––

25 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 15 (FNS 28.15).

26 See Ath., fug. 5.
27 See Aug., c. Parm. 4.7 (the scope of Augustine’s phrase is not clear); Grossi, 2015, 271–316.
28 See Eus., h.e. 10.6,2; Lenski, 2018, 166–219.
29 See Hanson, 1988, 159.
30 See G. Bardy, La question des langues dans l’église ancienne, Paris 1948, 155.
31 Perhaps it is possible to identify some autobiographical elements in Eusebius’ reminder
that Paul commanded “not to heed either bishops or rulers or teachers if one of them
should distort the true statement of the faith,” Eus., Marcell. 1.1,12 (trans. FC 135, 78).
32 Jul., ep. Dian. (Ath., apol. sec. 22.2 [AW 2, 103]; trans. LEC 3, 41).
33 C.Nic. (325), can. 5 (FNS 33.5). See Opitz 1938, 103; T.D. Barnes, Athanasius and Constantius.
Theology and Politics in the Constantinian Empire, Cambridge 1993, 257, n. 24; Hess, 2002,
184; G.L. Thompson, The Correspondence of Pope Julius I, Washington 2015, 41 n. 4. The Ni-
cene canon does not speak about clerics condemned by synods, but by bishops.
180 CHAPTER 4

Caesarea and other bishops. In addition, Marcellus of Ancyra, who partici-

pated in Nicaea, in his letter to Julius (341), refers to “Some of those previously
condemned (καταγνωσθέντων πρότερον) for their false beliefs and whom I had
refuted at the Council of Nicaea.”34 The statement matches the situation of
Eusebius, Theodotus, and Narcissus, condemned in Antioch and tried in the
synod of Nicaea.
In addition, when Marcellus describes “their” teaching, he says: “They de-
clare in their writings that the Father existed before the Son (προϋπάρχειν τοῦ
υἱοῦ τὸν πατέρα),”35 a statement that matches almost verbatim Eusebius’ theol-
ogy in his letter to Euphration and Demonstratio evangelica.36 Moreover, in his
Apologia secunda, Athanasius criticizes Melitius for provoking a schism when
he was condemned instead of appealing to another synod.37 Furthermore, the
canon that explicitly states that a bishop condemned by a synod can appeal
to a major synod,38 which perfectly matches the situation of Eusebius, was
written in Antioch in 329, at an assembly that may have been chaired by the
bishop of Caesarea (ch. 5.2.3). Finally, in light of this hypothesis, it is possible
to understand the otherwise inexplicable presence at Nicaea of Secundus of
Pentapolis and Theonas of Marmarica, two bishops who had been con-
demned by the synod of Alexandria (324).39 If Nicaea acted as a court of ap-
peal for condemned bishops, then their presence at the assembly raises no
problems.
In summary, “the great and priestly synod” that was to be held in Ancyra
would examine, as a court of appeal, the cause of Eusebius of Caesarea and
other condemned bishops. I am not claiming that the assembly was called
solely for this purpose; the synod could have had other aims, and it could
have been part of Ossius’ already planned itinerary (ch. 3.32–3). Nevertheless,
what is crucial for this reconstruction is that at least one of the original aims
of the synod was to review the sentence against Eusebius of Caesarea and
other condemned bishops, that is, to assess whether they supported the “Ari-
an” doctrines or not. Thus, at Nicaea, Eusebius’ orthodoxy was called into
question. The aim of Nicaea was not to judge whether the “Arian” doctrine
was orthodox or heretical – Arius was already condemned by his bishop, and

––––––––––––––––––––

34 Marcell., ep. Jul. 2.1 (Epiph., haer. 2.1 [GCS 37, 256]; trans. LEC 3, 17).
35 Marcell., ep. Jul. 2.5 (Epiph., haer. 2.5 [GCS 37, 257]; trans. LEC 3, 19).
36 Eus., ep. Euphrat. 1 (FNS 13.1): οὐ γὰρ συνυπάρχειν φαμὲν τὸν υἱὸν τῷ πατρί, προϋπάρχειν δὲ τὸν
πατέρα τοῦ υἱοῦ. Eus., d.e. 4.3,5 (GCS 23, 153): ὁ πατὴρ προϋπάρχει τοῦ υἱοῦ. Eus., d.e. 5.1,20.
37 Ath., apol. sec. 59.1 (AW 2, 139): ἀλλὰ Μελίτιος οὐ πρὸς ἑτέραν σύνοδον κατέφυγεν.
38 C.Ant. (329), can. 12 (FNS 51.12).
39 Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 6 (FNS 26.6); C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 5 (FNS 34.5); Thdt., h.e. 1.7,15;
Simonetti, 1975, 85 n. 22.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 181

his heterodoxy was taken for granted.40 The Nicene assembly intended to
identify and condemn the bishops who were “of the same opinion as those
with Arius.”41
As previously stated, the evidence about Eusebius’ condemnation at Anti-
och (325) should have radically changed the view of his role at Nicaea; yet,
mainstream studies still portray him as a leading character at Nicaea, the one
who took the initiative to propose his own creed as the common base of an
agreement shared by all the bishops of the synod.42 However, it is highly prob-
lematic to present Eusebius of Caesarea, a condemned bishop, as one of the
key figures involved in drafting the Nicene Creed, the hallmark of orthodoxy.
My contention, then, is that Eusebius arrived in Nicaea as an excommunicat-
ed cleric who had appeal to a larger synod. Therefore, at Nicaea, the bishop of
Caesarea was asked, as an excommunicated cleric, to profess and justify his
faith before the emperor and the bishops (ch. 4.3.3).43

4.1.2 A New Intervention of Constantine: The Venue of the Synod

Only a fragment of the letter in which Constantine calls the bishops to gather
in Nicaea has been preserved. This letter is often believed to have convoked
the synod.44 However, this document does not announce a new synod, but
rather communicates the relocation of an assembly:

Since at first it had been agreed that a synod of bishops should take place at
Ancyra of Galatia, it has now appeared to us, for many [reasons], that it is bet-
ter that it should gather in the city of Nicaea, in Bithynia: both on account of
those bishops coming from Italy and the other regions of Europe, and on ac-
count of the good climate, and because I shall be in a proximate way an ob-
server of and a participant in the things that are going to take place. 45

The letter neither convenes nor suppresses an assembly but changes the ven-
ue of an already planned synod that was to meet in Ancyra. What caused the
change of venue? The letter justifies it with three reasons, but two of them do
––––––––––––––––––––

40 Strutwolf, 2011, 309.

41 Ant. (325), ep. syn. 14–15 (FNS 28.14–15).
42 It is hard to agree with Bardy when he says that, since Eusebius was provisionally con-
demned, “il n’est donc pas étonnant que l’évêque de Césarée ait pu jouer à Nicée un rôle
de premier plan,” G. Bardy, Les origines de l’arianisme et le Concile de Nicée, in: A. Fliche / V.
Martin (eds.), Histoire de l'Église depuis les origines jusqu'à nos jours 3, Paris 1947, 85 n. 4.
See Ayres, 2004, 89; Beatrice 2017, 652; Gwynn, 2021, 99.
43 Schwartz, 1907, 1414: “Als Exkommunizierter legte E[usebios] der Synode sein Credo vor.”
44 Opitz entitles this document “Kaiser Konstantins Schreiben zur Einberufung der nicäni-
schen Synode” (AW 3.1, 41).
45 Const., ep. episc. (FNS 30).
182 CHAPTER 4

not seem convincing. The geographical conditions and the good climate of
Nicaea are stable conditions that do not justify a change. Therefore, the criti-
cal reason for the move must have been Constantine’s decision to participate
in the assembly. This decision, in turn, depends on two factors. After the em-
bassy of Ossius, the emperor, who initially thought that the conflict would be
easy to solve, became aware of the seriousness of the religious situation in the
East. Constantine had sent the bishop of Cordoba to achieve peace in Egypt,
and the results of his embassy only aggravated the situation. On the one
hand, the rupture in Alexandria became deeper. On the other hand, Ossius
led a synod in Antioch that condemned one of the most prestigious bishops
of the East. Constantine, then, had good reasons for distrusting Ossius’ eccle-
siastical policies. Therefore, the emperor took the synod into his own hands
in order to reverse the orientation of Ossius’ policies.46 Ancyra, the see of
Marcellus, was a place hostile to Eusebius of Caesarea; Nicaea, instead, be-
longed to the sphere of influence of the bishop of Nicomedia, who supported
his colleague of Caesarea. The move to Nicaea, then, formed part of Constan-
tine’s religious policy that sought to balance the forces to favor unity.
How did Eusebius describe the convening of Nicaea? He did not transmit
the letter of its convocation. This silence is significant because, in his Historia
ecclesiastica, he preserved the letters with which the emperor convened syn-
ods of lesser importance.47 Besides, the Vita Constantini describes the conven-
ing of Nicaea but does not cite the letter of convocation. This suggests that
the letter contained information that was embarrassing for Eusebius. In this
context, he describes the emperor’s decision as follows:

When Constantine noticed [the Easter problem] and saw that the letter he
had sent to the Alexandrians had proved a failure (ἄπρακτος), then (τότε),
once he had applied his own intelligence (αὐτὸς ἑαυτοῦ διάνοια), he said that it
became necessary to wage another combat against the invisible enemy who
troubled the Church. Then, as one undertaking an expedition against him, he
summoned (συγκροτέω)48 an ecumenical synod (σύνοδος οἰκουμενική), like an
army of God, exhorting with respectful letters that the bishops everywhere
should hasten.49

––––––––––––––––––––

46 G.C. Stead, ‘Eusebius’ and the Council of Nicaea, in: JThS N.S. 24 (1973), 85–100 (98-100);
Fernández, 2020, 196–211.
47 Eus., h.e. 10.18–24. These are the synods of Rome and Arles.
48 Eusebius’ technical use of the verb συγκροτέω to designate the convening of a synod of
bishops is attested in Eus., v.C. 1.44,1; h.e. 5.23,3; G.W.H. Lampe, A Patristic Greek Lexicon,
London 1961, ad συγκροτέω, 3.b-d.
49 Eus., v.C. 3.5,2–6,1 (GCS 7, 83).
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 183

The text shows that Eusebius’ account served as a model for the Historia ec-
clesiastica of Gelasius of Caesarea, from which come verbatim the accounts of
Socrates, the Anonymous Cyzicenus and the Vita Metrophanis et Alexandri.50
The narratives of Rufinus, Theodoret, and Sozomen, while showing less literal
dependence on the Vita Constantini, nevertheless use terms and topics from
it. Eusebius states that the decision to convene a great synod was Constan-
tine’s own (αὐτὸς ἑαυτοῦ διάνοια).
However, this decision would have been taken when (τότε) the emperor
noticed the failure of Ossius’ conciliatory mission.51 It is evident, therefore,
that the convocation of the synod of Ancyra (= Nicaea) predates the moment
(τότε) when Constantine learned of the failure of Ossius’ embassy – other-
wise the time is too short to call a large synod. Consequently, it is likely that
the synod of Ancyra (= Nicaea) was convened at Antioch or was already part
of Ossius’ itinerary in the East, planned for in late 324. Either way, the bishop
of Cordoba played a crucial role in the calling of the synod that gathered at
Nicaea (325).52 In fact, the passages cited as evidence that the emperor con-
vened Nicaea testify to his participation in the synod but offer only very ge-
neric information about its convening.53
Ossius’ crucial role in the calling of the synod is not absent from historiog-
raphy. On the one hand, Rufinus states that Constantine “advised by the bish-
ops (ex sententia sacerdotum), convoked an episcopal council in the city of
Nicaea.”54 More explicitly, Sulpicius Severus says, “It was believed that the
synod of Nicaea had been held with [Ossius] as its author.”55 However, if he
convened the great episcopal synod, why do Christian authors not record it?
––––––––––––––––––––

50 See Socr., h.e. 1.8,4; An.Cyz., h.e. 2.5,1; Vita Metrophanis et Alexandri (Winkelmann, 1982,
162). See also Gelas., h.e. F11, 243-244 (GCS.NF 25, 72); De Clercq, 1954, 225, n. 31.
51 Soz., h.e. 1.17,1 (GCS.NF 4, 36): “Since [Ossius,] the envoy to arbitrate peace, returned
unsuccessful (ἄπρακτος), [Constantine] summoned a synod at Nicaea of Bithynia.”
52 Fernández, 2020, 196–211.
53 The texts alluded to as proof are Eus., v.C. 3.12,4; 3.17,1–2; Ath., decr. 36.2; 41.13.
54 Ruf., h.e. 10.1 (GCS 9/2, 960).
55 Sulp. Sev., chron. 40.2: et Nicaena synodus auctore illo [scil. Ossius] confecta hebebatur (SC
441, 318). On the other hand, some modern scholars have also suggested a greater partici-
pation of the bishops in the convocation of Nicaea. Thus, for example, Bardy, who pro-
poses the participation of the assembly of Antioch in the convocation of Nicaea (Bardy,
1947, 80–81). Also, Fiedrowicz, from the text of Rufinus, suggests the intervention of Alex-
ander of Alexandria and Ossius of Cordoba in the convocation of Nicaea (Fiedrowicz,
2010, 299–300). In the same vein, Kretschmar claims that perhaps it was Ossius who sug-
gested to the emperor the plan to leave to a great synod the decision on the matters that
agitated the Church: “Vielleicht war er es auch, der dem Kaiser den Plan suggerierte, die
Entscheidung in dieser Angelegenheit von einer grossen Synode fallen su lassen,” G.
Kretschmar, Die Konzile der Alten Kirche, in: H.J. Margull (ed.), Die ökumenischen Konzile
der Christenheit, Stuttgart 1961, 44.
184 CHAPTER 4

To a great extent, later historiography depends on the work of Eusebius, who

omitted the name of Ossius in his narrative and did not record the synod of
Antioch at all. The reason is evident: the bishop of Cordoba had condemned
Eusebius at Antioch. Eusebius therefore silenced the leading role of and em-
phasized that the initiative to call it came from Constantine himself. Ossius
played a crucial role in the calling of the great synod; however, Constantine
was decisive for the success of the synod. He broadened its scope and sup-
ported it with the resources of the Empire (cursus publicus).56 Without the
emperor, the Nicene assembly would have had modest dimensions.

4.1.3 Participants, Topics, and Place

How many bishops participated in the synod of Nicaea? A chronological ac-
count of ancient evidence gives an idea. In 325, Constantine spoke of “three
hundred” and “more than three hundred bishops.”57 Eustathius of Antioch,
shortly after the assembly, referred to “about two hundred and seventy.”58
Eusebius of Caesarea, around 338, referred to “more than two hundred and
fifty.”59 In 340, Julius of Rome indicated “three hundred.”60 Hilary, in 356, af-
firmed that at Nicaea there were “three hundred or more” bishops.61 Athana-
sius, around 356, spoke of “more or less three hundred,” and around 358 he
indicated “more or less three hundred bishops.”62 Marius Victorinus, around
358, spoke of “more than three hundred bishops.”63 In 359, Hilary himself was
the first to fix the number of bishops at three hundred and eighteen, linked to
the number of the servants of Abraham (Gen 14:14).64 Still in 359, Athanasius
spoke of “three hundred” bishops, and, only in 371, the bishop of Alexandria
indicated “three hundred and eighteen bishops.”65 Then, the oldest testimo-
nies are those of Constantine, Eusebius and Eustathius. The emperor, who
was enthusiastic about the synod, spoke of “three hundred,” and “more than
three hundred,” while the bishops of Caesarea and Antioch, who had reason
to play down the importance of the assembly, spoke of “more than two hun-
dred and fifty” and “about two hundred and seventy.” So, it seems safe to as-

––––––––––––––––––––

56 Eus., v.C. 3.6,1; Socr., h.e. 1.7,4; Thdt., h.e. 1.7,1.

57 Const., ep. eccl. Alex. 5; 9 (FNS 36.5; 36.9).
58 Eust., fr. 79,1 (FNS 39.1).
59 Eus., v.C. 3.8.
60 Jul., ep. Dian. (Ath., apol. sec. 2).
61 Hil., coll. antiar. B 2.9,7.
62 Ath., decr. 3.1; h. Ar. 66.3.
63 Mar. Victorin., adv. Ar. 1.28 (SC 68, 266).
64 Hil., syn. 86 (SC 621, 402): trecenti et decem octo nuper receperunt.
65 Ath., syn. 43.3; Afr. 2.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 185

sume that between two hundred and seventy and three hundred bishops
participated in the synod of Nicaea.
Who participated in the synod? The episcopal lists have been studied in
detail in the work of Gelzer, Hilgenfeld and Cuntz: Patrum nicaenorum nomi-
na (1898).66 It collects the names and sees of the bishops that the various lists
indicate participated in the synod. Eusebius describes the geographical ex-
tent of the participants, which encompasses twenty-two regions:67

From all the churches which filled all Europe, Libya, and Asia the choicest of
the servants of God were brought together; and one place of worship, as if ex-
tended by God, took them in all together: Syrians with Cilicians; Phoenicians
and Arabians and Palestinians; besides these, Egyptians, Thebans, Libyans,
and those who came from between the rivers. Even a Persian bishop was pre-
sent at the council, nor was a Scythian lacking from the assembly. Pontus and
Galatia, Cappadocia and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia provided their chosen
men. Thracians too and Macedonians, Achaeans and Epirotes, and among
them those who lived far up-country, were present; and even of the Spaniards
the very well-known one was among those joining the assembly with all the
rest.68 The one in charge of the imperial city [Sylvester] was absent because of
his old age, but his presbyters were present and deputized for him.69

According to Honigmann, this text must have been based on a list before 330
because Eusebius calls Rome “the imperial city,” a title that would later be
used to refer to Constantinople in the East.70 Socrates’ list conveys the names
of 220 bishops. This list includes the following provinces: Hispania, Rome,
Egypt, Thebaid, Upper Libya, Lower Libya, Palestine, Phoenicia, Celesiria,
Arabia, Mesopotamia, Cilicia, Cappadocia, Armenia Parva, Armenia Magna,
Diosponto, Pontus Polemoniacus, Paphlagonia, Galatia, Asia, Lydia, Phrygia,
‹Pisidia›, Lycia, Pamphylia, the Islands, Caria, Isauria, Cyprus, Bithynia, Eu-
rope, Dacia, Mysia, Africa, Macedonia, Dardania, Achaia, Thessaly, Dardania,
Pannonia, Gaul, Gotia, and Bosporus.71 In addition, there were a few western-
ers: Ossius of Cordoba, Nicasius of Gaul, Caecilian of Carthage, and the two
––––––––––––––––––––

66 H. Gelzer / H. Hilgenfeld / O. Cuntz (eds.), Patrum nicaenorum nomina Latine, Graece,

Coptice, Syriace, Arabice, Armeniace, mit einem Nachwort von C. Markschies, Berlin 1995
(Original: Leipzig 1898).
67 C. Markschies, Nachwort, in: Gelzer / Hilgenfeld / Cuntz (eds.), 1995, 271.
68 Once again, Eusebius omits the name of Ossius of Cordoba. See Eus., v.C. 2.63; 2.73.
69 Eus., v.C. 3.7,1–2 (GCS 7, 84–85; trans. Cameron / Hall, 1999, 124, mod.).
70 E. Honigmann, The Original Lists of the Members of the Council of Nicaea, the Robber-Synod
and the Council of Chalcedon, in: Byz. 16 (1942–1943), 28: “It is thus quite obvious that the
list of provinces in the Vita Constantini in some measure represents the original list of the
fathers of Nicaea.”
71 Socr., h.e. 1.13,11–12 (GCS.NF 1, 46–51).
186 CHAPTER 4

Roman presbyters, Vincent and Vitus. In short, the assembly of Nicaea was
composed of bishops from the civil dioceses of Dacia, Macedonia, Thrace,
Asia, Pontus, the East (which then included Egypt), as well as the few West-
erners who have been mentioned.
Constantine’s participation in Nicaea is well accredited by the sources.
The emperor himself indicates, in the letter by which he transfers the seat of
the synod, that his intention was to be “an observer of the things that are
going to take place.”72 Moreover, in a letter written during or shortly after Ni-
caea, the emperor says “I too was present, as one of you.” 73 Other documents
such as the letter of Nicaea to the church of Egypt, the letter of Eusebius to
his church, the Vita Constantini, and the Christian historians mention the
participation of the emperor.74
Julius of Rome, in 341, affirms that Marcellus of Ancyra played an active
role in the debates and that the Roman presbyters present at the great synod
remembered him as such.75 Marcellus himself refers to those “whom I had
refuted at the synod of Nicaea.”76 Besides, Athanasius’ participation in the
council does not appear in contemporary sources. The letter of Alexandria
(338), says that Athanasius, being a deacon at Nicaea, “spoke frankly
(παρρησιάζομαι) against the impiety of the Arians,”77 but this letter is a defense
of Athanasius. Hilary, around 356, says that Athanasius was in Nichea synodo
diaconus, deinceps Alexandriae episcopus.78 The bishop of Poitiers testifies to
Athanasius’ presence in the synod and his anti-Arian zeal, but he does not
affirm that Athanasius played an important role. Later, Gelasius of Caesarea
says, around 370, “Bravely fighting against the [Arians] were our fathers
among the saints, Alexander of Constantinople, who was then a presbyter,
and Athanasius the deacon of the church of the Alexandrians.”79 This account
was repeated by later historians.80 Yet, Athanasius does not describe the
Council of Nicaea in the first-person singular in De decretis, as he frequently
––––––––––––––––––––

72 Const., ep. episc. (FNS 30).

73 Const., ep. eccl. 2 (FNS 35.2). See Const., ep. eccl. Alex. 3 (FNS 36.3): “I summoned to the
city of Nicaea most of the bishops, with whom I undertook the detailed examination of
the truth.” Const., ep. Nicomed. 13 (FNS 42.13): you “remember that a synodos was held in
the city of Nicaea, where I myself was present, as befitting the service I owe my con-
science.”
74 C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 2 (FNS 34.2); Eus., ep. Caes. 7–9; 14 (FNS 37.7–9; 37.14); Eus., v.C. 3.10–
15; Gelas., h.e. F12; Soz., h.e. 1.21,4–5.
75 Jul., ep. Dian. (Ath., apol. sec. 32.2).
76 Marcell., ep. Jul. 2.1 (Epiph., haer. 72.2,1 [GCS 37, 256]; trans. LEC 3, 17, mod.).
77 C.Alex. (338), ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 6.2).
78 Hil., coll. antiar. B 2.11,6 (CSEL 65, 154).
79 Gelas., h.e. F12a (GCS.NF 25, 76). Text is transmitted by An.Cyz., h.e. 2.7,44 (GCS.NF 9, 42).
80 Socr., h.e. 1.8,13; 1.15,3; Ruf., h.e. 10.5.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 187

does in other works.81 The thesis that credits the encyclical of Alexander to
Athanasius, supports his participation at Nicaea.82 Therefore, Athanasius was
present in Nicaea, but it does not seem plausible that he played a leading role,
as later historians claim, because the first evidence of his active participation
in the synod is late.
It is worth noting that no contemporary source supports the presence of
Arius at the Nicene assembly.83 The first extant source that claims so was
written about fifty years after the synod by Gelasius of Caesarea. He says:

The [bishops] summoned Arius frequently (συχνῶς) and studied his proposi-
tions with repeated inquisitions (πυκνῇ ἀνακρίσει), and with much considera-
tion they reasoned as to how they should decide and counterargue so as to
overturn his iniquitous tenets.84

This passage shows the bishops hesitating over whether they should con-
demn Arius or not. This picture sharply contradicts contemporary evidence
that proves that at Alexandria, Antioch, and Nicaea the heretical character of
Arius’ doctrine was taken for granted. Subsequent ancient and modern histo-
rians held Gelasius’ implausible narrative.85 The “great episcopal synod” of
Nicaea, therefore, did not judge a convicted presbyter, but examined whether
a group of bishops held the “Arian” doctrine or not.
Regarding the topics of the synod, it is necessary to rely on the contempo-
rary sources. They mention three issues: the theological controversy provoked
by the “Arian” teaching, the Melitian schism, and the date of Easter.86 In addi-
tion to these three topics, various disciplinary questions were dealt with, as

––––––––––––––––––––

81 A. Martin, Figures du “Je” et jeux de figures dans les Apologies d’Athanase: aux antipodes de
l’autobiographie, in: M.-F. Baslez / P. Hoffmann / L. Pernot (eds), L’invention de l’autobio-
graphie: d’Hésiode à Saint Augustin, Paris 1993, 147–154.
82 See Stead, 1988, 76–91; Morales, 2019, 541–589.
83 H. Pietras, Fonti sulla condanna di Ario a Nicea nel 325, in: Gr. 104 (2023), 485–514.
84 Gelas., h.e. F12e (GCS.NF 25, 96–97). Gelasius’ text is transmitted by Vita Metrophanis et
Alexandri (Winkelmann, 1982, 167). See also Gelas., h.e. F12a (GCS.NF 25, 76–77): “They
summoned Arius to the synod, directing him to present his doctrines.” Ruf., h.e. 10.5 (GCS
9/2, 964): evocabatur frequenter Arrius in concilium et adsiduo tractatu adsertiones eius
discutiebantur. See An.Cyz., h.e. 2.7,44.
85 Boularand, 1972, 224–225; Anatolios, 2011, 17–18.
86 On the “Arian” controversy, C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 2–3 (FNS 34.2–3); Const., ep. eccl. Alex.
3–5 (FNS 36.3–5); Const., ep. Nicomed. 13 (FNS 42.13); Eust., fr. 79.1–3 (FNS 39.1–3); Eus.,
v.C. 3.4,1; Jul., ep. Dian. (Ath., apol. sec. 23.1). On the Melitian schism: C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg.
5–10 (FNS 34.5–10); Eus., v.C. 3.4,1; Jul., ep. Dian. (Ath., apol. sec. 28.6). On the date of East-
er: C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 12 (FNS 34.12); Const., ep. eccl. 3 (FNS 35.3); Eus., v.C. 3.5,1–2; 3.14,1;
Ath., syn. 5.
188 CHAPTER 4

reflected in the synodal canons.87 It should be remembered that, because of

Licinius’ anti-Christian policy, it had not been possible to convene synods for
some time in parts of the eastern Empire.88
As has been shown, the assembly of Nicaea is none other than the “great
priestly synod” that was originally to be assembled in Ancyra, but which, by
order of Constantine, was held in Nicaea of Bithynia. This identification al-
lows us to affirm that the tasks programmed for Ancyra were carried out at
Nicaea. The synodal letter of Antioch indicates that the “great episcopal syn-
od” would examine the faith of Eusebius of Caesarea, Theodotus of Laodicea
and Narcissus of Neroniades. Then, the synod’s debates could have begun by
examining the faith of the bishops who had recently been condemned at
Antioch. In the same vein, one of the Nicene letters states that the question
of Arius’ impiety was examined first of all (πρῶτον μὲν οὖν ἁπάντων).89 These
data indicate that, in general terms, Nicaea addressed the theological ques-
tion first. Subsequently, the rest of the issues must have been dealt with, but
the sources do not indicate the order.
To this day the place of the Council of Nicaea has not been verified ar-
chaeologically.90 If Nicaea was – according to Eusebius – “a city suitable for
the synod,”91 it should have had appropriate buildings for hosting the assem-
bly. Regarding the locations, the sources speak about a house of worship
(οἶκος εὐκτήριος) and an imperial palace (οἶκος τῶν βασιλείων). Eusebius says:

From all the churches which filled all Europe, Libya, and Asia the choicest of
the servants of God were brought together; and one house of worship (εἷς τ'
οἶκος εὐκτήριος), as if extended by God (ὥσπερ ἐκ θεοῦ πλατυνόμενος), took
them in all together: Syrians with Cilicians; Phoenicians and Arabians and
Palestinians…”92

Eusebius says that the house of worship, “as if extended by God,” took all the
bishops together. The text suggests that the house of worship itself was not
enough for the about 300 bishops who participated in the synod. In 2014, the
ruins of a basilica were discovered under the water of İznik Lake that could
be part of the building complex of the imperial palace. Some coins from AD

––––––––––––––––––––

87 C.Nic. (325), can. 1–20 (FNS 33.1–20).

88 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 5 (FNS 28.5); Eus., v.C. 1.51,1–2.
89 C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 2 (FNS 34.2).
90 See H.C. Brennecke, Nicäa, Ökumenische Synoden I. Ökumenische Synode von 325, in: TRE
24 (1994), 429–441 (431).
91 Eus., v.C. 3.6,1 (GCS 7, 83).
92 Eus., v.C. 3.7,1 (GSC 7, 84; trans. Cameron / Hall, 1999, 124).
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 189

328–329 were found in the excavations.93 The first English pilgrim to the Holy
Land, Willibald (ca. 700–787), visited Nicaea shortly before 727. His book
describes the place:

Thence [Constantinople] he [Willibald] went to Nicaea, where formerly the

Emperor Constantine held a council at which three hundred and eighteen
bishops were present, all taking an active part. The church there resembles
the one at Mount Olivet, where our Lord ascended into heaven; and in the
church are all the portraits of the bishops who took part in the council. 94

The Hodoeporicon, or relation of a voyage, was written by Huneberc; she got

the information directly from Willibald himself. Unfortunately, the descrip-
tion of Nicaea is not specific, and it has some legendary traits, especially the
portraits of all the bishops who gathered at Nicaea.

4.2 The Opening Session

The main source for the opening session is Vita Constantini. Its date is usually
set as May or June 325, but the second date is more likely.95 The first session
was held in the imperial palace of Nicaea and is described in detail:

When the whole council had with proper ceremony taken their seats, silence
fell upon them all, as they awaited the emperor’s arrival. […]. All rose at a sig-
nal, which announced the emperor’s entrance; and he finally walked along
between them, like some heavenly angel of God, his bright mantle shedding
lustre like beams of light, shining with the fiery radiance of a purple robe, and
decorated with the dazzling brilliance of gold and precious stones. […]. When
he reached the upper end of the rows of seats and stood in the middle, a small
chair made of gold having been set out, only when the bishops assented did
he sit down. They all did the same after the emperor. The bishop who was first
in the row on the right then stood up and delivered a rhythmical speech. 96

The detailed description of the emperor’s entrance, including his robe, con-
trasts with the intentional omission of the speaker’s name. Who delivered the
opening address? The absence of the name suggests that the speaker was
––––––––––––––––––––

93 See M. Şahin, Underwater Excavation at the Basilica Church in İznik Lake, in: International
Journal of Environment and Geoinformatics 9 (2022), 71–80.
94 T.F.X. Noble / T. Head (eds.), Soldiers of Christ: Saints and Saints' Lives from Late Antiquity
and the Early Middle Ages, London 1995, 159.
95 Barnes, 1981, 215; Barnes, 1993, 198–199; E. Schwartz, Die Aktenbeilagen in den Athanasius-
handschriften, in: NGWG.PH (1904), 391–401 (396–397) [Schwartz, 1959, 79–81].
96 Eus., v.C. 3.10,2–11,1 (trans. Cameron / Hall, 1999, 125).
190 CHAPTER 4

Ossius.97 Besides, his closeness to Constantine, his prominence at the coun-

cil,98 and the place of his name at the top of the episcopal list of Nicaea sug-
gest that the bishop of Cordoba not only delivered the opening address, but
also presided over the Nicene assembly.99 However, Eusebius affirms that
Ossius “was one, together with many others” (εἷς ἦν τοῖς πολλοῖς ἅμα),100 and
Constantine may have wanted to counter-balance Ossius’ policy, so it cannot
be excluded that the opening speech was pronounced by another bishop.
After the inaugural address, the emperor delivered a speech in Latin,
which was translated into Greek for the listeners, that Eusebius summariz-
es.101 The speech alludes to the defeat of Licinius, affirms that internal divi-
sions are more serious than external ones, and declares Constantine’s com-
mitment to the unity and peace of the Church.102 The account continues:

When [Constantine] had spoken these words in Latin, with someone inter-
preting, he made way for the leaders of the Council to speak. Some then be-
gan to accuse their neighbours, while the others defended themselves and
made countercharges.103

When the speech was over, the emperor gave the floor to “the presidents of
the synod” (οἱ τῆς συνόδου πρόεδροι). Again, Eusebius omits the names because
they were his adversaries: Ossius, Eustathius, Alexander, and others. The “ac-
cusations” and “countercharges” should reflect historical fact. The canons of
Nicaea point out the large number of disciplinary questions that were pend-
ing and required an official decision. Subsequently, this evidence was ampli-
fied and acquired legendary form found in the story of “the burning of peti-
tions” (ch. 4.5.1).104 In the same vein, Gelasius introduces the account of an
Arian philosopher defeated and converted by an uneducated bishop, repeat-
––––––––––––––––––––

97 Eusebius systematically omits the name of Ossius, the western bishop who had con-
demned him in Antioch (Eus., v.C. 2.63; 2.73; 3.7). Sozomen believed that the omission of
the name indicated that it was Eusebius of Caesarea himself who was the author of the
discourse (Soz., h.e. 1.19,2), which was impossible because the bishop of Caesarea arrived
at the council as an excommunicate. The capitula of volume 3 of v.C. affirm that it was
“the bishop Eusebius” who delivered the discourse (GCS 9/, 8). Theodoret, on the other
hand, identifies him with Eustathius of Antioch (Thdt., h.e. 1.7,10).
98 Ath., h. Ar. 42.3; fug. 5.1.
99 See Barnes, 1978, 56–57; P. Maraval (ed.), Constantin, Lettres et discours, Paris 2010, 293;
Hanson, 1988, 154; G. Fernández, Los presidentes del concilio de Nicea de 325, in: Habis 39
(2008), 309–315.
100 Eus., v.C. 3.7,1 (GCS 7, 84).
101 Const., orat. Nic. (FNS 31); Eus., v.C. 3.12,1–5.
102 The same insistence on ecclesial unity, in Const., ep. eccl. 1 (FNS 35.1).
103 Eus., v.C. 3.13,1 (trans. Cameron / Hall, 1999, 126).
104 See Gelas., h.e. F12b; Ruf., h.e. 10.2; Socr., h.e. 1.8,19; An.Cyz., h.e. 2.8,1–4.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 191

ed in Rufinus, Anonymus Cyzicenus, Socrates, and Sozomen,105 as well as the

account of Paphnutius and Spiridon, also taken up by Rufinus and Anonymus
Cyzicenus.106 In Socrates’ account of Paphnutius, he integrates a text that il-
luminates the history of clerical celibacy,107 which is not found in Gelasius.
One cannot exclude that these accounts may have a certain historical core,
but, in their present form, they belong to the hagiographic genre.
The proceedings of the Council of Nicaea itself are narrated very briefly in
the Vita Constantini. The detailed description of the opening and closing
sessions sharply contrasts with the short and vague account of the theological
discussions at the assembly.108 It is true that the Vita Constantini revolves
around the emperor, not the council, but his interventions in the doctrinal
discussions, attested by Eusebius, undoubtedly offered rich material to praise
the hero of the Life of Constantine. The vague character of the narrative is
intentional; it is not the consequence of chance or distraction. Moreover, the
only extant account of the discussions written by Eusebius of Caesarea was
not handed down by himself, but it survived in Athanasius’ writings.109 The
bishop of Caesarea, then, did not want to transmit the doctrinal discussions
of Nicaea; this intriguing fact is understandable if he was in the dock.

4.3 The Proceedings of Nicaea: The Theological Discussions

The most significant contemporary documents for reconstructing the discus-

sions at Nicaea are the well-known letter of Eusebius of Caesarea to his
church (FNS 37, hereafter the Letter)110 and fragment 79 of Eustathius (FNS 39,
hereafter the Fragment), both written shortly after the synod.111 Besides, there
are valuable testimonies by Athanasius.112 He witnessed Nicaea, but he wrote
about thirty years after the event and, therefore, he describes it from a retro-
spective viewpoint. In addition, other writings provide brief, yet significant
information about the synod.113
Mainstream modern reconstructions of Nicaea assume that 1) Eusebius of
Caesarea had a leading position at the synod, 2) that the Fragment mentions
––––––––––––––––––––

105 Gelas., h.e. F12d; Ruf., h.e. 10.3; An.Cyz., h.e. 2.12,9–13,15; Socr., h.e. 1.8,14–16; Soz., h.e. 1.18.
106 Gelas., h.e. F12d; Ruf., h.e. 10.4–5; An.Cyz., h.e. 2.9,1–11,11.
107 Socr., h.e. 1.11,3–7.
108 See J.J. Ayán Calvo, Nicea y el problemático homoousios, in: Reyes Guerrero (ed.), 2015, 359.
109 Eus., ep. Caes. (FNS 37) = Ath., decr. 33.1–17 (AW 2, 28–31).
110 Eus., ep. Caes. (FNS 37).
111 Eust., fr. 79 (FNS 39).
112 Ath., decr. 3.1–4; 19.1–20.3; ep. Afr. 5.4–6.3.
113 C.Alex. (338), ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 6.2); Marcell., ep. Jul. 2.5 (Epiph., haer. 72.2,5).
192 CHAPTER 4

Eusebius of Nicomedia, 3) that the Letter and the Fragment describe different
episodes, and that 4) there were three stances at the synod: the group of Eu-
stathius, that of the bishop of Nicomedia and, in the middle, the moderate
group represented by Eusebius of Caesarea.114 This widespread account is
problematic – and therefore implausible – because it does not take sufficient-
ly into account that Eusebius was condemned a few months earlier at Anti-
och (325) by leading bishops of Nicaea, such as Ossius and Eustathius. It is
unlikely that an excommunicated bishop became a key figure of the assem-
bly, especially if Nicaea acted as a court of appeal for Eusebius.115 Nonetheless,
recent studies still present him as a leading figure at the assembly, the one
who proposed his own formula of faith as the basis for an agreement shared
by all the bishops. Therefore, the following pages call into question the recon-
struction held by modern studies. Accordingly, it addresses three questions: 1)
Who is the Eusebius mentioned by the Fragment? 2) Do the Letter and the
Fragment describe two different episodes or the same? Finally, 3) how many
stances were in the assembly, two or three? Accordingly, the first part of this
section examines the relationship between the Letter and the Fragment
(4.3.1). The second makes a thorough comparison of the two documents
(4.3.2). The third part attempts a reconstruction of the theological discussions
at Nicaea (4.3.3). The goal of this section is to shed some light on the “the
obscurity surrounding the deliberations of the bishops” at Nicaea.116

4.3.1 The Main Sources and Their Relationship

After studying the status of Eusebius of Caesarea at Nicaea, it is time to ad-
dress the relationship between the main sources, namely, the Letter that Eu-
sebius sent to his church and the Fragment by Eustathius of Antioch. Two
questions are crucial: Who is the Eusebius mentioned by the Fragment? Do
the Letter and the Fragment describe two different episodes or the same one?
The Letter was written by Eusebius of Caesarea almost immediately after
the synod and, thus, it transmits first-hand evidence about Nicaea. It was not
transmitted in the works of Eusebius, but in those of Athanasius.117 In it, Eu-
sebius warned his church about rumors concerning him and justified his

––––––––––––––––––––

114 See Barnes, 1978, 59; A.M. Ritter, Arianismus, in: TRE 3 (1978), 692–719 (705); Ayres, 2004,
89; Beatrice, 2017, 652.
115 There is a tension between the two ideas of the following reconstruction: “Les trois
évêques excommuniés à Antioche durent avoir été absous entre temps, puisqu’ils partici-
pèrent au concile [de Nicée]. Eusèbe le présida peut-être, mais c’est un point qui est en-
core débattu.” S. Morlet, 2012, 10.
116 Luibhéid, 1981, 52.
117 Ath., decr. 33.1–17 = Eus., ep. Caes. (FNS 37).
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 193

behavior at the synod.118 It consists of some narrative sections, a document

containing a brief introduction, his profession of faith with some explana-
tions, and the Nicene Creed with the anathema.119 As in the Vita Constantini,
the Letter omits crucial names: the bishop says that the emperor demanded
the addition of the term homoousios,120 and “they” produced the Nicene
Creed.121 Eusebius explains the meaning of the additions “from the substance
of the Father” and “homoousios with the Father” and states that he accepted
them for the sake of peace after careful examination.
The Fragment of Eustathius is preserved by Theodoret.122 It contains first-
hand evidence of the discussion at Nicaea. It was written shortly after the
great synod, as will be shown later (ch. 5.1.2).123 Theodoret includes three ac-
counts in his description of Nicaea: his narrative of the discussion, the Frag-
ment by Eustathius, and an account that follows Athanasius.124 Theodoret did
not present these accounts as successive events, but as three reports of the
same episode. In fact, all of them describe a theological discussion that ends
with the signing of the Nicene Creed, a one-time event.125 The Fragment af-
firms that when the synod sought a formula of faith, a writing by an unspeci-
fied Eusebius was read aloud, the writing was rejected by the assembly, then
those around Eusebius, for the sake of peace, subscribed to the statement
agreed on by the synod.
Athanasius’ main testimony is found in De decretis 19.1–20.3. He asserts
that the theological discussion lasted more than a day.126 However, it must
play a subordinate role in this analysis because it is a retrospective account.
He witnessed the synod, but he narrated it about thirty years later, when Eu-

––––––––––––––––––––

118 Eus., ep. Caes. 1 (FNS 37.1); Ath., decr. 3.3.

119 Eus., ep. Caes. 8 (FNS 37.8). Narrative section (ep. Caes. 1–2); a document (ep. Caes. 3:
introduction; ep. Caes. 4: his profession of faith; ep. Caes. 5–6: some explanations); narra-
tive section (ep. Caes. 7); the Nicene Creed and the anathema (ep. Caes. 8); narrative sec-
tion (ep. Caes. 9–17).
120 Eus., ep. Caes. 7 (FNS 37.7).
121 Eus., ep. Caes. 7–8 (FNS 37.7–8).
122 Eust., Fr. 79 (FNS 39) = Thdt., h.e. 1.8,1–5 (GCS.NF 5, 38–39).
123 See J. Declerck (ed.), Eustathii Antiocheni, patris Nicaeni, Opera quae supersunt omnia,
CChr.SG 51, Turnhout 2002, ccccvii; T.G. Elliott, Constantine and “the Arian Reaction after
Nicaea,” in: JEH 43 (1992), 169–194 (173). Instead, Hanson refers the fragment to events af-
ter Nicaea, see R.P.C. Hanson, The Fate of Eustathius of Antioch, in: ZAC 95 (1984), 171–179
(172–174); Cartwright, 2015, 18–19.
124 Thdt., h.e. 1.7,14–17 (Theodoret’s account); Thdt., h.e. 1.8,1–5 (the Fragment by Eustathius),
and Thdt., h.e. 1.8,7–16 (Ath., ep. Afr. 5.4–6.3, that follows Ath., decr. 19.1–20.3).
125 Thdt., h.e. 1.7,16; 1.8,3; 1.8,17. The first text ends with the closure of the synod (Thdt., h.e.
1.7,16), and there are evident parallels between Thdt., h.e. 1.7,14–7 and Thdt., h.e. 1.8,1–4.
126 See Ath., decr. 3.3. See also Ath., ep. Afr. 5.4–6.1 (SC 622, 208–215).
194 CHAPTER 4

sebius of Caesarea, Eusebius of Nicomedia, Arius, Alexander, and Constan-

tine had died, and the parameters of the conflict had changed.
The first question revolves around the identity of the unspecified Eusebius
of the Fragment. The history of the editions of Theodoret’s work, which in-
cludes the Fragment, is instructive. The editio princeps of Beatus Rhenanus
(1523), states in a marginal note: Eusebius Nicomediensis fautor Arii.127 Her-
mant (1671) supported this view.128 Henry de Valois (1673), however, identified
the Eusebius with the bishop of Caesarea: Porro Eusebium hoc loco Caesar-
iensem intelligit, non autem Nicomediensem.129
A few years later (1688), Cave argued against him: Non enim fuisse Eusebii
Caesarensis Symbolum, quod vult doctissimus Valesius.130 This opinion was
reproduced by Reading (1720).131 Hefele, in his Conciliengeschichte (1855), af-
firmed that the Fragment refers to Eusebius of Nicomedia,132 and the influen-
tial French edition of this work maintains the statement (1907).133 This view
relies chiefly on the two reasons provided by Cave in 1688, namely that Am-
brose affirms that an epistula by Eusebius of Nicomedia was read and rejected
at Nicaea,134 which matches the narrative by Eustathius, and that the Frag-
ment speaks about a blasphemous document that cannot be the creed of
Eusebius of Caesarea, which ne levissimam quidem blasphemiae aut impietatis
umbram contineat.135
Accordingly, many modern scholars assume that the Fragment speaks
about the bishop of Nicomedia. It is the case with Newman (1833), Gwatkin
(1900), Tixeront (1912), Batiffol (1925), Burn (1925), Sellers (1928), Ortiz de
Urbina (1963), Spanneut (1967), Kelly (1972), Quasten (1960), Boularand
(1972), Stead (1973), Simonetti (1975), Hanson (1984; 1988), Williams (1987),
Perrone (1990), Pietri (1995), Strutwolf (1999), Gallico (2000), Ayres (2004),
––––––––––––––––––––

127 B. Rhenanus, Autores historiae ecclesiasticae, Basilea 1523, 316.

128 G. Hermant, La vie de St. Athanase Patriarche d’Alexandrie, Paris 1671, 123.
129 H. de Valois, Theodoreti… Quae extant Historiae Ecclesiasticae…, Cambridge 1679, 28 (ad. p.
10): Ad quem locum observavi, formulam illam intelligi, quam Eusebius Pamphili in epistola
ad Caesarienses proposuisse se dicit. Haec est igitur quam Eustathius hoc loco vocat γράμμα
Εὐσεβίου. Nam γράμμα et γραφή pro formula fidei faepissime sumitur, ut in libro 4 Sozomeni
legere memini. Sic Eustathius paulo poft συμφώνοις γράμμασι dicit, de formula Nicanae fidei
loquens. Porro Eufebium hoc loco Caesariensem intelligit, non autem Nicomediensem, ut col-
ligo ex Socrate.
130 W. Cave, Scriptorum ecclesiasticorum historia litteraria…, London 1688, 138.
131 W. Reading, Theodoriti Episcopi Cyri et Evagrii Scholastici..., London 1720, 28.
132 K.J. Hefele, Conciliengeschichte: Nach den Quellen bearbeitet, Freiburg i.Br. 1855, 273.
133 K.J. Hefele / H. Leclercq, Histoire des conciles d’après les documents originaux 1, Paris 1907,
431, n. 4.
134 Ambr., fid. 3.15,125; see Eus. (?), fr. (FNS 38).
135 Cave, 1688, 138.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 195

the editors of Sources chrétiennes (2006), Ayán Calvo (2015); Beatrice (2017),
Morales (2019), and Gwynn (2021).136 Most of these authors assume this
stance almost without discussion. In turn, Hanson added two new argu-
ments: First, the expression οἱ ἀμφὶ τὸν Εὐσέβιον reinforces the reference to
Eusebius of Nicomedia. Secon, and that the two narratives are so different
that if both describe the same incident, one of the two bishops should be
convicted of “blatant mendacity.”137
A few modern scholars, however, challenge the mainstream opinion by af-
firming – as Valois did – that the Eusebius mentioned in the Fragment is that
of Caesarea. This is the case of Schwartz (1907), Jones (1948), Chadwick
(1960), Tetz (1993), Uthemann (2007), and Pietras (2023).138 Others say that
the identification cannot be conclusively proved.139
This detailed analysis is justified because the identity of the unidentified
Eusebius has crucial consequences. Scholars who support that he is the bish-
op of Nicomedia must admit that the Letter and the Fragment describe di-
verse episodes and, thus, must distinguish two different stages in the Nicene
discussions: one devoted to condemning Arianism, focused on Eusebius of
––––––––––––––––––––

136 J.H. Newman, The Arians of the Fourth Century, London 1891, 252; Gwatkin, 1900, 40–41; J.
Tixeront, Histoire des dogmes dans l’antiquité chrétienne 2, Paris 1912, 33; P. Batiffol, Les
sources de l’histoire du concile de Nicée, in: EOr 24 (1925), 391; A.E. Burn, The Council of Ni-
caea: A Memorial for Its Sixteenth Centenary, London 1925, 29–33; Sellers, 1928, 24–38; I.
Ortiz de Urbina, Nicée et Constantinople, Paris 1963, 61; M. Spanneut, Eustathe d’Antioche,
in: DHGE 16 (1964), 13–23 (23); Kelly, 1972, 213; J. Quasten, Patrology 3: The Golden Age of
Greek Patristic Literature, Utrecht 1960, 191; Boularand, 1972, 230; Stead, 1973, 98–100;
Simonetti, 1975, 81; Hanson, 1984, 171–179; Hanson, 1988, 160–161; Williams, 2001, 69; L. Per-
rone, Da Nicea (325) a Calcedonia (451), in: G. Alberigo (ed.), Storia dei concili ecumenici,
Brescia 1990, 26–28; C. Pietri, Histoire du Christianisme: Naissance d’une chrétienté (250–
430), Paris 1995, 268; Strutwolf, 1999, 45; A. Gallico, Teodoreto di Ciro, Storia Ecclesiastica,
Roma 2000, 86; Ayres, 2004, 89; SC 501, 2006, 211 n. 4; Ayán Calvo, 2015, 360; Beatrice, 2017,
652; Morales, 2019, 577 n. 176; D.M. Gwynn, Reconstructing the Council of Nicaea, in: Y.R.
Kim (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Council of Nicea, Cambridge 2021, 90–110 (99).
See S. Fernández, The Theological Deliberations at the Council of Nicaea: Sources and Re-
construction, in: A. Melloni / C. Bianchi (eds.), The Creed of Nicaea (325): The Status Quaes-
tionis and the Neglected Topics, Göttingen 2025, 113–135.
137 Hanson, 1984, 173; Strutwolf, 1999, 46; Ayres, 2004, 89.
138 E. Schwartz, Eusebios von Caesarea, in: G. Wissowa (ed.), Paulys Real-Encyclopädie der
classischen Altertumswissenschaft VI.1, Stuttgart 1907, 1414; A.H.M. Jones, Constantine and
the Conversion of Europe, London 1948, 158–159; H. Chadwick, Faith and Order at the Coun-
cil of Nicaea: A Note on the Background of the Sixth Canon, in: HThR 53 (1960), 171–195 (171
n. 2); M. Tetz, Zur strittigen Frage arianischer Glaubenserklärung, in: H.C. Brennecke / E.L.
Grasmück / C. Markschies (eds.), Logos: Festschrift für Luise Abramowski zum 8. Juli 1993,
Berlin 1993, 220–238; K.H. Uthemann, Eustathios von Antiochien wider den seelenlosen
Christus der Arianer, in: ZAC 10 (2007), 472–521 (507–508 n. 219); Pietras, 2023, 503.
139 See Barnes, 1978, 59; Luibhéid, 1982, 82.
196 CHAPTER 4

Nicomedia (the Fragment), and another applied to producing the Nicene

Creed, fostered by the bishop of Caesarea (the Letter).140 Besides, this view
divides the assembly no longer into two stances – as Athanasius did – but
into three: the anti-Arian stance of Eustathius, the “Arian” one led by the
bishop of Nicomedia, and the moderate stance of Eusebius of Caesarea.141
This vision presents the bishop of Caesarea as a key figure at the synod, is
consistent with the testimony of Ambrose, and explains why both narratives
are so different. However, it raises pressing difficulties: Why did Theodoret, a
historian, not specify the identity of the bishop mentioned by Eustathius?
How to explain that both narratives end with the signing of the Creed, which
cannot but be a one-time event at the synod? How can it be explained that
the bishop of Caesarea, convicted of heresy by Ossius and Eustathius, leaders
at Nicaea,142 could have become a key player at the synod? My point is that
these questions can be properly answered if we accept – as some scholars
do – that Eustathius’ Fragment refers to Eusebius of Caesarea.

4.3.2 Comparison Between the Fragment and the Letter

It is worth comparing in detail the Fragment and the Letter. The analysis tries
to show that both documents describe the same event; consequently, the
common elements of both sources will be pointed out. The comparison will
follow the course of the Fragment, which is quoted section by section:

From here – says Eustathius – I shall now turn to what was done. What hap-
pened? Because of this (διὰ ταῦτα), a most large synod arrived at Nicaea […].
As the form of the faith was sought, the writing (τὸ γράμμα) was brought for-
ward, a manifest proof of Eusebius’ blasphemy. 143

Frustratingly, we cannot read the antecedent of ταῦτα. The text preceding the
extant Fragment should have reported the events that caused the gathering of
Nicaea, and it should have mentioned a specific Eusebius – in such a polemi-
cal context, Eustathius must have specified the identity of the blamed bishop.
Hence, Theodoret, who read the context of the Fragment, must have known

––––––––––––––––––––

140 For example, Burn, 1925, 29–33; Sellers, 1928, 30; Ortiz de Urbina, 1963, 61; Simonetti, 1975,
81–84; Strutwolf, 1999, 44–47; Perrone, 1990, 27; Gwynn, 2021, 100.
141 See Ritter, 1978, 705.
142 On the prominence of Ossius and Eustathius at Nicaea, see Ath., fug. 5; h. Ar. 42; Thdt., ep.
151; h.e. 1.7,10; 2.15,9; Jo. Ant., ep. Proclo. 6 (PG 65, 878).
143 Eust., fr. 79.1 (FNS 39.1). For clarity, I omit some lines referring to the number of bishops at
Nicaea: “the number of those gathered was about two hundred and seventy. (It is not pos-
sible for me to write down the exact data because of the large number of people, as I did
not research it carefully).”
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 197

what bishop was mentioned there.144 Why did he write ambiguously? In fact,
he omits the names of the supporters of the document read before Nicaea.145
Possibly, the historian wanted to protect the reputation of the unspecified
Eusebius. The analysis of his Church History indicates that he tends to protect
the reputation of the bishop of Caesarea, rather than that of the bishop of
Nicomedia.146 As a historian, Theodoret admired the bishop of Caesarea.147 In
addition, Athanasius used the fact that Eusebius had finally signed the Nicene
Creed to attack Acacius of Caesarea and those who did not accept the homo-
ousios as being unfaithful to their teachers.148 Therefore, Nicene authors had
better reasons to protect the memory of the bishop of Caesarea than that of
the bishop of Nicomedia.
Eustathius’ expression, “most large synod,” recalls the “great and episcopal
synod” announced by the letter of Antioch that ultimately occurred in Ni-
caea.149 The Fragment affirms that the discussion occurred “when the manner
of the faith was sought;” similarly, the Letter asserts that the discussion re-
volved “around the faith of the Church.”150
Eusebius of Caesarea arrived at Nicaea as a convicted bishop. In the syn-
od, he had to prove that his faith was orthodox. Some scholars suggest that an
earlier session – unnoticed by the sources – exonerated him.151 However, the
stakes were high: unless Eusebius had recognized that he was wrong – some-
thing that did not happen – his exoneration was a defeat for Ossius and Eu-
stathius, who had condemned him. Accordingly, these bishops had good rea-
sons to fight for the confirmation of their Antiochene sentence (325). His
rehabilitation, therefore, could not have been a trivial event. Moreover, it is

––––––––––––––––––––

144 Theodoret indicated that he knew the complete work of Eustathius from which he took
the fragment (Thdt., h.e. 1.7,18).
145 When the historian mentioned the group that supported the writing, he spoke elusively
about “those that I have mentioned,” Thdt., h.e. 1.7,14 (ὧν καὶ πρόσθεν ἐμνήσθην); and Thdt.,
h.e. 1.7,16 (οἱ προρρηθέντες). The reference possibly indicates Thdt., h.e. 1.5,5 that mentions
Eusebius of Caesarea.
146 Theodoret recorded that the bishop of Caesarea once supported Arius, but later signed
the homoousios, and registered other positive aspects of his activity (Thdt., h.e. 1.1,4; 1.8,15;
1.11,7–8; 1.13,1–4; 1.15,1–3; 1.21,4; 5.7,1.). In contrast, he spoke ill of the bishop of Nicomedia,
recorded his correspondence with Arius, mentioned his impiety, and treated him as a her-
etic (Thdt., h.e. 1.4,63; 1.5,1–4; 1.14,2; 1.19,2–3; 1.20,1–10; 1.21,1–2; 5.40,8).
147 See Thdt., h.e. 1.1,4.
148 Ath., decr. 3.3 (AW 2, 3).
149 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 15 (FNS 28.15).
150 Eus., ep. Caes. 1 (FNS 37.1).
151 For example, Barnes affirms regarding the bishop of Caesarea: “Eusebius’ orthodoxy,
therefore, should have been discussed and determined before the council began to seek
the definition of faith,” Barnes 1978, 58. See Morlet, 2012, 10.
198 CHAPTER 4

highly unlikely that Eusebius, after the trial to prove that he was not an “Ari-
an,” would have enjoyed the reputation necessary to propose the Creed,
which had to be the hallmark of orthodoxy. We should admit, then, that Eu-
sebius professed his faith because he was asked to prove his orthodoxy when
he was in the dock.152 The tenor of Eusebius’ words is evident:

From our heart and soul we bear witness that we have always thought this,
since we have known ourselves, and that also now we think and speak out of
the truth, before God, the ruler of all, and our Lord Jesus Christ; having proof
to demonstrate and convince you that we have believed and announced this
in the past time as well.153

These expressions do not reflect someone who is proposing a creed to the

assembly, but someone who is defending himself, his reliability, and his own
orthodoxy. Thus, the bishop of Caesarea did not take the initiative at Nicaea;
he was required to declare and defend his faith.
The Fragment and the Letter speak about a document coming from Euse-
bius. The Letter says that the bishop of Caesarea presented his faith before the
assembly; the Fragment says that Eusebius’ “writing was brought forward.”
The passive voice does not make it clear whether the document was present-
ed by Eusebius himself or his prosecutors. The scarcity and nature of the
sources leave room for various possibilities, all of which are speculative in
their character.
The opponents of Eusebius had written evidence to incriminate him. Al-
exander had a letter in which the bishop of Caesarea declared that the Son is
not coeternal with the Father.154 Euphration – who signed against Eusebius at
Antioch (325) – had a letter in which Eusebius said that the Father preexists
the Son.155 Marcellus had letters that testified that Eusebius spoke about two
divine ousiai.156 Ossius and Eustathius could have had written records of An-
tioch (325). The accusers judged that these statements were blasphemous,
and they could have made a dossier with them. Not by chance some “blas-
phemous” letters of Eusebius survived precisely in the city of Nicaea.157
––––––––––––––––––––

152 The Dialogue with Heraclides present a parallel procedure: the convicted bishop should
profess before all (ἐπὶ πάντων ὁμολογήσῃ) how he believed (τὸ πῶς πιστεύει), see Or., dial. 1.
153 Eus., ep. Caes. 6 (FNS 37.6).
154 See Eus., ep. Alex. 4 (FNS 12.4).
155 See Eus., ep. Euphrat. 1 (FNS 13.1). Euphration was at Antioch and Nicaea, see C.Ant. (325),
ep. syn. 1 (FNS 28.1); Socr., h.e. 1.13,12; Gelzer / Hilgenfeld / Cuntz, 1995, 217; 221.
156 See Marcell., fr. 115–117; Narc. Ner., ep. (FNS 29); Eus., ep. fr. (FNS 14).
157 One of these letters is introduced with the following words: “Openly blaspheming, he
[Eusebius of Caesarea] speaks thus about Arius and those who are with him,” Eus., ep.
Alex. (FNS 12); C.Nic. (787), act. VI (ACO 2, 734).
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 199

Does the Fragment describe when Eusebius proclaimed his creed or when
his accusers read his “blasphemous” letters? These options are not incompat-
ible. On the one hand, it cannot be excluded that Eustathius, in his compact
account, conflated Eusebius’ incriminating letters with the creed, while Euse-
bius, in his apologetic narrative, silenced the letters and recorded only his
creed. On the other hand, considering the structure of synods (ch. 1.1.1), it
could be supposed that the incriminating dossier was read first, and then
Eusebius responded with his formula of faith and its explanation.158 This re-
construction, however, is highly speculative. The Fragment continues:

When the [writing] had been read aloud to everyone, immediately it pro-
duced uncertainty in the hearers because of its deviation (τῆς ἐκτροπῆς ἕνεκα),
and it inflicted irredeemable shame on the writer (τῷ γράψαντι).159

The Fragment and the Letter have the same structure: Both affirm that a writ-
ing (γράμμα) by Eusebius was read before the assembly and describe the reac-
tion of the synod – albeit different reactions. The Fragment asserts that the
assembly rejected the document, whereas the Letter states that it was “was
considered good, and declared trustworthy.”160 At first glance, this sharp con-
trast suggests that they could not refer to the same event, as Hanson claims.161
However, a close examination of the sources indicates that both testimonies
could describe the same events.
The Letter does not claim that the document was “applauded,” as some
scholars assert,162 but that Constantine left “no room for objections,”163 which
suggests that the emperor was forcing an agreement. Besides, Eustathius does
not strictly state that the γράμμα was heretical, but that it was deviant and
caused uncertainty among the bishops.164 Uncertainty (ἀστάθμητος) is not an
appropriate emotion before a heretical formula; rather, the term suggests that
the writing was unspecific.165 If Eusebius was accused with specific charges,
supported by written records, and his response consisted of a general and
unspecific formula of faith, it is understandable that the accusers reacted

––––––––––––––––––––

158 According to Or., Heracl. 1, the bishops expressed what they thought and then the accused
bishop professed his faith. See Batiffol, 1919, 84–153; Amidon, 1983, 328–339.
159 Eust., fr. 79.2 (FNS 39.2). See Ath., decr. 20.1.
160 Eus., ep. Caes 2 (FNS 37.2). See Eus., ep. Caes 7 (FNS 37.7).
161 Hanson 1984, 173; Hanson, 1988, 161.
162 See Wallace-Hadrill, 1961, 134; Strutwolf, 1999, 46.
163 Eus., ep. Caes. 7 (FNS 37.7).
164 The term ἐκτροπή should be understood in light of the uncertainty that it provoked. Thus,
I understand “deviation” in the sense of “zigzagging.”
165 Eusebius’ writing is qualified as “unlawful” (παράνομον), not heretical, Fr. 79.3 (FNS 39.3).
200 CHAPTER 4

sharply in a negative way.166 Indeed, in this critical context, the bishop of

Caesarea presented a document that did not contain any clear anti-Arian
statement, as expected.
His creed declared that the Son was “firstborn of all creation (πρωτότοκον
πάσης κτίσεως), begotten from the Father before all ages” (πρὸ πάντων τῶν
αἰώνων).167 This traditional expression did not state the strict coeternity of the
Son with the Father, but only his priority regarding the ages; moreover, the
reference to Col 1:15 recalled the link between the Son and the work of crea-
tion. This creed was judged insufficient to absolve Eusebius from the charge
of Arianism. In fact, both Alexander and Arius could sign such a creed.168
Eusebius affirmed that Constantine witnessed that the faith (πίστις) was
orthodox and ordered all to subscribe to it only once the term ὁμοούσιος had
been added.169 In other words, the emperor did not accept the formula! At
Antioch (325), Eusebius declared that the Father and the Son were two οὐσίαι;
at Nicaea he was required to accept the ὁμοούσιος. The creed was indeed re-
jected as it stood. It is not consistent that “Constantine had applauded his
theology and had recommended it to the Council with the single addition of
the word ὁμοούσιος,”170 as if the addition had been a trivial detail. Eusebius
selectively emphasizes the acceptance of his creed and rhetorically plays
down its deficiencies.171
This reading of the sources shows that the Letter and the Fragment are not
incompatible. Both accounts are biased and selective; they emphasize and
play down different aspects of the same events. In any case, both describe the
negative reaction against the faith of Eusebius of Caesarea. Besides, the
Fragment records “the shame” (αἰσχύνη) of the unidentified Eusebius, and
Athanasius states that Eusebius of Caesarea “was ashamed (αἰσχύνω) to sign
these expressions.”172 Then, Eustathius continues:

––––––––––––––––––––

166 Regarding the Nicene formula, Kelly highlights that “in the new type of creed the motive
of testing orthodoxy was primary” (Kelly, 1972, 206–207). See Wolfram Kinzig, What’s in a
Creed? A New Perspective on Old Texts, in: W. Kinzig, Neue Texte und Studien zu den antiken
und frühmittelalterlichen Glaubensbekenntnissen 3, AKG 151, Berlin 2022, 125–127.
167 Eus., ep. Caes. 4 (FNS 37.4); Col 1:15.
168 Simonetti, 1975, 84: “La formula di fede di [Eusebio di] Cesarea era così generica da poter
essere sottoscritta anche dagli ariani più radicali.”
169 Eus., ep. Caes. 7 (FNS 37.7): ἑνὸς μόνου προσεγγραφέντος ῥήματος τοῦ ὁμοουσίου.
170 Wallace-Hadrill, 1961, 134.
171 However, Boularand goes too far when he says regarding Eusebius of Caesarea: “Il flatte
son Église et se flatte lui-même en soulignant l’accueil favorable que le concile et
l’empereur firent à sa profession de foi,” Boularand, 1972, 231.
172 Ath., decr. 3.4. See also decr. 20.1.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 201

As the maneuver (ἐργαστήριον) of those around Eusebius was clearly convict-

ed, the unlawful writing (παράνομον γράμμα) having been torn to pieces before
everyone’s eyes, some men, thanks to a plot, putting forward the name of
peace (εἰρήνη), silenced all those who used to speak the best things.173

The Fragment does not use the idiom οἱ περὶ Εὐσέβιον, but οἱ ἀμφὶ τὸν Εὐσέβιον,
which does not necessarily indicate the bishop of Nicomedia, as Hanson
claims.174 Besides, according to the Fragment, the document was torn asunder
before all; yet, taking into account Eustathius’ polemical language, it cannot
be excluded that the sentence was a figurative utterance.175 What was the
maneuver of those around Eusebius? The Fragment is not explicit. However,
Athanasius described those around Eusebius “murmuring to each other and
winking with their eyes” to push the bishops to accept a profession of faith
containing biblical expressions about the Son that have a broad sense.176 The
synodal letter of Antioch (325) denounces that Eusebius of Caesarea and the
other two bishops “attempted many machinations to dissimulate and cover
up their follies through persuasion of words.”177 Accordingly, in Eustathius’
view, the maneuver could have consisted of a generic creed that contained
biblical expressions but no anti-Arian statements, that is, a formula like that
of the Letter.178 For that reason – according to Athanasius – they were com-
pelled to add the ὁμοούσιος.179 The Letter reports the same requirement.
Both Eustathius and Athanasius say that “the Eusebians” tried to influence
some prominent bishops during the debate.180 Besides, according to the
Fragment, some of the Eusebians called upon the name of peace (εἰρήνη)

––––––––––––––––––––

173 Eust., fr. 79.3 (FNS 39.3). See Ath., decr. 20.1.
174 Hanson, 1988, 161.
175 Hanson highlights Eustathius’ “inflated and ornate language” (Hanson, 1984, 171) and his
“usual style of pompous wordiness” (Hanson, 1988, 160). According to Sellers, Eustathius
“is a man of passion, full of fire against his adversaries… he was a man who did not fear to
use scathing words against his adversaries” (Sellers, 1928, 27–28). Athanasius described
him as someone who “hated the Arian heresy” (Ath., h. Ar. 4.1). Schwartz describes the
fragment as “einen polternden, historisch unbrauchbaren Bericht des Eustathius über das
nicaenische Konzil.” E. Schwartz, Das antiochenische Synodalschreiben von 325, in:
NGWG.PH (1908), 305–374 (355) [Schwartz, 1959, 171].
176 See Ath., decr. 19.1–20.2; ep. Afr. 5.4–6.1.
177 C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 14 (FNS 28.14).
178 According to Hanson, Eusebius’ profession of faith “avoids all the controversial points
raised by the Arian Controversy” (Hanson, 1988, 160). “It is probable that Eusebius was
willing to shelter beneath the ambivalent wording and to approve the creed with mental
reservations” (Wallace-Hadrill, 1961, 134). Instead, Ortiz de Urbina says that Eusebius was
“opportuniste et courtisan” (Ortiz de Urbina, 1963, 55).
179 See Ath., decr. 19.2; 20.3; Hil., syn. 81.
180 Eust., fr. 79.3 (FNS 39.3); Ath., decr. 20.1; ep. Afr. 5.6.
202 CHAPTER 4

when this maneuver was exposed. Similarly, in the Letter, the bishop of Caes-
area invoked the sake of peace (εἰρήνη) as a reason for accepting the
ὁμοούσιος.181 Again, the accounts match in their structure. Peace was part of
Constantine’s agenda;182 yet, invoking peace for accepting the ὁμοούσιος is a
specific feature of both narratives and, thus, it indicates that the Letter and
the Fragment describe the same event.

But the Ariomaniacs (Ἀρειομανῖται), fearing that they should be exiled

(ἐξοστρακίζω) by such a great synod which agreed on this, once they leapt
forward, they anathematized the forbidden doctrine (δόγμα), subscribing with
their own hands the agreed written statement (γράμμα).183

The derogatory name Ἀρειομανῖται does not refer to Arius, but to his fanatics,
the bishops who were mad for Arius. The Fragment and the Letter mention a
second formula. Eustathius accused the Ariomaniacs of subscribing to this
formula for fear of exile, and the bishop of Caesarea made it clear that he did
not subscribe to the creed eagerly.184 Thus, both sources describe Eusebius’
unenthusiastic signature of a second formula, the Nicene Creed. Both affirm
that Eusebius (or those around him) modified his doctrinal stance, invoking
the name of peace. Same facts, different interpretation: peace was invoked
hypocritically (Fragment) or sincerely (Letter). As the signature of the Nicene
creed cannot but be a one-time event, both sources must describe the same
episode. In addition, Eustathius says that “they” anathematize “the forbidden
doctrine,” the bishop of Caesarea recognized his initial reluctance and his
final acceptance of the homoousios,185 and Athanasius states that Eusebius of
Caesarea “had refused the day before, but later signed the creed anyway.”186
Again, the same facts are depicted in different manners. Lastly, Eustathius
denounced his adversaries:

Once they had held onto their presidencies through such a dishonest maneu-
ver – they should have received penance – then, sometimes secretly, some-
times openly, they advocated the opinions already rejected, plotting with di-
verse proofs.187

––––––––––––––––––––

181 Eust., fr. 79.3 (FNS 39.3); Eus., ep. Caes. 10 (FNS 37.10): τοῦ τῆς εἰρήνης σκοποῦ πρὸ ὀφθαλμῶν
ἡμῖν κειμένου. Peace is also present in Lib. poenit. (FNS 66), see Martin, 1989a, 316–320.
182 See Eus., v.C. 2.64–72; 3.12.
183 Eust., fr. 79.3 (FNS 39.3).
184 Eus., ep. Caes. 9–16 (FNS 37.9–16). See Ath., decr. 3.3–4.
185 Eus., ep. Caes. 12–13 (FNS 37.12–13).
186 Ath., decr. 3.2–4; ep. Afr. 6.4.
187 Eust., fr. 79.4 (FNS 39.4).
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 203

The text has been subject to various readings and dates. Nevertheless, the
phrase “they should have received penance” suggests that the fragment pre-
dates the exile of Eusebius of Nicomedia and Theognis of Nicaea, as will be
shown later (ch. 5.1.2). The fragment affirms that the Ariomaniacs, by a fraud-
ulent move, managed to keep their episcopal sees. It shows that the bishop of
Antioch expected that the accused bishops should have received penance, i.e.
banishment – Marcellus also expected the bishops he accused to be pun-
ished.188 The bishop of Caesarea did keep his see, although Ossius and Eu-
stathius wanted him banished – they had condemned him at Antioch (325). If
this reading is correct, the “rumor” that the Letter sought to silence was that
Eusebius of Caesarea signed the Nicene Creed with duplicity just to avoid his
deposition.189 In addition, the Fragment says that they advocate the opinions
already rejected, and, according to Socrates, Eustathius accused “Eusebius
Pamphilus of perverting the Nicene faith.”190 Once again, the evidence indi-
cates that the Fragment mentions the bishop of Caesarea and that both
sources describe the same episode.
It remains to address the arguments that suggest that both sources de-
scribe different episodes. The differences between their narratives can be
explained by the polemical character of the Fragment and the apologetic
orientation of the Letter, as well as their selective nature. The bishop of Caes-
area chose to highlight the role of the emperor to justify, before his flock, his
questionable signature of the ὁμοούσιος, whereas Eustathius omitted it. Alt-
hough the sources sometimes credit the γράμμα to a group, the Fragment and
the Letter credit the text to one individual, Eusebius.191 Finally, Ambrose says
that a letter of Eusebius of Nicomedia was read at the Council of Nicaea. 192
However, the mention of Eusebius Nicomediensis does not make part of the
citation, but it belongs to Ambrose’s words. One cannot exclude that the
bishop of Milan, who wrote more than fifty years after Nicaea, found the cita-
tion credited to an unspecified Eusebius and took for granted that he was the
bishop of Nicomedia, as Tetz claims.193 The citation by Ambrose does not
correspond to any extant text of Eusebius of Caesarea or of the bishops of
––––––––––––––––––––

188 Eus., Marcell. 2.4,30–31.

189 See Eus., ep. Caes. 1 (FNS 37.1); Socr., h.e. 1.23,6.
190 Socr., h.e. 1.23,8 (GCS.NF 1, 70). This piece of evidence is trustworthy because it depends
on contemporary documents.
191 See Thdt., h.e. 1.7,14–15. However, the Fragment speaks about “the writer” of the text in
singular (ὁ γράψας). Eust., fr. 79.2 (FNS 39.2).
192 Ambr., fid. 3.15,125 (FNS 38): Sicut auctor ipsorum Eusebius Nicomedensis epistula sua
prodidit scribens: “Si verum, inquit, dei filium et increatum dicimus, homousion cum patre
incipimus confiteri.”
193 Tetz, 1993, 236–238.
204 CHAPTER 4

Nicomedia. However, the Acts of Nicaea II (787) indicate that letters of the
bishop of Caesarea were preserved, in which “are found various blasphemies
in defense of those of Arius.”194
In conclusion, on the one hand, there are many parallels between the Let-
ter and the Fragment, on the other hand, their differences can be explained
by the polemical, apologetical, and selective agenda of the sources. Hence,
the simplest way to explain the parallels is to accept that the Fragment men-
tions the bishop of Caesarea, and that both accounts describe the same event.
Besides, the introduction of the homoousios as well as the signing of the
Creed must be a one-time event, which means that both narratives describe
the same episode. In addition, there are parallels between both sources and
Athanasius’ narrative. None of these parallels is conclusive by itself; yet, taken
as a whole, they are compelling. Therefore, it is possible to say that Eusebius
of Caesarea (Letter) and Eustathius of Antioch (Fragment) described the
same episode without convicting either or both of “blatant mendacity.”195
Eusebius of Caesarea did not, then, represent a via media, but led one side of
an assembly divided into two stances. This long, detailed, and tiresome analy-
sis was necessary to challenge the long-established opinio communis.

4.3.3 Account of the Theological Discussions at Nicaea

The main discussion can be summarized as follows. The bishop of Caesarea
was the spokesman of those who were condemned. Therefore, he presented
an appeal before the assembly. Eusebius represented a theological tradition.
Hence, he had to defend not only himself and the other formally condemned
bishops, but also a larger group of clerics who felt that their own theology was
reproved because they maintained the same views as the bishop of Caesarea.
It is not possible to reconstruct the list of these bishops, but the sources pro-
vide some information, especially Philostorgius.196
––––––––––––––––––––

194 C.Nic. (787), act. VI (ACO 2.2, 736).

195 Hanson, 1984, 173; Hanson, 1988, 161; Ayres, 2004, 89.
196 See Ar., ep. Eus. 3 (FNS 8.3); C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 14 (FNS 28.14); C.Nic (325), ep. Aeg. 5
(FNS 34.5); Const., ep. Nicomed. 15 (FNS 42.15); Thdt., h.e. 1.5,5; 1.7,14. On Arius’ allies, see
Parvis, 2006, 39–50. See also Philost., h.e. 1.8a: “Those of Arian views were the following.
From Upper Libya: Sentianus of Boreum, Dachius of Berenice, Secundus of Teuchira,
Zopyrus of Barce, another Secundus of Ptolemais, and Theonas of Marmarica. From
Thebes in Egypt: Melitius. From Palestine: Patrophilus of Scythopolis and Eusebius of
Caesarea, or “son of Pamphilus,” as he was surnamed. From Phoenicia: Paulinus of Tyre
and Amphion of Sidon. From Cilicia: Narcissus of Irenopolis, Athanasius of Anazarbus,
and Tarcondimatus of Aegae. From Cappadocia: Leontius, Longianus, and Eulalius. From
Pontus: Basileus of Amaseia and Meletius of Sebastopolis. From Bithynia: Theognis of Ni-
caea, Maris of Chalcedon, and Eusebius of Nicomedia, surnamed the Great” (trans. Ami-
don, 2007, 11). See Philost., h.e. 2.14.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 205

In the process of appeal, the accusers read texts that incriminated Eusebi-
us, such as the fragments of his letters to Alexander and Euphration. In re-
sponse, the bishop of Caesarea presented and explained his creed to substan-
tiate his orthodoxy. Although it was traditional, it did not contain any strict
anti-Arian statements. His defense, therefore, did not fill the expectations of
the chairs of the assembly, who demanded a statement that made it clear that
the convicted bishops did not hold the “Arian” doctrine. Thus, the creed was
regarded as orthodox (Letter), yet insufficient (Fragment). This twofold char-
acter of the document gave room for divergent narratives.
The leading bishops requested that Eusebius profess two specific expres-
sions, such as “out of the ousia of the Father” (ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ πατρὸς) and
“homoousios to the Father” (τῷ πατρὶ ὁμοούσιον). These expressions “were
chosen specifically to exclude Arius’ supporters.”197 At Antioch (325), the bish-
op of Caesarea declared that the Father and the Son were two ousiai. Thus,
initially, he did not intend to accept the term ὁμοούσιος.198 He would have
presented his arguments against the language of οὐσία and explained his
stance, but these would not have been accepted. If the sentence of Antioch
was confirmed, Eusebius would have been banished from his episcopal see;
the unity of the church was at stake. The Letter states that the emperor inter-
vened in the discussion. The Vita Constantini affirms that “the emperor lis-
tened to all patiently” and “taking in turn what was said by each group, he
gently brought together those who were opposed out of rivalry.” 199 It seems,
therefore, that at some point, Constantine, based on what he had heard, pro-
posed a solution. It consisted of inserting into Eusebius’ creed the crucial
anti-Arian expressions supported by his accusers.
Beatrice claims that Constantine’s Hermetic ideas can explain his pro-
posal of the ὁμοούσιος.200 However, it seems more plausible that he advanced
his proposal based on what he heard at Nicaea. Then, the emperor (ὁ μὲν)
required all bishops to sign the creed. The leading bishops accepted Constan-
tine’s proposal, but they (οἱ δὲ) “with the pretense of the addition of homoou-
sios, produced (ποιέω) this document.”201 They did not use Eusebius’ text, and
they adjoined an anathema. Thus, the bishop of Caesarea was faced with a
dilemma: to sign a creed that contained expressions alien to his theology or
––––––––––––––––––––

197 Ayres, 2004, 90–91. Hanson defines the Nicene Creed as “an apotropaic formula for resist-
ing Arianism” (Hanson, 1988, 172).
198 See Ath., decr. 3.3.
199 Eus., v.C. 3.13,1 (GCS 7, 88).
200 Beatrice, 2002, 243–272.
201 Eus., ep. Caes. 7 (FNS 37.7). According to Athanasius, Ossius was involved in the drafting
of the creed. Ath., h. Ar. 42.3 (AW 2, 206): “He [Ossius] also established (ἐξέθετο) the faith
at Nicaea.”
206 CHAPTER 4

face exile. His choice was to sign the creed for the sake of peace, not without
explaining its acceptable meaning. Besides, he recalled that “among the an-
cients, there were certain learned and distinguished bishops and writers who
applied the term homoousios to the theology of the Father and the Son.”202
Almost all the bishops around Eusebius followed his example and signed the
Nicene Creed and its anathema. The aim of requiring signatures was to ex-
clude the Ariomaniacs. However, it failed to achieve its task, at least in the
eyes of the chairmen, because almost all the bishops signed the creed –
whether for the sake of peace or because they feared banishment.
Contemporary sources provide evidence for some additional pieces of
discussion. The terms mutable (τρεπτός) and alterable (ἀλλοιωτός) were used
as synonyms. Some “Arians,” such as Athanasius of Anazarbus and George of
Laodicea, indirectly supported that the Son was mutable because they said
that the Son was a creature like the others.203 Instead, Arius asserted that the
Son was immutable.204 However, Alexander and the Synod of Antioch accused
“those around Arius” of professing the Son’s mutability.205 A fragment by Eu-
stathius indicates that Nicaea addressed this topic:

Let the adversaries say how even the very Logos of God, who is also God, is
impassible, or is internally limited by passions and change. Indeed, if [the
Son] is susceptible to passions, [the adversaries] anathematize themselves,
since they have declared him unalterable (ἀναλλοίωτον) in writing, when both
privately and publicly they wrote it unanimously in the synod. 206

Eustathius wrote this text after Nicaea.207 The fragment suggests that the
bishops who were in the dock, namely, Eusebius of Caesarea and others, were
questioned about this issue. However, they supported the Son’s immutability
both verbally and in writing, in private and in public. This episode substanti-
ates the gap between the alleged “Arian” doctrine and the actual teaching of
the bishops labeled as “Arians,” above all, Eusebius of Caesarea. In short, the
issue of mutability was tackled, and the group of Eusebius willingly declared
the immutability of the Son of God.

––––––––––––––––––––

202 Eus., ep. Caes. 13 (FNS 37.13).

203 Geo. Laod., ep. Ar. (FNS 20); Ath. Anaz., ep. Alex. Al. (FNS 21); Ath. Anaz., ep. (FNS 22). The
mutability of the Son was not a direct statement of the “Arians,” but a necessary conse-
quence of the doctrine that declared that the Son was a creature like all others.
204 See Ar., ep. Eus. 4 (FNS 6.4); ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 11.2). Besides, Eus., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 12.2).
205 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 11–13; 29; 46–47 (FNS 8.11–13; 8.29; 8.46-47); encycl. 8; 10; 14 (FNS 26.8;
26.10; 26.14); C.Ant. (325), 10 (FNS 28.10).
206 Eust. fr. 6 (FNS 40).
207 See Declerck, 2002, cccc–cccci.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 207

Another element emerges from a textual variant or, better, from a differ-
ence between the various textual traditions of the Nicene anathema. Accord-
ing to the better attested tradition, the catholic Church anathematizes those
who affirm that the Son of God “is mutable or changeable” (ἢ τρεπτὸν ἢ
ἀλλοιωτὸν).208 However, the texts transmitted by Athanasius add ἢ κτιστὸν
before ἢ τρεπτὸν. According to this tradition, the anathema condemns those
who declare that the Son of God is κτιστός. The Nicene letter to the church of
Egypt condemns those who call the Son “creature” (κτίσμα ὀνομάζοντος).209
Athanasius reports what has been called the proto-Nicaenum, possibly a pre-
vious draft of the anathema;210 one of these fragments declares that the Son is
not κτίσμα.211 Besides, a fragment by Eustathius states: “If he is created, then
he is not begotten, and if he is begotten, he is not created.”212 According to
him, the notions of created (κτιστός) and begotten (γεννητός) exclude each
other. However, the Nicene Creed declared that the Son is “begotten, not
made” (γεννηθέντα οὐ ποιηθέντα), that is, it did not exclude the terms κτίσμα or
κτιστός to refer to the Son. These fragmentary pieces of information suggest
that the assembly discussed the legitimacy of the terms κτίσμα or κτιστός for
referring to the Son of God and that Eustathius wanted to proscribe κτίσμα
and κτιστός, but he did not reach his goal, possibly because of the well-
established Christological interpretation of Prov 8:22. If this reading is right,
and the group of Eusebius was able to overturn Eustathius’ view, then the
assembly was somewhat more balanced and gave more room for discussion
than is usually acknowledged.
In addition, the so-called Libellus poententiae could echo another piece of
discussion at Nicaea.213 Socrates credits this document to Eusebius of Caesa-
rea. However, with good arguments, Martin shows that the document should
be credited to Secundus of Ptolemais and Theonas of Marmarica.214 Neverthe-
less, beyond the issue of the authorship, the writers of the letter recall their
behavior in a synod that cannot be other than the Nicene one:

After we, for the security of the churches, recalled what lied behind our rea-
soning, and we convinced those who ought to be persuaded by us, we did sub-

––––––––––––––––––––

208 G.L. Dossetti, Il simbolo di Nicea e di Costantinopoli, Roma 1967, 240.

209 C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 3 (FNS 34.3).
210 Ath., decr. 19.1; 20.1; O. Skarsaune, A Neglected Detail in the Creed of Nicaea (325), in: VC 41
(1987), 34–54.
211 Ath., decr. 19.1 (AW 2, 15): ὅτι τε υἱός ἐστιν οὐκ ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων, ἀλλ’ ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ, καὶ λόγος ἐστὶ καὶ
σοφία, ἀλλ’ οὐ κτίσμα οὐδὲ ποίημα.
212 Eust., fr. 107 (FNS 41): Εἰ γὰρ κτιστὸς, οὐκ ἄρα γεννητός· εἰ δὲ γεννητὸς, οὐ κτιστός.
213 Lib. poenit. (FNS 66).
214 Martin, 1989a, 318; Philost., h.e. 2.1.
208 CHAPTER 4

scribe to the creed (ὑπεσημῃνάμεθα τῇ πίστει); however, we did not sign the
anathema (τῷ δὲ ἀναθεματισμῷ οὐχ ὑπεγράψαμεν), not because we opposed the
creed, but because we did not believe that the accused is truly like they said.
Due to our personal relations with him, both through letters and through
face-to-face conversations, we are convinced that he is not such a man. 215

The lack of the precise context of this text makes it difficult to interpret it.
However, the text indicates that, during the synodal debates, it was discussed
whether the content of the anathema matches the actual teaching of Arius or
not. The signing of the anathema was an instrument for the bishops to certify
their rejection of the “Arian” teaching, yet Secundus and Theonas thought
that the text did not represent Arius’ doctrine.

4.4 The Theological Outcomes of the Synod

The Nicene Creed has been extensively studied.216 The following pages do not
aim to reassess the complex background of the formula, but rather comment
on its characteristic expressions in the light of contemporary documents,
especially those that were written on the eve of Nicaea.
Eusebius of Caesarea, in the beginning of the letter to his church, suggests
that the Nicene Creed consists of the formula he presented to the assembly
with some additions (προσθῆκαι).217 However, in the same letter, he states that,
under the pretext of the addition of the homoousios, “they” made a document
(οἱ… τὴν γραφὴν πεποιήκασιν).218 The comparison of the two formulae is con-
sistent with the second explanation. Many differences between them are not
explained by doctrinal reasons. The text proposed by the bishop of Caesarea,
then, was not the starting point of the Nicene creed.219
It is not possible to know the identity of the authors of the formula. Euse-
bius, as usual, avoids mentioning the names of his rivals. More than fifty years
later, Basil of Caesarea says that Hermogenes of Caesarea “wrote the great
and invincible creed, in the great synod.”220 However, he could be the scribe of
the creed, rather than its author, because at Nicaea he was not yet a bishop.221
––––––––––––––––––––

215 Lib. poenit. 2 (FNS 66.2). This discussion could have been in continuity with the letter
that Eusebius of Caesarea sent to Alexander, see Eus., ep. Alex. (FNS 12).
216 See Kinzig, 2017, 284–335 (bibliography 291–293); Dossetti, 1967; Kelly, 1972, 205–262;
Simonetti, 1975, 88–95; Luibhéid, 1982, 67–96; Hanson, 1988, 163–172.
217 Eus., ep. Caes. 1 (FNS 37.1).
218 Eus., ep. Caes. 7 (FNS 37.7).
219 Kelly, 1972, 227–230; Boularand, 1972, 231–233; Hanson, 1988, 164.
220 Bas., ep. 81 (LCL 190, 93).
221 At Nicaea, Caesarea of Cappadocia was represented by bishop Leontius.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 209

The names of the writers of the creed are hidden behind the generic “they”
(οἱ) referred to by Eusebius.222 It is natural to think of Ossius of Cordoba, Eu-
stathius of Antioch, and Alexander of Alexandria. Some scholars have also
thought of Marcellus of Ancyra. However, the problem is complex, because
the doctrine of the creed does not coincide in toto with the theology of any of
these bishops, or at least with what we know about it.

4.4.1 The Creed

The Creed begins with the formula of faith in God the Father. These tradi-
tional words, however, in the context of Nicaea, take on an anti-Arian mean-
ing. Arius’ solemn faith formula omits the crucial term “Father.”223 The omis-
sion is not accidental but is a consequence of two principles: the correlative
character of fatherhood and sonship, as well as the posteriority of the Son
professed by Arius (ch. 2.4.2).224 In turn, Alexander – using an Origenian ar-
gument – insisted that the correlative character of the names “father” and
“son” demanded the strict coeternity of the Son and the Father.225 Paradoxical-
ly, a staunch adversary of the “Arian” theology, like Marcellus of Ancyra, did
not recognize the eternal paternity of God either.226 In fact, Marcellus’ formu-
la of faith to Julius omits the title “Father” as well.227
The Nicene profession on “the Lord, Jesus, Christ, Son of God” contains
crucial anti-Arian insertions. The formula states: “begotten from the Father as
the Only-begotten” (γεννηθέντα ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς μονογενῆ). These words were
traditional,228 but had different understandings. On the eve of Nicaea, Alex-
ander made use of the expression “of the Father” (ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς) to oppose
two claims: that the Son comes from nothing (ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων) and that the Son
comes from the will of God (θέλημα / βούλημα τοῦ θεοῦ).229 However, some
“Arian” writings say that “of the Father” could also apply to the creatures that
come “from nothing.”230 Indeed, Marcellus denounces the “Arian” strategy:
––––––––––––––––––––

222 On Eusebius’ use of anonymity, see Ridley, 1980, 241–258.

223 Ar., ep. Alex. 2 (FNS 11.2).
224 In fact, Arius’ Hymn states, “Since the Son was not, God was not Father (οὐ πατὴρ θεός
ἐστι),” Ar., Thal. (FNS 18).
225 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 26 (FNS 8.26). See Or., in Joh. 10.246; princ. 1.2,10; dial. 4.
226 The bishop of Ancyra admitted the eternal existence of the logos in God, not as a subsist-
ent being, but as a divine faculty. According to him, the only begetting in which the logos
is involved is that of Mary, see Marcell., fr. 1-2; 66; 71; 88; 97; 121; 123.
227 Marcell., ep. Jul. 3.1 (Epiph., haer. 3.1 [GCS 37, 258]): πιστεύω οὖν εἰς θεὸν παντοκράτορα.
228 Eust., fr. 85 (CChr.SG 51, 154): δῆλος μέν ἐστι φύσει Θεὸς ἐκ Θεοῦ γεννηθεὶς ὁ χρίσας. Instead,
Marcellus did not accept a pre-cosmic begetting, see Marcell., fr. 71; 123.
229 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 45–46 (FNS 8.45–46); Ar., ep. Alex. 3 (FNS 11.3); Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 7
(FNS 15.7).
230 Ath. Anaz., ep. Alex. (FNS 21).
210 CHAPTER 4

“Even when they say, he is ‘from God,’ they mean just as all things are from
God.”231 Facing this difficulty, according to Athanasius, “the fathers” of Nicaea
introduced the clarification, “that is, from the ousia of the Father” (ἐκ τῆς
οὐσίας τοῦ πατρός).232 This expression disputes the theology of the two Eusebii.
The bishop of Caesarea denies that the Son is ousia of ousia (οὐσίαν ἐξ οὐσίας);
and the bishop of Nicomedia repeats that the Son is not of the ousia (ἐκ τῆς
οὐσίας) of the Unbegotten.233 However, the opposition is less direct than it
seems because the term οὐσία had multiple meanings. The Eusebii reject the
expression because of the material meaning of ousia, as if it were divisible;
instead, the synod used the language of ousia to differentiate the Son from
the creatures.
Next, the creed states, God from God (θεὸν ἐκ θεοῦ), light from light (φῶς ἐκ
φωτός), true God from true God (θεὸν ἀληθινὸν ἐκ θεοῦ ἀληθινοῦ). These expres-
sions were not a major problem for the Eusebians. In fact, “God from God”
appears in Eusebius’ Preparatio evangelica and Demonstratio evangelica,
works prior to the beginning of the controversy.234 “Light from Light” instead
must not have been to Eusebius’ liking, for he used the metaphor of light a
contrario, but it had ample support in the tradition.235 The phrase “true God of
true God” was not problematic for Eusebius because, when he stressed that
God the Father is the only true God, he sought to emphasize that the Son is
not the Father, who is “the only true God,” according to John 17:2. It is true
that some “Arian” writings stress that the Son is a creature like all other crea-
tures; however, it is unlikely that any bishops represented this tenet at the
Nicene synod.
The next insertion is “begotten, not made” (γεννηθέντα οὐ ποιηθέντα). The
phrase seeks to show that the origin of the Son is clearly different from the
origin of creatures. To express this principle, the Creed reserves the verb
γεννάω for the Son (Prov 8:25), and ποιέω for creatures (Gen 1:1). However, the
expression is less specific than it appears.
First, it does not deal with the legitimacy of the verb create (κτίζω), which
was perhaps the most problematic because of the Christological reading of
Prov 8:22. Second, these verbs did not have a technical meaning before Ni-
caea. Arius had no problem using the verb γεννάω for the Son.236 Alexander, a
––––––––––––––––––––

231 Marcell., ep. Jul. 2.5 (Epiph., haer. 2.5 [GCS 37, 257]; trans. LEC 3, 19).
232 Ath., decr. 19.2. This explanation agrees with Hil., syn. 81.
233 Eus., d.e. 5.1,9 (GCS 23, 211); Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 3 (FNS 15.3 et passim); G.C. Stead, The
Significance of the Homoousios, in: id., Substance and Illusion in the Christian Fathers, Lon-
don 1985, 397–412.
234 See Eus., d.e. 4.3,1; 4.3,13; 4.15,15; 6 pr. 1; p.e. 11.14,1.
235 Hipp., Noët. 11.1; Or., princ. 1.2,9–11.
236 Ar., ep. Eus. 5 (FNS 6.5).
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 211

few years before Nicaea, speaks of the birth (γένεσις) and making (ποίησις) of
the Son.237 Eustathius, instead, did not oppose γεννάω and ποιέω, but γεννάω
and κτίζω.238 Marcellus, after Nicaea, says that the Son is “not created, not
made, but existing from eternity,”239 which implies that the Son is neither
created, nor made, nor begotten.240 In addition, some “Arians” assert that the
Bible applies γεννάω to creatures.241 Third, in this context, it is not possible to
use the verb γεννάω literally because human begetting implies time, passion,
and material exchange – realities that must be excluded from divine beget-
ting. For that reason, Alexander claims that the sonship of the Son has “noth-
ing in common” with the sonship of the rest.242 The distance between human
and divine begetting precludes using γεννάω univocally for the origin of the
Son of God. It is necessary to discern which properties of the verb γεννάω are
to be accepted and which are to be rejected.
Thus, the meaning of γεννηθέντα οὐ ποιηθέντα can vary according to the
value attached to each verb. These verbs were far from univocal, as is shown
by Alcinous and above all by a fragment of Calvenus Taurus, which empha-
sizes the various meanings of terms related to γεν[ν]άω.243 In short, “begotten,
not made” states that the Son comes from the Father in a different way than
the creatures do, but it does not explain the difference. After Nicaea, the
meaning of these verbs will be the object of much discussion.244
This sentence is followed by the well-known “homoousios with the Father”
(ὁμοοούσιος τῷ πατρί). Its meaning, origin, and remote antecedents are prob-
lematic, and some of them have been discussed (ch. 1.2.4; 1.2.6). Yet, this sec-
tion focuses on sources coming from the eve of Nicaea. The paucity of evi-
dence leaves room for various interpretations about the origin, meaning, and
promoters of the ὁμοοούσιος.245 Eusebius’ letter shows that the term provoked
conflict from the moment it was proposed in the assembly. Likewise, a lost
––––––––––––––––––––

237 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 19 (FNS 8.19).

238 Eust., fr. 107 (FNS 41). See also Eust., fr. 19 (CChr.SG 51, 80).
239 Marcell., ep. Jul. 2.6 (Epiph., haer. 2.5 [GCS 37, 257]; trans. LEC 3, 19): οὐ κτισθείς, οὐ
ποιηθείς, ἀλλὰ ἀεὶ ὤν.
240 Marcell., fr. 71; 123. Since Marcellus did not accept a pre-cosmic begetting, he had to apply
the phrase γεννηθέντα οὐ ποιηθέντα to the incarnation.
241 Isa 1:2; Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 11–12; 35 (FNS 8.11–12; 8.35); Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 7 (NFS 15.7).
242 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 28 (FNS 8.28).
243 See Alcin., did. 14.3; Calv. Tau., fr. 23 (Phlp., aet. 6.8; Gioè, 2002, 261).
244 Fernández, 2021, 9–23.
245 A. Tuilier, Le sens du term ὁμοοούσιος dans le vocabulaire théologique d’Arius et de l’école
d’Antioche, in: StPatr 3 (1961), 421–430; G.C. Stead, Divine Substance, Oxford 1977, 190–222;
Simonetti, 1980b, 85–98; Hanson, 1988, 190–202; Brennecke, 1984, 270–290; Edwards, 1998,
658–670; de Navascués, 2004, 437–453; Ayán Calvo, 2015, 317–380; K.A. Chandler, Deuteros
Theos: Constantine’s Christology at Nicaea, in: JECH 11 (2021), 1–17.
212 CHAPTER 4

dossier of letters alluded to by Socrates indicates that there were severe dis-
cussions between the promoters and detractors of homoousios just after Ni-
caea.246 This evidence shows that the prominence of the homoousios was seen
by the protagonists of Nicaea, and it is not just a retrospective projection of
the authors of the second half of the fourth century.
What were the immediate antecedents of the homoousios? It appears four
times in the years just before Nicaea. Three times in Arius and once in a short
fragment that Ambrose attributes to Eusebius of Nicomedia.247 In the Thalia,
the presbyter without explanation denies that the Son is homoousios with
respect to God.248 In his letter to Alexander, Arius rejects the theology of Ma-
nes, “who proposed that the begotten one is a homoousios part (μέρος) of the
Father.”249 In the same letter, he rejects the interpretation of three biblical
expressions referring to the origin of the Son of God:

The expressions “from Him,” “from the womb” (Ps 109:3), and “I came forth
from the Father and I am come” (John 8:42) are understood by some (ὑπό
τινων) as if the [Son was] a part (μέρος) of the [Father] homoousios or an emis-
sion, then, according to them, the Father would be composite, divisible, mu-
table, and body.250

The letter twice rejects the homoousios and points to the biblical texts associ-
ated with it. This indicates that Arius was reacting against actual persons
(τίνες) who used the term. Therefore, it was neither introduced by Ossius nor
by Constantine, since it was already the subject of discussion in the East be-
fore their intervention.251
What theology did the asserters of homoousios profess? Although the
sources do not provide a full answer, they offer some clues. Arius’ texts sug-
gest two possible motives for the rejection of the term. First, both passages of
the letter reject that the Son is a part (μέρος) of the Father. Hence, the expres-
sion implied a material notion of divine being. In fact, the expressions “from
Him,” “from the womb” (Ps 109:3) and “I came forth from the Father” (John
8:42) are made up of ἐκ + genitive, reminiscent of Aristotle’s material cause.252
The immateriality of God was characteristic of the Alexandrian tradition,253
––––––––––––––––––––

246 Socr., h.e. 1.23,6–7. Socrates relies on contemporary letters.

247 Ar., ep. Alex. 3.5 (FNS 11.3; 11.5); Ar., Thal. (FNS 18); Eus. (?), ep. fr. (FNS 38).
248 Ar., Thal. (FNS 18).
249 Ar., ep. Alex. 3 (FNS 11.3).
250 Ar., ep. Alex. 5 (FNS 11.5).
251 Stead, 1977, 151; J. Ulrich, Die Anfänge der abendländischen Rezeption des Nizänums, PTS 39,
Berlin 1994, 6–11.
252 Arist., phys. 2.3 194b: ἐξ οὗ γίγνεταί τι ἐνυπάρχοντος.
253 Or., princ. 1.1,1–9.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 213

and it was held by Arius and Alexander. In fact, although Arius twice rejected
this expression in his conciliatory letter to his bishop, Alexander did not criti-
cize him for denying that the Son was “a homoousios part” of the Father.
Moreover, none of the leading bishops of Nicaea accepted that the Son was a
part (μέρος) of the Father in a material sense. The rejection of homoousios
may have had another ground, which complements the first.
Arius denounces that those who affirm that the Son is a homoousios part
(μέρος) of the Father describe the origin of the Son with three biblical expres-
sions “from Him,” “from the womb (γαστήρ),” and “I came forth from the Fa-
ther.”254 These phrases suppose two moments: the Son in God and the Son
coming forth from Him. Hence, it seems that Arius’ opponents supported
two-stage Christology. This possibility is backed by a text of Eusebius, in
which he asserts that the Son was not in the Father from eternity, as a part
(μέρος) in the whole, as in the womb (γαστήρ) of a pregnant woman.255 In
Arius’ eyes, those who held that the Son was a homoousios part of the Father
understood the origin of the Son as the passing from an interior state, in God,
to an exterior one; this implies that the Father is divisible and, thus, bodily.
Is it possible to say anything about the identity of the promoters of this
doctrine? In his conciliatory letter to Alexander, Arius states that these ideas
are held “by some” (ὑπό τινων); in the letter to the bishop of Nicomedia, he
mentions Philogonius, Hellanicus, and Macarius, and he credits them with
doctrines that suppose a materialistic idea of God and two-stage Christology.
The identification of the “some” (τίνες) with Philogonius, Hellanicus, and
Macarius is appealing. Another possibility is Marcellus, who asserted a par-
ticular version of the two-stage Christology: when (ὅτε) God decided to make
the world, then (τότε) the logos, having come forth (προελθὼν), became the
maker of the cosmos (ch. 5.4.4).256 However, the evidence is not conclusive. In
turn, one should not think of Eustathius or Ossius because they use a differ-
ent terminology.257

––––––––––––––––––––

254 Ar., ep. Alex. 5 (FNS 11.5).

255 Eus., d.e. 5.1,11-13 (GCS 23, p. 212).
256 Marcell., fr. 110 (FuP 36, 250; trans. FC 135, 298, mod.). See Eus., e.th. 2.14,20. The textual
evidence for Marcellus is post-Nicene, but he was an active bishop since at least 314.
257 In a work that could predate Nicaea, preserved in Syriac, Eustathius declares that there is
only one hypostasis of the divinity, see Eust., fr. 88 (CChr.SG 51, 156–157). Sellers suggests
that this fragment was written before the rise of Arius (Sellers, 1928, 72). Besides, in the
light of the synodal letter of Serdica, Ossius profess only one divine hypostasis, see C.Sard.,
ep. 3 (Thdt., h.e. 2.8,39; Dok. 43.2, 207). One fragment of Marcellus indirectly entails the
theology of the one hypostasis, but only according to a correction of some editors. See
Eus., Marcell. 1.4,21 (Marcell., fr. 20); Eus., e.th. 3.4,5; 3.6,4; 3.17,6.
214 CHAPTER 4

The last passage that contains the homoousios is a fragment of Eusebius

transmitted by Ambrose, which is difficult to interpret. It is very brief, lacks
context, and is preserved in Latin translation. The text assumes that accepting
homoousios implies declaring that the Son is increatus (= ἀγέν[ν]ητος).258
Hence, it implies two unbegotten beings. This reasoning may be a reaction
against the two-stage Christology, which entails that an unbegotten reality in
God (inner logos) was at some point begotten as a Son (the uttered Logos).
The fragment is a reductio ad absurdum because no Christian bishop defend-
ed two unbegotten beings (ch. 2.4.3). In short, passages containing the homo-
ousios reject a material meaning of the divine ousia and react against the two-
stage Christology. None of these passages indicates that, at this stage, the
homoousios was associated with the Sabellian threat.
To continue the analysis of homoousios, it is necessary to study the theo-
logical use of οὐσία, as the term was far from unambiguous. Origen bears wit-
ness to its various connotations.259 Two meanings of ousia are particularly
important, among others. The first implies a material sense to the term; the
second emphasizes the subsistent character of ousia.
Eusebius of Caesarea speaks of the ousia of the Father and that of the Son
as two realities.260 He affirms that the Son does not come by separation, cut-
ting, or division from the ousia of the Father (ἐκ τῆς τοῦ πατρὸς οὐσίας).261 The
Son is not a part of the Father’s ousia, but its image;262 he therefore denies the
material aspect of divine ousia.263 Besides, he uses the term as a synonym for
subsistent being:

Indeed, the image and that of which it is the image are understood not to be
one and the same [thing], but two ousiai, two things, and two powers (δύο μὲν
οὐσίαι καὶ δύο πράγματα καὶ δύο δυνάμεις), as so many names.264

Here, the term ousia is used to emphasize the subsistence of the Son, in con-
trast to the theologies of the identification, or Monarchian theologies.265
Eusebius of Nicomedia uses the term οὐσία six times in his letter to Pauli-
nus. He affirms that the Son is not born of the ousia of the Father, but is an
––––––––––––––––––––

258 Ambr., fid. 3.15,125 (CSEL 87, 151): Si verum, inquit, dei filium et increatum dicimus, hom-
ousion cum patre incipimus confiteri.
259 Or., orat. 27.8.
260 Eus., d.e. 4.3,8; 4.6,6; 4.15,16; 5 pr. 1; 5.1,4; 5.1,24; 5.4,10; 5.20,7.
261 Eus., d.e. 4.3,13 (GCS 23, 154).
262 Eus., d.e. 5.4,13 (GCS 23, 226): εἰκόνα ὄντα τοῦ θεοῦ... πατρὸς οὐσίας.
263 Eus., d.e. 5.1,9 (GCS 23, p. 211).
264 Eus., ep. fr. (FNS 14).
265 On theologies of identification, see Morales, 2022, 19–48; C. Markschies, Alta Trinita Beata.
Gesammelte Studien zur altchristlichen Trinitätstheologie, Tübingen 2000, 294 n. 33.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 215

ousia created, established, and begotten by God.266 That is, the Son is neither a
part (μέρος), nor an emanation (ἀπόρροια) of the Father, but an ousia. Just like
the bishop of Caesarea, that of Nicomedia affirms that the Son does not come
“from the ousia” (ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας) of the Unbegotten.267 Thus, both Eusebii reject
the material meaning of divine ousia and use the term to emphasize the sub-
sistence of the Son, in contrast with the Monarchian theologies.
Alexander, who belongs to the Origenian tradition, also rejects any mate-
rialistic idea of the divinity and affirms that the Son is a subsistent reality. In
fact, he affirms that the Father and the Son are two realities.268 The term ousia
does not appear in his long letter, but it appears three times in his Encyclical
letter, albeit on the lips of his adversaries. No text of Alexander suggests the
identity of οὐσία between the Father and the Son, and the bishop does not
censure Arius for his rejection of the homoousios. Therefore, contemporary
sources do not suggest Alexander as a promoter of the homoousios.269
At Antioch, Ossius condemned Eusebius of Caesarea for affirming that the
Father and the Son were two οὐσίαι.270 Eustathius would have shared Ossius’
views. Besides, Marcellus affirmed that it was blasphemous to distinguish two
ousiai in God.271 Thus, it is likely that, on the eve of Nicaea, Ossius, Eustathius,
and Marcellus professed only one divine ousia / hypostases, whereas Eusebius
of Caesarea asserted two. In this point, Alexander must have been closer to
Eusebius. The Asian and Western theology added new parameters to the de-
bate, which initially was an internal dispute within the Alexandrian tradition
(ch. 3.3.3). Anyhow, the two ousiai supported by Eusebius as the one hyposta-
sis declared by Eustathius should not be interpreted in the light of Constanti-
nople 381. Nicaea (325), Serdica (343), and Alexandria (362) show to what
extent the theological terminology was not yet fixed.
In short, primary sources show three theological problems associated with
the term homoousios on the eve of Nicaea: 1) Whether the term homoousios
implies that the divine ousia is composite and material.272 2) Whether the
––––––––––––––––––––

266 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 3–4 (FNS 15.3–5): οὐκ ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας αὐτοῦ γεγονός […] ὡς ἂν μέρος αὐτοῦ
ἢ ἐξ ἀπορροίας τῆς οὐσίας […] κτιστὸν εἶναι καὶ θεμελιωτὸν καὶ γεννητὸν τῇ οὐσίᾳ.
267 Eus. Nic., ep. Paulin. 3 (FNS 15.3).
268 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 15 (FNS 8.15). Cf. Or., Cels. 8.12.
269 In the fifth century, Philostorgius says that Alexander and Ossius agreed on the homoousi-
os at Nicomedia, before Nicaea, see Philost., h.e. 1.7 (GCS 21, 8–9). See M. Edwards, Alex-
ander of Alexandria and the Homoousion, in: VC 66 (2012), 482–502; E. Prinzivalli, Quadro
storico-teologico generale di Nicea, in: StPat 71 (2024), 219–241.
270 See Narc. Ner., ep. (FNS 29); see Marcell. fr. 116–117.
271 See Marcell. fr. 116–117. See K.M. Spoerl, Two Early Nicenes: Eustathius of Antioch and Mar-
cellus of Ancyra, in: P. Martens (ed.), In the shadow of the incarnation: essays on Jesus Christ
in the early church in honor of Brian E. Daley, S.J., Indiana 2008, 121–148 (127).
272 Eus., d.e. 4.15,52; 5.1,9; Ar., ep. Eus. 4 (FNS 6.4); Ar., ep. Alex. 3 (FNS 11.3).
216 CHAPTER 4

doctrine of homoousios is part of the two-stage theology,273 which –according

to some Alexandrians– implies two unbegotten beings. 3) Whether the ho-
moousios indicates that the Son has no ousia of his own, which implies a
threat to his subsistence.274
These points shed light on Eusebius’ letter to his church. He must address
these questions at the synod, in which, he was in a weak position because of
his condemnation. 1) To our knowledge, no bishop directly supported the
material character of the divine ousia at Nicaea, so Eusebius can reject this
meaning explicitly (on this point, the whole assembly agreed). 2) Some bish-
ops of Asian tradition professed different versions the two-stage Christology;
hence, the bishop of Caesarea, in his letter, rejected only an extreme version
of it, that of Marcellus (on this point, Eusebius, Alexander, and Eustathius
agreed against Marcellus).275 3) Some leading bishops of Nicaea did not ac-
cept that the divine Son had an ousia of his own, so, in the discussion of the
homoousios, Eusebius did not address the controversial point of the number
of the divine ousiai – he was condemned at Antioch for that reason. Hence,
the bishop of Caesarea must have seen the homoousios as a threat to the Ori-
genian theology of the three hypostases / ousiai, and Nicaea must have dis-
cussed the number of divine ousiai in continuity with Antioch (325). The
absence of this topic in Eusebius’ letter should be explained by strategic and
rhetorical reasons: instead of explaining his tenet – condemned by Ossius
and Eustathius – he simply quoted the emperor’s words.276 However, shortly
after the synod, when Eusebius was no longer in such a weak position, he
addressed the topic and explicitly claimed, regarding the homoousios, that
Eustathius introduced the doctrine of Sabellius.277
As far as the sources allow, the theology of Nicaea does not bear the stamp
of one particular bishop. The Creed must have been the result of negotia-
tions. Nicene doctrine does not coincide with that of any of the protagonists:
Alexander, who said that the Father and the Son were two πράγματα, would
not have promoted the homoousios; Marcellus would not accept willingly the
sentence “begotten, not made,” because he did not accept any divine beget-

––––––––––––––––––––

273 See Eus., d.e. 5.1,11–13.

274 To denounce the threat of Monarchianism, Eusebius calls Marcellus “the new Sabellius”
(Eus., Marcell. 1.1,17; e.th. 1.1,1–2; 1.5,1–2; 1.7,2; 1.14,1; 1.15,2; 1.20,14; 1.20,96).
275 Eust., fr. 65 (CChr.SG 51, 136). This statement is anti-Arian and anti-Marcellan as well. See
Spoerl, 2008, 127–128; Alex. Al., ep. Alex. (FNS 8).
276 Eus., ep. Caes. 7 (FNS 37.7): According to Eusebius, Constantine confessed “that the homo-
ousios should not be said according to bodily passion, nor in reference to division, nor to
any cutting of the Father’s subsistence.”
277 See Socr., h.e. 1.23,6–8.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 217

ting of the pre-incarnate Son, as Alexander and Eustathius did;278 Nicaea does
not express the unity of God with the Eustathian theology of the one hyposta-
sis,279 but with the homoousios. Again, it is natural to think of Ossius and Eu-
stathius as the architects of the formula. However, we are poorly informed
about their Trinitarian theology. Is it possible to go deeper into the original
meaning of the homoousios? This question must consider the discussion on
the anathema. Therefore, it will be addressed in a subsequent section, after
analyzing the anathema (ch. 4.4.3).

4.4.2 The Anathema

Now, we must analyze the theological content of the Nicene Anathema.280
The text does not include names, but generically condemns “those who hold”
the doctrines that are described:

The catholic and apostolic Church anathematizes those who say “there was
once when he was not,” or “before he was begotten, he was not,” or “he came
into being from nothing,” or that the Son of God comes from another hyposta-
sis or ousia, asserting that he is ⟦created,⟧ mutable, or alterable.281

The first sentence is found in Alexander’s polemical summaries, is mentioned

by George of Laodicea, and appears literally in a fragment that Athanasius
attributes to Asterius.282 It is not found verbatim in the writings of Eusebius of
Caesarea and Arius, but its content matches the theology of both authors.
The complexity and regularity of the phrase indicate that it was a slogan, a
catchphrase. The phrase carefully avoids the term “time” (χρόνος) because
there can be no time before the creation of time.283 Some modern translations
neglect this aspect.284
The following phrase, πρὶν γεννηθῆναι οὐκ ἦν, is found literally in Arius’ let-
ter to Eusebius of Nicomedia, “before he was begotten… he was not.”285 A

––––––––––––––––––––

278 See Eust., fr. 68; 82; 85 P. de Navascués, Prov 8,22–25 en Eustacio de Antioquía y Marcelo de
Ancira: dos exégesis más diferentes que semejantes, in: Sáez, 2024, 315–336 (318–319);
Spoerl, 2008, 127–128.
279 See Eust., fr. 88; Parvis, 2006, 59; Hanson, 1988, 213–217.
280 According to an appealing hypothesis of Skarsaune, some passages of Ath., decr. 19–20
transmit traces of the draft of the anathema, see Skarsaune, 1987, 34–54.
281 C.Nic. (325), symb. 4 (FNS 32.4).
282 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 10; 15 (FNS 8.10; 8.15); encycl. 7; 12–13 (FNS 26.7; 26.12–13); Geo. Laod., ep.
Alex. Al. (FNS 19); Ast. Soph., fr. 23 (FNS 17.23).
283 See Ath., or. Ar. 1.13,8; 1.14,7; Sext. Emp., adv. math. 10.189 (Mutschmann, 1914, 343): ἄτοπον
δέ γε ἢ τὸ γεγονέναι ποτὲ χρόνον, ὅτε χρόνος οὐκ ἦν.
284 See the discussion in Markschies, 2022, 11–40.
285 Ar., ep. Eus. 5 (FNS 6.5).
218 CHAPTER 4

fragment of Asterius addresses the same concept.286 Eusebius of Caesarea

clearly affirms that the Son is posterior to the Father – although prior to crea-
tion (ch. 2.2.3). He held this doctrine before the beginning of the conflict, and
he defended it in his letter to Alexander, when he said that “’the One who is’
begot the one who did not exist.”287 As we have seen, this statement can be
understood as a rejection of the two-stage Christology (ch. 2.2.2). In the letter
to his church, he addresses the topic:

Moreover, it did not seem absurd to anathematize that “before he was begot-
ten, he was not,” for all proclaim that the Son of God exists before his birth ac-
cording to the flesh (πρὸ τῆς κατὰ σάρκα γεννήσεως).288

Eusebius avoids the issue that questions his own theology and rejects only the
extreme version of the two-stage Christology, supported by Marcellus. For
Eusebius, however, it was evident that the anathema referred to the pre-
cosmic origin of the Son of God, and not to his birth from Mary. Then the
bishop of Caesarea continues his problematic explanation:

And our emperor, beloved of God, by word, had already established also that
the [Son], according to his divine birth (κατὰ τὴν ἔνθεον αὐτοῦ γέννησιν), exist-
ed before all ages, for even before he was begotten in act, he existed in poten-
cy, in the Father, in an unbegotten way (ἐπεὶ καὶ πρὶν ἐνεργείᾳ γεννηθῆναι
δυνάμει ἦν ἐν τῷ πατρὶ ἀγεννήτως). For the Father is eternally Father, just as he
is always King and always Savior, since in potency he is everything, and he al-
ways remains the same and identical with himself.289

Eusebius quotes Constantine’s words, but – strictly speaking – he does not

endorse them, because they contradict his own theology.290 The wording of
the paragraph is highly strategic, not to say deceptive. In fact, at this point,
Eusebius pretended to accept a doctrine that he did not support.291 Eustathius
––––––––––––––––––––

286 Ast. Soph., fr. 14 (FNS 17).

287 Eus., ep. Alex. 4 (FNS 12.4).
288 Eus., ep. Caes. 16 (FNS 37.16). See Ayres, 2004, 91: “By such means Eusebius avoids the
notion of eternal generation so dear to some of his opponents.”
289 Eus., ep. Caes. 16 (FNS 37.16). Morales, 2023, 178: “In short, it seems as if Eusebius is quot-
ing an authentic statement by the emperor, repeating, in his own way, statements heard,
for example, from Marcellus, on the pre-existence of the Logos before his human beget-
ting, and from Alexander on the eternity of the Father-Son correlation.”
290 Eusebius rejected the two-stage Christology, see Eus., d.e. 5.1,13; e.th. 2.11,1; 2.14,20; 2.15,2–4.
291 Eusebius did not modify his doctrine about the atemporal posteriority of the Son; he
supported this doctrine before the Arian crisis, during the conflict, and after Nicaea. See
Eus., d.e. 4.2,1; 4.3,5–13; 4.4,1; 5.1,4–9; 5.1,18–20; ep. Alex. 4 (FNS 12.4); ep. Euphrat. 1 (FNS
13.1); ep. Caes. 7 (FNS 37.7).
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 219

and Athanasius complained about Eusebius’ behavior,292 and Socrates – or an

early copyist – omitted the whole paragraph.293 Possibly, the historian wanted
to defend the reputation of Eusebius, his forerunner.
Constantine’s words oppose any kind of posterity of the Son regarding the
Father, like that held by Eusebius and Arius, but his words do not support the
eternal begetting held by Alexander. The twofold status of the logos (ἐνεργείᾳ
/ δυνάμει) matches Marcellus’ theology, but the bishop of Ancyra did not ac-
cept a “divine birth.” Who was behind the words of the emperor? Although
we are poorly informed about his Trinitarian theology, it seems likely that
these words echo Eustathius’ doctrine.294
The discussion of Nicaea revolved around three – not two – explanations:
the atemporal posteriority of the Son regarding the Father (Eusebius, Arius),
the eternal begetting (Origen, Alexander), and the two-stage Christology
(Constantine, Eustathius, [Marcellus]).295 The last two solutions agree that the
logos / Son is strictly coeternal with God.
Therefore, the alliance of Alexander of Alexandria with Eustathius of An-
tioch and Marcellus of Ancyra was not merely political: it had theological
grounds. The compact anathema devotes two sentences to the issue of the
Son’s posteriority and places them at the beginning of the text. This confirms
that the discrepancy between strict coeternity and atemporal posteriority of
the Son was the crux of the controversy.
Next, the Anathema rejects those who claim that the Son “came into ex-
istence from nothing” (ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων ἐγένετο). The sentence directly contrasted
Arius’ doctrine.296 This doctrine is a consequence of the atemporal posteriori-
ty of the Son, supported by Eusebius and Arius. In fact, according to Arius, the
Son “did not exist before being begotten.”297 As it was stated (ch. 2.4.1), this
doctrine opposes the two-stage Christology and indicates that before the Son
was begotten, there was not an internal, unbegotten logos in God, but “noth-
ing.” Eusebius, who clearly professed the posteriority of the Son, never explic-
itly drew the consequences of this doctrine (ch. 2.2.2). In the letter to his
Church, he justifies his signing of the document:

And we consider the anathema published by them after the [formula] of faith
to be harmless, for it forbids the use of unscriptural terms (ἀγράφοις χρῆσθαι
––––––––––––––––––––

292 See Socr., h.e. 1.23,6; Ath., decr. 3.4; Cartwright 2015, 62–65.
293 Ath., decr. 3.4 (AW 2, 3); Socr., h.e. 1.8,53–54 (GCS.NF 1, 27); Eus., ep. Caes. 16 (FNS 37.16).
294 Eust., fr. 65 (CChr.SG 51, 136).
295 Hanson, 1988, 215: Eustathius “probably understood the begetting of the Son in terms of
the Logos-immanent and Logos-proceeding.”
296 Ar., ep. Eus. 5 (FNS 6.5).
297 Ar., ep. Alex. 4 (FNS 11.4).
220 CHAPTER 4

φωναῖς), owing to which almost every confusion and disorder in the Church is
produced. No divinely inspired Scripture makes use of “out of nothing,” or
“there was once when he was not,” or the other slogans; therefore, it did not
seem reasonable to say or teach these things. Therefore, with a favorable opin-
ion, we agreed, for we did not use such expressions in previous times. 298

All these expressions of Eusebius are restrictive; none of them directly reject
the condemned statements. He disallows that the Son comes “from nothing”
just because it is not found in the Bible. Strictly speaking, then, he does not
reject the content of the statements. He maintained his previous theology
despite the Nicene anathema.
The following sentence of the anathema condemns that the Son comes
from another hypostasis or ousia, a doctrine that Arius had explicitly reject-
ed.299 Most likely the phrase responds to a hypothetical objection to the Ni-
cene theology.300 However, the expression is significant because it uses the
terms οὐσία and ὑπόστασις as synonyms. In fact, some fourth-century transla-
tors, namely Lucifer of Cagliari (ca. 355), Hilary of Poitiers (ca. 360) and an
anonymous commentary on the Creed (ca. 375), translate the two Greek
terms by the single Latin word substantia.301 As scholars have observed, the
identification between οὐσία and ὑπόστασις was one factor of confusion in the
reception of the Nicene creed.
Two aspects of the last part of the anathema have been already discussed
(ch. 4.3.3). The textual tradition of the expression ἢ κτιστὸν, in the last part of
anathema, presents some difficulties that indicate that a group of bishops
tried – without success – to condemn the term “creature” with reference to
the origin of the Son. Besides, according to Eustathius, the accused bishops at
Nicaea were charged with professing the mutability of the Son, but they
unanimously rejected that the Son was alterable (ἀλλοιωτός). This episode
shows the gap between the teachings attributed to the so-called Ariomaniacs
by their accusers and the teachings that they actually held.302
––––––––––––––––––––

298 Eus., ep. Caes. 15 (FNS 37.15).

299 Ar., ep. Eus. 4 (FNS 6.4).
300 The objection could be put like this: if the Son is neither part of the Father nor is he “from
nothing,” then he must come from another reality. The text alludes the philosophical
theme of eternal matter, see Plat., Tim. 49a–52d; Alcin., did. 8.2–3.
301 On the Latin translation of Greek technical terms, see EOMIA 1.1, 298–299; S. Fernández,
Words and Concepts in Motion: Hilary of Poitiers between East and West, in: A. Usacheva / E.
Mataix Ferrándiz (eds.), Mediterranean Flows: People, Ideas and Objects in Motion, CAMA
3, Paderborn 2023, 129–147.
302 Regarding the immutability of the Son, see Ar., ep. Eus. 4 (FNS 6.4); Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 11–
13; 29; 46–47 (FNS 8.11–13; 8.29; 8.46-47); Ar., ep. Alex. 2.5 (FNS 11.2; 11.5); Eus., ep. Alex. 2
(FNS 12.2); Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 8; 10; 14 (FNS 26.8; 26.10; 26.14); Eust., fr. 6 (FNS 40).
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 221

4.4.3 The Aim of Ὁμοούσιος τῷ Πατρί: A Deductive Proposal

What was the original aim and meaning of the homoousios? The main obsta-
cles that prevent a full answer to this vexata quaestio are the scarcity of con-
temporary sources, in general, and the darkness about the Trinitarian theolo-
gy of two crucial bishops at Nicaea, namely Ossius and Eustathius.303 Besides,
one cannot exclude the possibility of the existence of other relevant voices
without extant records. Nevertheless, no textual evidence suggests that any of
the leading bishops of Nicaea promoted the homoousios before the synod.304
Alexander did not use the language of ousia in his long letter, nor did he cen-
sure Arius for rejecting the homoousios. Marcellus did not mention the homo-
ousios in the letter to Julius, in which he aimed to prove his orthodoxy.305
Some evidence suggests that Eustathius and Ossius expressed the unity of
God by the term hypostasis.306 The homoousios, then, was not part of the
agenda of any of these bishops.
Later accounts shed some light on this topic. Athanasius, Basil of Ancyra,
Hilary, and Ambrose affirmed that the bishops at Nicaea did not propose the
homoousios spontaneously. According to Athanasius, since the fathers could
not find a biblical formula to express the clear distinction between the Son
and the creatures that did not leave room for an “Arian” interpretation, they
felt compelled (ἀναγκάζω) to introduce the homoousios.307 He says that “the
‘from the ousia’ and the ‘homoousios’ are effective to annihilate the speech of
the impiety.”308 Hilary handed down a narrative coming from the so-called
Epistula Sirmiensis (358): “In the synod of Nicaea our fathers were con-
strained (cogo) to adopt the word [homoousios] on account of those who said
the Son was a creature.”309 The match between ἀναγκάζω and cogo suggests a
common source – given the chronology of the works and the enmity between
the authors, mutual dependence appears unlikely. These accounts are con-
sistent with Ambrose, who mentions a letter by Eusebius that rejects the
––––––––––––––––––––

303 Simonetti, 1975, 71–76.

304 See Stead, 1977, 250–251. See also Ulrich, 1994, 6–25; J. Ulrich, Nicaea and the West, in: VC 51
(1997), 10–24; Beatrice, 2002, 243–272.
305 The absence of the homoousios in Marcellus’ creed could have other explanations, but its
absence in the whole letter to Julius is significant.
306 See Eust., fr. 88; C.Sard. (343), ep. syn. 3 (Thdt., h.e. 2.8,9); J.T. Lienhard, Contra Marcelum:
Marcellus of Ancyra and Fourth-Century Theology, Washington 1999, 30–46. Perhaps Ni-
caea did not use hypostasis to profess divine unity because this was untenable for Alexan-
der, who held the Origenian theology and distinguished the Father and the Son as two ob-
jective realities (πράγματα), see Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 38 (FNS 8.38); Or., Cels. 8.12.
307 Ath., decr. 19.2; 20.1–3.
308 Ath., decr. 20.6 (AW 2, 17): ὅτι τὸ ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας καὶ τὸ ὁμοούσιον ἀναιρετικὰ τῶν τῆς ἀσεβείας
λογαρίων εἰσίν.
309 Hil., syn. 81 (SC 621, 384).
222 CHAPTER 4

homoousios and then asserts, “When the letter was read at the Nicene Coun-
cil, the fathers introduced the term [homoousios] in the exposition of faith
because they saw that it was frightening for the adversaries.”310 These pieces of
evidence indicate that the homoousios intended to reject rather than to assert
a doctrine. Therefore, from a historical point of view, it seems safe to say that
the term homoousios originally had a negative meaning: the fact that the Ari-
ans rejected it motivated its insertion into the Creed. However, this section
intends to go further in a more speculative way.
The “homoousios to the Father” was the key expression that Ossius, Eu-
stathius, and Alexander were able to accept, whereas Eusebius, as leader of
the questioned group, was not willing to admit – at least at the beginning of
the discussion. Therefore, the content of this key expression indicates the
theological dividing line between the two groups. Thus, the real contrast be-
tween the groups discloses the original meaning of the debated expression. It
is crucial to identify the real, not rhetorical or polemical, disagreement that
divided the groups. Nicaea was not divided between supporters and detrac-
tors of the divinity of the Son, the Sabellian theology, or the material notion
of God, these were polemical claims that could be real or alleged conse-
quences of the discussed doctrines.
To identify the dividing line, then, it is necessary to distinguish between
the theological issues that were at stake and the departing point of the disa-
greement. The issues at stake were the following: 1) the divinity of the Son, 2)
the unity of God and the subsistence of the Son, and 3) the coeternity of the
Son with the Father. The divinity of the Son was indeed at stake: Eusebius’
doctrine had serious consequences for Christ’s divinity, but it was a conse-
quence of his theology rather than his departing point; he professed the Son’s
divinity, whereas his adversaries said that his doctrine denied it. The unity of
God and the subsistence of the Son were at stake; bishops of both parties had
grounds to claim that the teaching of their opponents in fact denied either
the unity of God or the subsistence of the Son; however, these claims were
deductions, not doctrinal tenets of the parties.
The departing point of the disagreement in the Nicene assembly was the
strict coeternity or the atemporal posteriority of the Son regarding the Father.
Eusebius defended that the Father must be prior to the Son, whereas Alexan-
der and others defended the Son’s strict coeternity with the Father. Many
accusations were presented as reductio ad absurdum: “if you say this and that,
then… you support two unbegotten beings, or you deny the Son’s divinity, or
you affirm that God is divisible and material,” and so on. However, the ac-

––––––––––––––––––––

310 Ambr., fid. 3.125. See Eus. (?), fr. (FNS 38).
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 223

cused bishops could recontest, “No! I do not support two unbegotten beings,
or that the Son is not divine, or that God is divisible or material…” Instead,
the only disagreement in which both parties were eager to defend their tenets
explicitly was the disjunction between the atemporal priority of the Father
(Eusebius) and the strict coeternity of the Son (Alexander).
To assess these thoughts, it is worth citing again some crucial statements,
in which Eusebius contrasts the origin of the Son with that of the ray of light
(ch. 2.2.3). He says that the ray is connatural (σύμφυτος) to the light and coex-
ists (συνυπάρχω) with the light substantially (οὐσιωδῶς); instead (δέ), the Log-
os of God does not coexist (συνυπάρχω) with the Father in an unbegotten way
(ἀγενήτως).311 In the same vein, he affirms that the ray coexists (συνυπάρχω)
with light because it is something constituent of it (συμπληρωτική), for light
could not exist without the ray; in contrast (δὲ), the Father preexists
(προυπάρχω) the Son, because the Father is the only unbegotten.312 Thus, since
one is Father and the other is Son, the Father preexists (προϋπάρχω) and ex-
ists before (πρόὑφίστημι) the Son.313 Finally, Eusebius says that the ray does
not shine by a free choice of the light (κατὰ προαίρεσιν); instead (δὲ), the Son
is the image of the Father by decision and free choice (κατὰ γνώμην καὶ
προαίρεσιν).314 God decided (ἐδόκει) that the Son must preexist the construc-
tion of the world, to be a living instrument (ὄργανον) for all creation.315
Let us attempt to disclose Eusebius’ logic. His starting point is the asser-
tion that the Father is the only unbegotten being, while the Son is begotten.
From this starting point two consequences derive.
1) The Son’s begetting necessarily implies a kind of priority of the unbegot-
ten Father, albeit an atemporal one. Since the Father is unbegotten and the
Son is begotten, the Father must preexist (προϋπάρχω) and exist prior to
(προὐφίστημι) the Son.
2) The Son exists because God freely decided (ἐδόκει) to beget him as a liv-
ing instrument (ὄργανον) for all creation. The existence of the Son itself de-
pends entirely on an act of the Father’s will.
It is not possible to determine the logical order of these two tenets; how-
ever, the prominence of the topic concerning atemporal priority and posteri-
ority in the sources suggests that Eusebius’ starting point was the first one.
Nevertheless, these two tenets imply that the Son is neither connatural

––––––––––––––––––––

311 Eus., d.e. 5.1,19 (GCS 23, 213). See Eus., d.e. 4.3,5.
312 Eus., d.e. 4.3,5 (GCS 23, 153). See Eus., d.e. 5.1,19; Williams, 2001, 172.
313 Eus., d.e. 5.1,20 (GCS 23, 213).
314 Eus., d.e. 4.3,7 (GCS 23, 153). See Wallace-Hadrill, 1961, 131; Simonetti, 1975, 62; Williams,
2001, 172; Anatolios, 2011, 59–65.
315 Eus., d.e. 4.4,1–2 (GCS 23, 154–155). See Eus., d.e. 4.10,15.
224 CHAPTER 4

(σύμφυτος) nor constituent (συμπληρωτική) of God. In other words, according

to Eusebius, the Christian God is conceivable without the Son. Indeed, God
can exist without the Son because he does not coexist (συνυπάρχω) with God
substantially (οὐσιωδῶς) in an unbegotten way (ἀγενήτως). In fact, even after
Nicaea, Eusebius criticized Marcellus for asserting that the Logos is connatu-
ral with God (συμφυᾶ τῷ θεῷ), eternally coexisting and united to him (ἀιδίως
αὐτῷ συνόντα καὶ ἡνωμένον).316 For Eusebius, “before” the begetting, the Son did
not exist; however, following Isaiah, he asserts that narrating the origin of the
Son is neither allowed nor possible (Isa 53:8). Within this framework, Arius
went further, explicitly asserting that before his begetting, the Son did not
exist. There was no “something” in God that became the Son through the act
of begetting, but there was “nothing.” This appears to be the original meaning
of the phrase “out of nothing” as used by Arius.
All the protagonists of Nicaea agreed that the Father is the only unbegot-
ten being. Instead, the crucial point of disagreement was whether the beget-
ting of the Son necessarily implied an atemporal priority of the Father. This
doctrine was supported by Eusebius and rejected by his adversaries directly. If
these considerations are correct, a further step can be taken to identify the
positive meaning of the homoousios. On the one hand, contemporary sources
show that the homoousios was the dividing line between “the fathers” and
“the Eusebians.” On the other hand, the evidence proves that the dividing line
between Eusebius and his adversaries was the strict coeternity or the atem-
poral priority of the Father regarding the Son. Consequently, to declare that
“the Son is homoousios to the Father” would have originally aimed to guaran-
tee their strict coeternity. Therefore, the term homoousios implied that it is
not possible to conceive the Christian God without the Son, because he is
connatural (σύμφυτος) with and constituent (συμπληρωτική) of the Father.
Therefore, the chief departing point of the conflict was neither the divini-
ty of the Son – as many handbooks assert – nor the contrast between the
unity of God and the subsistence of the Son – as some modern studies affirm.
The axis of the disagreement at Nicaea revolved around the atemporal priori-
ty of the Father, advocated by Eusebius, and the strict coeternity of the Father
and the Son, guaranteed by the homoousios, which implies that the Son is
both connatural to and constituent of the Father.
Of course, one cannot take for granted that there was only one interpreta-
tion of the homoousios at Nicaea; individual bishops could have compre-
hended it in various ways or have different concerns about it. However, the
understanding of the homoousios could not deny the subsistence of the Son.

––––––––––––––––––––

316 Eus., Marcell. 2.1,1 (GCS 23, 31; trans. FC 135, 117).
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 225

If the formula ὁμοούσιος τῷ πατρί had originally had a Sabellian meaning,

neither Eustathius, much less Alexander, would have accepted it.317
Finally, the homoousios must not be isolated from its grammatical context.
In other words, studies should analyze the phrase rather than the term. From
this perspective, it is possible to study the enigmatic assertion in which Arius
rejects those who speak about relationship (τὰ πρός τι).318 In fact, the phrase
itself, ὁμοούσιος τῷ πατρί, is constructed with a dative, which is called dativus
sociativus, the associative dative, which implies two entities, one in relation
to the other.319 The expression ὁμοούσιος τῷ πατρί implies by itself the relation-
ship between two entities, one in relation to the other. This perspective con-
tradicts a Sabellian understanding of the formula because it indicates the
eternal correlativity of the Father and the Son. The key Nicene expression,
then, is consistent with Alexander, who describes the Father and the Son as
“two mutually inseparable entities” (ἀλλήλων ἀχώριστα πράγματα δύο).320 The
development of these concepts, however, was not undertaken by Nicaea, but
was taken up by later theologians, especially the Cappadocians.321 As is well-
known, the homoousios was subject to conflicting readings after Nicaea; its
first reception will be discussed in the next chapter.
Two final remarks: first, the use of a non-biblical word as the key term in
the Creed challenges the claim that Nicaea defends the Bible against philoso-
phy. Both Nicene and anti-Nicene writers selectively engaged with philosoph-
ical concepts to express their understanding of God. The legend of the uned-
ucated bishop, who refuted a philosopher well-versed in dialectic at Nicaea,
reflects the assumption that philosophy is the source of all heresies.322 Sec-
ond, the Holy Spirit is largely absent from early theological debates. Contem-
porary sources mention the Spirit in connection with confessional material
and Christian life but not as a subject of controversy.323 Direct debate about
this topic emerged only in the second half of the fourth century.
––––––––––––––––––––

317 See Eust., engast. 19.2; 24.7–8; Eust., fr. 21; 68; 123 (CChr.SG 51); T.E. Pollard, Johannine
Christology and the Early Church, Cambridge 1970, 118–122. Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 15 (FNS 15.8).
318 Ar., ep. Alex. 4 (FNS 11.4).
319 See L. Rocci, Grammatica greca. Morfologia, sintassi e dialetti, Milano 1929, 260–261.
320 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 15 (FNS 8.15); Alex. Al., fr. (FNS 10).
321 G. Maspero, The Cappadocian Reshaping of Metaphysics: Relational Being, Cambridge 2023.
322 See Gelas., h.e. F12d (GCS.NF 25, 84–91); (Ps.)Hipp., haer. 1.26,4.
323 Confessional material: Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 53 (FNS 8.53); Alex. Al., ep. Philog. 2 (FNS 9.2);
Paulin., ep. (FNS 16); Ast. Soph., fr. 60 (FNS 60); C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 12 (FNS 28.12); C.Nic.
(325), symb. 3 (FNS 32.3); Eus., ep. Caes. 4–5.8 (FNS 37.4–5; 37.8); Ar. Euz., ep. Const. 3–4
(FNS 65.3–4). Christian life: Petr. Al., ep. can. 2 (FNS 3.2); Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 21.31 (FNS 8.21;
8.31); Ar., Thal. (FNS 18); C.Ant. (325), ep. syn. 8 (FNS 28.8); C.Nic (325), ep. Aeg. 13 (FNS
34.13); Const., ep. eccl. Alex. 8 (FNS 36.8); C.Ant. (329), syn. (FNS 51); Const., ep. Alex. Con.
2 (FNS 80.2). Three hypostases: Ar., ep. Alex. 11 (FNS 11.4).
226 CHAPTER 4

4.5 The Disciplinary Outcomes of the Synod

The canons and the letters are less renowned than the Creed; yet, they had
and still have a lasting influence on the life of the churches. They show the
variety of topics that were discussed at the synod and challenge the view that
identifies Nicaea with the Arian crisis.

4.5.1 The Canons

The twenty canons of Nicaea have been handed down in ancient eastern and
western canonical collections and by some of the church historians. In 379, a
synod of Antioch integrated the twenty canons of Nicaea into the Antiochene
canonical collection.324 The Nicene canons, because of their authority, were
placed at the beginning of the collection although other groups of canons
were older. Other documents placed the canons in a thematic order, as is the
case of the Collection of Fifty Titles, shaped by John Scholasticus, patriarch of
Constantinople (565–577).325 Among the historians, the Anonymous of Cyzi-
cus transmits the canons with titles; Rufinus, instead, provides a free sum-
mary of twenty-three canons in Latin.326 The oldest translation is the Latin
one of Caecilianus of Carthage, who was present at Nicaea. In addition, Syri-
ac, Coptic, Arabic, Ethiopian, Armenian, Georgian, and Ancient Slavonic were
produced.327 The canons address issues that do not necessarily coincide with
the main topics of the council.
The order of the canons – or lack thereof – reflects a rather occasional
discussion of disciplinary issues raised at the Nicene assembly. Possibly, ca-
nonical regulations, which are shaped as a rule of general scope, were moti-
vated by concrete problems brought up by particular bishops. Perhaps the
legendary account of Gelasius of Caesarea that mentions the many petitions
and quarrels of the bishops, which the emperor finally burned, has a slight
historical basis.328 This chapter does not intend to offer a full commentary on
the canons.329 The following pages pays particular attention to those aspects
of the norms that can be related to other topics from Nicaea.

––––––––––––––––––––

324 A. Mardirossian, La collection canonique d’Antioche, Paris 2010, 253.

325 V.N. Beneševič, Ioannis Scholastici Synagoga L titulorum, Munich 1937.
326 An.Cyz., h.e. 2.32 (GCS.NF 9, 91–96); Ruf., h.e. 10.6 (GCS.NF 6.3, 966–969).
327 See EOMIA 1.1, 110–142; Weckwerth, 2021, 159–161.
328 Gelas., h.e. F12b (GCS.NF 25, 79).
329 For a commentary on the canons, see H.J. Schroeder, Disciplinary Decrees of the General
Councils: Text, Translation, and Commentary, London 1937, 8–58; P. L’Huillier, The Church
of the Ancient Councils: The Disciplinary Work of the First Four Ecumenical Councils, Crest-
wood NY 2000, 17–100; Weckwerth, 2021, 158–176; H. Pietras, Concilio di Nicea (325) el suo
contesto, Roma 2021, 137–159.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 227

Nicaea marks a shift in Church legislation. If earlier canonical collections

focused on issues raised by persecution and Christian life in general, the Ni-
cene canons focus on the clergy and its jurisdiction. A large group of canons
deals with the conditions for admitting, retaining, and dismissing the clergy.
Some of them may echo conflicts caused by Melitius and Arius.
A group of canons instructs that suitable preparation for the clergy must
be observed without exceptions. Canon 2 says the “Many things have hap-
pened contrary to the ecclesiastical canon, out of necessity (ἀπὸ ἀνάγκης),”330
and points that some men just converted from paganism and instructed only
for a short time are baptized and then promoted to the episcopate or presbyt-
erate. Canon 9 warns about those who “have been promoted presbyters with-
out examination.”331 The following canon denounces that “some among the
fallen have been promoted” to the clergy.332 Twenty years earlier, the Letter of
the four bishops to Melitius warned:

The [fathers and ancestors] have established and fixed that it is not lawful for
any bishop to celebrate ordinations in the paroikiai of others. This law is ex-
ceptionally important and devised with prudence. For in the first place, it is
convenient to examine very carefully the behavior and the way of life of those
who are ordained, and it is also convenient that all confusion and perturba-
tion should be removed.333

Melitius had claimed that out of necessity he had performed ordinations

without regular examination and outside his jurisdiction. A couple of canons
deal with this last topic indirectly.334 The concern of the four bishops matches
the content of the canons only partially, because the key crime of Melitius
consisted of performing ordinations outside his paroikia. Nevertheless, the
letter deals with the training required for ordination. Always regarding epis-
copal jurisdiction, canon 4 states that “it is absolutely necessary that a bishop
be appointed by all the bishops of the eparchia,” or “at least three bishops
gathered in the same place, with the consent also of the absent;” the confir-
mation of the episcopal appointment must be entrusted to the metropolitan
bishop.335 Three canons address problems related to jurisdiction and the mo-
bility of the clergy:

––––––––––––––––––––

330 C.Nic. (325), can. 2 (FNS 33.2).

331 C.Nic. (325), can. 9 (FNS 33.9).
332 C.Nic. (325), can. 10 (FNS 33.10).
333 Episc. Aeg., ep. Melit. 3–4 (FNS 1.3–4).
334 C.Nic. (325), can. 15–16 (FNS 33.15–16).
335 C.Nic. (325), can. 4 (FNS 33.4).
228 CHAPTER 4

Because of the great unrest and the factions that have arisen (διὰ τὸν πολὺν
τάραχον καὶ τὰς στάσεις τὰς γινομένας), it was decided to suppress by all means
the custom, which is contrary to the canon – if it is found somewhere – so
that neither bishop, nor presbyter, nor deacon may move from one city to an-
other. But if anyone, after such a definition of the holy and great synod,
should make an attempt or arrange to do anything of the kind, he will see his
machination completely annulled, and he will have to return to the church for
which he was ordained bishop, presbyter, or deacon. 336

The norm refers to great struggles that have actually occurred (τὰς γινομένας).
In fact, ancient sources bear witness to the many “irregular” transfers of the
clergy.337 George was presbyter in Alexandria, then he moved to Antioch, and
finally he became bishop of Laodicea; Paulinus was the bishop of Tyre before
moving to the see of Antioch in 324; Eusebius moved from Berytus to Ni-
comedia, and, after Nicaea, he became the bishop of Constantinople; Eu-
stathius transferred from Beroea to Antioch, by the end of 324.338 The synod of
Nicaea had good reasons “to suppress by all means” the transfers of clergy.
However, this “irregular” practice continued after Nicaea, and new canons on
the same issue were produced.339 Eusebius of Caesarea declined his appoint-
ment as bishop of Antioch because of canonical legislation, but he praised
Paulinus, who shone so brightly in the episcopacy of Tyre that the Antiochian
church claimed him as its own.340
Besides, Nicaea states that any presbyters or deacons or men enumerated
in any rank who depart from their own church recklessly should in no way be
received in another church.341 An analogous situation is addressed in canon 5:
“Concerning those who have been excommunicated, whether of the clergy or
of the laity, let the judgment of the bishops of each eparchia prevail.”342 The
background to this canon may be the readmission of Arius in Bithynia and
Palestine after his excommunication in Alexandria.343 The norm holds a tradi-
––––––––––––––––––––

336 C.Nic. (325), can. 15 (FNS 33.15).

337 See C.Arl. (314), can. 2 (SC 241, 44): De his quoque qui quibuscumque locis ordinati fuerint
ministri, in ipsis locis perseverent.
338 See Ath., syn. 17.5; Alex. Al., ep. encycl. 4 (FNS 26.4); C.Alex. (338), ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec.
6.6); Thdt., h.e. 1.19,2–3; Burgess, 1999, 184–196; D. de Decker, Eusèbe de Nicomédie: Pour
une réévaluation historique-critique des avatars du premier concile de Nicée, in: Aug. 45
(2005), 95–170.
339 See Can. Ap. 14–15; C.Ant. (329), can. 21 (FNS 51.21); C.Sard. (343), can. 1.
340 See Const., ep. syn. Antioch. 2 (FNS 53.2); ep. Eus. 1–2 (FNS 54.1–2); Eus., Marcell. 1.4,2.
341 C.Nic. (325), can. 16 (FNS 33.16).
342 C.Nic. (325), can. 5 (FNS 33.5).
343 Sozomen says that a synod in Bithynia restored Arius to communion (Soz., h.e. 1.15,10).
The same historian affirms that a synod in Palestine allowed Arius to preach in the church
(Soz., h.e. 1.15,11–12).
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 229

tional principle: one who has been condemned by one bishop cannot be
readmitted by another bishop.344 However, the canon nuances the principle
because it states that a synod can reassess the episcopal sentence by inquir-
ing whether the bishop acted out of animosity.345 This rule is related to the
appeals process (ch. 4.1.1). Canon 5 states that “it was decided that every year
two synods should be held in each eparchia,” a norm that, as such, was not
observed regularly.
Canon 6 addresses the dignity and privileges of Alexandria and Antioch. It
is likely that this statute is related to concrete issues raised by the Melitian
and Arian controversies. It reinforces the authority of the bishop of Alexan-
dria over Egypt, Libia, and Pentapolis, and confirms the prerogatives of Anti-
och. These two cities are compared to Rome. The canon states that “if anyone
becomes a bishop without the consent of the metropolitan, the great synod
established that he should not be a bishop.”346 This tenet supports Alexander
against Melitius. In addition, canons 6 and 7 strengthen the authority of the
bishops of Alexandria and Antioch, and downplay the dignity of the bishop
of Caesarea in favor of that of Jerusalem.347 In concrete terms, this norm bene-
fits Alexander, Eustathius, and Macarius, the victors of Nicaea, and casts a
shadow on Eusebius of Caesarea, the one who was questioned at Nicaea.
Other canons refer to the living conditions of clerics: those who have vol-
untarily castrated themselves and those who have committed carnal sin are
to be excluded from the clergy.348 Canon 3 prohibits women from living in the
household of any member of the clergy, except for the clergyman’s mother,
sister, aunt, or of any person who is above suspicion. The interpretation of
this canon is debated. However, in light of the history of clerical celibacy and
sexual continence, it seems that canon 3 had in view a particular portion of
the clergy, that is, those who were single and committed to sexual conti-
nence.349 Moreover, clerics were forbidden from practicing usury.350 Canon 18
insists that deacons are subordinate to presbyters. Closeness to the bishop

––––––––––––––––––––

344 See Bévenot, 1952, 397–415.

345 The Latin version of this canon by the presbyter Rufinus adds: ut fieri solet, Ruf., h.e. 10.6
(GCS 6.2, 966).
346 C.Nic. (325), can. 6 (FNS 33.6).
347 See T.E. Pollard, Eusebius of Caesarea and the Synod of Antioch (324/25), in: F. Paschke
(ed.), Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen, TU 125, Berlin 1981, 459–464 (426).
348 C.Nic. (325), can. 1–2 (FNS 33.1–2).
349 See D.G. Hunter, Married Clergy in Eastern and Western Christianity, in: G. Peters / C.C.
Anderson (eds.), A Companion to Priesthood and Holy Orders in the Middle Ages, Leiden
2016, 96–139 (118–133).
350 C.Nic. (325), can. 17 (FNS 33.17).
230 CHAPTER 4

gave deacons a privileged position in administration, which caused tension

related to the sacramental subordination of deacons in the clerical hierarchy.
Canons 11 and 14 regulate the admission of the lapsi under Licinius’ ré-
gime. Canon 11 declares that some Christians “have denied [faith] without
being coerced […] under the tyrant Licinius.” The bishops “decided to act
with compassion with them.” Besides, canon 14 states the norm for the cate-
chumens who have fallen during persecution. The synod grants some auton-
omy to the bishops in order to reduce the periods of penance and confirms
the practice of granting the viaticum (“provision for a journey”) to the dying
(can. 13). Canons 8 and 19 outline the conditions for the readmission of Chris-
tians coming from dissident groups. Novatian clerics, who are separated from
the church for disciplinary reasons, require neither a new baptism nor a new
ordination; however, they should reject rigorism.351 Instead, the followers of
Paul of Samosata, who profess a deficient Trinitarian theology, must be re-
baptized (can. 19). Canon 12 regulates the readmission of those who after
having renounced their military uniform, have returned to the military ser-
vice. The last canon, that is, canon 20, deals with a liturgical issue: it forbids
kneeling at Easter time. The Nicene canons are in continuity with the previ-
ous canonical tradition; they do not introduce significant novelties. However,
the high rank of the Council of Nicaea gave them a particular authority in the
ancient church and in the later canonical tradition, especially in the eastern
churches.

4.5.2 The Nicene Letters, Arius, Melitius, and the Date of Easter
According to conventional historiography, the Nicene synod sent a letter to
the church of Egypt, Libya, and Pentapolis,352 and the emperor wrote one
letter to the churches and another one to the Alexandrian church.353 One of
them was handed down by Eusebius’ Vita Constantini, whereas the other two
are transmitted in the dossier of documents appended to Athanasius’ De
decretis. The authenticity of the last two has been questioned. Some argu-
ments against the genuineness of the documents are appealing.354 However,
most of them are ex silentio and, in my view, are not strong enough to deny
the authenticity of these letters.
––––––––––––––––––––

351 C.Nic. (325), can. 8 (FNS 33.8). See D.G. Hunter, Ancient and Modern Questions on the
Canons of the Council of Nicaea I (325), in: AHC 53 (2023), 159–180.
352 C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. (FNS 34): Ath., decr. 36.1–13 (AW 2, 35–36).
353 Const., ep. eccl. (FNS 35): Eus., v.C. 3.17,1–20,2 (GCS 7, 89–93); Const., ep. eccl. Alex. (FNS
36): Ath., decr. 38.1–9 (AW 2, 37,3–32).
354 H. Pietras, Lettera di Costantino alla Chiesa di Alessandria e Lettera del sinodo di Nicea agli
Egiziani (325) i falsi sconosciuti da Atanasio?, in: Gr. 89 (2008), 727–739; Pietras 2021, 191–
213; Pietras, 2023, 485–514.
THE SYNOD OF NICAEA 231

The Letter to the Church of Egypt, Libya, and Pentapolis testifies to the
awareness of the bishops about the significance of the event, its general char-
acter, and the participation of the emperor. The aim of the letter is to make
known what was discussed and decided at the assembly. First, it deals with
the Arian controversy. The letter repeats the content of the anathema and
blames “Arius and those who are with him (Ἀρείου καὶ τῶν σὺν αὐτῷ).”355 The
document describes Arius’ fate in vague terms and indicates that his impiety
has affected Theonas of Marmarica and Secundus of Ptolemais, who “ob-
tained their own fate.”356 Second, the letter deals with the matter of Melitius.
This text is the only one that directly describes the Nicene policy regarding
the Melitian controversy. It says that the synod decided that Melitius should
have no authority to elect or to ordain, and he should possess the mere title of
the episcopal dignity. The synod established that those whom he has institut-
ed, once they are confirmed by a more sacred imposition of hands, should be
admitted to communion, but they should take the second place, after the
bishop appointed by Alexander. The expression “a more sacred imposition of
hands” (μυστικωτέρα χειροτονία) gives room for various interpretations.357
Besides, the letter states that they have no authority to choose ministers and
that, when the bishop dies, the former Melitian can ascend to his seat only if
he proves worthy and the people elect him “with the consent and ratification
of the bishop of Alexandria.”358 Finally, the synodal text indicates:

But if anything else has been legislated and decreed in the presence of our
lord and most honored fellow-minister and brother Alexander, he in person
will inform you more accurately as he was a protagonist and participant in the
events.359

The letter allows Alexander to transmit and interpret the will of Nicaea to the
Egyptian church. This indication gives much authority to Alexander. The
policies of Nicaea regarding the Melitian crisis were difficult to apply. On the
one hand, Melitians would not accept the unbalanced power of Alexander;
on the other hand, the ambiguity of the “more sacred imposition of hands”
was a factor of misunderstandings (ch. 5.2.1). Finally, the synodal letter an-
nounces the agreement about the date of Easter: all the brethren of the East
––––––––––––––––––––

355 C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 2 (FNS 34.2).

356 C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 5 (FNS 34.5).
357 C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 7 (FNS 34.7); H. Hauben, La réordination du clergé mélitien imposée
par le Concile de Nicée, in: AnSoc 18 (1987), 203–207.
358 C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 9 (FNS 34.9).
359 C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 11 (FNS 34.11). Giving autonomy to the local bishop is a practice
characteristic of Ancyra (FNS 4.2; 4.5; 4.7). Perhaps, Marcellus was behind this canon.
232 CHAPTER 4

who formerly celebrated with the Jews will now celebrate the Pascha together
with us.360
The Letter to all the Churches by Constantine emphasizes that the synod
has reached unanimity of opinion and the harmony of unity. Its main topic is
the agreement on the date of Easter. It was decided that “it would be good for
everyone everywhere to celebrate it on the same day.”361 The letter contains
harsh expressions against the Jewish people. As previously stated (ch. 1.1.4), in
the second century, the concurrence with the Jews in the celebration of the
feast was information, not a piece of discussion. Anti-Judaism as an argument
for celebrating Easter at a different time from the Jewish people appears in
the third century and reaches its climax in this letter of Constantine. The
document supports the Nicene decision with three arguments: all believers
must celebrate the feast on the same day everywhere, Christians should not
celebrate the feast on the same day as the Jewish people, and churches should
not celebrate Easter twice the same year. This last argument depends on the
practice of the embolism or intercalary month, as was explained (ch. 1.1.4).
The Letter to the Alexandrian Church, written by Constantine, deals with
Arianism. It explains that everything was carefully scrutinized and announces
how the Nicene assembly achieved the unanimity of faith: more than three
hundred bishops confirmed one and the same faith. In contrast, “Arius alone
(μόνος ῎Αρειος) was discovered to have been overcome by the action of the
devil.”362 The letter focuses on Arius alone. According to my knowledge, this is
the first document that mentions Arius alone. Perhaps, this is the first step of
a strategy to concentrate all the evil in Arius as an individual. The emperor
sought ecclesiastical unity, which was threatened by the division of the bish-
ops. Once the questioned group of bishops signed the Nicene Creed, Con-
stantine wanted to emphasize episcopal unity. Therefore, at this point, the
emperor pointed to Arius as the center of evil – as a scapegoat. In this scenar-
io, blaming Arius had no costs.
Lastly, the emperor affirms that, “what pleased the three hundred bishops
together is nothing but the decision of God.”363 These kinds of expressions
belong to the first steps of the theology of synods.

––––––––––––––––––––

360 C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 12 (FNS 34.12).

361 Const., ep. eccl. 3 (FNS 35.3).
362 Const., ep. eccl. Alex. 5 (FNS 36.5).
363 Const., ep. eccl. Alex. 8 (FNS 36.8). See Fiedrowicz, 2010, 293–302.
 CHAPTER 5

A Changing Map

It is difficult to study the years immediately following Nicaea. Not by chance,

they have been called “the lost years of the Arian controversy.”1 In fact, the
historical evidence for this period is scarce and elusive. Consequently, any
reconstruction of this stage can only be speculative. Besides, before Nicaea, it
was possible to study the “Arian” and the “Melitian” issues independently, in
separate sections. However, at some point after the synod, these two prob-
lems interfere with each other so that it is not possible to study them sepa-
rately. The structure of this section, therefore, must combine a thematic view,
topic by topic, with a chronological arrangement of the material.

5.1 The Anti-Arian Campaign (325–328)

Right after Nicaea, Constantine thought that the condemnation of Arianism

was the way to guarantee the unity of the Church. In the period from 325 to
328, both the anti-Arian bishops and the emperor tried to secure victory over
Arianism by various means, such as anti-Arian writings and policies.

5.1.1 Constantine and the Unity of the Church

Eusebius, in the Vita Constantini, narrates the closing of the council. His ac-
count focuses on the emperor and overlaps the closing of Nicaea with the
celebration of Constantine’s Vicennalia. When the synodal debates were over
and the agreement was reached, the emperor offered the bishops a banquet
that was part of the celebration of the twentieth anniversary of his reign. The
selectivity of the narrative depends mainly on two factors: the eulogistic
character of the Vita Constantini – the work’s purpose being to praise the
emperor and not to describe the synod – and the point of view of Eusebius,
for whom the synod was a traumatic experience (ch. 4.1.1).
Both Eusebius’ narrative and the post-synodal letter of Constantine,
which the bishop of Caesarea transcribed in his narrative, insist on the same
point: the importance of ecclesiastical unity. According to Eusebius:

Thus, the Faith prevailed in a unanimous form, and the same timing for the
Festival of the Saviour was agreed on all sides. The general decisions were also

––––––––––––––––––––

1 See the title of Parvis, 2006.

234 CHAPTER 5

ratified in writing through the individual signatures. When these things were
finished, the Emperor said that this was the second victory he had won over
the enemy of the Church, and held a victory-feast to God.2

Eusebius notes that “not one of the bishops was missing from the imperial
banquet” and that “the event was beyond all description.”3 Besides, he testifies
to the harmony and closeness between the bishops and the emperor. In this
context, the historian bishop says that Constantine sent a personal letter to
inform those who were not present about the synod. The Vita Constantini
transmits the emperor’s letter to all the Churches (FNS 35) and omits his let-
ter to the Alexandrian church (FNS 36). The contents of these epistles have
been commented upon previously (ch. 4.5.2). This section wishes to highlight
the emperor’s commitment, or even devotion, to ecclesial unity, rather than
the letters’ content:

Having experienced, in view of the good situation of the common matters,

how great was the grace of divine power, I decided that my first aim (σκοπός)
should be to ensure that, among the most blessed congregations of the catho-
lic Church, a single faith, a pure love, and unanimity of opinion in religion to-
wards the Almighty God be preserved. 4

The topos of the unity of the Church is present throughout the letter: “all the
bishops assembled in one place” […], “everything received its due examina-
tion, until the decision that pleases God was brought into the light for the
harmony of unity.” […] “The unanimous decision was made that it would be
good for everyone everywhere to celebrate it on the same day.” In fact, “what
could be more beautiful and more venerable for us than that this feast should
be observed by all, according to a single order?” […] “Let us, my honorable
brethren, take the [Savior’s way] with unanimity.” Close to the end of the
letter, Constantine summarizes: “Now, to say briefly what is most important, it
seemed good to the common judgment of all that the most holy feast of the
Pascha should be celebrated on one and the same day.”5 Constantine’s letter
to the Alexandrian church adds a crucial element:

The brightness of truth, by the command of God, has overcome the discords,
the divisions, the turmoil, and, so to say, the lethal poisons of dissensions […].
While more than three hundred bishops, admirable for their wisdom and in-
telligence, confirmed one and the same faith (μίαν καὶ τὴν αὐτὴν πίστιν), that
––––––––––––––––––––

2 Eus., v.C. 3.14 (trans. Cameron / Hall, 1999, 127).

3 Eus., v.C. 3.15,1 (trans. Cameron / Hall, 1999, 127).
4 Const., ep. eccl. 1 (FNS 35.1).
5 Const., ep. eccl. 2–4.11 (FNS 35.2–4; 35.11).
A CHANGING MAP 235

right faith which arises from the truths of the law of God, Arius alone (μόνος
῎Αρειος) was discovered to have been overcome by the action of the devil and
to have disseminated this evil – first among you, and then among others, with
impious purpose.6

The paragraph includes Constantine’s beloved topos of ecclesial unity, like

other documents. However, it adds another topic: the sharp contrast between
the unanimity of the bishops and the aloneness of Arius. This topos marks a
shift in the rhetoric of the controversy: for the first time, Christian literature
declares that the source of the conflict was Arius alone. Contemporary letters
speak about “Arius, Achillas and those who are with them” and those who are
with Arius are not presented as his disciples but his allies; besides, the em-
peror himself had accused Alexander and Arius of dividing the Church (ch.
2.3.2). Instead, Constantine’s letter stresses that μόνος ῎Αρειος was deceived by
the devil so that he disseminated the blasphemy first in Egypt and then
throughout the Christian world. Arius, then, is presented as a “theological
progenitor,”7 and the bishops associated with him as his disciples. Yet, Arius
was not the teacher of the bishops, but their protégé. Instead, in his post-
synodal letter, Constantine struggles to oppose Arius alone against the una-
nimity of the bishops.
It is likely that behind this shift lays a strategy of the emperor. When al-
most all the bishops – willingly or unwillingly – signed the Creed, that is, once
the agreement about the faith was reached, Constantine tried to concentrate
all the evil in Arius alone. By doing so, he wanted to secure the unity of the
bishops and to isolate the dissidents. This strategy put the border that divided
good and evil no longer between two groups of bishops, but between the
bishops and Arius alone.
This strategy can show the consistency of Constantine’s apparently chaot-
ic policy in religious matters. In other words, if the emperor’s policy in this
period is evaluated within the axis of Trinitarian theology, it appears to be
erratic. However, if the key to interpretation of his policy is not the Trinitari-
an doctrine but the unity of the Church, then the various political measures
taken by Constantine show their consistency. It was not a particular Christol-
ogy that led his policy, but his search for the unity of the Church.
As a working hypothesis, then, it is possible to distinguish two periods.
The first one, in which Constantine thought that to secure the unity of the
Church, he had to support the Creed of Nicaea and the bishops who tri-
umphed there. The drafting of Eustathius’ and Marcellus’ anti-Arian writings
––––––––––––––––––––

6 Const., ep. eccl. Alex. 2.5 (FNS 36.2; 36.5).

7 R. Vaggione, Arius, Heresy and Tradition by Rowan Williams, in: TJT 5 (1989), 63–87 (65).
236 CHAPTER 5

and the exile of Eusebius of Nicomedia should likely be ascribed to this peri-
od. In the second period, for reasons that must be analyzed, the emperor
thought that to keep the unity of the Church he had to support bishops be-
longing to the circle of both Eusebii (ch. 5.2).

5.1.2 A New Pamphlet Warfare

The chronology of events after Nicaea depends chiefly on the dating of Eu-
stathius’ anti-Arian work, namely, In illud: Dominus creavit me initium viarum
suarum. To this work belongs Eustathius’ fr. 79. Scholars have assigned various
dates to this work. Its terminus post quem is Nicaea, because the writing men-
tions it. The terminus ante quem is debated and depends on the interpretation
of one sentence referring to the Ariomaniacs: “they had held onto (κρατήσαν-
τες) their presidencies through such a dishonest maneuver – they should
have received penance.”8 If κρατέω is understood as “to hold onto,” Eustathius
affirms that the Ariomaniacs kept their episcopal sees, although they de-
served banishment. This reading indicates that the writing was produced
before the exile of the bishop of Nicomedia (last months of 325). In turn, if
κρατέω means “to conquer,” Eustathius affirms that the Ariomaniacs took
back their sees, although they deserved banishment. According to this read-
ing, fr. 79 should be posterior to the recall of Eusebius of Nicomedia (second
half of 328).9 Eustathius’ harsh and confident language reflects the sense of
triumph of the supporters of the homoousios immediately after Nicaea. The
work, then, should be placed after Nicaea and before the exile of Eusebius of
Nicomedia and Theognis of Nicaea.10
Consequently, Eustathius’ anti-Arian work can be associated with a well-
known passage of Socrates Historia ecclesiastica that describes harsh blames
and mutual accusations between the bishops after the end of the synod. An-
cient narratives highlight the strong agreement reached at Nicaea; in con-
trast, Eustathius’ fragment and Socrates’ testimony refer to the severe disa-
greement between the bishops just after Nicaea. How can this contrast be
explained? The answer seems to be easy: it is not that the bishops changed
their minds after Nicaea; what did change after the synod was the presence or
absence of Constantine. In other words, the shift from harmony to dissension
shows that the agreement was forced. Eusebius’ letter shows the pressure that

––––––––––––––––––––

8 Eust., fr. 79.4 (FNS 39.4).

9 See Hanson, 1984, 172–174; Cartwright, 2015, 18–19.
10 Declerck, 2002, ccccvii: “La perfidie que dénonce Eustathe pourrait tout autant se
rapporter à la période entre la fin du Concile et la déposition Eusèbe de Nicomédie et
Théognis de Nicée.” According to Elliott, 1992, 173, the text belongs to the period before
Constantine caught up with Eusebius in the fall of 325.
A CHANGING MAP 237

the emperor exercised to achieve the agreement. Enforced agreements do not

stand the test of time. Therefore, when the emperor was no longer supervis-
ing them, the bishops disclosed their disagreement. None of them denied the
Creed of Nicaea, but they gave different meanings to its critical expressions.
Socrates’ passage deserves thorough analysis. The relevant section of the
passage starts with a clear allusion to a text of the Vita Constantini, in which
Eusebius refers to the unrest that persisted in Egypt.11 Most likely, he indicates
the Melitian problem, but Socrates supposes that the text refers to the “Arian”
problem. Anyhow, the important point for the present topic is that Socrates
starts the next sentence with the following words: “But as we have found in
various letters” (ὡς δὲ ἡμεῖς ἐκ διαφόρων ἐπιστολῶν εὑρήκαμεν).12 Socrates then
contrasts Eusebius’ suspicious narrative with what he has found out in the
letters of the bishops. That means that the narrative is reliable because it
depends on the letters read by the historian. Socrates’ passage runs thus:

But as we have found in various letters, which the bishops wrote to one an-
other after the synod, the term homoousios (ἡ τοῦ ὁμοουσίου λέξις) confused
some [of them]. Those who spent time and inquired closely about the [term]
provoked a battle against each other. What happened was not far from a night
battle, for neither of them seemed to understand the reason why they thought
the other [group] was blaspheming. On the one hand, those who avoid the
word ὁμοούσιος believed that those who welcome it introduced the doctrine of
Sabellius and Montanus, for that reason they called them blasphemers, as to
those who deny the [individual] existence of the Son of God. On the other
hand, those who were devoted to the ὁμοούσιος, presuming that the others in-
troduced polytheism (πολυθεΐαν εἰσάγειν), avoided them as they were promot-
ers of paganism. And Eustathius, the bishop of Antioch, vilifies Eusebius of
Pamphilus, as one who falsifies the Nicene faith (ὡς τὴν ἐν Νικαίᾳ πίστιν
παραχαράττοντα), but Eusebius says that he does not transgress the Nicene
faith, and he calumniates Eustathius as one who introduce the doctrine of Sa-
bellius (ὡς τὴν Σαβελλίου δόξαν εἰσάγοντα).13

The historian describes the struggles that revolved around the ὁμοούσιος just
after Nicaea. The discussion seemed to be beyond Socrates’ understanding.
Anyhow, it is possible to learn various elements from this paragraph. First, as
could be expected, those who had reservations about the homoousios accused
their adversaries of Sabellianism; however, it is surprising that the supporters
of the ὁμοούσιος did not accuse their opponents of denying the Son’s divinity,
but of polytheism. The supporters of the homoousios, therefore, assumed that
––––––––––––––––––––

11 See Socr., h.e. 1.23,6; Eus., v.C. 3.23.

12 Socr., h.e. 1.23,6 (GCS.NF 1, 69).
13 Socr., h.e. 1.23,6–8 (GCS.NF 1, 69–70). See also Soz., h.e. 2.18,3–4.
238 CHAPTER 5

their rivals did affirm the divinity of the Son, but as a distinct God. The frag-
ment, then, challenges the master narrative that claims that those who dis-
trust the homoousios deny the divinity of the Son of God. In fact, their reser-
vations about the ὁμοούσιος intend to protect the subsistence of the Son.
Second, Socrates’ informs that Eustathius attacked Eusebius, which sug-
gests an anti-Arian ambience in which the bishop of Antioch felt confident.
Third, Eustathius did not accuse Eusebius of denying the Nicene faith but of
falsifying it. The verb used by Socrates – παραχαράσσω – means “re-stamp,” i.e.
“re-value the currency;” therefore, the bishop of Antioch did not accuse Euse-
bius of rejecting the term, but of altering its meaning. The struggle, then,
revolved not around accepting or rejecting the ὁμοούσιος, but around its
meaning. In light of Eusebius’ letter to his church, it seems that the meaning
that the bishop of Caesarea gave to the homoousios was that of a generic
identity of οὐσία.14 Fourth, once again, ancient sources show the prominent
role that Eusebius of Caesarea played as the main theological adversary of the
“Nicene party.” Moreover, one cannot exclude that Socrates’ sentence “the
bishop of Antioch vilifies Eusebius of Pamphilus” comes from the same Eu-
stathian work as fragment 79.15
Was Eustathius the only bishop who attacked the Eusebians immediately
after Nicaea? Some scholars affirm that Marcellus of Ancyra wrote the so-
called Contra Asterium after the synod of Jerusalem (335) to defend himself.16
Others say that the work was written soon after 328.17 However, the extant
fragments indicate that the book was written when Marcellus felt safe and
confident, not under attack. The book puts forward audacious hypotheses of
eschatology, presented as disputed questions,18 an attitude which is incom-
patible with an author who is being questioned. Therefore, it seems reasona-
ble that the book was written after Nicaea and before Eusebius’ return from
exile, in 328. After Eustathius’ banishment and Eusebius of Nicomedia’s re-
admission, the “Nicene” bishops no longer felt safe and confident. According
to this reconstruction, both bishops, that of Antioch and that of Ancyra
launched a vehement offensive against the Eusebians shortly after Nicaea.
Since the clash between Marcellus and Eusebius of Caesarea will be studied
later (ch. 5.4.4), this section deals only with some historical information

––––––––––––––––––––

14 Eusebius affirms that the Son is from the ousia of the Father, which suggests that he
understood the homoousios to be a generic identity of οὐσία, not a numeric one. See Eus.,
ep. Caes. 13 (FNS 37.13).
15 Compare Eust., fr. 79 (FNS 39) with Socr., h.e. 1.23,8.
16 See Seibt, 1994, 241–244.
17 See Parvis, 2006, 119–123; Socr., h.e. 1.36,5–6.
18 See Marcell., fr. 103–108; 1 Cor 15:25; Ps 109:1.
A CHANGING MAP 239

transmitted by the book; its theological content will be analyzed later (ch.
5.1.5). In his Contra Marcellum, Eusebius indicates the names of the bishops
whom Marcellus attacks in his work:

First he composes the refutation against Asterius, then against Eusebius [of
Nicomedia] the great, and then he turns to the man of God, the so truly
thrice-blessed Paulinus […]. And having turned from this fellow, he makes
war on Origen, whose life also ended long ago. Next he battles against Narcis-
sus, and persecutes the other Eusebius [of Caesarea] and rejects all of the ec-
clesiastical fathers together (ὁμοῦ τε πάντας τοὺς ἐκκλησιαστικοὺς πατέρας
ἀθετεῖ), content with none whatsoever except himself alone. 19

Hence, the book attacked Asterius, Eusebius of Nicomedia, Paulinus of Tyre,

Origen, Narcissus of Neronias, and Eusebius of Caesarea. The fragments pre-
served by Eusebius confirm this claim. It is surprising the absence of the
name of Arius; neither the Contra Marcellum nor the De ecclesiastica theolo-
gia mention his name. Did Eusebius systematically omit this name, or did
Marcellus actually not mention Arius at all? In fact, Marcellus’ letter to Julius
makes no mention of Arius, and the long fragment of De sancta ecclesia
speaks only once of the “Ariomaniacs,” a pejorative label applied not to Arius
himself but to the bishops who were allegedly Arius’ fanatics.20 Marcellus’
book, therefore, was addressed against bishops, with the exception of Origen.
However, it seems that he deals with Origen when he criticizes Paulinus.21
These remarks confirm that the real threat for Alexander, Eustathius, and
Marcellus were the bishops around Eusebius, not the presbyter himself.
According to the bishop of Caesarea, Marcellus is a “new Sabellius.”22 This
feature matches Socrates’ account of the discussions after Nicaea, when Eu-
sebius of Caesarea “calumniates Eustathius as one who introduce the doc-
trine of Sabellius.”23 In turn, the bishop of Ancyra said that Eusebius of Caesa-
rea professed two Gods,24 that is, that he “introduced polytheism.”25 Besides,
abundant extant fragments of Marcellus’ work deal with the interpretation of
Prov 8:22–25.26 This is another trait that links the work of the bishop of Ancy-
––––––––––––––––––––

19 Eus., Marcell. 1.4,1–3 (GCS 14, 17–18; trans. FC 135, 97–98).

20 See Eust., fr. 79.3 (FNS 39.3).
21 See Eus., Marcell. 1.4,3–27.
22 See Eus., e.th. 1.1,1; 1.5,1; Epiph., haer. 72.1,2.
23 See Socr., h.e. 1.23,8 (GCS.NF 1, 70).
24 See Marcell., fr. 117; Eus., Marcell. 1.4,46 (GCS 14, 27; trans. FC 135, 111): “And now he
confesses that Eusebius ‘speaks of two gods,’ on the grounds that he calls the Son of ‘the’
God ‘God’ together with the Father.”
25 See Socr., h.e. 1.23,8.
26 Twenty fragments of Marcellus’ work deal with Prov 8:22–25. See FuP 36, 50–55.
240 CHAPTER 5

ra with that of Eustathius, which is focused on Prov 8:22.27 Eusebius affirms

that Marcellus put his work in Constantine’s hands, that the writing praised
the emperor, and that the bishop of Ancyra expected that the bishops who
had been accused by him would be punished,28 as Eustathius did. Sozomen
adds another work, otherwise unknown, coming from the bishops of Ni-
comedia and Nicaea:

About this time those around Eusebius, bishop of Nicomedia, and of Theog-
nis, bishop of Nicaea, began to make innovations in writing (ἐγγράφως) upon
the exposition set forth in Nicaea (περὶ τὴν ἔκθεσιν τῶν ἐν Νικαίᾳ συνεληλυθό-
των). They did not have courage to reject openly that the Son is homoousios
with the Father; in fact, they knew that the emperor thought this way. But,
having proposed another writing (γραφή), they declared to the bishops of the
East that they accepted the terms of the Nicene doctrine with specific inter-
pretations (ἐπὶ ῥηταῖς ἑρμηνείαις). And, from this, falling into the discussion
about the term (ῥητός) and the concept (διάνοια), the first research, supposed-
ly concluded, was pushed forward again. 29

Sozomen place this event about the time Constantine published some edicts
against the heretics.30 The indication is generic (περὶ δὲ τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον).
However, the text is consistent with contemporary sources and the evidence
provided by Socrates.31 In summary, it seems safe to say, therefore, that shortly
after Nicaea, both sides of the controversy produced a series of pamphlets
supporting their ideas – a new pamphlet war. The bishop of Caesarea wrote a
letter to his church and that of Nicomedia wrote about the Nicene faith; both
tried to explain in what sense they supported the Creed. In turn, Eustathius
and Marcellus drafted works that addressed Prov 8:22, attacked the Eusebi-
ans, and claimed that they deserved to be banished. All these authors intend-
ed to justify their own views about the orthodox doctrine of God.

5.1.3 Eusebius of Nicomedia’s Exile

The date of fr. 79 and the letters alluded to by Socrates depend on Eustathius’
complaint that those around Eusebius have not been punished. Besides, the
date of the exile of the bishop of Nicomedia depends on Philostorgius, who
wrote more than a hundred years after the events. Nicetas transmits the rele-
vant testimony:

––––––––––––––––––––

27 See Thdt., h.e. 1.7,18.

28 See Eus., Marcell. 2.4,29–31.
29 Soz., h.e. 2.32,7–8 (GCS.NF 4, 98).
30 See Const., ep. episc. pop. (FNS 44); Const., adv. haer. (FNS 45).
31 See Socr., h.e. 1.23,6–8.
A CHANGING MAP 241

He [Philostorgius] says that as Secundus [of Ptolemais] was leaving for exile,
he said to Eusebius [of Nicomedia], “Eusebius, you subscribed [the Nicene
Creed] in order to avoid exile! As God is my witness, you will have to suffer
banishment on my account.” And Eusebius was sent into exile three months
after the council (μετὰ μῆνας ἀπὸ τῆς συνόδου τρεῖς), as Secundus had foretold,
having returned openly to his own heresy.32

The legendary features of the narrative suggest that it is not trustworthy. Yet,
it should have a historical basis, since evidence supports the exile itself. Re-
garding the “three months after Nicaea,” ancient sources provide no other
direct pieces of evidence. However, one document confirms the date. In his
letter to the Nicomedians, the emperor mentions Nicaea, announces Eusebi-
us’ exile, and claims that he imprisoned his enemies still alive (ζῶντας ἔτι) “to
show the true faith of philanthropy.”33 This claim must testify that Constan-
tine did not kill Licinius after defeating him but kept him under arrest. Later,
however, he executed him. The letter, then, must be before Licinius’ execution
(late 325);34 indeed, the emperor could not boast of respecting the lives of his
enemies after he executed him. Consequently, Constantine instructed Euse-
bius’ exile after Nicaea and before the end of 325. Therefore, the “three
months” stated by Philostorgius have support in contemporary sources.
Constantine’s letter to the Church of Nicomedia and that to Theodotus of
Laodicea speak about Eusebius’ exile.35 In addition to the historical infor-
mation, the first letter contains theological claims that will be addressed later
(ch. 5.1.5). The letter holds the topic of Church unity and complains because
“we are divided.”36 Then, to justify his main charge against Eusebius, the em-
peror remembers that the bishop of Nicomedia caused divisions among the
people, supported the tyrant Licinius, backed the Arians, and tricked the
emperor. Then, he describes the core of Eusebius’ crime:

Now listen, I ask you, to what he did with Theognis, who is his companion in
folly, so that I can disregard the rest of his foolishness. I ordered some Alexan-
drians, who had refuted our faith, to be sent here, because through their ser-
vices the flame of discord had been stirred up. But these “noble” and “good”
bishops not only received into their own houses and protected those whom
the truth of the synod [of Nicaea] had reserved for repentance once and for
all, but also joined them in the deceitfulness of their ways. As a consequence,

––––––––––––––––––––

32 Philost., h.e. 1.10 (GCS 21, 11; trans. Amidon, 2007, 13).
33 Const., ep. Nicomed. 6 (FNS 42.6).
34 On the date of Licinius’ execution (325), see Lenski, 2006, 76–77 n. 103.
35 Const., ep. Nicomed. (FNS 42); Const., ep. Theod. (FNS 43).
36 Const., ep. Nicomed. 7 (FNS 42.7).
242 CHAPTER 5

I decided to take action against these thankless characters: I ordered them ar-
rested and banished as far away as possible. 37

It is important to differentiate the main accusation against Eusebius from

what could be called the ancillary charges. Constantine mentions two main
charges: first, that Eusebius of Nicomedia and Theognis of Nicaea had re-
ceived into their own houses some Alexandrians who were condemned at
Nicaea; second, that they had joined in the Alexandrians’ ways. It is attractive
to think of Theonas of Marmarica and Secundus of Ptolemais, two bishops
who did not sign the Nicene Creed, but they were from Libya, not Alexan-
dria;38 another possibility are some of the presbyters and deacons who sup-
ported Arius at Alexandria.39 Anyhow, it does not seem that the emperor is
speaking about Arius himself, but about clerics that held the same doctrine.40
Constantine’s epistle to Theodotus of Laodicea alludes to the exile of Eusebi-
us and Theognis, but it does not provide further information. The letter pre-
vents the bishop of Laodicea from following the steps of his colleagues.41
Almost all ancient sources about the bishop of Nicomedia come from a
hostile tradition. “If ever a man has been marked as villain within the Chris-
tian record it is surely Eusebius of Nicomedia.”42 Consequently, handbooks
repeat the ancient cliché that describe him as an opportunist politician, an
ambitious court bishop.43 For that reason, historical studies about the bishop
of Nicomedia must be extremely careful to distinguish between the evidence
coming from the sources and their interpretative bias.
The well-established fact that Eusebius welcomed Arius’ supporters in Ni-
comedia a few months after Nicaea contradicts the picture of him as an op-
portunist politician. Indeed, Hanson remarks: “None of these actions is com-
patible with the picture of a time-serving prelate changing his policy for polit-
ical advantage and spreading his sails to catch every wind of imperial fa-
vour.”44 Nothing could be more politically inappropriate than to receive the
Arians in Nicomedia, the imperial city, shortly after Nicaea. Why did Eusebius
––––––––––––––––––––

37 Const., ep. Nicomed. 15–16 (FNS 42.15–16).

38 See C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 5 (FNS 34.5). Philostorgius mentions twenty-two supporters of
Arius at Nicaea, but says that only Secundus and Theonas did not agree with the Nicene
faith, see Philost., h.e. 1.8a–9. The list, however, is not trustworthy. For example, Paulinus
of Tyre died before Nicaea (Burgess, 1999, 184–191) and Melitius cannot be described as
one supporting Arius’ views.
39 See Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 61 (FNS 8.61); ep. encycl. 6 (FNS 26.6); Ar., ep. Alex. 5 (FNS 11.5).
40 See Hanson, 1988, 173–174.
41 See Const., ep. Theod. (FNS 43).
42 C. Luibhéid, The Arianism of Eusebius of Nicomedia, in: IThQ (1976), 3–23 (3).
43 Hanson collects some testimonies, see Hanson, 1988, 27–28.
44 Hanson, 1988, 2–29. See also Martin, 1989a, 313.
A CHANGING MAP 243

welcome them? It is difficult to explain his attitude as a political strategy. It

seems to be much more plausible that the bishop of Nicomedia was acting
out of his theological convictions. It is true that at times theological reasons
have masked hidden motivations, such as power, politics, or others. But the-
ology itself is also a factor that shapes human history.

5.1.4 Constantine’s Anti-Arius Strategy

The emperor produced some anti-Arian texts that can be placed in this con-
text. These are the Letter to the Bishops and the People (FNS 44), the constitu-
tion Against the Heretics (FNS 45), and the Mandate on Clerical Privileges (FNS
46). The chronology of the first document is disputed. Opitz placed it in 333,
whereas Martin, Brennecke, and Barnes locate the document between late
325 and early 326.45 In addition, there are doubts about its authenticity, espe-
cially because of the reference to capital punishment.46 The date of the Con-
stitutio adversos haereticos (FNS 45) is not clear. Instead, the Mandate on Cler-
ical Privileges (FNS 46) is signed on 1 September 326.
Constantine’s Letter to the Bishops and the People focuses on Arius himself,
and it is particularly violent against him. As previous chapters have shown,
the real threat to the unity of the Church was not the presbyter himself but
the bishops who held a teaching like his. The actual threat for Alexander was
Eusebius of Caesarea and the clerical network that he headed (ch. 2.4.4).
Eustathius was not concerned with Arius himself, but with the “Ariomaniacs,”
that is, those bishops who allegedly were fanatics of his doctrines – Arius
himself cannot be labeled as an “Ariomaniac” (ch. 4.3.2). Eusebius and those
around him were compromising ecclesiastical peace.
As stated above (ch. 5.1.1), when the questioned group of bishops headed
by Eusebius signed the Nicene Creed, Constantine thought the unity of the
Church was achieved. Therefore, the emperor concentrated all the evil on
“Arius alone (μόνος ῎Αρειος),”47 to secure episcopal unity. The emperor tried to
settle that the controversy was no longer between groups of bishops, but
between the bishops and Arius. In this light, it is understandable why the
emperor reacted in such a strong way and sent Eusebius of Nicomedia into
exile when he welcomed some “Arian” clerics, and it explains why he wrote
the succeeding anti-Arian documents. One of the letters affirms: “Arius, who
has imitated the wicked and the impious, must rightfully suffer the same
disgrace as they did,” and then concludes:

––––––––––––––––––––

45 See Opitz, 1934, 66; Martin, 1989a, 319; Brennecke, 2007a, xxxviii; Barnes, 2009, 128.
46 H. Kraft, Kaiser Konstantins religiöse Entwicklung, Tübingen 1955, 232; Maraval, 2010, 64.
47 Const., ep. eccl. Alex. 5 (FNS 36.5).
244 CHAPTER 5

In addition, should any writing of Arius be discovered, it shall be given to the

flames in order that not just the perversions of his teaching be destroyed, but
not even a trace of his memory may linger on at all. 48

The text directly states a damnatio memoriae. In addition, it declares that

those who hide Arius’ writings shall face capital punishment. No ancient
evidence supports that this decree was actually applied. Besides, the Constitu-
tio adversos haereticos (FNS 45) is addressed against all heretics, who are
called detractors of truth, enemies of life, and counsellors of perdition.49 The
document has legal aims:

And indeed, since it is no longer possible to tolerate the plague of your de-
structiveness, by this law, we command that from now henceforth none of
you shall dare to assemble. For this reason, we have also ordered that all your
buildings in which you conduct these assemblies be confiscated: this mandate
will be applied to the extent that the meetings of your superstition shall not
be held, not just in public (ἐν τῷ δημοσίῳ), but not even in a private habitation
(ἐν οἰκίᾳ ἰδιωτικῇ) or in places belonging to individuals.50

Heresy and orthodoxy started to have legal and financial consequences, and
imperial legislation regulated not only public expression of religion, but also
its private practice. As Humfress remarks, “The introduction of the concepts
of ‘heresy’ and ‘orthodoxy’ into the late Roman legislative sphere necessitated
the legal categorization and systematization of religious belief itself.”51 There
are some precedents for imperial intervention in matters of heresy and or-
thodoxy, even in the third century.52 Nicaea, however, was a turning point in
the interference of civil law in doctrinal issues.
In conclusion, Arius was a relevant character, but he was not the center of
the problem (ch. 2.4.4). His admission or expulsion implied the legitimacy or
the illicitness of a whole theological tradition, at least for a significant num-
ber of Eastern bishops. Arius, then, after Nicaea, became a symbolic charac-
ter. The Egyptian bishops, in 338, referred to this aspect. They affirmed that
when Arius was condemned, those of Eusebius assumed that they themselves
were excluded (ἑαυτοὺς ἐκβεβλῆσθαι νομίζοντες).53

––––––––––––––––––––

48 Const., ep. episc. pop. 2 (FNS 44.2).

49 See Const., adv. haer. 2 (FNS 45.2).
50 Const., adv. haer. 5 (FNS 45.5).
51 Humfress, 2007, 268.
52 See Aurelianus intervention regarding of Paul of Samosata, see Eus., h.e. 7.30,19.
53 See C.Alex. (338), ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 6.1 [AW 2, 92]).
A CHANGING MAP 245

5.1.5 The Soul of Christ: A New Controversy?

Constantine’s letter to the church of the Nicomedians contains some intri-
guing theological elements.54 Hanson says that “The letter begins with a series
of theological commonplaces couched in language so cloudy and vague that
it must have given the people of Nicomedia considerable trouble to under-
stand it.”55 He rightly affirms that the text is not easy to understand, but the
letter contains more than “a series of theological commonplaces.” The first
part of its doctrinal section deals with the subsistence of the Father and the
Son, names the Son “the Will of God,” affirms that the Son was begotten by a
procession that implies no division, and reflects about divine economy (1–3).
The second part, instead, addresses the relationship between the divinity and
the humanity of Christ:

Who is the one who fears the passion of Christ, my Lord, out of reverence ra-
ther than folly? Does the divinity suffer when the dwelling of the sacred body
prompts the knowledge of its own holiness, or can that which is separated
from the body be subject to touch? Is it not true that what is set apart from
the humility of the body remains distinct? Do we not live, even when the glo-
ry of the soul summons the body to death?56

Why did Constantine introduce such a controversial topic as Christ’s suffering

in a dispute-prone ambience, when he wanted to achieve ecclesial unity?
According to ancient sources, Nicaea delt with the relationship between the
Son and the Father. Neither Arius’ letters nor the crucial sentences of Nicaea
develop the topic of Christ’s humanity directly. Only some indirect evidence
suggests that Arius dealt with this topic after Nicaea. 57 The contemporary
documents confirm that the discussion of Nicaea revolved around the pre-
cosmic origin of the Son and his relationship with the Father. However, it is
not plausible that Constantine put this controversial issue on the table spon-
taneously. Hence, most likely there was an on-going controversy about the
relationship between the humanity and the divinity of the Son of God.
In this light, it is possible to follow the trajectory of the topic. Alexander,
speaking about his opponents before Nicaea, says that “they single out every
saying concerning the Savior’s economy and his humiliation for our sake” and

––––––––––––––––––––

54 See Const., ep. Nicomed. 1–5 (FNS 42.1–5).

55 Hanson, 1988, 173.
56 Const., ep. Nicomed. 4 (FNS 42.4). See W.P. Haugaard, Arius: Twice Heretic? Arius and the
Human Soul of Jesus Christ, CH 29 (1960), 251–263.
57 Long after Nicaea, Constantine echoes some ideas of a lost letter of Arius that relate to the
sufferings of Christ, see Const., ep. Ar. soc. 14; 29; 32 (FNS 63.14; 63.29; 63.32).
246 CHAPTER 5

affirms that “those men memorize sayings of the Savior’s suffering.”58 After
Nicaea, Eustathius tackles the topic of Christ’s suffering and its relationship
with the impassible Logos:

Let the adversaries (οἱ ἐναντίοι) say how even the very Logos of God, who is al-
so God, is impassible or is internally limited by passions and change. Indeed,
if the [Son] is susceptible to passions, the [adversaries] anathematize them-
selves, since they have declared him unalterable in writing, when both pri-
vately and publicly they wrote it unanimously in the synod [of Nicaea]. And if
he is immutable, as he certainly is, when he came to the moment of bodily
death, what was it that was saddened, who was it that said, “Sad is my soul un-
til death?” Sadness, tears, laughter, sleep, hunger, thirst, desire, craving, anger,
irritation, and the like, which are established as passions, show evident
changes. If then, the divine Logos is unalterable, what is it that undergoes
change and is subject to the passions of sadness? Is it not the soul? 59

The fragment, written after Nicaea, addresses the problematic relationship

between Christ’s suffering and the immutability of the divine Logos. Eu-
stathius line of reasoning intends to prove that the Son of God assumed not
only a human body but also a human soul. A passion such as sadness must
belong to the soul.60 This argumentation provides two historical elements. On
the one hand, the bishop of Antioch assumed that the adversaries (οἱ ἐναντίοι)
suggest that Christ has no human soul. On the other hand, he affirms that
these adversaries (οἱ ἐναντίοι) did sign the Nicene anathema. Who were they?
At this point, it is necessary to go back to the role that Eusebius of Caesa-
rea played in the controversy. The Demonstratio evangelica, a work written
before Nicaea, addresses the problem of Christ’s sufferings: “This being the
case, the mind should not be troubled when it hears ‘birth,’ ‘body,’ ‘suffering,’
and ‘death’ about the immaterial and incorporeal (περὶ τὸν ἄυλον καὶ
ἀσώματον) Logos of God.”61 For Eusebius, the problem is the relationship be-
tween the immutable Logos and the mutable body of Christ. In fact, he says
that Jesus suffered a death not common to the rest of humanity (οὐ κοινὸς τοῖς
λοιποῖς ἀνθρώποις).62 The bishop understands Christ’s death as the moment
when the Lord “willingly gave up only the body to his persecutors.”63 Indeed,
after commending his spirit to the Father, “he departed from the body free, in

––––––––––––––––––––

58 Alex. Al., ep. Alex. 4.37 (FNS 8.4; 8.37). See Eust., fr. 19 (CChr.SG 51, 81).
59 Eust., fr. 6 (FNS 40). See Eust., fr. 10 (CChr.SG 51, 70–71).
60 See Eust., fr. 7–8.
61 Eus., d.e. 4.13,1 (GCS 23, 170). See Eus., d.e. 7.1,25; e.th. 1.20,42.
62 Eus., d.e. 3.4,26 (GCS 23, 114).
63 Eus., d.e. 3.4,27 (GCS 23, 114). See Eus., theoph. 3.61.
A CHANGING MAP 247

no way waiting for death to come to him.”64 Therefore, the one who descend-
ed into Hades was the Logos of God.65 Accordingly, he understands the incar-
nation as the union between the Logos of God and the human body.
Normally, Eusebius speaks of Logos (Λόγος) and body (σῶμα),66 but his
language is flexible. The Power of God (τοῦ θεοῦ δύναμις) became man
(ἐνηνθρώπει) in the body.67 Sometimes, he says that the Logos acts through the
man that he assumed (δι’ οὗ ἀνείληφεν ἀνθρώπου),68 however, this is not a ver-
sion of the homo assumptus Christology because the assumed man acts as the
instrument of the Logos (δι’ οὗ). The human body of Christ is moved by the
Logos: “The Logos of God, who is craftsman… impresses life into that which
has no soul” (ῷ μὲν ἀψύχῳ ζωὴν… ἐναποτυπούμενος).69 It is the Logos who ani-
mates the body, and the body is regarded by Eusebius as the instrument of
the Logos. The body of Christ is the instrument (ὄργανον) by which he
preaches and heals.70 In the De laudibus Constantini, Eusebius says that the
Logos of God “constructed a corporeal instrument for himself.”71 For Eusebius,
there is no theological room for the human soul of Christ. There is not an
anima mediatrix between the Logos and the body, as in Origen.72
There is no text in which Eusebius endeavors to deny the human soul of
Christ. However, in one text he affirms that, for the sake of human salvation,
the Logos of God “acted in no other way (μὴ ἄλλως) but through the instru-
ment (διὰ τοῦ… ὀργάνου) that is usual for us.”73 This instrument is, of course,
the body. In addition to the language of Logos-Sôma, he uses some examples
(ὑποδείγματα) that indirectly show the lack of the human soul in Christ:

Therefore, the incorporeal [Logos] was not contaminated by being born of a

body, neither did the one who is impassible suffer from the mortal in his ou-
sia. As when a lyre is struck, or it happens that its strings torn asunder, it is
not that the player [of the lyre] suffers. So we could not say that, when some
wise man is punished in his body, that the wisdom in him, or the soul in his
body, is struck or burned. Much less is it reasonable to say that the nature or
power of the Logos received any hurt from the sufferings of the body (ἐκ τῶν

––––––––––––––––––––

64 Eus., d.e. 4.12,3 (GCS 23, 171).

65 See Eus., d.e. 5.20,5–8; 10.8,62–70; Job 38:17.
66 See Eus., d.e. 4.12,2–3; 4.13,2; e.th. 1.20,41.
67 Eus., d.e. 4.13,2 (GCS 23, 171).
68 Eus., d.e. 4.13,5 (GCS 23, 172).
69 Eus., d.e. 4.13,2 (GCS 23, 171).
70 Eus., d.e. 4.13,4 (GCS 23, 171). See Eus., d.e 4.13,5; Robertson, 2007, 67.
71 Eus., l.C. 14.3 (GCS 7, 241). See Eus., l.C. 14.1–4; e.th. 1.20,38.
72 See Grillmeier, 1975, 178.
73 Eus., d.e. 7.1,22 (GCS 23, 301). See Hanson, 1988, 110–111. Heikel integrates ‹ἄνθρωπον› into
the text, but this integration is highly questionable (GCS 23, 302, l. 4).
248 CHAPTER 5

τοῦ σώματος παθῶν). For it was granted in our example (ὑπόδειγμα) of light
that the rays of the sun sent down to earth from heaven are not contaminated
by touching all the mud and filth and garbage.74

The text gives four examples: the musician does not suffer when the lyre is
broken; the wisdom of a man is not affected when his body is tortured; the
soul of a wise man does not suffer when his body is mistreated; the light is
not contaminated when it touches the mud. In the same way, the Logos is not
affected when his body suffers. All the examples, but especially that of the
soul of a wise man whose body is mistreated, suggest that the Logos plays the
role of the soul in Eusebius’ Christology. An ordinary human is moved by his
or her soul, whereas the Logos moves Christ’s human body.75 In addition, a
remark on the cross indirectly states that the Lord’s soul was not like human
souls.76 A later work, De ecclesiastica theologia, contains some expressions in
which Eusebius seems to deny the human soul of Christ and to accuse Mar-
cellus for asserting it.77 However, the long passage is a series of hypothetical
clauses and reductiones ad absurdum, which implies that the sentences are
far from being crystal clear.78
This section cannot fully discuss the question of the soul of Christ. 79 How-
ever, the evidence shows that the human soul of Jesus does not play a signifi-
cant role in the Christology of the Demonstratio evangelica. The purpose of
this section is, on the one hand, to show that before Nicaea Eusebius had
already addressed crucial Christological issues, such as the relationship be-
tween the immutable Logos, the passible body of Christ, and his human soul.
On the other hand, these pages provide a basis for comparing the Christologi-
cal teachings of Eusebius of Caesarea and Eustathius of Antioch to answer
the question about the identity of Eustathius’ adversaries (οἱ ἐναντίοι).
Eustathius wrote several anti-Arian works. It seems that they were written
after Nicaea and before his deposition.80 They show that the bishop does not
––––––––––––––––––––

74 Eus., d.e. 4.13,7 (GCS 23, 172; trans. Ferrar, 1920, 189, mod.). See Eus., d.e. 4.13,1; 4.13,10; 7.1,25;
l.C. 14.9–10.
75 However, the relationship between the Logos and the body is not identical with that of
the soul and the body, see Eus., d.e. 7.1,24; l.C. 14.4–5.
76 See Eus., d.e. 10.8,74.
77 Eus., e.th. 1.20,45 (GCS 14, 88): εἰ δὲ μηδέτερα τούτων λέγοι [Marcellus], ἐξ ἀνάγκης ὑποστή-
σεται ψυχὴν ἀνθρώπου, καὶ ἔσται αὐτῷ ψιλὸς ἄνθρωπος ὁ Χριστός. See Eus., e.th. 1.20,40.
78 Eus., e.th. 1.20,39–45; Lienhard, 1999, 124–125; Cartwright, 2015, 63; Renberg, 2021, 157–158.
79 See Riedmatten, 1952, 72–80; Grillmeier, 1975, 177–185; Strutwolf, 1999, 312–332; Renberg,
2021, 154–159.
80 Contra Ariomanitas et de anima (Eust., fr. 1–61), In illud: Dominus creavit me initium viarum
suarum (Eust., fr. 65–81), Contra Arianos (Eust., fr. 89–108), and De fide contra Arianos
(Eust., fr. 109–112). For the dating of the works, see Declerck, 2002, cccxcvi–ccccxi.
A CHANGING MAP 249

attack one single doctrine or group. First, following the heresiological tradi-
tion, he criticizes old Christian errors, from the second century, like the doc-
trine of Basilides that affirmed that Christ did not suffer,81 or Marcion’s
docetism.82 Second, the bishop of Antioch addresses some specific doctrines
that he regarded as real threats at his time. He condemns those who support
metensomatosis and those who allegorize Christ’s historic actions to reduce
them to appearance (δόκησις) and fantasy (φαντασία).83 Both errors are on the
list of charges against Origen that Pamphilus included in his Apologeticum
during the first decade of the fourth century.84 The specific biblical basis for
this kind of allegorical, docetic teaching suggests that the bishop is dealing
with concrete adversaries.85 Moreover, it cannot be excluded that fr. 65 was
directed against Marcellus. Although they had common opponents, Eustathi-
us may have felt the need to reject the Christology according to which the
Logos was begotten only from Mary.86
Third, the bishop of Antioch intensely criticized those who deny the hu-
man soul of Christ. He affirms that the adversaries (οἱ ἐναντίοι) say that Christ
did not need the soul (μὴ ἐδεῖτο τῆς ψυχῆς).87 For Eustathius, the Ariomaniacs
(Ἀρειομανῖται) believe that the Son of God only apparently assumed man,
because a man implies body and soul.88 The bishop asserts that the Arioma-
niacs claim that it is impossible that two spirits – the Logos and the soul –
move the single condition of the body, and that they use 1 Cor 15:45–46 to
prove their contentions.89 Against them, Eustathius contends that the Son of
God took on a whole man, body and soul, otherwise, Christ’s life and passion
were fictitious and meaningless.90
Is it possible to go further to identify the opponents of Eustathius in his
anti-Arian works? The fragments indicate that the specific adversaries of
Eustathius were the Ariomaniacs, who denied the soul of Christ and had
signed the Nicene Creed. These characteristics fit the bishop of Caesarea.
Besides, in fr. 10, Eustathius denounces that they pretended to agree in writ-

––––––––––––––––––––

81 See Eust., fr. 14; 24; Iren., haer. 1.24,4.

82 See Eust., fr. 19.
83 See Eust., fr. 12–14; 17 (allegory); 54–55 (metensomatosis).
84 Pamph., apol. 87.
85 For example, Eust., fr. 13 affirms that “they” interpret allegorically the meals that Abraham
offered to his visitors (Gen 18), and then “they” apply the same interpretation to the meals
of Jesus.
86 See Eust., fr. 65; Marcell., fr. 28; 38; 58–59; 71; below, ch. 5.4.4.
87 Eust., fr. 4 (CChr.SG 51, 66).
88 Eust., fr. 19 (CChr.SG 51, 80). See Eust., fr. 19b.
89 See Eust., fr. 44; 50.
90 See Eust., fr. 7–8; 10; 16; 28; 40.
250 CHAPTER 5

ing,91 that is, that they signed the Nicene Creed dishonestly. This charge
matches the bishops of Caesarea and Nicomedia. Additionally, the Demon-
stratio evangelica shows that the soul of Christ plays no role in the teaching of
Eusebius of Caesarea. With good reason, Cartwright asserts that “Eusebius of
Caesarea is Eustathius’ main antagonist in this work.”92
Two additional proofs show that Eusebius of Caesarea was one of the
main opponents of Eustathius. First, for Eusebius, when Christ died, he “will-
ingly gave up only the body to his persecutors (ὡς αὐτὸ μόνον παρεδίδου τοῖς
ἐπιβουλεύουσι τὸ σῶμα).”93 In fact, “he departed from the body free (ἄφετος
ἀνεχώρει τοῦ σώματος).”94 Instead, Eustathius states “that he did not voluntari-
ly give his own body to slaughter, for the sake of men; what an absurdity!”95
For Eusebius, the death of Christ is the separation of the Logos from the body.
In this light, it is plausible that Eustathius recalled Basilides to associate Eu-
sebius’ teaching with him.96 Second, the comparison between the interpreta-
tions of Job 38:17 by both bishops is significant. The Demonstratio evangelica
affirms that the words “And do the gates of death open to You for fear; and did
the gatekeepers of Hades tremble when they saw thee?” (Job 38:17) indicate
the God Logos (τῷ θεῷ λόγῳ) rather than the God of the universe (τῷ θεῷ τῶν
ὅλων).97 Instead, about the same biblical verse, Eustathius comments:

At this point the gates of death open swiftly for fear, and the gatekeepers of
Hades tremble (Job 38:17), when they see the human soul that bears God (τὴν
ἀνθρωπείαν θεοφορουμένην ὁρῶντες ψυχὴν) ruling with authority.98

The contrast between the interpretations of both bishops is clear. Eusebius

assumes that the subject of the descent into Hades is the Logos of God,
whereas Eustathius affirms that it was the human soul of Christ what went
down into Hades. The divergence indicates a deeper contrast, namely, the
Logos-body Christology supported by Eusebius, and the Logos-Anthropos
Christology held by Eustathius. The texts of the bishop of Caesarea are not
polemical: they do not try to prove the non-existence of Christ’s soul, but
––––––––––––––––––––

91 See Eust., fr. 10 (CChr.SG 51, 70): ὡς κακεῖνος πλάττονται συνομολογεῖν ἐγγράφως.
92 Cartwright, 2015, 62. See also K.M. Spoerl, Eustathius of Antioch on Jesus’ Digestion, in:
StPat 74 (2016), 147–158.
93 Eus., d.e. 3.4,27 (GCS 23, 114). See Eus., theoph. 3.61.
94 Eus., d.e. 4.12,3 (GCS 23, 171).
95 Eust., fr. 15 (CChr.SG 51, 76). See Eust., fr. 15b.
96 Perhaps Eustathius wanted to show the parallel: according to Basilides, Christ sent
another person to the cross (Iren., haer. 1.24,4); for Eusebius, the Logos gave his body to be
slaughtered (Eus., d.e. 3.4,27; 4.12,3).
97 Eus., d.e. 5.20,5 (GCS 23, 243). See Eus., d.e. 5.20,5–8; 10.8,62–70.
98 Eust., fr. 28 (CChr.SG 51, 97).
A CHANGING MAP 251

simply do not give it a significant theological role. Instead, Eustathius’ works

are a reaction against this kind of Christology. Of course, one could suppose
that other bishops at that time held a Christ without human soul; some
scholars credit this doctrine to Arius himself. Yet, according to the extant
sources, Eusebius of Caesarea is the main exponent of this Christology, and
the main opponent of Eustathius.
In this light, it is possible to identify the context of some intriguing as-
pects of Marcellus’ work. It is difficult to grasp why the bishop of Ancyra ad-
dresses the final relationship between the Logos and the flesh – a disputed
topic – unless the issue is placed in this context.99 In his work, he poses these
types of questions:

Well then, what do we learn about the human flesh, which the Logos assumed
for us, not four hundred whole years ago? Will the Logos have this even then
in the ages to come or only until the time of judgment? 100

The polarized ambience after Nicaea was not suitable for proposing new
audacious hypotheses. However, if there was an ongoing discussion between
Eustathius and Eusebius about link of the Logos with the flesh, it becomes
understandable that Marcellus tackled such questions. In this context, he
dared to suggest that the kingdom of Christ will have an end, when the Logos
will abandon the man Jesus, “so that in this way the Logos might be in God,
just as he also was previously before the cosmos existed.”101
Going back to Constantine’s letter, all this evidence shows that during and
especially after Nicaea there was an intensive discussion about the soul of
Christ and its consequences for the understanding of his sufferings and
death. Once again, Eusebius of Caesarea played a crucial role in this contro-
versy. There is no record of pre-Nicene Alexandrian reactions against Eusebi-
us’ Christology. Most likely, this is because this teaching was normal in the
Alexandrian milieu. It was Eustathius of Antioch who first denounced this
Christological deficiency. Again, historiography will credit to Arius a doctrine
that was elaborated by the bishop of Caesarea before the outbreak of the
controversy. Therefore, Constantine did not introduce a new topic in the
already complex doctrinal arena, but he echoed an ongoing discussion be-
tween Eustathius of Antioch and Eusebius of Caesarea.

––––––––––––––––––––

99 See Marcell., fr. 101; 104; 106.

100 Marcell., fr. 104 (FuP 36, 238; trans. FC 135, 148, mod.).
101 Marcell., fr. 104 (FuP 36, 248; trans. FC 135, 132, mod.).
252 CHAPTER 5

5.2 The Reversal of Church Politics (327–329)

In the first period after Nicaea (325–328), Constantine thought that to guaran-
tee the unity of the Church he had to support the decisions of Nicaea (ch. 5.1).
But in a second phase (328–335), the emperor assumed that to keep the unity
of the Church he had to support bishops who belonged to the circle of both
Eusebii. The banishment of Eustathius and the recall of Eusebius of Nicome-
dia, among others, characterized this new atmosphere. The reasons for this
shift will be analyzed in this section.

5.2.1 Alexander and Melitius after Nicaea

As indicated in the previous chapter (ch. 4.5.2), the decision of the Council of
Nicaea regarding the Melitian clergy was problematic and, therefore, its im-
plementation must have been even more complex. On the one hand, as Mar-
tin has shown, the number of Melitian clergy was comparable to that of the
clergy faithful to Alexandria.102 On the other hand, the request of “a more
sacred (μυστικώτερα) imposition of hands” for the readmission of the
Melitian clergy could be understood in different ways.103 In addition, the Ni-
cene letter to the Alexandrian church granted some autonomy to Alexander
in the concrete implementation of these policies.104 This autonomy was prob-
lematic because Alexander was not neutral, but part of the conflict.
Athanasius indicates that the readmission of the Melitians took place less
than five months before Alexander’s death (April 17, 328),105 that is, in late 327.
At least two years elapsed between Nicaea and the readmission of the
Melitian clergy. Of course, Alexander agreed with the policies of Nicaea – he
drafted them – hence, the obstacle for their application was on the side of
Melitius. For his clergy the regulations of Nicaea were untenable, at least
according to Alexander’s interpretation. This evidence shows that the process
was complex and provoked division.106 In fact, according to the synodal letter
of Alexandria (338), the Melitians accused Alexander before the emperor.107
What was the context of this accusation? Perhaps, the answer lies on a page

––––––––––––––––––––

102 Martin, 1996, 301–319.

103 C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 7 (FNS 34.7); Hauben, 1987, 203–207.
104 C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 11 (FNS 34.11).
105 Ath., apol. sec. 59.3 (AW 2, 139): οὔπω γὰρ πέντε μῆνες παρῆλθον, καὶ ὁ μὲν μακαρίτης
Ἀλέξανδρος τετελεύτηκεν. See Ath., ep. fest. index pr. (TTH 81, 256).
106 Sozomen states that, “some deemed right that those ordained by Melitius should direct
the churches.” Soz., h.e. 2.21,3 (GCS.NF 4, 77).
107 C.Alex. (338), ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 11.3). Epiphanius says that these accusations were
presented to Constantine by a Melitian commission shortly after the death of Melitius
and that the emperor did not receive the commission (Epiph., haer. 68.5,1–3).
A CHANGING MAP 253

of Vita Constantini that has been used to support the alleged second session
of Nicaea. Eusebius describes the aftermath of Nicaea and then adds:

When all were at peace, however, among the Egyptians alone the mutual bit-
terness remained undiluted, so that the emperor was annoyed yet again,
though still not roused to anger. So with every deference he addressed them
as fathers or rather as prophets of God, summoned them a second time (καὶ
δεύτερον ἐκάλει) again mediated tolerantly between them (καὶ πάλιν ἐμεσίτευε
τοῖς αὐτοῖς ἀνεξικάκως), and again honored them with gifts. He made known
the arbitration through a letter (δι’ ἐπιστολῆς), and he confirmed the decrees
of the synod (τὰ τῆς συνόδου δόγματα) ratifying them. He urged them to cling
to peaceful harmony, and not to split and splinter the Church, but to bear in
mind the judgement of God.108

The account describes the unrest of the Egyptian church after Nicaea. Noth-
ing in the text suggests the Arian issue. Even if there is nothing explicit, it is
possible to credit the text to the Melitian conflict. Besides, Constantine’s an-
noyance, described by Eusebius, can be the appropriate reaction of the em-
peror in face of the accusations of the Melitians against Alexander, accounted
by the synodal letter of Alexandria (338).109
Eusebius speaks about a “letter” (ἐπιστολή) and “the decrees of the synod”
(τὰ τῆς συνόδου δόγματα).” The relationship between them is confusing. How-
ever, since the immediate context of the narrative is Nicaea, it is possible that
the synod (ἡ σύνοδος) mentioned in the text indicates that of Nicaea. In fact,
only three lines above this paragraph, Eusebius speaks of the synod (ἡ
σύνοδος) in reference to Nicaea. Hence, according to this interpretation, Con-
stantine called the leaders of the Egyptian church to hold a meeting. In it, the
emperor arbitrated a solution for the conflict. The fact that Melitius entered
into communion with Alexandrer suggests that the terms of the agreement
were acceptable to the bishop of Lykopolis. Constantine then wrote a letter in
which he explained the terms of the agreement. Unfortunately, this letter is
not extant. Finally, he ratified the decisions of the synod of Nicaea with his
seal, making them legally binding.110 Thus, the Nicene policies on the Melitian
conflict received imperial authority.
If this reconstruction is correct, some words of Athanasius become less
obscure. In the Apologia secunda, he compares how Nicaea dealt with the
Arians and the Melitians, and he complains that “the Melitians were in some

––––––––––––––––––––

108 Eus., v.C. 3.23 (GCS 7/1, 94; trans. Cameron / Hall, 1999, 131, mod.).
109 C.Alex. (338), ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 11.3).
110 Eus., v.C. 3.23 (GCS 7/1, 94): καὶ τὰ τῆς συνόδου δόγματα κυρῶν ἐπεσφραγίζετο. See D.W.H.
Arnold, The Early Episcopal Career of Athanasius of Alexandria, London 1991, 59.
254 CHAPTER 5

manner received (οἱ δὲ Μελιτιανοὶ ὁπωσδήποτε ἐδέχθησαν).”111 He does not ex-

plain the vague expression “in some manner” (ὁπωσδήποτε), but he says, “For
it is not necessary to mention the cause now.”112 Perhaps, the “cause” that Ath-
anasius did not want to mention was the intervention and the letter of Con-
stantine, which favored – in his view – the problematic readmission of the
Melitian clergy. Indeed, as he speaks about “when Melitius was received,” he
exclaims, “it should never have happened!”113
The renewed measures needed a statement that clearly identified the
clergy under Melitius.114 This text is preserved by Athanasius, and it is known
as the Breviarium ad Alexandrum by Melitius.115 It should be dated after the
meeting of Alexander and Melitius at the court of Constantine, that is, in 327.
This document portrays the state of the churches in Egypt a few years after
Nicaea. Since the sources are fragmentary, they cannot provide full numerical
information about the Christian churches in this period. However, the com-
parison between the Breviarium and other pieces of evidence related to the
synods of Tyre (335) and Philippopolis (343) gives a picture of the ecclesiasti-
cal situation just before the death of Alexander (327).
The Breviarium presents some textual problems. At some places, the
manuscripts transmit only the name of the see, omitting the name of its
Melitian bishop. The omissions are the same in all the manuscripts.116 There-
fore, they are not accidental but come from a very early stage of textual
transmission: from Athanasius itself, or even from the source used by him.
Hence, it is likely that someone dropped five or six names from the catalog
deliberately. Besides, Opitz reads ἐν Θηβαίδι as a marginal note indicating the
successive names, while Martin assumes it to be the name of a see without
the name of its bishop. Consequently, Opitz counts five missing names,
whereas Martin counts six. Therefore, the Breviarium ad Alexandrum includes
thirty-four or thirty-five Melitian bishops, as well as eight presbyters and dea-
cons by the end of 327.
According to the conventional view, some bishops did not accept the rec-
onciliation offed by Nicaea. They are on the catalog and are counted among
the accusers of Athanasius:117 Lucius of Antinopolis, Achilles of Cusa, Ammo-
––––––––––––––––––––

111 Ath., apol. sec. 59.3 (AW 2, 139).

112 Ath., apol. sec. 59.3 (AW 2, 139).
113 Ath., apol. sec. 71.5 (AW 2, 149): ὅτε Μελίτιος ὑπεδέχθη, ὡς μήποτ’ ὤφελε.
114 Ath., apol. sec. 71.5.
115 Melit., brev. (FNS 48). The text is preserved in Ath., apol. sec. 71.6 (AW 2, 149–150).
116 Opitz’s critical apparatus notes only orthographic variants. Only ἐν Φαρβεθῷ is omitted by
three manuscripts (AW 2, 150, l. 18). Martin, 1996, 52–58.
117 See Ischy., ep. Ath. 1 (FNS 56.1); At., apol. sec. 60.2; Hil., coll. antiar. A 4.3 (CSEL 65, 76–77);
Soz., h.e. 2.25; Martin, 1996, 315–318.
A CHANGING MAP 255

nius of Diospolis, Pachymos of Tentyrae, Isaac in Letopolis, Heraclides in

Niciopolis, Isaac in Cleopatris, Ison of Athribis, Callinicus of Pelusium, Eu-
daimon in Tanis, Hermaeon of Cynopolis, and John of Memphis. Another
four bishops accepted the policies of Nicaea: Theodore of Coptus, Pelagius of
Oxyrhynchus, Theon of Nilopolis, and Peter of Heracleopolis – they are on
the catalog and supported Athanasius in the synods.118 Finally, there is no
evidence to discern the ecclesiastical status of eighteen bishops.119 However,
submission to the Alexandrian bishop was not always permanent. At least
John of Memphis, who was a Melitian bishop, entered into communion with
the Alexandrian bishop but subsequently fought against his successor.120
Therefore, it is possible to propose another reconstruction. Martin com-
pares the Melitian catalog of 327 with the documents related to Tyre of 335. It
is evident that some bishops listed in the document of 327 fought against
Athanasius in 335, and it is reasonable to think that they did not join the Al-
exandrian church at 327. However, it is also possible that the bishops who
opposed Athanasius in Tyre were readmitted in 327 and afterwards broke
with the Alexandrian church. Therefore, the actual catalog could list only the
Melitian clerics who, following Melitius, were open to being under the au-
thority of the Alexandrian bishop. In fact, according to Athanasius, Melitius
presented the clerics listed in the catalog to Alexander in person,121 a clear
sign that these clerics were disposed to join the church of Alexandria. But,
after the death of Alexander and Melitius and because of the contested elec-
tion of Athanasius, many of them rejected subjection to Alexandria again. 122
The Alexandrian clergy may have prevented the Melitian clergy from partici-
pating in the election (ch. 5.3.1).
In summary, it is possible to propose the following succession of events:
after the synod of Nicaea, Alexander did not manage to apply the Nicene
decrees regarding the Melitian crisis because Melitius considered the condi-
tions for readmission to be untenable. Therefore, the unrest continued in
Egypt. At some point, the Melitians accused Alexander in front of Constan-
––––––––––––––––––––

118 See Ath., apol. sec. 78.7; 87.2; Martin, 1996, 315–318.
119 Four of them were in sees that had an Alexandrian bishop as well. But it is not possible to
know whether they were submitted to them or not. They were Colluthus of the upper
Cynopolis, Ephraim in Thmuis, Melas of Arsenoitis, and Phasileus of Hermopolis. See
Martin, 1996, 315–316.
120 See Ath., apol. sec. 17.3.
121 See Ath., apol. sec. 72.1 (AW 2, 151): Τούτους Μελίτιος καὶ παρόντας παρέδωκεν Ἀλεξάνδρῳ τῷ
ἐπισκόπῳ.
122 See Ath., apol. sec. 59.3. In this case, the six missing names could correspond to those
bishops who belonged to the Melitian clergy but, for unknown reasons, did not submit to
Alexander’s authority; therefore, their names were deleted.
256 CHAPTER 5

tine. Then, the emperor called the leaders of the church to his court. In the
meeting, the emperor negotiated with them and decided on an interpretation
of the Nicene regulations less untenable to the Melitian clergy. This time, the
legislation had the authority of the emperor, not just that of an ecclesiastical
letter. The agreement requested a catalog of the Melitian clergy who were
open to reconciliation. Melitius presented them in person to the bishop of
Alexandria. This arrangement was successful only for a while, at least until
the death of Melitius and Alexander. This chain of events shows that the page
of the Vita Constantini perfectly matches the Melitian controversy.123
The readmission of Melitius took place less than five months before Alex-
ander’s death (17 April, 328);124 the date of Melitius’ death is unknown.125 He
disappeared from the scene together with Alexander, and John of Memphis
took his place. Most likely, he died shortly after his reconciliation with the
Alexandrian church, that is, in late 327.126 In any case, the first months of 328
were crucial for the Egyptian church. The death of the two opposing leaders –
Alexander and Melitius – the ordination of Athanasius, and the new leader-
ship of John of Memphis changed the scenario in a few months.

5.2.2 The Return of Eusebius and the Fall of Eustathius

Regarding the time that follows Nicaea, Bardy remarks, “So far, the situation is
quite clear. The emperor defends the work of his council and pursues the
conquest of peace by implementing its decisions.”127 However, at certain
point, the situation was reversed.128 The chief events of this reversal were the
return of Eusebius of Nicomedia from exile and the deposition of Eustathius
of Antioch. What is the relationship between these events? Is one the cause
of the other? The scarcity of sources allows only hypothetical explanations.
Philostorgius gives a chronological clue to one of these events, “Eusebius,
Maris, and Theognis were allowed to return by order of the emperor Constan-
tine after a full three years had elapsed (μετὰ τρεῖς ὅλους ἐνιαυτούς).”129 Hence,
Eusebius’ return must be placed in late 328. Contemporary sources do not
––––––––––––––––––––

123 On the discussion about the alleged second session of Nicaea, see E. Schwartz, Von Nicaea
bis zu Konstantins Tod, in: NGWG.PH (1911), 367–426 (380–383) [Schwartz, 1959, 205–208];
G. Bardy, Sur la réiteration du concile de Nicée (327), in: RSR 23 (1933), 430–450; Simonetti,
1975, 118–124; C. Luibhéid, 1983, 168–169; Hanson, 1988, 174–177.
124 Ath., apol. sec. 59.3; Ath., ep. fest. index pr. (TTH 81, 256).
125 Arnold, 1991, 59; Martin, 1996, 314.
126 Melitius died before Alexander because affirms that Alexander the Bishop of Alexandria
persecuted the Melitians after the death of their leader, see Epiph., haer. 68.5,1.
127 G. Bardy, La politique religieuse de Constantin après le Concile de Nicée, in: RSR 8 (1928), 521.
128 Bardy, 1928, 521: “les choses vont maintenant se compliquer.”
129 Philost., h.e. 2.7 (GCS 21, 18–19; trans. Amidon, 2007, 22).
A CHANGING MAP 257

provide additional information on the chronology of this event. However,

since Philostorgius has proven trustworthy regarding the date of Eusebius’
exile, it seems reasonable to rely on this information.
The date of Eustathius’ exile is a vexing problem. “Dates ranging from 326
to 331 have been widely accepted.”130 Burgess analyses material from the an-
cient Chronici that had not been examined by previous scholars. His conclu-
sion is as follows: “The exact date of Eustathius’ deposition was probably the
end of 328, after the start of the new year in the East, i.e. between October
and December inclusive.”131 Apart from a vague allusion transmitted by Hila-
ry,132 the earliest source that mentions the grounds of his banishment is Atha-
nasius’ Historia Arianorum, which explains it as follows:

A certain Eustathius, a confessor and pious in his faith, was bishop of Antioch.
Since he strove vehemently for the truth, hated the Arian heresy (ἀρειανὴν
αἵρεσιν ἐμίσει) and would not accept its followers, he was slandered before the
emperor Constantine, and it was falsely alleged (πρόφασίς τε ἐπινοεῖται) that
he had insulted the emperor’s mother. He was immediately exiled, as were
many presbyters and deacons along with him. 133

Ancient and modern scholars assume that Eusebius of Caesarea presided

over the synod against Eustathius,134 and present him as the main opponent
of the bishop of Antioch.135 Regarding the grounds of Eustathius’ exile, Socra-
tes remarks that Cyrus of Beroea impeached him on account of Sabellian-
ism.136 Sozomen affirms that the pretext of his deposition was that he dishon-
ored the priesthood with unholy deeds (οὐχ ὁσίαις πράξεσι).137 Eastern bishops
at Sardica speak about his “infamous and disgraceful life.”138 In any case, the
doctrinal issue would have been the main reason for condemning the bishop;
the real or false moral charges were needed because it was difficult to convict
a Nicene champion of heresy.139 Constantine and civil power got involved in
––––––––––––––––––––

130 R.W. Burgess, The Date of the Deposition of Eustathius of Antioch, in: JThS N.S. 51 (2000),
150–161 (152).
131 Burgess, 2000, 156.
132 See C.Sard. (343), ep. orient. 27 (Hil., coll. antiar. A 4.1,27).
133 Ath., h. Ar. 4.1 (AW 2, 184–185; trans. TTH 67, 42).
134 See Socr., h.e. 1.24,5; Soz., h.e. 2.19,3–4; H. Chadwick, The Fall of Eustathius of Antioch, in:
JThS 49 (1948), 27–35 (35); Barnes, 1981, 227–228; Burgess, 2000, 158; Ayres, 2004, 101.
135 See Socr., h.e. 1.23,8; Soz., h.e. 2.18,4.
136 See Socr., h.e. 1.24,1–4.
137 See Soz., h.e. 2.19,1 (GCS.NF 4, 75).
138 C.Sard. (343), ep. orient. 27 (Hil., coll. antiar. A 4.1,27 [CSEL 65, 66]; trans. TTH 25, 36,
mod.). Besides, Philostorgius mentions sexual intercourse with a young girl or maiden
(παιδίσκης μίξις), Philost., h.e. 2.7; see also Thdt., h.e. 1.21,5–9.
139 Barnes, 1981, 227.
258 CHAPTER 5

the removal of the bishops.140 The Vita Constantini says that the emperor “had
personally listened to the one who caused the sedition,”141 most likely Eu-
stathius. It is crucial, however, to disclose the emperor’s motivations.
Was there a relationship between Eustathius’ banishment and the read-
mission of Eusebius and Theognis? Theodoret places the bishops’ return be-
fore the fall of Eustathius.142 Yet, ancient sources do not explain why the em-
peror allowed both bishops to take up their sees again.143 Perhaps the key to
offer a plausible hypothesis is Constantine’s policy in favor of ecclesial unity.
In the Vita Constantini, Eusebius describes the unrest in Alexandria and
Antioch. As studied above (ch. 5.2.1), the application of the Nicene policies
about the Melitian clerics provoked severe problems. Eusebius describes the
situation: “When all were at peace, however, among the Egyptians alone the
mutual bitterness remained undiluted, so that the emperor was annoyed yet
again.”144 Alexander had failed to reconcile with the Melitians, and thus had
not achieved the ecclesiastical peace the emperor desired. The same work
describes the situation in Antioch as well:

While all were enjoying a happy life under these conditions, and the Church
of God was everywhere in every way and in every province increasing, once
more Envy, who seeks opportunity against good things, was limbering up to
attack the prosperity so rich in benefits. He perhaps hoped that the emperor
would himself change his attitude to us in irritation at our troubles and disor-
ders. He therefore lit a great flame and plunged the church of Antioch into
disasters of tragic proportions, so that the whole city was all but completely
destroyed. The church people were split into two factions. 145

Both accounts, that about Egypt and Antioch, address the same topics: initial
peace, ecclesiastical divisions, and Constantine’s distress. Eusebius was not
neutral; he depicted the church of Alexander and that of Eustathius in a neg-
ative way. However, ancient sources confirm that these churches were divid-
ed. After describing Eustathius’ deposition, Athanasius affirms:

Then, after the bishop [Eustathius] was exiled, those responsible admitted
others into the Church – men that Eustathius had not accepted into the clergy
because of their impiety – and even appointed most of them as bishops so
that they might have fellow-conspirators for their impiety. Among them were
––––––––––––––––––––

140 See Eus., v.C. 3.59,3; Ath., h. Ar. 5.1–2.

141 Eus., v.C. 3.59,3 (GCS 7/1, 113; trans. Cameron / Hall, 1999, 147).
142 See Thdt., h.e. 1.20,11.
143 Simonetti, 1975, 103: “Siamo all’oscuro sui motivi di questo richiamo.”
144 Eus., v.C. 3.23 (GCS 7/1, 94; trans. Cameron / Hall, 1999, 131).
145 Eus., v.C. 3.59 (GCS 7/1, 111–112; trans. Cameron / Hall, 1999, 147).
A CHANGING MAP 259

Leontius the eunuch, who is now at Antioch, and Stephen who was there be-
fore him, and also George of Laodicea, and Theodosius, who was at Tripolis,
and Eudoxius at Germanicia and Eustathius, who is now at Sebasteia. 146

Thus, Athanasius testifies that Eustathius had excluded several clerics from
the Antiochene church because of their theological views. Eusebius and Ath-
anasius portray Eustathius as an intransigent cleric, who “hates heresy.” Con-
sidering the situation of Antioch and Egypt, Constantine would have been
disappointed with the outcome of Nicaea and with the intransigency of its
champions: the decisions of Nicaea no longer appeared to be factors of unity,
but rather obstacles to it. In this context, Alexander’s death (April 328) im-
plied a change in the ecclesiastical political map. Eusebius and Theognis were
exiled because they welcomed some Alexandrian clerics who did not hold the
Nicene faith. The exile may have been motivated by Alexander’s protest to the
emperor. It seems plausible that, after the death of Alexander, the emperor –
disappointed with the Nicene bishops – decided to call back Eusebius and
Theognis. It is important to notice that the depiction of Alexander as a kind
and meek person comes from Athanasius. Constantine presents him as
someone who engages in idle quarrels, and Socrates refers to his “excessive
love for honor” (φιλοτιμότερος).147 His letters show him as a strong, energetic
character, able to condemn and expel a group of influential clerics from Alex-
andria. Perhaps the emperor thought that Athanasius, the young successor of
Alexander, would not be an obstacle to reaching ecclesiastical unity! Of
course, the idea that Athanasius was the champion of Nicaea, the father of
orthodoxy, and the hammer of heretics was popularized much later than 328!
Constantine, then, did not change his church policies: he stood firm in his
quest for ecclesial unity. However, the disappointing outcomes of Nicaea, the
church divisions in Alexandria and Antioch, the intransigency of their bish-
ops, and the death of Alexander changed the emperor’s assessment of the
situation. The quest for ecclesial unity drove him to support the tradition
represented by Eusebius of Caesarea.
Personal considerations, such as the agency of Constantia, could have
played a role in this twist.148 But the new orientation was not the consequence
of Constantine’s doctrinal tenets, as if he had changed his theological ideas
and, therefore, had begun to support Arianism as such. The quest for ecclesi-
astical peace and unity explains the new attitude of the emperor. The out-

––––––––––––––––––––

146 Ath., h. Ar. 4.2 (AW 2, 185; trans. TTH 67, 42).
147 Const., ep. Alex. Ar. 6–9 (FNS 24.6–9); Socr., h.e. 1.5,1. See Löhr, 2006, 560.
148 See Socr., h.e. 1.25,1–5; Soz., h.e. 2.27,1–4; Bardy, 1928, 523.
260 CHAPTER 5

comes of this new imperial orientation were the restoration of Eusebius and
Theognis, the exile of Eustathius, and the banishment of other bishops:

So did they stop at this point? No. For Eutropius was bishop of Adrianople, a
good man and perfect in all respects; because he often refuted Eusebius and
advised visitors not to be persuaded by Eusebius’ impious words, he suffered
the same fate as Eustathius and was expelled from both the city and the
church. [...]. Moreover, Euphration of Balaneia, Cymatius of Paltus, Carterius
of Antaradus, Asclepas of Gaza, Cyrus of Beroea in Syria, Diodorus of Asia,
Domnion of Sirmium and Hellanicus of Tripolis were merely known to hate
the heresy (μισοῦντες τὴν αἵρεσιν), but those men banished them with imperial
letters, some with a pretext, some without. They expelled them from their cit-
ies and, in place of them, appointed in their churches other men, whom they
knew to be impious.149

It cannot be taken for granted that all these bishops were banished for doc-
trinal reasons. Athanasius explains history as the fight between two well-
defined groups, the supporters of the orthodox Nicene faith and the promot-
ers of the Arian heresy. But some of these bishops, such as Euphration of
Balaneia and Hellanicus of Tripolis played a role in the doctrinal controversy.
These banishments, once again, hurt church unity.
The same synod that condemned Eustathius, at Antioch in 328, appointed
Eulalius, who was supported by the Eusebians. “The church people were split
into two factions,”150 and those who were faithful to Eustathius did not accept
Eulalius as their bishop. The traumatic episcopal succession marked the be-
ginning of a schism at Antioch.151 For several decades, two parallel Christian
communities coexisted in the same city. Eulalius ruled the church of Antioch
for three months, from late 328 to early 329. Then, Euphronius was appointed,
who was the head of the Antiochene church for fifteen months (329–330).
From late 330 to 341, Flacillus was the bishop of the city,152 while the presbyter
Paulinus led the Christian community faithful to Eustathius.

5.2.3 The Twenty-five Canons and the Synod of Antioch 329

The natural title for this section would be The Synod of Antioch 329 and Its
Twenty-five Canons. But it is not crystal clear to which synod the canons be-
long. On the one hand, ancient sources confuse the synods at Antioch in 328

––––––––––––––––––––

149 Ath., h. Ar. 5.1–2 (AW 2, 185; trans. TTH 67, 43). See Ath., fug. 3.1–3.
150 Eus., v.C. 3.59 (Cameron / Hall, 199, 147).
151 See de Navascués, 2010, 128–129. Still instructive, F. Cavallera, Le schisme d’Antioche (IV–V
siècle), Paris 1905.
152 See Burgess, 1999, 286.
A CHANGING MAP 261

and 329. On the other hand, the twenty-five canons have been attributed to
the assembly of Antioch in 341, known as the synod in Encaeniis.153
The synod of 328 deposed Eustathius and appointed Eulalius, who ruled
the church for only three months; the synod of 329 dealt with the succession
of Eulalius, elected Eusebius – who did not accept – and finally appointed
Euphronius. One letter relating to this synod is addressed to “Theodotus,
Theodorus, Narcissus, Aetius, Alphius, and the other bishops who are in Anti-
och.”154 All of these names, except for Aetius, appear in the list of signatories
to the twenty-five canons of Antioch preserved in Latin and Syriac.155 These
matches indicate that the canons come from the synod of 329.156 Eusebius
describe the letters as follows:

In these [letters] he [Constantine] urged them [the bishops at Antioch] not to

try to obtain a leader from outside, in whom they had achieved peace (ἐφ’ ᾧ
τὴν εἰρήνην πεποίηντο), but by the rule of the Church to choose as pastor that
person whom the universal Saviour of the world would himself designate. 157

The text, written by Eusebius, implicitly states that he acted as a peacemaker

in the Antiochene church.158 The synod of 329 was held upon the death of
Eulalius, and it would have elected a new bishop. Three letters of Constantine
describe this event (FNS 52–54);159 he was informed by the bishops, including
Eusebius, and the comites Acacius and Strategius.160 According to the letters,
Eusebius of Caesarea, who led the assembly, was elected as successor of Eu-
lalius. Constantine writes to the people of Antioch that Eusebius “has re-
ceived this extraordinary favor, namely the large vote you have given him for
his moderation.”161 In the same vein, the emperor say to the bishops that Eu-
sebius was chosen “in accordance with the judgment and will of the people
and your own choice.”162 These expressions that speak of unanimity should be
––––––––––––––––––––

153 Mardirossian, 2010, 89. A different chronology in C.W.B. Stephens, Canon Law and
Episcopal Authority: The Canons of Antioch and Serdica, Oxford 2015, 35–49.
154 Const., ep. syn. Antioch. (FNS 53).
155 EOMIA 2.2, 231; 312–315; Schwartz, 1959, 219–221. According to Turner’s reconstruction, the
list of the signatories includes thirty-two bishops (EOMIA 2.2, 313).
156 Burgess, 2000, 158: “The problem of the absence from the canons of the council […] of
Aëtius of Lydda, who is addressed by Constantine in his letter to the council (Eus., v.C.
3.62,1) is probably simply that he had to leave before the council finished its business and
was not around to sign the canons.”
157 Eus., v.C. 3.59,5 (GCS 7/1, 111–112; trans. Cameron / Hall, 1999, 148, mod.).
158 Perhaps he is alluding to his active role in the deposition of Eustathius.
159 See Eus., v.C. 3.59–62; Socr., h.e. 1.24,5–7; Thdt., h.e. 1.22,1; Burgess, 1999, 206.
160 Const., ep. syn. Antioch. 1 (FNS 53.1); Const., ep. Eus. 1 (FNS 54.1).
161 Const., ep. eccl. Antioch. 8 (FNS 52.8).
162 Const., ep. syn. Antioch. 1 (FNS 53.1).
262 CHAPTER 5

read with caution. This unanimity did not involve all Christians in Antioch,
but only those who accepted Eustathius’ deposition. The others did not par-
ticipate in this assembly.
Constantine praises Eusebius of Caesarea, declares that he knows him
well, for a long time, and supports his decision to stay in the church of Caesa-
rea. In a lost letter, Eusebius alleged that he did not accept because of the
canonical legislation forbidding the transfer of bishops.163 The emperor ex-
horts the church of Antioch to observe the canons, and he suggests the names
of Euphronius, presbyter of Caesarea in Cappadocia, and George of Arethu-
sa.164 Finally, Euphronius was appointed as the successor of Eulalius. Of
course, this process took time. The election of Eusebius, his refusal of it, the
correspondence with Constantine, the calling of Euphronius and George, the
deliberation between the two candidates, the ordination of the chosen one.
Maybe the waiting times in this process gave room for the discussion that
produced the twenty-five canons. This confirms that the canons come from
the synod of 329. In addition, can. 23, which bans transferring bishops, must
date from after the decline of Eusebius.
The canons deal with various minor topics, such as letters of peace and
administration of ecclesiastical properties. Can. 1 confirms Nicaea regarding
the date of the Pascha. Various canons address the process of appeal.165 The
canons take for granted the existence of these processes of appeal and regu-
late their application. Many norms are related to clerical jurisdiction.166 Some
canons highlight the role of the bishop who presides over the eparchia. Oth-
ers deal with the authority to ordain and the conditions of ordination. Clerics
must be submitted to their bishops and cannot leave their paroikiai. In addi-
tion, territorial jurisdiction is also addressed: clerics must observe the limits
of their jurisdiction.
Regarding the topics of Nicaea, it is noteworthy that this canon struck at
Quartodecimans, who belonged to the Asian tradition (ch. 1.1.4), that is, the
same tradition of those who did not accept Eustathius’ deposition. Besides,
the canon shows that Nicene legislation did not resolve the problem of the
date of Easter.167
––––––––––––––––––––

163 See C.Arl. (314), can. 2; Can. Ap. 14–15; C.Ant. (329), can. 21 (FNS 51.21); C.Alex. (338), ep.
syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 6.6); C.Sard. (343), can. 1. However, Eusebius of Caesarea himself
praised “the great Eusebius [of Nicomedia], for the episcopacy of whom many illustrious
provinces and cities have contended,” Eus., Marcell. 1.4,2. See Eus., Marcell. 1.4,9 (regarding
the case of Paulinus).
164 Const., ep. syn. Antioch. 2 (FNS 53.2).
165 C.Ant. (329), can. 4; 6; 11–12; 15; 20 (FNS 51.4; 51.6; 51.11–12; 51.15; 51.20).
166 C.Ant. (329), can. 3; 5; 9–10; 13–14; 16–19; 22 (FNS 51.3; 51.5; 51.9–10; 51.13–14; 51.16–19; 51.22).
167 C.Ant. (329), can. 1 (FNS 51.1); Di Berardino, 2023, 215–246.
A CHANGING MAP 263

The canons about processes of appeal could reflect the personal concerns
of Eusebius of Caesarea (ch. 4.1.1). In fact, can. 12 refers to a process of appeal
that corresponds to the iter of Eusebius: a bishop deposed by a synod (Anti-
och 325) must take his case to a larger synod (Nicaea 325). Besides, some
norms about jurisdiction – particularly can. 13 – could echo the concerns
raised by the Melitian crisis. Finally, one cannot exclude that can. 23, which
forbids that a bishop to indicate the name of his successor, criticizes Athana-
sius’ ordination, because he was Alexander’s candidate.168

5.3 Athanasius: Accusations and Defenses

The fact that Melitius himself as well as John of Memphis submitted to the
Alexandrian church suggests that most of the Melitian clergy initially accept-
ed the condition of reconciliation proposed by Alexander in 327, after Con-
stantine’s mediation or pressure. The last picture of the two leaders is Meli-
tius presenting his clergy in person to Alexander.169 The long-expected union
was achieved (ch. 5.2.1). However, the sources indicate that this peace was
ephemeral. Athanasius’ early career revolves around his contested appoint-
ment, the accusations against him, and his defense.

5.3.1 The Contested Ordination of Athanasius

The first recorded event of the new period is the ordination of Athanasius
(April 17, 328). This event inaugurated a new stage of the conflict. It is not
easy to envisage the reputation of Athanasius at the beginning of 328. The
idea that the deacon of Alexander was known as a staunch warrior against
the heretics belongs to the retrospective narrative of Athanasius himself and
Church historians. The earliest source that depicts him as a fierce fighter of
heretics is the letter of the synod of Alexandria (338), a polemical document
dedicated to defending the bishop. Gwynn has shown to what extent the
narrative transmitted in this document is an apologetic construction.170
Athanasius was the natural successor of Alexander: “he was close to Alex-
ander, the bishop, and much estimated by him.”171 This claim is confirmed by
his presence at Nicaea, as a deacon, and the authorship of the encyclical let-
ter of Alexander.172 “There seems no reason to doubt that Athanasius was
––––––––––––––––––––

168 Soz., h.e. 2.17,1–2.

169 See Ath., apol. sec. 72.1.
170 D.M. Gwynn, The Eusebians: the polemic of Athanasius of Alexandria and the construction
of the ‘Arian controversy’, Oxford 2007, 59–100.
171 C.Alex. (338), ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 6.2 [AW 2, 92]).
172 See Morales, 2019, 541–589.
264 CHAPTER 5

Alexander’s preferred heir, and yet his succession was far from smooth.”173
Moreover, the synodal letter of Alexandria (338) feels the need to justify the
legitimacy of Athanasius’ ordination, which makes it clear that it was being
questioned.174 The time elapsed between the death of the bishop and the
ordination of his successor indicates that the process was not easy.175 The
synod of Alexandria (338) transmits the allegations against the appointment
of the young bishop:

For they say, “after the death of bishop Alexander, a certain few having men-
tioned Athanasius, six or seven bishops, ordained him (χειροτονοῦσιν αὐτόν)
clandestinely and in a secret place.” This is what they wrote to the emperors. 176

This short fragment is significant because it is one of the oldest pieces of

evidence about the issue. Later evidence transmits various inconsistent and
legendary allegations against the episcopal ordination.177 However, the oldest
sources point to the Melitian problem as the cause of the trouble. Regarding
the clergy instituted by Melitius, Nicaea stated:

They have no authority whatsoever to choose those whom they please, nor to
put forward names, nor to do anything without the consent of the bishop of
the catholic Church [appointed] by Alexander. But those who by the grace of
God and by your prayers are not in any schism, but have remained without
fault in the catholic and apostolic Church, shall have power to choose and to
propose names of those who are worthy of the clergy. 178

This policy would have been an obstacle to unity. In addition, the letter gives
Alexander some autonomy in its application.179 As has been said, Alexander,
under pressure from Constantine, could have loosened the application of the
Nicene policy to achieve the submission of Melitius and his clergy to the
church of Alexandria (ch. 5.2.1). It is possible to identify three policies: the
Nicene regulation, the way in which Alexander applied that policy, and the
––––––––––––––––––––

173 D.M. Gwynn, Athanasius of Alexandria: Bishop, Theologian, Ascetic, Father, Oxford 2012, 25.
See Epiph., haer. 68.7,3.
174 See C.Alex. (338), ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 6.3–4).
175 Maybe the narratives that affirm Athanasius’ absence from Alexandria when Alexander
died were a construction to explain the rather long time between the death of Alexander
and Athanasius’ ordination. See Epiph., haer. 68.7,2–4; Soz., h.e. 2.17,3.
176 C.Alex. (338), ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 6.4 [AW 2, 92]).
177 Most likely the later account by Philostorgius is nothing more than a development of this
narrative, see Philost., h.e. 2.11. It seems that there is no need to suppose a genuine
historical tradition supporting Philostorgius’ narrative, see Arnold, 1991, 25.
178 C.Nic (325), ep. Aeg. 7–8 (FNS 34.7–8).
179 C.Nic. (325), ep. Aeg. 11 (FNS 34.11).
A CHANGING MAP 265

policy agreed to by Melitius under pressure from the emperor. In addition, in

the fourth century, the procedure of episcopal appointment varied according
to time and place.180 Given these complex antecedents, it is likely that after
Alexander’s death there were conflicting views among the Egyptian bishops
as to whether the former Melitian bishops had the right to intervene in the
appointment of the new bishop. The core of the problem, then, was the ex-
clusion of the former Melitian bishops from the process of appointment and
ordination of the new bishop.181 The narrative transmitted by Sozomen could
provide some historical evidence.182 Other sources suggest that the candidate
was too young (ch. 5.3.2). Anyhow, it is implausible that the Melitian struggle
was not at the center of the conflict about Athanasius’ ordination.183 Further-
more, if we consider that the opposition to the central power of Alexandria
was one of the causes of the Melitian movement,184 the ban against participat-
ing in the election of the bishop of Alexandria could be seen as untenable for
some (former) Melitian bishops.

5.3.2 Athanasius’ Early Career

The study of Athanasius early career must address critical challenges because
almost all the information available to us comes from him. The documents
and their conductive thread come from Athanasius’ Apologia secunda or Apo-
logia contra Arianos. In this context, special attention must be paid to the
documents coming from other sources.185
His ordination was a source of conflict. The fragile peace reached around
the end of 327 was broken because of the inability of former Melitian clergy
to take part in the bishop’s appointment. Athanasius was unable to solve this

––––––––––––––––––––

180 In fact, a later source, namely Eutychius of Alexandria, affirms that Alexander introduced
a change in the procedures of episcopal elections. See Eutyc. Al., ann. (PG 111, 982 B). On
the variety of procedures, see P. Norton, 2007.
181 See Epiph., haer. 668.7,2–6; A. Martin, Athanase et les Melitiens, in: C. Kannengiesser (ed.),
Politique et théologie chez Athanase d’Alexandrie, Paris 1974, 31–61.
182 See Soz., h.e. 2.17,4 (trans. NPNF II 2, 269, mod.): “The Arians assert (οἱ δὲ ἀπὸ τῆς Ἀρείου
αἱρέσεως λέγουσιν) that after the death of Alexander, the respective followers of Alexander
and of Melitius held communion together, and fifty-four bishops from Thebes, and other
parts of Egypt, assembled together, and agreed by oath to choose by a common vote (κοινῇ
ψήφῳ αἱρεῖσθαι), the man who could advantageously administer the Church of Alexandria;
but that seven of the bishops, in violation of their oath, and contrary to the opinion of all,
secretly ordained Athanasius (κλέψαι τὴν Ἀθανασίου χειροτονίαν); and that on this account
many of the people and of the Egyptian clergy seceded from communion with him.”
183 Arnold discusses the views of Telfer, Barnard, and Martin. See Arnold, 1991, 48–62.
184 Camplani, 1990, 313–351.
185 H.I. Bell, Jews and Christians in Egypt: The Jewish Troubles in Alexandria and the
Athanasian Controversy, London 1924, 57.
266 CHAPTER 5

problem because – in his opponents’ view – he himself was the problem. It is

noteworthy that contemporary sources say nothing about an “Arian” opposi-
tion to Athanasius in his first years as bishop. It has been stated that the per-
sonal connection between Melitius and Arius was a polemical construction
(ch. 1.1.3). More complicated is the question of the nature and chronology of
the Melitian-Eusebian alliance. Some scholars follow Athanasius’ narrative
and state that soon after his restoration Eusebius of Nicomedia began to forge
a tactical alliance with the Melitian clergy, but Athanasius was not aware of
it.186 However, contemporary sources suggest that the alliance was built later.
The first festal letter of Athanasius – programmatic in character – exhorts to
unity, but it does not allude to any concrete, ecclesiastical division. The first
festal letters mirror Athanasius’ pastoral rather than polemical concerns; they
also reveal that he travelled widely at the beginning of his episcopate,187
which could have been a way to unify the Egyptian church.
The evidence about the first accusation is fragmentary. The bishop says
that the charge was that he had imposed a law “about linen vestments,” which
seems to be a kind of unlawful taxation. The presbyters Apis and Macarius,
however, who were at court, testified to Athanasius’ innocence.188 There is no
reason to doubt these charges, but one can suspect that there were other
accusations that Athanasius did not transmit. This episode must be placed in
Constantinople around 331.
Another incident is transmitted by Festal Letter IV. This is the first festal
letter that addresses the conflict within the Egyptian church. It was written in
early 332. In it, the bishop says that his “enemies have been put to shame and
censured by the Church for persecuting us without cause.”189 The letter has a
kind of post scriptum that says:

We sent this letter from the court by means of an official, to whom it was giv-
en by him who truly fears God, Ablabius, the prefect of the praetorium. For I
am at the court because I was summoned by the emperor Constantine to see
him. But the Melitians who were present there, because they were envious,
were speaking against us before the emperor. They were put to shame and ex-
pelled from there as slanderers, when they were convicted by many things.
Those who were expelled were Callinicus, Ision, Eudaimon, and Geloius.190

––––––––––––––––––––

186 See Arnold, 1991, 63; Kopecek, 1979, 76. Accordingly, Arnold discusses not the date of the
alliance, but when did Athanasius become aware of it (Arnold, 1991, 64).
187 Brakke / Gwynn, 2022, 44–45.
188 Ath., apol. sec. 60.2 (AW 2, 140). See Arnold, 1991, 105.
189 Ath., ep. fest. 4.1 (trans. TTH 81, 69).
190 Ath., ep. fest. 4.8 (trans. TTH 81, 72–73).
A CHANGING MAP 267

The letter confirms that Constantine ordered Athanasius to appear in court.191

Ison of Athribis, Callinicus of Pelusium, and Eudaimon of Tanis were
Melitians, and they are listed in the Breviarium.192 Constantine summoned the
accused to his court, in Psamathia.193 As the letter was written in the first
months of 332, the Melitians would have accused him in 331. Besides, the
bishop arrived back in Alexandria before Easter (2 April). Constantine affirms
that the accusers questioned Athanasius’ ordination because he was too
young.194 This claim is backed by the Festal Index.195 Instead, the bishop de-
scribes other charges:

When I arrived, this time they blamed Macarius for the chalice (ποτήριον). As
for me, it was not just an ordinary accusation, but the greatest of all, that I,
acting against the emperor, sent a purse of gold to a certain Philumenos. 196

This text was written three decades after the event; for that reason, Athana-
sius did not explain the already well-known charge about the chalice. The
discrepancy between the accusations is not surprising, because many charges
must have been alleged, and it confirms that the bishop filtered the infor-
mation that he transmitted.
Athanasius would have arrived in Psamathia by the end of 331, and the
hearing must have taken place in the first months of 332. The charges were
dismissed, and Athanasius’ opponents were put to shame. Constantine sent a
letter supporting the bishop before the people of Alexandria: “For I joyfully
received your bishop Athanasius and addressed him in such a way that I was
convinced that he was a man of God.”197 So he arrived in Alexandria free from
charges and with the support of the emperor. Contemporary evidence does

––––––––––––––––––––

191 Ath., apol. sec. 60.3 (AW 2, 140): ὁ δὲ βασιλεὺς γράφει καταγινώσκων μὲν Ἰσίωνος, κελεύων δὲ
ἐμὲ ἀπαντῆσαι πρὸς αὐτόν.
192 See Melit., brev. (FNS 48).
193 See Ath., apol. sec. 60.3–4. Psamathia was just outside Nicomedia.
194 See Const., ep. eccl. Alex. 8 (FNS 55.8). See also C.Neoc. (ca. 319), can. 11 (FNS 5.11); J.
Gaudemet, L’Église dans l’Empire romain (IVe–Ve siècles), Paris 1958, 124–127; Martin, 1996,
321–339.
195 Ath., ep. fest. index 3 (trans. TTH 81, 257): “He sent this (letter) from the road, while he was
returning from the court. For during this (year) he travelled to the court, to Constantine
the great emperor, because at that time he had been summoned before him on account of
an accusation by enemies that he had been consecrated when he was too young. But
when he had appeared and had been judged worthy of approval and honour he returned
then when the fast was halfway finished.”
196 Ath., apol. sec. 60.4 (AW 2, 140–141). On the identity of Philumenos, see Philost., h.e. 1.9;
Barnes, 1981, 368 n. 69.
197 Const., ep. eccl. Alex. 11 (FNS 55.11). See Ath., apol. sec. 65.1.
268 CHAPTER 5

not mention any intervention of Eusebius of Nicomedia in this affair, as Ath-

anasius does some years later.
According to the Festal Index, during 332, the bishop of Alexandria “toured
the Pentapolis and was in Ammoniaca.”198 According to Athanasius’ narrative,
the Melitians kept quiet for a short time (πρὸς ὀλίγον), and then they accused
him again.199 Then he transmits two changes, “that Macarius had broken a
chalice, and that a certain bishop named Arsenius had been murdered by
us.”200 The Apologia secunda preserves a letter by Ischyras:

I, taking God as my witness in this matter, declare in my apologia that I am

aware that you [Athanasius] have not done any of those things of which they
speak. For neither did any breaking of a chalice take place, nor did the over-
turning of the holy table occur; but they, using force, compelled me to say all
these things.201

In this context, the verb ἀπολογέομαι means defending oneself rather than
asking for pardon. Ischyras declares that the charges against Athanasius are
false and that he acted constrained by Isaac, Heraclides, Isaac of Letopolis,
and those who are with them (οἱ σὺν αὐτοῖς). All these names are listed in the
Breviarium.202 Therefore, they were former or current Melitians. The account
by the Apologia secunda affirms that Constantine did not consider the charge
of Ischyras, but he addressed that of the murder of Arsenius. The emperor,
then, “wrote to Antioch to Dalmatius the Censor to hear about the legal pro-
ceedings for the murder.”203 Dalmatius wrote to Athanasius asking him to
prepare his defense. Contemporary evidence reveals that a synod was to be
held in Caesarea of Palestine. London papyrus 1913, dated March 334, trans-
mits first-hand information from the otherwise unknown presbyter Pageus:

Sacred imperial letters have been sent from the most pious emperor Constan-
tine, commanding that certain persons from Egypt, bishops, presbyters, and
many others including myself […] should go to Caesarea of Palestine, Syria,
for a decision concerning the purification of the holy Christian people. 204

––––––––––––––––––––

198 Ath., ep. fest. index 4 (trans. TTH 81, 257).

199 Ath., apol. sec. 63.1 (AW 2, 143). See Soz., h.e. 2.23,1.
200 Ath., apol. sec. 63.4 (AW 2, 143).
201 Ischy., ep. Ath. 2 (FNS 56.2). This letter must have been written after the hearing in
Psamathia. Otherwise, the case would not have been reopened (Arnold, 1991, 130–131).
202 See Melit., brev. (FNS 48).
203 Ath., apol. sec. 65.1.
204 Pap. Lon. 1913 (FNS 57).
A CHANGING MAP 269

The text does not mention Athanasius, but the Festal Index and Christian
historians show that the synod of Caesarea was intended to judge him:

During this (year) he turned to the lower country, and during it he was sum-
moned to a synod. When the ill-treatment of the enemies had already been
devised in Caesarea of Palestine, and when he became aware of the plot, he
refused to go.205

Athanasius prepared his defense: he looked for and found Arsenius – who
was alive – he collected letters of support, and he sent a dossier to Constan-
tine to prove his innocence. Athanasius did not appear at the synod, and the
emperor stopped the legal proceedings against the bishop.206 Some docu-
ments of the dossier are preserved in the Apologia secunda. One of them,
written by Alexander of Thessalonica, affirms that “the slanderer Archaph has
fallen from grace, for he has announced to all that a man who is [still] alive
has been killed.”207
Another letter, written by Athanasius’ adversaries, vividly describes how
the emissaries of the bishop localized Arsenius alive and that Pinnes and
Helias confessed to the civil authority at Alexandria that they had hidden the
alleged killed bishop in the Thebais.208 It is not clear how Athanasius obtained
this document. The letter echoes the bishop’s effective network of influence.
Both documents assume that John Archaph – Melitius’ successor – was be-
hind this affair.209 A crucial piece of Athanasius’ defense must have been Are-
senius’ letter to Athanasius, which proved that the allegedly murdered bishop
was alive.210 Thus, in another letter, Constantine endorses Athanasius’ inno-
cence heavily and asks him to read this letter publicly.211 The emperor wit-
nesses to the amplification of the charge:

And this fact was also added by the Melitians. For they claimed that you, in an
impious outburst, had come upon the chalice which was in the most holy
place and had seized it by force and broken it. […]. What is the meaning of
the change and variation of the fact since they now transfer the charge of this
accusation to another person?212

––––––––––––––––––––

205 Ath., ep. fest. index 6 (trans. TTH 81, 258). See Thdt., h.e. 1.28,2; Soz., h.e. 2.25,1.
206 See Ath., apol. sec. 65.4; Soz., h.e. 2.25,1; Thdt., h.e. 1.28,3.
207 Alex. Thes., ep. Ath. 3 (FNS 58.3). See Soz., h.e. 2.25,1.
208 Pinn., ep. Jo. Arch. 2–3 (FNS 59.2–3).
209 See Ath., apol. sec. 67.1.
210 See Arsen., ep. Ath. (FNS 60).
211 See Const., ep. Ath. 6 (FNS 61.6).
212 Const., ep. Ath. 3 (FNS 61.3).
270 CHAPTER 5

Indeed, first, the Melitians accused Macarius; then, they incriminated Atha-
nasius himself.213 Once again, the emperor backed the bishop of Alexandria.
In addition, Constantine threatens the Melitians that he will deal with future
machinations personally, “not according to the laws of the church, but ac-
cording to the public laws.”214
It is worth noting some inconsistencies between the way Athanasius in-
troduces the letter by Arsenius and the content of the letter itself. Athanasius
says that as (ὡς) Ischyras wrote confessing the calumny, in the same way
(οὕτως) Arsenius proved their malignity.215 In the letter, Arsenius declares his
decision to subordinate himself to the catholic Church,216 but he says nothing
about the plot against Athanasius and the fabricated charge of murder. Some-
thing similar should be said about Constantine’s letter to John Archaph.217
Athanasius suggests that John had sent a letter in which he recognized that
the charge against him was calumny.218 But the emperor’s letter echoes that
John has communion with the catholic Church and with the bishop of Alex-
andria, but nothing about the alleged murder. In addition, the letter has a
friendly tone, and it does not blame John as if he had fabricated a charge of
murder. Therefore, it is likely that the immediate context of Arsenius’ letter to
Athanasius (FNS 60) and Constantine’s letter to John (FNS 62) was not the
affair of the alleged murder.
Anyway, sometime after the false accusation of murder, Arsenius wrote to
Athanasius and John to the emperor to express their submission to the
church of Alexandria. The unity of the Church seemed to be restored. It was a
triumph for Constantine. In this atmosphere, the emperor wrote to John:

Therefore, in order that you may attain what you desire, I have found it neces-
sary to grant you permission to enter the cursus publicus and to hasten to the
court of my Clemency. Let it be in your interest, therefore, not to delay, but, by
providing you with this letter the freedom to use the cursus publicus, come to
me immediately to achieve your desire and, by appearing in my presence, to
take benefit of the joy you deserve.219

––––––––––––––––––––

213 At Sardica, the Easter bishops claimed: “With his own hands he split a chalice consecrated
to God and Christ, broke down the august altar itself, overturned the bishop’s throne and
razed the basilica itself, God’s house, Christ’s church, to the ground” (Hil., coll. antiar. A
4.1,6 [CSEL 65, 53]; trans. TTH 25, 24).
214 Const., ep. Ath. 7 (FNS 61.7).
215 Ath., apol. sec. 69.1 (AW 2, 147).
216 See Arsen., ep. Ath. (FNS 60).
217 See Const., ep. Joh. Arch. (FNS 62).
218 Ath., apol. sec. 70.1 (AW 2, 148).
219 Const., ep. Joh. Arch. 2 (FNS 62.2).
A CHANGING MAP 271

John wrote to Constantine a lost letter that pleased him.220 In it he asked for a
hearing, which the monarch granted, along with imperial transportation.
There was a sense of urgency; maybe the emperor already had in mind the
thirtieth anniversary of his reign, the tricennalia. There is no direct evidence
about the course and outcome of this meeting. The next section proposes a
reconstruction (ch. 5.4.1).
A last crucial piece of evidence is Papyrus London 1914. It is a private letter
that denounces the violence that the supporters of Athanasius inflicted on
some Melitian clerics. The target of the followers of the bishop of Alexandria
was not just any Melitian, but Isaac of Letopolis, a Melitian bishop who had
pushed Ischyras to claim that Macarius, the envoi of Athanasius, broke the
chalice and overturned the sacred table.221 The papyrus bears witness to the
harsh violence between the factions of the Egyptian church, in which civil
power was involved. Its interpretation, however, is disputed, especially re-
garding the actual role that Athanasius played in this affair.222 According to
this contemporary evidence, it is highly plausible that, in addition to the
charges mentioned by Athanasius’ works, the bishop of Alexandria was ac-
cused of violence against the Melitians.
Finally, two general remarks. First, regarding the charges against him, Ath-
anasius declares that all they did against him was for the sole purpose of in-
troducing impiety into the Church (ἵνα μόνον τὴν ἀσέβειαν εἰς τὴν ἐκκλησίαν
εἰσαγάγωσι).223 He says that Eusebius of Nicomedia wrote to the Melitians and
“convinced them to fabricate pretexts (πλάσασθαι πρόφασιν), so that, as they
had done against Peter, Achillas, and Alexander, they might devise and spread
reports so against us also.”224 This was his constant and inflexible explanation
when he was accused, and this account became the traditional key to the
interpretation of Athanasius’ struggles for later historiography.225 Remarkably,
Athanasius accused all his enemies of heresy, but none of them accused him
on doctrinal grounds.
Second, since the deposition of Eustathius was presided over by Eusebius
of Caesarea (328), and Eusebius also presided over the condemnation of Mar-
cellus (336), it is highly plausible that Eusebius of Caesarea was to chair the

––––––––––––––––––––

220 Const., ep. Joh. Arch. 1 (FNS 62.1): “The letter from your prudence was very pleasing to me.”
221 See Pap. Lon. 1914 (FNS 67). According to Ischyras, “violence has been done to me and that
wounds have been inflicted on me by Isaac, Heraclides, Isaac of Leto[polis] and those who
are with them,” Ischy., ep. Ath. 1 (FNS 56.1).
222 See Bell, 1924, 53–71; Arnold, 1991, 71–89; Gwynn, 2007, 70 n. 39.
223 See Ath., apol. sec. 85.1 (AW 2, 163); See Gwynn, 2012, 27.
224 Ath., apol. sec. 60.1 (AW 2, 140).
225 Epiph., haer. 68.6–7.
272 CHAPTER 5

failed synod against Athanasius that was to be held in Caesarea. These three
events confirm the ecclesiastical leadership of Eusebius of Caesarea.

5.4 The End of an Era (335–337)

The final phase of this journey covers the events from the synod of Tyre (355)
to the death of the emperor, including the readmission and death of Arius.
Periodization in history always implies a certain arbitrariness. The death of
Constantine, however, marks the end of the first reception of the Council of
Nicaea and thus the end of an era.

5.4.1 The Events and Their Relationship: A Working Hypothesis

What was the result of the meeting between Constantine and John Archaph?
As mentioned above, ancient sources do not provide direct evidence. Howev-
er, it seems plausible to identify and relate three significant events so that a
hypothesis about the course and relationship between these events can be
proposed. They are the meeting between Constantine and John, the conven-
ing of the synod of Tyre (335), and the recall of Arius. Both their relative
chronology and their relationship are disputed.
The Apologia secunda places John’s hearing before the convening of the
synod of Tyre. A contemporary letter states that the synod was active in Sep-
tember 335,226 hence it is safe to say that the hearing at court took place in late
334 or early 335. Is there any relationship between the two events? The fact
that Athanasius says nothing about the result of the hearing suggests that it
had a positive outcome for John. If Constantine had blamed him, the bishop
of Alexandria would certainly have recorded it in the Apologia secunda. In-
stead, if the emperor accepted John’s vision of the Egyptian church, in which
Athanasius was the obstacle to ecclesiastical unity, the hearing may have
been one reason for calling the synod of Tyre. In fact, the letter that convokes
the synod is preserved by Eusebius, not by Athanasius. It blames those who
“attempt to throw everything into disarray,” whose conduct is not worthy of
themselves, and states:

On this account, I urge you, as the saying goes, to swiftly convene in one place
without any delay, to gather the synod, to bring aid to those who need it, to
bring solace to the brothers who are in peril, to restore concord among the
members who are now divided, to right the wrongs, as far as the situation al-

––––––––––––––––––––

226 See Cler. Mareot., ep. Philar. 5 (FNS 71.5). The letter was signed on the tenth day of the
month of Thoth, which means 8 September 335.
A CHANGING MAP 273

lows it, so that you may restore in these large eparchiai the proper harmony,
which was destroyed – how awful! – by the arrogance of very few men.227

As always, the emperor’s concern is the unity of the Church. In the same let-
ter he declares: “I have written to the bishops you wished me to,”228 which
implied that only a selected group of bishops was called to the assembly. It is
not explicit who produced the list of participants. The letter contains an in-
teresting remark:

Indeed, in the unlikely event that someone, attempting to escape our com-
mand, even now (καὶ νῦν) refuses to attend, I will dispatch someone from here
who, by sending him into exile by imperial decree, shall teach him not to re-
sist the decisions that an emperor makes to defend the truth. 229

Most likely, this remark alludes to Athanasius’ refusal to attend the failed
synod of Caesarea (334). The identification is backed by the bishop himself:
regarding Tyre, he says that the emperor or Dionysius “wrote to me and im-
posed the obligation (ἀνάγκη) that we have to set out even unwillingly (καὶ
ἄκοντας).”230 In addition, the Easter bishops at Sardica (343) affirm:

For these reasons it was thought necessary for a council to be convened: in the
first instance at Caesarea in Palestine but when neither he [Athanasius] nor
any of his entourage (eius satellitibus) turned up to the aforesaid council, it
had to be repeated, owing to his misdemeanours, a year later (post alterum
annum) at Tyre.231

This evidence proves that the letter summoning Tyre threatens Athanasius
specifically, whose judgement was the aim of the synod. Then, there is a sharp
contrast between Constantine’s enthusiastic endorsement of Athanasius in
334 (FNS 61) and the letter convening Tyre that threatens Athanasius in 335
(FNS 71). Hence, it is plausible that the lost letter by John to Constantine and
his hearing at court are crucial factors that explain such a U-turn in the em-
peror’s attitude toward Athanasius. If this proposal is on the right path, it is
possible to take a step forward and place the recall of Arius into this frame-
work. The exile(s) and re-call(s) of Arius are a highly disputed topic (ch.
5.4.3). Nevertheless, in light of this reconstruction and other sources, the
course of the events can be arranged as follows.
––––––––––––––––––––

227 Const., ep. syn Tyr. 1 (FNS 68.1).

228 Const., ep. syn Tyr. 3 (FNS 68.3).
229 Const., ep. syn Tyr. 4 (FNS 68.4).
230 Ath., apol. sec. 71.2 (AW 2, 149). See Const., ep. syn Tyr. 3 (FNS 68.3).
231 C.Sard. (343), ep. orient. 7 (Hil., coll. antiar. A 4.1,7; trans. TTH 25, 25).
274 CHAPTER 5

The thirtieth anniversary of Constantine’s reign was approaching, and he

wanted to celebrate it in Jerusalem, with the consecration of the martyrion
which had been built.232 This celebration needed the unity of the Church.
When the affair of the fake murder of Arsenius was already solved, John
Archaph wrote a letter to Constantine in the second half of 334. In this lost
letter, he described the events from his perspective, declared his submission
to the church of Alexandria, and may have said that Athanasius was the ob-
stacle to ecclesiastical unity.233 The letter must have impressed the emperor
very much, as he wrote a friendly epistle to John, summoning him to court as
soon as possible and offering him the cursus publicus (FNS 62). At about the
same time, and moved by the same spirit, the emperor wrote a short letter to
Arius, urging him to appear before him as soon as possible and granting him
the cursus publicus (FNS 65); the presbyter happily accepted the emperor’s
request and sent a letter to him with a profession of faith (FNS 65). It should
be noted that Constantine’s letter resumed his interrupted correspondence
with Arius. At some unknown point, after the return of Eusebius of Nicome-
dia (late 328), Arius had sent a letter to the emperor asking for his restoration
(ch. 5.4.3). This lost letter received a harsh, violent reply to which Arius did
not dare respond (FNS 63).
In his hearing, John Archaph explained the conflict from his point of view
and showed that Athanasius was the problem. The emperor realized that he
had been receiving one-sided information and decided to judge the bishop of
Alexandria. The judgement must have been made before the synod of Jerusa-
lem. The chosen place for the synod was Tyre.234 In this scenario, after the
meeting with John, and because of its positive outcome, Constantine was
well-disposed to receive Arius. This reconstruction is the framework in which
the following events will be studied.

5.4.2 The Synod of Tyre (335)

As stated in the previous section (ch. 5.4.1), the aim of the synod of Tyre was
to judge Athanasius. Indeed, although he was asked, under threat, to appear
at the synod, the bishop hesitated about going to Tyre.235 Finally, he departed

––––––––––––––––––––

232 See Eus., v.C. 4.40,2; T. Canella (ed.), L’Impero costantiniano e i luoghi sacri, Bologna 2016.
233 See Const., ep. Joh. Arch. 2 (FNS 62.2).
234 See Eus., v.C. 4.41,3; Ath., apol. sec. 71.2.
235 If the reconstruction of ‹Τ›υρῳ is correct, Pap. Lon. 1914 indicates that when the synod of
Tyre was already convened, Athanasius’ “luggage was taken out to sea, as if he were going
to leave, and again, twice they took the luggage out of the boat, as if he were not going to
leave,” Pap. Lon. 1914 (FNS 67).
A CHANGING MAP 275

to Tyre on 11 July, 335.236 In the convening letter, Constantine offers his support
for the meeting and affirms:

I have already done everything that you described in your letter. I have written
to the bishops you wished (πρὸς οὓς ἐβουλήθητε) me to, that they should come
and join you in the deliberations. I have dispatched the comes Dionysius to
notify those who must come to the synodos; he shall also be present to ensure
that everything is in order.237

The text alludes to a letter that is not extant. In it, “they” gave a list of the
bishops who must attend the synod. Therefore, the emperor ordered Dionysi-
us to notify these bishops. As in the case of the failed synod of Caesarea, 238
only specific clerics were invited to attend the assembly of Tyre, which had a
specific task. By contrast, there may have been a general call for the synod of
Jerusalem.239 Of course, “they” are the bishops who led the synod, those who
were in charge of judging Athanasius. Their identity is crucial to learn when
the Eusebians started to collaborate with the Melitians.
In Athanasius’ narrative, the Eusebians were behind the accusations
against him from the beginning. He was not aware of their participation,
because Eusebius was a secret friend (κρύφα φίλος) of the Melitians.240 Arnold
follows this narrative.241 Epiphanius dates the relationship between Melitius
and Arius even before Nicaea.242 However, no source before 335 attests to any
collaboration between Melitians and Eusebians from the early years of Atha-
nasius’ episcopate.243 According to Gwynn, “Athanasius first began to depict
his opponents as a ‘Eusebian party’, at the very Council of Tyre in 335 at
which he was originally condemned.”244 In fact, the “Eusebians” are absent
from the Festal Letters before Tyre (335). Athanasius, then, was not aware of a
––––––––––––––––––––

236 See Ath., ep. fest. index 8 (TTH 81, 258).

237 Const., ep. syn Tyr. 3 (FNS 68.3).
238 See Pap. Lon. 1913 (FNS 57).
239 See Eus., v.C. 4.43,1–4.
240 See Ath., apol. sec. 59.4 (AW 2, 139). See Ath., apol. sec. 85.1 (AW 2, 139): “For if I was the
hindrance to the admittance of Arius and his fellows into the Church, and if they were
received while I was suffering from their plots, what other conclusion can be arrived at,
than all the proceedings against me, and the fabricated stories about the breaking of the
chalice and the murder of Arsenius, were for the sole purpose of introducing impiety into
the Church and of preventing their being condemned as heretics?” (see Gwynn, 2012, 27).
241 See Arnold, 1991, 63: “Eusebius, soon after his own restoration, began to forge a political
alliance with many of those Melitians who had rejected the leadership of Athanasius.”
242 Epiph., haer. 68.4,1–3; Martin, 1996, 222–224.
243 See Gwynn, 2007, 59–87; A. Martin, Les relations entre Arius et Melitios dans la tradition
Alexandrine: Une histoire polémique, in: JThS N.S. 40 (1989c), 401–413.
244 Gwynn, 2007, 59.
276 CHAPTER 5

Melitian-Eusebian coalition until 335. It is not plausible that he ignored this

alliance for a long time – he was able to detect Arsenius who was hidden far
from Alexandria. In addition, the alliance could have been established in the
context of the preparation for the failed synod of Caesarea (334). Therefore, it
is likely that the alliance between Melitians and Eusebians dates back not
much further than 344. Yet, after his condemnation at Tyre (335), Athanasius
retrojected the coalition into the earlier years of his episcopate.245 In fact, the
Egyptian bishops declared in 338 that Eusebius censured Athanasius’ ap-
pointment and ordination in 328.246
Contemporary sources related to Tyre (335) are abundant, but irregular.
Most of them deal with the Mareotis commission and contain very little in-
formation about the proceedings of the assembly. Besides, almost all the
letters are preserved by Athanasius, who selected them according to his
agenda. In addition, two participants of the synod refer to it in their writings,
Eusebius and Athanasius. The first transmits an imperial letter but almost
omits the synod;247 instead, Athanasius, along with his retrospective narrative,
transmits valuable information.248
“It is difficult to ascertain with any degree of exactitude the procedure
which was employed at the Synod of Tyre.”249 Yet, it is possible to trace its
outline. The gathering was an ecclesiastical trial performed by the bishops
under Constantine’s authority. It is not clear the relationship between the
authority of the bishops and that of Dionysius.250 As Athanasius left Egypt on
11 July and some letters are signed on September, the meeting would have
lasted from July to October. Besides, the selective invitation to Tyre does not
match the large number of Egyptian bishops at the synod. The letter of the
Egyptian bishops who were there to Dionysius was signed by forty-eight bish-
ops.251 If Socrates is right that there were sixty bishops at Tyre,252 then, these
Egyptian bishops, who were loyal to Athanasius, were not invited.
Contemporary sources indicate Eusebius, Theognis, Maris, Narcissus, The-
odore, Flacillus, and Patrophilus as the architects of the plan.253 Did they chair
the assembly? The letters are not explicit, but the Apologia secunda affirms
––––––––––––––––––––

245 See Gwynn, 2007, 69–70.

246 C.Alex. (338), ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 6.6).
247 See Eus., v.C. 4.41,1–44,2.
248 See Ath., apol. sec. 71.1–86.1.
249 Arnold, 1991, 148.
250 See Arnolds, 1991, 150–152.
251 See Aeg. episc. in Tyr., 1 ep. Dion. 7 (FNS 73.7).
252 See Socr., h.e. 1.28,2.
253 See Aeg. episc. in Tyr., ep. Tyr. 2 (FNS 72.2); Aeg. episc. in Tyr., 1 ep. Dion. 2 (FNS 73.2); Aeg.
episc. in Tyr., 2 ep. Dion. 1 (FNS 74.1).
A CHANGING MAP 277

that, when the emperor called the bishops in Tyre to appear in court, Eusebi-
us, Theognis, Patrophilus, the other Eusebius, Ursacius, and Valens went to
Constantinople. The match between both groups indicates the high standing
of these clerics. It is likely that Flacillius of Antioch chaired the assembly.254
The bishops around Athanasius rejected their participation in the trial:

From the beginning, in fact, all of us, through our fellow-minister Athanasius,
had opposed the fact that the judicial hearing was in their presence, knowing
that the presence of even one enemy, not to say many, can disturb or hinder
the judicial hearing.255

The Egyptian bishops in Tyre did not act directly, but through Athanasius.
Most likely these clerics were at Tyre, but they could not join the assembly
because they were not invited. Sozomen, probably relying on official docu-
ments, says that Callinicus oversaw the accusation.256 He accused Athanasius
of the affair of Ischyras, of mistreating Callinicus himself, and of other acts of
violence against Melitian clerics. He also questioned the legitimacy of Atha-
nasius’ ordination.257 In addition, historians repeat some legendary charges.
Athanasius must have denied these charges, and his accusers decided to
send a commission to Mareotis, the place of the alleged fault, to investigate
the case in situ. It cannot be excluded that the large number of Egyptian
bishops in Tyre motivated the accusers of Athanasius to send a commission
to Mareotis, while almost no bishop loyal to Athanasius remained in Egypt.
The accused was Macarius, a presbyter loyal to Athanasius who allegedly
broke the chalice and overturned the table in the church of Ischyras, who
claimed to be a presbyter. The defense of Macarius asserted that Ischyras was
not a presbyter, that “neither a chalice was broken nor a table overturned, but
it is all a lie, as Ischyras himself testifies with his own hand.”258 The last sen-
tence alludes to Ischyras’ letter to Athanasius (FNS 56). The commission was
composed of Theognis, Maris, Macedonius, Theodore, Ursacius, and Valens.259
The formation and composition of it was contested by those of Athanasius.

––––––––––––––––––––

254 See Dion., ep. Mareot. 1 (FNS 76.1).

255 Aeg. episc. in Tyr., ep. Tyr. 2 (FNS 72.2). See Aeg. episc. in Tyr., 1 ep. Dion. 2 (FNS 73.2); Aeg.
episc. in Tyr., 2 ep. Dion. 1 (FNS 74.1).
256 See Soz., h.e. 2.25,3.
257 See Soz., h.e. 2.25,3–6.
258 Cler. Mareot., ep. Tyr. 6 (FNS 70.6). See Cler. Mareot., ep. Tyr. 3–5 (FNS 70.3–5); Cler.
Mareot., ep. Philar. 3 (FNS 71.3).
259 See Cler. Alex., ep. leg. Mareot. 1 (FNS 69.1); Cler. Mareot., ep. Tyr. 8 (FNS 70.8); Cler.
Mareot., ep. Philar. 2 (FNS 71.2).
278 CHAPTER 5

They say that they “send to Mareotis those who were suspected by us.”260 Is-
chyras, the accuser, was sent to Mareotis, while Macarius, the accused, was
kept in Tyre and Egyptian clerics were not allowed to participate in the inves-
tigation.261 Moreover, contemporary letters assert that the Eusebians manipu-
lated the trial and used the fear of Philagrius’ sword, a prefect who Athana-
sius considered hostile to himself.262 The Egyptian bishops declare:

For they know that the Ariomaniacs, the Colluthians, and the Melitians (οἱ
Ἀρειομανῖται καὶ Κολλουθιανοὶ καὶ Μελιτιανοὶ) are enemies of the catholic
Church; therefore, they hurried to send them [to Mareotis], so that they may
plot against us with the enemies present, as they will.263

The narrative states that Ariomaniacs, Colluthians, and Melitians persecute

Athanasius because they are heretics who hate orthodoxy.264 Of course, be-
hind these ideas is the voice of Athanasius himself. Contemporary letters do
not question the synod as such. Even those who were faithful to Athanasius
talk about “the holy synod of blessed bishops of the catholic Church.” 265 They
tend to excuse the bishops of the assembly, “probably your divine Foresight,
most honored lords, was not aware of the conspiracy they had organized.”266
Thus, the Egyptian clerics begged the bishops not to sign anything.267
In September 335, a large number of bishops went to Jerusalem for the
dedication of the church of the Holy Sepulcher and the tricennalia of Con-
stantine. This synod readmitted Arius and the “Arians” into communion (ch.
5.4.3). In the meantime, at some point, in September, the Egyptian bishops in
Tyre wrote to Dionysius:

For this reason, we beseech you again, by the Almighty God and the most reli-
gious emperor, who has been victorious for many years and of righteous

––––––––––––––––––––

260 Aeg. episc. in Tyr., ep. Tyr. 4 (FNS 72.4). See Cler. Mareot., ep. Philar. 2 (FNS 71.2); Aeg.
episc. in Tyr., ep. Tyr. 6 (FNS 72.6); Ath., apol. sec. 72.4.
261 See Cler. Alex., ep. leg. Mareot. 2 (FNS 69.2); Aeg. episc. in Tyr., ep. Tyr. 8 (FNS 72.8); Aeg.
episc. in Tyr., 1 ep. Dion. 4 (FNS 73.4); Aeg. episc. in Tyr., 2 ep. Dion. 1 (FNS 74.1).
262 See Aeg. episc. in Tyr., ep. Tyr. 5 (FNS 72.5); Cler. Alex., ep. leg. Mareot. 3 (FNS 69.3); Cler.
Mareot., ep. Tyr. 9–11 (FNS 70.9–11); Ath., apol. sec. 72.6; 83.2; Arnold, 1991, 158: “Philagrius
was not friend to the church in Alexandria.”
263 Aeg. episc. in Tyr., ep. Tyr. 5 (FNS 72.5). See Aeg. episc. in Tyr., 1 ep. Dion. 3–5 (FNS 73.3–5);
Alex. Thes., ep. Dion. 2 (FNS 75.2).
264 See Aeg. episc. in Tyr., ep. Tyr. 3 (FNS 72.3).
265 Cler. Mareot., ep. Tyr. 1 (FNS 70.1).
266 Aeg. episc. in Tyr., ep. Tyr. 4 (FNS 72.4). In the same vein, they excuse Dionysius, see Aeg.
episc. in Tyr., 1 ep. Dion. 4 (FNS 73.4).
267 See Aeg. episc. in Tyr., ep. Tyr. 6 (FNS 72.6); Aeg. episc. in Tyr., 1 ep. Dion. 6 (FNS 73.6).
A CHANGING MAP 279

judgment together with the children of his Piety, not to go any further and not
to allow anything to be set in motion at the synodos concerning our affairs.268

This seems to be the last resort to stop he trial against the bishop of Alexan-
dria. The Festal Index notes:

When the plot against him became apparent, he left there [Tyre] and fled to
Constantinople by making use of a raft. For when he arrived there on the sec-
ond of Hathyr [30 October], after eight days he appeared before the emperor
Constantine. After he had received freedom to speak, those enemies inflamed
the emperor through various slanders, and all of a sudden he condemned to
exile. He set out on the tenth Hathyr [7 November] to Gaul. 269

The text summarizes the last steps of Athanasius before his first exile. At the
end of September, when Athanasius saw that his claims were ineffective, he
escaped from Tyre to appeal to Constantine directly. When the bishops went
back to Tyre from Jerusalem, in October, 335, they heard the commission of
Mareotis and pronounced the sentence. There are no contemporary records
of the sentence. However, Sozomen summarizes it:

The synod condemned him in absence, deposed him from the episcopate, and
they prohibited his residing at Alexandria, in order that – they said – his pres-
ence might not cause disorder and seditions.270

The bishop of Alexandria, however, was no longer in Tyre. He fled and ap-
pealed to Constantine. This kind of direct appeal was forbidden by ecclesias-
tical legislation.271 The emperor describes his encounter with the bishop:

Well then, when I was arriving in Constantinople, our eponymous and blessed
home – I happened to be riding on horseback at that time – suddenly the
bishop Athanasius appeared in the middle of the highway, together with oth-
ers in his entourage, so unexpectedly that it startled us. As God, who sees eve-
rything, is my witness, I could have not recognized who he was at first sight, if
some of our people, to whom, as usual, I asked to investigate, did not report to
us who he was and the injustice he suffered. In that moment I did not have a
conversation with him, nor did I spend time with him. But since he kept ask-
ing to be heard, while I refused and was close to ordering him driven away,
with more outspokenness he asked for himself nothing else from us than your
arrival, so that he could complain in your presence about what he was forced
––––––––––––––––––––

268 Aeg. episc. in Tyr., 2 ep. Dion. 4 (FNS 74.4).

269 Ath., ep. fest. index 8 (trans. TTH 81, 258–259).
270 Soz., h.e. 2.25,15 (GCS.NF 4, 86).
271 See C.Ant. (329), can. 11–12 (FNS 51.11–12).
280 CHAPTER 5

to endure. This seemed to me reasonable and appropriate for the circum-

stances. Therefore, I gladly ordered this letter written to you, so that you all, as
many as have convened at the synodos held in Tyre, may immediately hasten
to my Clemency’s court. In this way, you can prove by the facts themselves the
soundness and integrity of your judgment openly before me. 272

This vivid, first-hand description assumes that Athanasius appealed to the

emperor, who agreed to reexamine the case in the presence of the accusers
and therefore summoned all the bishops to Constantinople. Only a selected
group of bishops appeared in court. According to Athanasius, they brought
other charges against him, and the emperor, instead of hearing him, sent him
into exile in Gaul (7 November, 335).273
Regarding the accusations against Athanasius, it is surprising that con-
temporary sources mention the issue of the chalice of Ischyras as the main
charge of the synod of Tyre, especially since it is an accusation that only indi-
rectly implicates him. According to Bell, “It was always suspicious that Atha-
nasius, while dwelling on the charges concerning the chalice and Arsenius,
which he could refute, says nothing of those which accused him of violence
and oppression towards the Meletians.”274 In fact, Athanasius records another
charge, namely that his enemies “have again written everywhere that those
who were able to testify were eliminated by us (ἠφανίσθαι παρ’ ἡμῶν).”275 This
charge echoes London Papyrus 1914, which affirms that one of the victims of
those of Athanasius was Isaac of Letopolis, a Melitian who was behind the
affair of Ischyras.276 This situation is consistent with the accusation that the
bishop eliminated those who were able to testify against him, and also with
the testimony of the Eastern bishops at Sardica.277 Of course, it cannot be said
that he ordered these acts of violence. However, according to Hauben, Atha-
nasius “was at least partly responsible for the climate of intolerance that
reigned in the capital. But he was certainly not alone: there were zealots
among both his supporters and his opponents.”278 This direct or indirect re-
sponsibility gave grounds for the accusations against the bishop.
––––––––––––––––––––

272 Const., ep. episc. Tyr. 5–8 (FNS 79.5–8).

273 See Ath., apol. sec. 87.1–2.
274 Bell, 1924, 57.
275 Ath., apol. sec. 83.3 (AW 2, 162).
276 See Ischy., ep. Ath. 1 (FNS 56.1). See Cler. Mareot., ep. Tyr. 6.11 (FNS 70.6; 70.11).
277 C.Sard. (343), ep. orient. 6 (Hil., coll. antiar. A 4.1,6 [CSEL 65, 53]; trans. TTH 25, 24): “In
addition to this, Athanasius was charged with unlawful acts, with the use of force, with
murder and the killing of bishops.”
278 H. Hauben, Le Papyrus London IV (P. Jews) 1914 dans son contexte historique (mai 335), in: I.
Andorlini (ed.), Atti del XXII Congresso Internazionale di Papirologia 1, Florence 2001, 605–
618 (616).
A CHANGING MAP 281

5.4.3 The Readmission of Arius and the Synod of Jerusalem (335)

The readmission of Arius is a debated topic. It depends on the existence of
the alleged second session of Nicaea, which, according to this reconstruction,
never took place (ch. 5.2.1), and on the date of Constentine’s letter to Arius
and his Companions (FNS 63).279 In 1989, Martin challenges the traditional
reconstruction of the events. She convincingly proves that the Libellus poeni-
tentiae – one of the key documents – must not be credited to Eusebius of
Nicomedia and Theognis of Nicaea as Socrates claims, but to Secundus of
Ptolemais and Theonas of Marmarica.280 Her reconstruction assumes that
Arius was readmitted once, on the eve of the synod of Jerusalem (335).
Barnes, in 2009, proposed a different reconstruction, which asserts that Arius
was exiled after Nicaea and was called by the emperor in the winter of 327–
328, but could not return to Alexandria. However, he was called for a second
time in 335.281 The present reconstruction is close to that of Martin.
To study the readmission of Arius, it is necessary to take up his previous
trajectory. Alexander expelled Arius from Alexandria a couple of years before
Nicaea (ch. 2.3.2). Contemporary sources do not support Arius’ presence at
the Nicene assembly (ch. 4.1.3). However, given his prominence, the synod
declared his exile (ch. 4.5.2). In the immediate aftermath of Nicaea, Eusebius
of Nicomedia and others welcomed some of Arius’ supporters into commun-
ion. This effort angered Constantine who exiled the bishop of Nicomedia and
Theognis of Nicaea (ch. 5.1.3). In the years following Nicaea, a harsh theologi-
cal quarrel between Eusebius of Caesarea and Eustathius of Antioch divided
Syria (ch. 5.1.2). Meanwhile, the main concern of Alexander was not Arius,
but the Melitian clergy (ch. 5.2.1). The death of the Alexandrian bishop and
the intransigency of Eustathius changed the balance of the power in the em-
peror’s view, and Constantine, who always looked for the unity of the Church,
recalled the exiled bishops and approved the deposition of Eustathius (ch.
5.2.2). In this new phase, Constantine supported Athanasius on several occa-
sions when the Melitians accused him of disciplinary misconduct. The con-
stant charges against Athanasius and the testimony of John Archaph could
have encouraged the emperor to convene the synod of Tyre to judge Athana-
sius and to call Arius back into communion.
The key documents of this episode are Constantine’s letter to Arius and
the Arians who are with him (FNS 63), a second short letter from the emperor
––––––––––––––––––––

279 On the date of Const., ep. Ar. soc. (FNS 63), see Date: 333, Opitz, 1934, 69; 333, Martin,
1989a, 319; 333, Arnold, 1991, 122; shortly before Nicaea, Brennecke, 2007a, xxxviii; 333,
Barnes, 2009, 128; 333, Maraval, 2010, 65.
280 See Martin, 1989a, 297–333; Socr., h.e. 1.14,1; Sec. Theo. (?), lib. poenit. (FNS 66).
281 Barnes, 2009, 109–129.
282 CHAPTER 5

to Arius (FNS 64), and its reply (FNS 65). The relative chronology is clear. Yet,
no internal or external evidence indicates their precise date. The second one
was signed on November 27, but without indicating the year. The third letter
was written shortly before the previous one. Scholars propose different dates
for these documents.282 My reconstruction is as follows. At some point, after
and because of the restoration of Eusebius of Nicomedia (328), Arius wrote a
letter to the emperor, asking for his readmission into communion. This lost
letter must date between 329 and 333. Constantine sent Arius a violent letter
summoning him to court. In Christian settings, epistolary correspondence
implied communion (ch. 3.1.1). For that reason, the emperor wrote a letter
that unambiguously expressed that he was not in communion with him.
Then, Arius did not dare to answer him and abandoned his aspiration.
Arius’ lost letter can be partially reconstructed because the emperor re-
produces some sentences of it.283 In this letter, Arius says that many people in
Libya assisted and applauded him, so that he could say, “we are numerous.”284
Hence, he was leading a Christian group, although he was neither allowed to
celebrate the worship, nor to be readmitted in Alexandria.285 Nevertheless,
Arius declares that he “jumps for joy” and is ready to die.286 In addition, he
states some theological elements, which are consistent with his teaching. Two
of them are noteworthy. First, Constantine complains that Arius has given too
extensive a statement of faith – he criticizes his talkative tongue – and en-
courages him to express his teaching in a compact way: “not a wide-spreading
equestrian plain, but a well-defined ring.”287 Second, Arius’ lost letter ad-
dressed the problem of the sufferings of the divine Son.288 The exact occasion
of Arius’ lost letter is not clear. In any case, it was written after the restoration
of Eusebius of Nicomedia (late 328).
Constantine’s reply, then, must be placed between 329 and 333. The letter
presents the monarch as a peacemaker, whereas it associates Arius with Ares,
the god of war.289 The letter indicates that Arius was in Libya, and it transmits
––––––––––––––––––––

282 See Opitz, 1934, 63–64.69; Martin, 1989a, 318–319; Arnold, 1991, 122; Brennecke, 2007a,
xxxviii; Barnes, 2009, 128; Maraval, 2010, 65.75.
283 Const., ep. Ar. soc. 20 (FNS 63.20).
284 Const., ep. Ar. soc. 5 (FNS 63.5). See Const., ep. Ar. soc. 17; 20; 39 (FNS 63.17; 63.20; 63.39).
285 See Const., ep. Ar. soc. 8 (FNS 63.8): ἀπελαυνόμεθα, φησί, καὶ τὴν τοῦ εἰσδεχθῆναι ἡμᾶς ἄδειαν
ἀφαιροῦνται. See Const., ep. Ar. soc. 9; 11; 17 (FNS 63.9; 63.11; 63.17).
286 See Const., ep. Ar. soc. 36 (FNS 63.36).
287 Const., ep. Ar. soc. 24 (FNS 63.24). See Const., ep. Ar. soc. 8; 11; 13–14 (FNS 63.8; 63.11; 63.13–
14). For example, Constantine thinks that Arius goes too far into detail when he
distinguishes between the co-eternal logos of God, as a divine faculty, and the begotten
Logos, as a distinct hypostasis, see Const., ep. Ar. soc. 13–14 (FNS 63.13–14).
288 See Const., ep. Ar. soc. 14; 29; 32 (FNS 63.14; 63.29; 63.32).
289 Const., ep. Ar. soc. 6; 38 (FNS 56.6; 63.38).
A CHANGING MAP 283

some elements of the emperor’s theology.290 It is significant that nothing in

Constantine’s letter suggests that the Eusebians were pushing to have Arius
readmitted to Alexandria. It was Arius himself who asked the emperor for his
own restoration. The letter is paradoxical. On the one hand, it consists of a
long, tenacious, and violent chain of insults against Arius, to the point of
comparing him to the devil.291 On the other hand, after the insults, Constan-
tine declares himself to be open to reconsidering Arius’ situation. Therefore,
he summoned him to court: “Come to me, come, I say,” and “if it appears evi-
dent that you are sound in the things of the soul, I will recognize the light of
truth in you.”292 Constantine’s letter remained unanswered for a long time.
The violence of the letter did not encourage Arius to appear in court. Howev-
er, after a long time, the emperor sent a short, less severe letter to Arius:

Long ago it was made clear to your Obstinacy that you might wish to come to
our court, so that you could benefit from being in our presence. We are very
surprised that you did not immediately come to us. Therefore, now, using the
cursus publicus, hasten to come to our court, so that, once you have been in
our company and found favor with us, you might return to your home. 293

The letter is signed on November 27. The synod of Jerusalem, which readmit-
ted the Arians, was held in September 335, so the date of the document must
be 334. Why did the monarch get a more positive attitude towards Arius?
Only a speculative answer can be given. It is likely that the successive accusa-
tions against Athanasius and the testimony of John Archaph finally con-
vinced the emperor that the real obstacle to church unity in Egypt was Atha-
nasius. This U-turn regarding the bishop opened the way for the recall of
Arius. In addition, the approaching feast of the tricennalia could have been a
factor that fostered the readmission of the Alexandrian presbyter. This time,
Arius answered the emperor’s request with Euzoios.294 They wrote a state-
ment of faith and appeared in court. The formula of faith is essential:

We believe in one God, the Father, the ruler of all (πιστεύομεν εἰς ἕνα θεὸν
πατέρα, παντοκράτορα); and in the Lord Jesus Christ his Son, the God Logos
begotten from Him before all ages (τὸν ἐξ αὐτοῦ πρὸ πάντων τῶν αἰώνων
γεγεννημένον θεὸν λόγον), through whom all things are made, those in heaven
as well as those on earth. He, who came down, assumed flesh, suffered, rose
again, ascended into heaven, and will come again to judge the living and the
––––––––––––––––––––

290 Const., ep. Ar. soc. 4.14. 19–20.27 (FNS 63.4; 63.14; 63.14–19; 63.27); Morales, 2023, 159–188.
291 See Const., ep. Ar. soc. 1; 17; 35 (FNS 63.1; 63.17; 63.35).
292 Const., ep. Ar. soc. 42 (FNS 63.42).
293 Const., ep. Ar. (FNS 64).
294 In 361, Euzoios was appointed bishop of Antioch, see Martin, 1989a, 308–309.
284 CHAPTER 5

dead. And [we believe] in the Holy Spirit, in the resurrection of the flesh, in
the life of the age to come, in the kingdom of heaven, and in one catholic
Church of God from one end of the earth to the other. 295

The profession of faith is fully consistent with Arius’ writings. It does not deal
with the strict co-eternity of the Son and the Father; it only says that “the God
Logos begotten from Him before all ages,” a statement that he held in his pre-
Nicene letters. Of course, the creed is far from explicit about the disputed
issues at Nicaea. Was it a strategy to deceive his opponents? It could be, but
not necessarily. On the one hand, the emperor himself had demanded a
compact creed.296 On the other hand, the Origenian distinction between the
apostolic kerygma and its theological explanation encouraged one to state
only essential points in the creed, leaving their explanation to scholastic the-
ology.297 The creed has some similarities with that of Eusebius.298 Its authors
beg the emperor: “We ask you to unite us to our mother – the Church, of
course.”299 The synodal letter of Jerusalem (335) echoes a lost letter of Con-
stantine, which urges the bishops “to receive with an open and peaceful soul
those around Arius.”300 The synodal letter continues:

By means of the letter, the most pious emperor bore witness in favor of these
men, to the rectitude of their faith. He has been informed of it by themselves.
After hearing them personally and viva voce, he approved it and made it
known to us, adding to his writing the orthodox formula of those men, which
we all acknowledge to be sound and ecclesiastical. 301

Constantine personally heard Arius and Euzoios and approved their creed.302
The synodal letter of Jerusalem (335) affirms that “those men entered into
communion and were received by this holy synod.”303 In this positive context,
Secundus of Ptolemais and Theonas of Marmarica could have produced their
Libellus poenitentiae (FNS 66). These two bishops were condemned at the
synod of Alexandria (324) and then at that of Nicaea (325). After the restora-
tion of Arius, they claim:

––––––––––––––––––––

295 Ar. Euz., ep. Const. 2–3 (FNS 65.2–3).

296 See Const., ep. Ar. soc. 24 (FNS 63.24).
297 See Or., princ. 1 pr. 3.
298 Compare Ar. Euz., ep. Const. 4 (FNS 65.4) and Eus., ep. Caes. 5 (FNS 37.5).
299 Ar. Euz., ep. Const. 5 (FNS 65.5).
300 C.Jerus. (335), ep. syn. 2 (FNS 77.2).
301 C.Jerus. (335), ep. syn. 3 (FNS 77.3).
302 See Const., ep. Alex. Con. 2–3 (FNS 80.2–3); Ath., ep. mort. Ar. 2.1.
303 C.Jerus. (335), ep. syn. 6 (FNS 77.6).
A CHANGING MAP 285

After even the man who was judged responsible has been recalled and has de-
fended himself from the accusations, it would be absurd that by keeping si-
lent we lend credence to the accusations against ourselves. 304

These words perfectly match the recall of Arius. Besides, the synodal docu-
ment was addressed to the Alexandrian church and recalled that, together
with those of Aruis, a great number of people will be recovered.305 Further-
more, the emperor says that Arius “has come to me, Augustus, at the encour-
agement of very many people,”306 but the document says nothing about the
identity of these people.
The synodal letter encourages the Egyptian church: “It is fitting for you to
give a warm welcome to harmony and peace with your own members.” This
exhortation reveals a juridical ambiguity. Did the emperor have the authority
to restore ecclesiastical communion? Canon law states that a cleric con-
demned by his bishop can only be readmitted by the same bishop (ch. 4.1.1).
Constantine can release Arius from civil charges, not from ecclesiastical ex-
clusion. Yet, this period is full of legal irregularities!
Arius met the emperor in Constantinople, when he was celebrating his
tricennalia.307 The hearing could have taken place around July or August 335,
just before the synod of Jerusalem. After the hearing, according to Athana-
sius, Arius stayed in Constantinople and died unexpectedly. The earlier ac-
count of his death is found in Epistula ad Serapionem de morte Arii, written by
Athanasius, during his second exile (339–346):308

While those of Eusebius were threatening, the bishop [of Constantinople]

was praying. Arius, on the other hand, had great confidence in those of Euse-
bius, and talking nonsense, went into a latrine because of a stomach need,
and suddenly, according to the Scriptures, “fell headlong, and burst in the
middle” (Acts 1:18), and immediately expired as he lay, and was deprived both
of communion and of his life.309

Arius did not return to Alexandria. Along with the facts, Athanasius proposes
his interpretation of them. The very quotation from Acts 1:18 associates Arius
with Judas. This narrative was further developed by later tradition to the
point that it became a legend. However, the facts must not be labeled as a
legend. Athanasius wanted to establish that, although the emperor and the
––––––––––––––––––––

304 Sec. Theo. (?), lib. poenit. 5 (FNS 66.5).

305 C.Jerus. (335), ep. syn. 5 (FNS 77.5).
306 Const., ep. Alex. Con. 2 (FNS 80.2).
307 See Eus., v.C. 4.46.
308 See Martin, 1989a, 320–333.
309 Ath., ep. mort. Ar. 3.3 (AW 2, 179).
286 CHAPTER 5

bishops in Jerusalem readmitted Arius, God himself proved that he was

guilty: Arius’ death witnesses God’s judgement.310
In addition, the bishop claims that those of Eusebius played a crucial role
in Arius’ restoration. He states, “Arius was summoned by Constantine, the
emperor, thanks to the efforts of those of Eusebius (ἐκ σπουδῆς τῶν περὶ
Εὐσέβιον).”311 This idea is one of the keys to the interpretation of the whole
controversy according to Athanasius. In his narrative, all the attacks against
him, whether by the Melitians or the Eusebians, have the ultimate purpose of
restoring Arius so that heresy can be introduced into the Church. The Apolo-
gia secunda is an example of this. This interpretation was assumed by Chris-
tian historians and most modern scholars.
This is a critical issue, because, as mentioned above, contemporary
sources do not credit any role to those of Eusebius in Arius’ readmission into
the Church after Nicaea. Two texts could be an exception. First, Constantine’s
letter to the Nicomedians that says:

He [Eusebius of Nicomedia] sent different people to petition me on behalf of

him (ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ), asking me for an alliance so that the one convicted of such a
crime would not be expelled from his present rank. 312

Since the letter mentions Arius, it is possible to think that the αὐτός refers to
Arius. But the passage fits Eusebius’ situation. When he was about to be ex-
iled, he sent people to beg Constantine on his own behalf. The letter focused
on Eusebius, not Arius. Second, in one letter to a bishop, the emperor says
that Arius was received by him at the encouragement of “very many peo-
ple.”313 There is no indication of the identity of these people. However, the
generic expression does not seem to refer to prestigious bishops; instead, it
seems to refer to the crowd that supported Arius.
Consequently, no contemporary source explicitly supports the idea that
those of Eusebius fought for Arius’ restoration. This silence is significant.
Roughly speaking, it can be explained as a strategy on the part of the Eusebi-
ans, or because they did not play a significant role in this issue. Of course,
chance cannot be excluded. However, on the one hand, it is not easy to ex-
plain why the Eusebians would have hidden their endorsement of Arius while
at the same time supporting him openly before the emperor. On the other
hand, if a group of bishops had requested the readmission of Arius, the em-

––––––––––––––––––––

310 See Ath., ep. mort. Ar. 4.1–3; Ath., ep. mon. 3.2; Martin, 1989a, 320–333.
311 Ath., ep. mort. Ar. 2.1 (AW 2, 179).
312 Const., ep. Nicomed. 14 (FNS 42.14).
313 See Const., ep. Alex. Con. 2 (FNS 80.2).
A CHANGING MAP 287

peror would have used this request to support the restoration of the presbyter
in his letters to the bishops. Thus, only Athanasius claimed that the Eusebians
were protagonists in the restoration of Arius. In fact, regarding the synod of
Jerusalem (335), Athanasius explicitly states his interpretation:

This was the beginning of the synods of those [of Eusebius]. Here they hastily
declared their own intention and were unable to conceal it. For after they said
that all envy was expelled and after exiling Athanasius, the bishop of Alexan-
dria, they wrote that it is necessary to receive Arius and those with him. They
thereby showed that they were plotting against Athanasius himself, as they
had also plotted against all the other bishops who opposed these men, with
the goal of admitting the Arians and introducing the heresy into the
Church.314

According to him, the ultimate aim of the Eusebians was to introduce heresy
into the Church; for that reason, they supported Arius and fought against
Athanasius. How to explain the mismatch between contemporary sources
and Athanasius? It is unlikely that Athanasius invented his narrative ex nihilo.
Both Eusebii did support Arius before Nicaea; he belonged to their theologi-
cal tradition and, thus, his exclusion implied the rejection of their teaching.
The Eusebians, then, had motives to want Arius readmitted in the Church.
However, the lack of any record of their efforts to bring about his restoration,
apart from Athanasius, indicates that the Eusebians did not play a substantial
role in Arius’ readmission, as almost all ancient historians and most modern
scholars do. If this conclusion is correct, it confirms that Arius played a role in
the controversy, but he was not the main character in the drama, nor did the
controversy revolve around him.

5.4.4 Eusebius and Marcellus

Once again, Eusebius of Caesarea is one of the key figures in the last step of
this journey. He oversaw the condemnation of Marcellus of Ancyra. Since
Eusebius’ theology and the historical setting of Marcellus’ work have been
described above (ch. 2.2; 5.1.2), this section will first outline Marcellus’ teach-
ing, then it will address the disagreements between the two bishops and the
synod of Constantinople (336).
Eusebius called Marcellus the new Sabellius.315 However, his teaching is re-
lated to the anti-Sabellian authors of the beginning of the third century. Most
likely, the bishop of Ancyra considered himself an heir of the Asian anti-
––––––––––––––––––––

314 Ath., syn. 22.1 (AW 2, 248; trans. CEECW 1, 174). See also Ath., apol. sec. 85.1; C.Alex. (338),
ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 8.3); Gwynn, 2007.
315 See Eus., e.th. 1.1,1; Epiph., haer. 72.1,2.
288 CHAPTER 5

Sabellian tradition.316 In addition, Marcellus opposed Alexandrian tradition

because he considered philosophy to be the source of heresy,317 he rejected
allegorical interpretation of the Scripture, and he denied the existence of
three hypostases, which he associated with Gnosticism.318 These are signifi-
cant points of disagreement with Eusebius. The extant fragments of his work
are selected by Eusebius, his staunch adversary; therefore, they do not reflect
Marcellus’ theology in a balanced way.
According to the bishop of Ancyra, in the very beginning, the logos was
nothing but logos and properly logos;319 it was a divine faculty, not a subsist-
ent being or a son (for this reason logos is not capitalized). Stressing the unity
of God and the eternity of the logos, he affirmed: “before the fashioning of all,
there was a certain silence, as one might expect, since the logos was in God
(ἐν τῷ θεῷ).”320 Since it was always in God, the logos was not begotten.321 Thus,
from all eternity there was no “other” before God. A fragment, which com-
ments on John 1:1, describes the first, so to say, externalization of the logos:

So that by saying, “In the beginning was the logos,” (1:1a) [John] might show
that the logos was in the Father as a faculty (δυνάμει) – for God, “from whom
are all things,” is the source of all things that have come to be. And by saying,
“And the logos was with God,” (1:1b) [John might show] that the logos was
with God as an activity (ἐνεργείᾳ) – “for all things were made through him,
and without him not one thing was made.” And by having said that “the logos
was God,” (1:1c) [he might show us] not to divide the divinity.322

In fact, “before (πρὸ) the world existed the logos was in God. But when (ὅτε)
Almighty God decided to make everything in heaven and on earth, the gener-
ation of the world required active energy, [...] then (τότε) the logos, having
come forth (προελθὼν), became the maker of the cosmos.”323 This process
corresponds to the shift from the internal logos to the uttered logos, that is, the
––––––––––––––––––––

316 See Eus., e.th. 1.1,1. For instance, there are some similarities between his theology and that
of the author of Contra Noëtum. Marcellus affirmed that there is an eternal unity and an
economical plurality between God and the Logos, that the Logos became Son when he
was born from Mary, and that the Logos was called Son by the prophets and the Psalms
only in view of the future incarnation; all these assertions were, in some way, present in
Contra Noëtum and had an anti-Sabellian character. See Fernández, 2019, 161–175.
317 Marcell., fr. 22; 115; 118; Marcell., s.e. 7.
318 Marcell., s.e. 8–9 (FuP 36, 278): “The [Arians] then teach three hypostases, just as
Valentinus the heresiarch first invented in the book entitled by him On the Three Natures.”
319 Marcell., fr. 3; 5; 7; 65; 94; ep. 2.4; S. Fernández, Marcellus of Ancyra, in: BEEC 4, 378–386.
320 Marcell., fr. 76 (FuP 36, 206; trans. FC 135, 128).
321 Marcell., fr. 71; 76; 96; 109; 110.
322 Marcell., fr. 70 (FuP 36, 194; trans. FC 135, 241, mod.).
323 Marcell., fr. 110 (FuP 36, 250; trans. FC 135, 298, mod.).
A CHANGING MAP 289

two-stage Christology. The internal logos, which was a faculty (δύναμις) in

God, was uttered as an activity (ἐνέργεια) to be the mediator of all creation.
Christian authors highlighted the personal distinction between the Father
and the Son, already in the Old Testament. Marcellus instead denied this
distinction to stress the unity of God. According to him, God created all
things through his logos, and He spoke to Moses through his logos.324
A new stage began with the incarnation. The logos, sent by God, assumed
the man Jesus, and Jesus became truly Son of God because of his communion
with the logos.325 The only begetting of the Son of God was that from Mary.
According to him, the Son of God – not the logos – took his beginning from
the Virgin Mary.326 Therefore, he referred Prov 8:22–25 to the economy of the
flesh, against the traditional view.327 The bishop interpreted Col 1:15 accord-
ingly: “It is absolutely clear that before the assumption of our body the logos
in and of himself was not image of the invisible God.”328 Because of the incar-
nation, a sort of alterity between the Father and the logos united with Jesus
came into existence.329 Hence, during the economy, the divinity seemed “to
broaden itself only by virtue of its activity,” and the divine Monad broadened
into Trinity, keeping God’s unity.330
As for his Trinitarian language, to describe the distinction between God
and his logos, he rejected the terms nature (φύσις), essence (οὐσία), subsist-
ence (ὑπόστασις), thing (πρᾶγμα) and power (δύναμις).331 Besides, he rejected
the term harmony (συμφωνία) to express the unity of God and his logos.332
This terminology belonged to the Origenian tradition.333 To express diversity
in God, he used Trinity (τριάς). Instead, he used monad (μονάς) and power
(δύναμις) to express divine unity.334 Possibly, Marcellus did not make use of
the Nicene homoousios, because it is absent from his letter to Julius, a text in
which he must demonstrate his own orthodoxy. Regarding Christology, it
seems that the Galatian bishop did not have a technical language:
––––––––––––––––––––

324 Marcell., fr. 87; 89.

325 See Marcell., fr. 38–39; 106; 111.
326 See Marcell., fr. 11; 28–29; 59; 80.
327 See Marcell., fr. 26–46. See A. Sáez Gutierrez (ed.), Proverbs 8:22–31: Text, Context,
Reception, Madrid 2024.
328 Marcell., fr. 53 (FuP 36, 175; trans. FC 135, 141, mod.). See Marcell., fr. 55.
329 See Marcell., fr. 104.
330 See Marcell., fr. 48; 73.
331 See Marcell., fr. 9; 47; 50; 117; 120; Marcell., ep. 2.4.
332 See Marcell., fr. 74–75; 125.
333 See Or., Cels. 8.12 (Marcovich, 529): Θρησκεύομεν οὖν τὸν πατέρα τῆς ἀληθείας καὶ τὸν υἱὸν
τὴν ἀλήθειαν, ὄντα δύο τῇ ὑποστάσει πράγματα, ἓν δὲ τῇ ὁμονοίᾳ καὶ τῇ συμφωνίᾳ καὶ τῇ
ταυτότητι τοῦ βουλήματος.
334 See Marcell., fr. 47–48; Marcell., ep. 2.7.
290 CHAPTER 5

[…] the logos, having deemed it right to assume (ἀναλαμβάνω) this flesh (σάρξ)
through a pure virgin, and having united (ἑνόω) what belonged to himself to
this [flesh], not only made the man (ἄνθρωπος) who was created in himself
firstborn of all creation, but also wants him to be a beginning of all things. 335

This passage shows the fluidity of Marcellus’ Christological language. It uses

two different verbs, “assume” and “unite,” and it employs “flesh” and “man” as
synonyms. Other fragments use “join together” (συνάπτω), “became man”
(ἐνανθρωπέω), different forms of “take” (λαμβάνω), and communion (κοινωνία)
between the flesh and the logos to speak about the incarnation.336
The union between the logos and the man Jesus has salvific consequences.
The logos assumed human flesh not for his benefit, but so that human flesh
reaches immortality.337 The whole of humankind benefited when that human
being, who had fallen because of disobedience, was joined to his own logos
through the Virgin.338 The communion between Jesus and the logos enabled
every human being to become a son of God by adoption.339 In addition, the
bishop states that “the logos of God enabled the human flesh to become im-
mortal through the resurrection.”340
The last stage is the eschatological one. According to the bishop of Ancy-
ra, the kingdom of Christ started no more than four hundred years ago. There-
fore, as the kingdom has a beginning, it should have an end.341 Marcellus rec-
ognized this doctrine in the words of Paul: “‘He must reign until (ἕως) he has
made his enemies his footstool’. Thus, the human economy and kingdom
seem to have a certain limit (ὅρον τινὰ).”342 In this context, Marcellus was pro-
posing his own hypothesis.343 Accordingly, he asked himself:

What do we learn about the human flesh, which the logos assumed for us, not
four hundred whole years ago? Will the logos have this even then in the ages
to come or only until the time of judgment?” 344

––––––––––––––––––––

335 Marcell., fr. 11 (FuP 36, 130; trans. FC 135, 135, mod.).
336 See Marcell., fr. 4; 15; 38; 56; 61; 80; 99; Marcell., ep. 2.9.
337 See Marcell., fr. 105–106.
338 See Marcell., fr. 80 (FuP 36, 210; trans. FC 135, 144, mod.): “And he [God] deemed the man
who fell through disobedience worthy to be united through the Virgin to his own Logos.”
See also Marcell., fr. 81.
339 See Marcell., fr. 37; 111.
340 Marcell., fr. 84 (FuP 36, 214; trans. FC 135, 318).
341 See Marcell., fr. 103; 106.
342 Marcell., fr. 106 (FuP 36, 242; trans. FC 135, 149). See 1 Cor 15:25; Ps 109:1.
343 See Marcell., fr. 104; 106; 109.
344 Marcell., fr. 104 (FuP 36, 238; trans. FC 135, 148).
A CHANGING MAP 291

Marcellus answered that “we think it is dangerous for us to expound dogma

about things of which we have no exact knowledge from the divine Scrip-
tures.”345 The following fragment summarizes the whole journey of the logos:

God is one and the logos of God went forth from the Father, so that all things
might come to be through him, but after the time of judgment, the restoration
of all things, and the destruction of all opposing activity, “Then he will be sub-
jected to him who put all things under him” to [his] God and Father, so that in
this way the logos might be in God (ἐν τῷ θεῷ), just as he also was previously
before the cosmos existed.346

According to Marcellus’ hypothesis, the logos at the end, like at the begin-
ning, will be “in God.” The logos will always reign together with God and this
kingdom will have no end, but Christ’s kingdom, as it had a beginning, will
have an end, when he hands over the kingdom to God (1 Cor 15:28). As stated
above (ch. 5.1.2), Marcellus wrote his book after Nicaea, perhaps some months
after the assembly, when he still felt safe and confident enough to propose a
risky eschatological hypothesis. This hypothesis aimed to address the rela-
tionship between humanity and divinity in Christ (ch. 5.1.5).
Having considered Marcellus’ theology, it is appropriate to describe the
historical setting of his trial. According to Sozomen, the bishop of Ancyra did
not agree with the bishops in Tyre (335) and did not appear at the synod of
Jerusalem (335).347 Athanasius does not mention Marcellus’ presence in Tyre,
but this can be explained by his ambiguous attitude towards the bishop of
Ancyra.348 However, the selective character of the convocation of Tyre sug-
gests that a few bishops were called to be judged, and that this could be the
case of Marcellus. Yet, since the trial of Athanasius was so long and compli-
cated, the synod had no time to deal with the bishop of Ancyra.349 Sozomen’s
text implies that the bishop neither accepted the readmission of Arius nor
participated in the consecration of the church of the Holy Sepulcher. This last
gesture was considered a personal offence to the emperor.350 Thus, Constan-
tine regarded Marcellus as an obstacle to the desired ecclesiastical commun-
ion. After Athanasius’ exile (November 7, 335), the situation of the bishop of

––––––––––––––––––––

345 Marcell., fr. 109 (FuP 36, 246; trans. FC 135, 151).
346 Marcell., fr. 109 (FuP 36, 248; trans. FC 135, 132, mod.). See John 1:3; 1 Cor 15:28.
347 See Soz., h.e. 2.33,2.
348 See Epiph., haer. 72.4,4; J.T. Lienhard, Did Athanasius Reject Marcellus?, in: M. R. Barnes /
D. H. Williams (eds.), Arianism After Arius: Essays on the Development of the Fourth Century
Trinitarian Conflicts, Edinburgh 1993, 65–80.
349 See Parvis, 2006, 126–127.
350 See Soz., h.e. 2.33,1–3.
292 CHAPTER 5

Ancyra became even more fragile. In these circumstances, he was tried for
heresy based on the book he had written after Nicaea. In July 336, a synod
met in Constantinople.351 This is how Eusebius of Caesarea relates it:

Rightly, therefore, these claims roused the emperor, as one truly God-loving
and thrice-blessed, against the fellow [Marcellus], and yet countless flatteries
and many praises of the emperor appear in his treatise. These things forced
even the holy synod that assembled in the royal city from diverse provinces of
Pontus, Cappadocia, Asia, Phrygia, Bithynia, Thrace, and the regions beyond
to censure the man through the decree against him even though it was unwill-
ing [to do so].352

Eusebius emphasizes the active role of Constantine. The Eastern bishops, in

the synod of Sardica, recall the participation of Constantine as well. 353 The
bishop of Caesarea, then, refers to his own agency at the synod:

These matters forced even us to proceed to the investigation at hand, at one

and the same time supporting the opinions of the holy synod and trying to do
this to the best of our ability at the command.354

The books against Marcellus bear witness to the key role played by the bishop
of Caesarea in the condemnation of his colleague at Ancyra. Eusebius ac-
cused him of Sabellianism; however, the chief theological charges for which
he was condemned were that he affirmed that the Son of God had his begin-
ning in Mary and that the reign of Christ would have an end.355 There is no
information about the place of Marcellus’ exile.
Marcellus was labeled a Sabellian, but he rejected both Sabellius and his
teachings.356 The extant fragments suggest that, although the bishop of Ancy-
ra did not attribute subsistence to the pre-incarnate Logos, he never conflated
the Son with the Father, as Sabellius did. The so-called “New Sabellius” was, in
fact, not Sabellian. Thus, the accusation of Sabellianism against Marcellus –
and even more so against Eustathius – was a theological insult and a rhetori-
cal strategy. According to Eusebius, the central theological issue with Marcel-
lus was his radical version of the two-stage Logos Christology.
––––––––––––––––––––

351 See Parvis, 2006, 127–132. On the date of the synod, see Parvis, 2006, 128.
352 Eus., Marcell. 2.4,29 (GCS 14, 58; trans. FC 135, 154).
353 See C.Sard. (343), ep. orient. 3 (Hil., coll. antiar. A 4.1,3).
354 Eus., Marcell. 2.4,29 (GCS 14, 58; trans. FC 135, 154).
355 See Parvis, 2006, 130.
356 See Eus., e.th. 1.20,14; 1.20,96. On the other hand, Eus., e.th. 1.1,1 (GCS 14, 62; trans. FC 135,
162): “In the middle of [Marcellus’s] treatise –says Eusebius of Caesarea– I found that
Sabellius was being criticized by him”
A CHANGING MAP 293

As in the first stage of the so-called Arian crisis, in this last stage we find
Eusebius of Caesarea. He led the theological tradition that provoked Alexan-
der’s reaction a few years before Nicaea; he was condemned by Ossius and
Eustathius at Antioch (325); he had to defend his faith and prove his ortho-
doxy at the great synod of Nicaea (325); he confronted Eustathius in a pam-
phlet war shortly after Nicaea; he presided over the deposition of Eustathius
(328); he may have presided over the failed Synod of Caesarea to condemn
Athanasius (334); he attended the synod of Tyre (335); and he presided over
and conducted the deposition of Marcellus of Ancyra in Constantinople
(336). This brief outline shows the key role that Eusebius of Caesarea played
before, during, and immediately after the Council of Nicaea.

∵
The synod of Constantinople (336) could be regarded as the last theological
event after the death of Constantine. The Vita Constantini narrates the bap-
tism and death of the emperor:

When he became aware that his life was ending, he perceived that this was
the time to purify himself from the offences which he had at any time com-
mitted, trusting that whatever sins it had been his lot as mortal to commit, he
could wash them from his soul by the power of the secret words and the sav-
ing bath. [...]. There he called together the bishops and addressed them thus:
“This is the moment I have long hoped for, as I thirsted and yearned to win
salvation in God.” [...]. Such were his words. They, in their turn, performing the
customary rites fulfilled the divine laws and imparted the secret gifts, giving
such preliminary instruction as is required. [...]. When the due ceremonies
were complete, he put on bright imperial clothes which shone like light, and
rested on a pure white couch, being unwilling to touch a purple robe again.
[...]. Each of these events took place during the greatest festival, the utterly sa-
cred and holy Pentecost, honoured with seven weeks and sealed up with a
single day, during which divine words describe the ascension into Heaven of
the universal Saviour and the descent of the Holy Spirit upon mankind. Being
granted these things during the festival, on the last day of all, which one
might not inaccurately call the Feast of Feasts, about the time of the midday
sun the Emperor was taken up to his God; he bequeathed to mortals what was
akin to them, but he himself, with that part of him which is the soul’s intelli-
gence and love of God, was united to his God. That was the end of the life of
Constantine.357

––––––––––––––––––––

357 Eus., v.C. 4.61,2–64,2 (trans. Cameron / Hall, 1999, 177–179).

294 CHAPTER 5

After Constantine’s death, the empire was divided among his three sons, Con-
stantine II, Constantius, and Constans. The elder son, who resided in Trier,
the place of Athanasius’ exile, wrote a letter of recommendation for the bish-
op, which was signed on June 17, 337.358 At that point, Athanasius left the West
and headed for Alexandria: a new era had begun.

––––––––––––––––––––

358 See Ath., apol. sec. 87.4–7.

Narrative Conclusion

The purpose of this conclusion is to consolidate the findings discussed

throughout the chapters into a single narrative. It aims to identify the con-
nections between the various elements analyzed, seeking to find the common
thread in the development of events and ideas. Consequently, it will reiterate
some elements, with the narrative being less exegetical and more interpreta-
tive. The scarcity of sources makes it impossible to offer a comprehensive
narrative without hypothetical propositions.
The main features shaping this book are the following: the pivotal role of
Eusebius of Caesarea in the crisis, the two-stage Logos Christology as a crucial
factor in the theological controversy, the distinction between Arius’ theology
and the “Arianism” of those who supported him, and the hermeneutical prior-
ity of contemporary documents over retrospective testimonies and narratives.
This last feature implies that the initial step of the research was to attempt a
reconstruction of each historical period based solely on contemporary docu-
ments. The second step involved complementing and confronting this recon-
struction with ancient Christian historians and modern studies.
Modern scholarship has demonstrated the deep continuity between the
topics addressed by Nicaea and earlier Christian debates of the second and
third centuries. However, the necessary periodization of history, which di-
vides ancient Christianity into pre-Nicene and post-Nicene periods, along
with the idea of the fourth century as the “Golden Age” of Patrology, contin-
ues to foster studies that pay limited attention to the continuity between
these periods. The first chapter aims to present material highlighting this
continuity. Among other topics, Chapter 1 reveals the dynamic and inevitable
tension experienced by the Christian churches, which valued both doctrinal
unity in essentials and the free exercise of rational argumentation.
The original framework of the “Arian” conflict was the process of diversifi-
cation within the Alexandrian tradition. In the early fourth century, Ori-
genian theology was cultivated not only in Alexandria but also in Palestine
and Antioch. The presbyters Pamphilus of Palestine and Lucian of Antioch
exemplify this. Following their martyrdom in 310 and 312, Eusebius of Caesa-
rea emerged as a leading heir to the Origenian legacy. He contributed to the
writing of the Apologeticus pro Origene, preserved Origen’s library, praised
him in the Historia ecclesiastica, and governed the church where Origen had
preached for over twenty years. Furthermore, Eusebius’ historical, exegetical,
apologetic, and theological works positioned him among the most prestigious
bishops of the early fourth century.
296 CONCLUSION

Origen’s legacy was not a fixed doctrinal corpus. Elements of his method,
such as the multiple senses of Scripture and the principle expressed by lector
inquirat,1 not only allowed but also encouraged its diversification. Evidence
from Pamphilus, Alexander, Arius, and Marcellus shows that, by the early
fourth century, the Alexandrian tradition had diverged into contrasting
branches. One tendency, represented by Eusebius, focused on Origenian
method and did not hesitate to propose theological solutions differing from
Origen’s tentative teachings. The other, represented by Alexander, concen-
trated on the doctrinal content proposed by Origen, particularly the eternal
begetting of the Son. Though Origen affirmed this doctrine, he did not pre-
sent it as part of the Apostolic message. These two competing tendencies
establish the broad framework of the crisis (ch. 2.3.3).
Eusebius of Caesarea wrote the Demonstratio evangelica before the con-
troversy began. Theological exchange between the various regions of the
empire was facilitated by the end of persecutions, suggesting that Eusebius’
theology was likely known in Egypt.2 His theology asserts that, since the Fa-
ther is the only unbegotten being, the Son came into existence by God’s will
before creation and time, when the Father freely decided to create the world.
Therefore, the Son is not coeternal with the Father. In his view, it is possible
to conceive of the Christian God without the Son, as the Son is not constitu-
tive of God’s ousia. Arius endorsed this doctrine.
Several parallels can be identified between Middle Platonism and Eusebi-
us’ teaching. However, the bishop did not adhere to a single philosophical
school but instead selectively adopted and rejected elements from various
philosophers according to his understanding of God. In fact, Middle Plato-
nism was not a homogeneous doctrinal body.
Ancient sources report some public meetings chaired by Alexander to dis-
cuss Trinitarian theology with the presbyters (ch. 3.2.1). These meetings,
which were part of the strengthening of the episcopate of Alexandria, possi-
bly aimed to align the Trinitarian theology of the presbyters with that of the
bishop. Specifically, Alexander’s theological campaign might have intended to
counteract the influence of Eusebius’ theology in Egypt. It is likely that Alex-
ander scrutinized his presbyters to assess their orthodoxy. At some point,
Arius and Achillas publicly reacted against their bishop, who had declared
heretical some tenets well-established within the tradition led by Eusebius.
––––––––––––––––––––

1 See Or., princ. 2.3,7.

2 In his letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia, Arius shows that he knew about the theology of
Eusebius of Caesarea, Theodotus of Laodicea, Paulinus of Tyre, Athanasius of Anazarbus,
Gregory of Berytus, Aetius of Lydda, Philogonius of Antioch, Hellanicus of Tripolis, and
Macarius of Jerusalem. See Ar., ep. Eus. 3 (FNS 6.3).
CONCLUSION 297

Between Alexander and Eusebius (Arius), there was a deep doctrinal conflict,
which did not revolve around “an idle point of dispute,” as Constantine wrote,
but rather, the Christian understanding of God was at stake.
If these meetings aimed to preclude the influence of Eusebius’ theology, it
becomes clear why Alexander exceeded the limits of episcopal preaching and
addressed debated issues of Trinitarian theology in front of the assembly.
Alexander merged the role of the bishop with that of the teacher of theology.
Furthermore, if this Trinitarian campaign opposed Eusebius, it becomes un-
derstandable why Alexander’s terminology strictly opposed that of the bishop
of Caesarea and why Arius presented Alexander’s public teaching as the per-
fect antithesis of that of Eusebius.
Arius dared to react against his bishop because he knew he was not de-
fending his personal thinking, but the theology supported by some of the
most prominent bishops of the East. The presbyter did not present himself as
an original thinker or theological progenitor, as later historiography suggests,
but as a spokesman of the teaching held by Eusebius.
The bishop of Alexandria reacted against the presbyters of his jurisdiction
because he recognized that the bishop of Caesarea was behind them. Indeed,
Eusebius backed Arius before his colleague in Nicomedia, Arius placed the
name of Eusebius of Caesarea at the top of those who supported his theology,
and his engagement with the cause was evidenced by his letters. Therefore,
contemporary evidence suggests that the bishop of Caesarea was the leading
figure behind Arius.
The strong clash between Alexander and Arius provoked the polarization
of ecclesiastical circles. A wide-ranging group of people sharing a broad theo-
logical tradition gathered around Arius and Achillas. This group was not theo-
logically homogeneous, as it was defined not by a single theology but by op-
position to the bishop. Therefore, Alexander, in his accounts, did not falsify
the so-called “Arian” doctrine but highlighted the more shocking statements
of his adversaries – a normal phenomenon in polemical literature. He did not
want to describe the theology of Arius but to denounce the heretical nature
of “their” teaching. For the same reason, it is crucial to distinguish between
the personal theology of Arius and the “Arianism,” that is, the set of the most
controversial doctrines held by those who stood by him. Paradoxically, the
label “Arian” does not match Arius’ theology.
The reassessment of Eusebius’ role requires, as a logical consequence, re-
assessing the role that Arius played in the controversy. The comparison of two
texts from opposing perspectives is instructive for both revisions. The first is a
passage from Arius’ letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia:
298 CONCLUSION

And given that Eusebius, your brother who is in Caesarea, Theodotus, Pauli-
nus, Athanasius [of Anazarbus], Gregory, Aetius, and all the Eastern [bishops]
say “God exists without beginning before the Son,” they became anathema. 3

The second is taken from the letter of the synod of Alexandria (338):

When the impious Arius – from whom the heresy of the Ariomaniacs has its
name – was expelled from the Church by the blessed bishop Alexander, those
around Eusebius, who were [his] disciples and shared his impiety, considering
that they themselves were expelled (ἑαυτοὺς ἐκβεβλῆσθαι νομίζοντες), they
wrote many times to bishop Alexander, asking him not to leave the heretic Ar-
ius outside the Church.4

Both texts coincide in one crucial point. In the first passage – if I may para-
phrase – Arius warned the bishop of Nicomedia: “Since we belong to the
same theological tradition, if Alexander condemns me, he ultimately con-
demns Eusebius of Caesarea and all the bishops aligned with him, including
yourself.” The issue at stake was not merely Arius but the entire theological
tradition led by Eusebius. The second text, conveying the opposing perspec-
tive, supports the same interpretation: when Arius was condemned, the bish-
ops around Eusebius were not primarily concerned with Arius’ fate but with
their own. They recognized that his condemnation offended them. They sup-
ported Arius to secure their own standing.
These texts illuminate the roles that Arius and Eusebius played. Arius was
neither significant as an individual nor as a thinker; rather, he was a key sym-
bolic figure, so to speak; his value depended not on who he was but on what
he represented. This combination of importance and irrelevance explains the
bishops’ irregular and sporadic support for him. The real issue behind the
clash at Alexandria was the quarrel between Eusebius and Alexander, two
bishops with valid claims to lead the Origenian tradition.
The key theological point of disagreement was the simultaneity or poste-
riority of the Son with God the Father. Not by chance, Arius portrays the
group of Eusebius as those who say, “God exists without beginning before the
Son.”5 The group of Eusebius did not maintain the key Origenian doctrine of
eternal begetting. However, they assumed that followers of Origen could pro-
pose theological solutions different from those of the teacher (ch. 2.4.4).
This reconstruction explains why the entire East immediately became in-
volved in the controversy. Behind a seemingly local quarrel there was a
––––––––––––––––––––

3 Ar., ep. Eus. 3 (FNS 6.3). See Thdt., h.e. 1.5,5.

4 C.Alex. (338), ep. syn. (Ath., apol. sec. 6.2 [AW 2, 91–92]).
5 Ar., ep. Eus. 2–3 (FNS 6.2–3).
CONCLUSION 299

broader conflict, which was not circumscribed to Egypt. Arius did not divide
the Christian world, but rather made visible an existing division. Thus, those
who were “going around the cities,” according to Alexander’s protest, were not
sent by Arius from Egypt to all the regions of the East, but they were already
there. Consequently, the theology of Eusebius was not just an antecedent or
even less a consequence of the “Arian” controversy, but a crucial factor in the
outbreak of the theological crisis of the fourth century.
An intense epistolary activity began. First, this activity included authors
who belong to the Alexandrian tradition. Arius, Alexander, the bishops of
Caesarea and Nicomedia, Paulinus of Tyre, George [of Laodicea], and others
were part of the Alexandrian tradition. The extant letters offer valuable in-
formation about the dynamic and content of the controversy. They witness
the networking strategies of the competing groups, which reveal issues of
politics, power, and group identity. However, the correspondents were en-
gaged in a debate specifically focused on theology. Accordingly, the reader of
these letters gets the impression that these writers were moved by theology.
The intra-Alexandrian controversy soon expanded beyond the borders of
this tradition. Two factors played a crucial role in this process. First, Alexan-
der wrote to Philogonius of Antioch and other bishops who did not belong to
his tradition. Second, the emperor Constantine’s engagement in the contro-
versy, by the end of 324. The scenario became more complex because two
different controversies overlapped: the dispute over the atemporal posteriori-
ty of the Son that divided Alexandria and the long-standing dispute over the
number of divine ousiai or hypostases that brought Alexandria and Asia into
conflict. The situation was problematic because those who agreed on one
issue did not necessarily agree on the other; for example, Alexander of Alex-
andria and Eustathius of Antioch agreed on the strict coeternity of the Logos,
but they did not agree in the number of divine hypostases.
In these circumstances, Ossius of Cordoba was sent by the emperor to Al-
exandria as peacemaker with a letter. Although Constantine’s letter blamed
Arius and Alexander alike, Ossius aligned with Alexander and confirmed the
condemnation of Arius. Possibly, Alexander informed the bishop of Cordoba
that behind the conflict with Arius was the theological leadership of Eusebius
of Caesarea. This inference is consistent with the fact that the synod of Anti-
och (325), presided over by Ossius, condemned the bishop of Caesarea and
two other bishops. This action was not in line with Constantine’s search for
peace and unity in the Church.
For Eusebius, his condemnation must have been unexpected and untena-
ble. Therefore, he must have appealed to a larger synod, a procedure that was
practiced in the Donatist crisis that Eusebius and Ossius knew well. Ossius
300 CONCLUSION

could not but accept the request. The place scheduled for the process of ap-
peal was Ancyra. However, when the emperor learned of the unfavorable
outcomes of Ossius’ embassy of peace, he took matters into his own hands,
changed the location of the synod, broadened its scope and purpose, and
provided imperial resources for the assembly, including the cursus publicus.
He wanted to participate in the synod (ch. 4.1.2).
The theological aim of Nicaea, therefore, was to assess whether Eusebius
of Caesarea and other bishops supported the “Arian” doctrine or not. Arius
himself was not at stake; he was a presbyter already condemned by his bish-
op. Thus, the great episcopal synod of Nicaea was not held to examine the
doctrine of a presbyter but to scrutinize the faith of some renowned bishops
who were accused of holding “Arianism” (ch. 4.1.1). Later Christian historians
depicted the bishops of the Nicene synod interrogating Arius to assess the
legitimacy of his doctrine, but this was not the case. Most likely, Arius was not
present at the synod of Nicaea.
The theological discussions at the assembly left room for opposing one-
sided narratives. The main contemporary sources are a polemical Fragment
by Eustathius of Antioch (FNS 39) and the apologetic Letter by Eusebius of
Caesarea (FNS 37). There is no neutral witness to Nicaea. Both testimonies
highlight and conceal elements selectively, according to their pressing agen-
das. Showing the congruence of both opposing narratives was laborious;
however, once it is accepted that both sources describe the same discussion,
the development of events becomes simpler (ch. 4.3.2).
This interpretation of the sources implies only one theological discussion
that judged the orthodoxy of the bishop of Caesarea and others. This trial had
to produce a creed that unequivocally excluded Arianism to be signed by all
the bishops. The original purpose of the Nicene Creed was to provide an in-
strument to certify orthodoxy. Besides, it is not necessary to figure out several
stages: an earlier unrecorded session that rehabilitated Eusebius of Caesarea,
a second one that rejected the “Arian” formula of Eusebius of Nicomedia, and
a third one that drafted the Creed prompted by Eusebius of Caesarea. Indeed,
it is highly problematic to accept that the bishop of Caesarea, condemned for
heresy by Ossius and Eustathius only a few months earlier, became a leading
figure at Nicaea and proposed the first draft of the creed.
Eusebius of Caesarea, then, did not have a leading position at Nicaea, nor
did he represent a third, moderate party. The assembly was aligned around
two poles. The first was led by the bishops who wanted to ratify the condem-
nation of Eusebius of Caesarea and his fellows. The chief figures of this group
were Ossius, Eustathius, Alexander, and Marcellus. Moreover, they may have
aimed to banish all those bishops who supported the “Arian” doctrine, not
CONCLUSION 301

only those who were formally convicted. They did not hold the same theolo-
gy, but all of them agreed that the Logos-Son was strictly coeternal with God
the Father. The second pole consisted of Eusebius of Caesarea, the other con-
demned bishops, and the fellows who shared similar doctrinal views. Thus,
the theology of this group was less heterogeneous than that of the other. They
wanted to prove that their theology was traditional and apostolic, and they
may have wanted to show the illegitimacy of their opponents’ teaching.
Again, the discussion revolved around the doctrinal tradition represented by
Eusebius of Caesarea, not around Arius as an individual.
The results of the synod were the Creed with its anathema, twenty can-
ons, and some letters. Contemporary sources indicate that the homoousios
intended to deny rather than affirm a positive doctrine. From a historical
point of view, it seems safe to affirm that the key term originally had a restric-
tive meaning. With a more deductive approach, however, it is possible to go
further and assert that Nicaea intended to proclaim the strict coeternity of
the Son and the Father. The expression that the Son is ὁμοούσιος τῷ πατρί
implies that the Christian God is inconceivable without his Son. The issue at
stake was the very nature of God. Eusebius’ theology affirmed that God is
prior to the Son, who was begotten when God freely decided to create the
world. In turn, the “homoousios to the Father” declares that it is not even pos-
sible to think of the Christian God without the Son. In general terms, the
ὁμοούσιος τῷ πατρί – which implies two entities in mutual relationship –
means that the Christian God is eternally triune, i.e., that the Trinitarian
character of God is not a consequence of divine economy.
The use of the expression ὁμοούσιος τῷ πατρί in the Creed and the discus-
sion of its interpretation, as testified by Eusebius, demonstrate that both
Nicene and anti-Nicene authors employed philosophical elements to articu-
late and express their doctrine of the Christian God. Human thinking can be
anti-philosophical, but not a-philosophical. Although the bishops struggled
to produce a univocal formula,6 the key expression of the Nicene Creed – the
most solemn statement of ecclesiastical doctrine – like all human language, is
not exempt from the risk of interpretation.
The development and clarification of these concepts, however, was taken
up by the Cappadocians. They will integrate into theological discourse the
Holy Spirit, who was present in prayer, liturgy, and Christian life, but was
otherwise absent from the theoretical discussion.
The two-stage Logos Christology played a significant role in the debates,
but it has not received sufficient attention in scholarship. The diversification

––––––––––––––––––––

6 See Ath., decr. 19–20.

302 CONCLUSION

of the Alexandrian tradition can be understood as two alternative reactions

against this doctrine. On the one hand, Origen reacted against the two-stage
Christology and proposed instead the eternal begetting of the Son. He was
followed by Alexander. On the other hand, Eusebius of Caesarea maintained
the two stages but affirmed that God exists before the Son and that the Son
began to exist when God decided to create the world. This means that before
the Son was begotten, he did not exist. Arius transmitted and hardened this
doctrine. Crucial elements of the Christian doctrine of God were at stake.
Unfortunately, we are poorly informed about the Trinitarian theology of
Ossius and Eustathius; possibly they maintained a kind of two-stage Christol-
ogy. Instead, it is clear that Marcellus elaborated a particular version of this
Christology. Paradoxically, Nicaea, which stresses the strict coeternity of the
Son with the Father, indirectly opposes the two-stage Christology, the doc-
trine held by the supporters of the ὁμοούσιος. Perhaps, this is one factor –
among others – that explained why the Trinitarian theology of Eustathius is
so poorly transmitted by ancient sources. It is enigmatic why we have so little
information about one of the architects of the Council of Nicaea.
The first steps of the reception of Nicaea were problematic. Neither the
theological results nor the disciplinary decisions were easy to apply. Both the
term homoousios and the policies regarding the Melitian bishops left room for
different interpretations. The agreements promoted (enforced) by the emperor
did not pass the test of time and were not able to produce the desired peace.
The common thread of the emperor’s policy was the search for ecclesiastical
unity. His support for this or that group was guided by the unity of the
Church, not by a particular theology.
The initial reception of the Council of Nicaea can be divided into two pe-
riods. First, Constantine thought that the decisions of Nicaea were the tool
for achieving peace; therefore, he exiled Eusebius of Nicomedia and pro-
duced anti-Arian laws. In 328, however, Alexander’s death and the successive
appointment of Athanasius, the return of Eusebius of Nicomedia from exile,
and the banishment of Eustathius of Antioch change the scenario. The sec-
ond period is marked by the figure of Athanasius, the synod of Tyre, and Ari-
us’ readmission and death. However, it is worth noting that sources survived
in an irregular way. For example, the abundant information about the synod
of Tyre (335) does not necessarily indicate the historical relevance of the
assembly. Indeed, our current picture of the past depends on the sources.
The final years of this period present critical challenges, as almost all the
information we have comes from and is related to Athanasius. In other words,
he was both the subject and the object of his account – the chronicler and
the protagonist of his narrative. Therefore, scholars must be attentive to dou-
CONCLUSION 303

ble-check the master narrative provided by Athanasius’ works. According to

this view, all the actions of the Eusebians and the Melitians, including the
opposition to Athanasius’ ordination (328), the accusations against him, and
his condemnation at Tyre (335), were pretexts aimed ultimately at rehabilitat-
ing Arius and introducing heresy into the Church.7 Two major corrections
must be made to this narrative. First, the collaboration of Melitians and Eu-
sebians did not start in 328 but possibly about 334 or 335. Second, the idea
that the Eusebians struggled to rehabilitate Arius is not backed by contempo-
rary evidence.
In general terms, the bishop of Caesarea is the key figure of this reexami-
nation of Nicaea. This reconstruction credits a role to him on the eve of Ni-
caea and in the assembly that differs deeply from the conventional narrative.
This new reconstruction, however, is confirmed by subsequent events. In fact,
after Nicaea, he maintained the leading role that he had before and during
the synod: he presided over the deposition of Eustathius of Antioch (328), he
was to chair the failed synod that intended to judge Athanasius in Caesarea
(334), and he led the condemnation of Marcellus of Ancyra (336). This evi-
dence proves the theological leadership of the bishop of Caesarea. Thus, the
whole trajectory of events supports the hypothesis of this book.
However, if Eusebius of Caesarea was the theological leader of the tradi-
tion to which Arius belonged, it is puzzling why Christian historiography
depicted the bishop of Nicomedia – not that of Caesarea – as “the head of the
Arian heresy.” Three reasons can be given.
First, the comparison of the works of the bishop of Caesarea and those of
the Christian historians shows to what extent the historical narratives of the
historians depend on Eusebius, especially regarding the first steps of the crisis.
The fact that the synod of Antioch (325) – a shameful event for Eusebius –
remained unknown for more than fifteen centuries confirms this dependency.
Second, the political leadership of the bishop of Nicomedia, especially regard-
ing the synod of Tyre, the exile of Athanasius, and the appointment of Gregory
the Cappadocian as bishop of Alexandria in 339,8 made a deep impact in Ath-
anasius’ understanding of the controversy. Accordingly, in his retrospective
account, the bishop of Alexandria retrojected this political leadership on to
the first stages of the controversy and to the various dimensions of it, so that
the bishop of Nicomedia became the head of the “Arian” party. It is striking
that Athanasius, who cited more than eighty documents in his works, cited
only one short, innocuous fragment of the alleged leader of the Arians. Be-

––––––––––––––––––––

7 Ath., apol. sec. 85.1 (AW 2, 163).

8 See Ath., ep. encycl. 2.2 (AW 2, 171).
304 CONCLUSION

sides, contemporary sources show that Eusebius of Nicomedia had much less
relevance in the collusion with the Melitians and the readmission of Arius
than the “master narrative” claims. Third, ancient and modern scholars are
grateful to Eusebius of Caesarea. In his epoch-making book, Newman refers to
him as a “distinguished writer, to whom the Christian world has so great a debt
at the present day.”9 For that reason, along with the process of demonization of
Arius, ancient and modern historians performed a process of de-Arianizing of
Eusebius. Perhaps, this sense of gratitude protected the memory of the bishop
of Caesarea, one of the fathers of Christian scholarship.
Lastly, a word should be said about the intriguing scarcity of sources that
describe the synod itself. The bishops knew that Nicaea was an outstanding
event worth remembering. However, the outcome of the synod must have dis-
appointed most of the bishops. On one hand, bishops who condemned Euse-
bius at Antioch (325) wanted their sentence to be confirmed by Nicaea. In their
view, the synod should have banished the significant number of bishops who
supported “Arian” ideas. But this was not the case. Only a couple of unim-
portant bishops refused to sign the Creed and were exiled. On the other hand,
Eusebius of Caesarea aimed to prove the legitimacy of his theology before the
assembly and the emperor; he wanted to show that Ossius and Eustathius were
wrong when they condemned him at Antioch. But none of this happened. He
had to sign obtorto collo a creed that contained expressions that at least con-
flicted with his own theology. Neither Eusebius, who had been condemned, nor
Eustathius, whose verdict was overturned at Nicaea, had good reason to look
back on the councils of Antioch and Nicaea as a happy occasion.10 This sense of
failure can explain – at least in part – why no one recorded the discussions of
the synod in more detail. History is written by the victors, but in this case, there
were no victors: no one was eager to write the history.

∵
If I am allowed, I would like to share two thoughts to take away. They are the
fruit of several years of reading, comparing, translating, and analyzing prima-
ry sources. The first thought is about the inadequacy of some well-established
categories to describe the development of early Christian theology. Many
times, classifications such as Logos theology, Modalism, and Monarchianism
do not grasp the reality of the sources. The ongoing reconsideration of these
categories must continue. It is necessary to distinguish between the catego-
ries that ancient authors have in their minds, the polemical labels that they
––––––––––––––––––––

9 J.H. Newman, The Arians of the Fourth Century, London 1981, 261.
10 See Chadwick, 1958, 303.
CONCLUSION 305

ascribe to their adversaries, and the modern categories created by scholars to

describe the early tendencies in theology.
The second thought is about the dynamic and provisional path of research,
which is both uncomfortable and fascinating at the same time. At some point,
I thought I should write some retractationes, given that I wished to nuance or
complement some statements of my previous publications. Then, I thought
that it was better to go deeper and to address the dynamic relationship be-
tween the evidence and the (provisional) reconstructions. It is not possible to
approach the sources without any preconception and, thus, without a tenta-
tive reconstruction of the research object. A good reconstruction is the one
that can make sense of the data. However, some evidence questions and some-
times contradicts the reconstruction. This interaction gives birth to a new,
more fitting reconstruction that can welcome the data. Yet again, as always
happens, some uncomfortable data question the new reconstruction, and the
process continues... These embarrassing data are the protagonists of this story.
At times, the researcher detests this kind of evidence that destabilizes the
most recent reconstruction. The temptation to bypass it is strong – there are
many polite ways to do that. However, the mortifying textual evidence, when it
is considered seriously, opens new horizons to research. The new reconstruc-
tion matches the textual evidence better, but, at the same time, the awareness
of the provisional character of any academic reconstruction grows. This dy-
namic process echoes the path described by Origen:

And truly, if someone has made some progress in knowledge and has acquired
some experience in such matters, he really knows that when he has come to
some idea and recognition of spiritual mysteries, his soul stays there, as it
were, in a kind of tent. But when, on the basis of these things the soul has dis-
covered, it again explores other things and advances to other understandings,
the soul picks up its tent from there, so to speak, and heads for the higher
things. And there it establishes a seat for its mind, fixed in the stability of the
meanings. And once again from there, on the basis of these things, it finds
other spiritual meanings, which doubtless are logical inferences that have
come to light by the previously apprehended meanings. And in this way, al-
ways “striving for what is ahead” (Phil 3:14), the soul seems to advance by
means of tents, as it were. For there is never a time when the soul that has
been set on fire by the spark of knowledge can sink into leisure and take a
rest, but it is always summoned from the good to the better, and again from
the better to the superior.11

––––––––––––––––––––

11 Or., in Num. hom. 17.4 (Scheck, 2009, 106, mod.).

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Indices

1 Index of Scriptures

Old Testament New Testament

Genesis (Gen): 1:1, 103, 210; 1:26, 27, Matthew (Matt): 3:17, 112; 10:23, 14;
46; 2:24, 37; 14:14, 184. 11:27, 115; 26:38, 42.
Exodus (Ex): 3:6, 31; 3:14, 27, 45, 68, Mark: 6:22, 45; 10:18, 40.
136; 12:6, 21; 12:18, 20. John: 1:1, 32, 288; 1:1a, 288; 1:1b, 34,
Deuteronomy (Deut): 32:18, 140. 288; 1:1c, 288; 1:1–3, 26; 1:3, 46, 52,
Numbers (Num): 9:13, 20. 76, 102, 116, 140, 291; 1:5, 35; 1:18,
69, 103, 112, 115; 2:19, 35; 2:29, 45;
Job: 38:17, 250; 38:28, 140. 3:7, 45; 8:12, 69; 8:42, 212; 10:17-
Psalms (Ps): 2:7, 112; 44:2, 26, 29, 30, 18, 42; 10:30, 26, 32, 53, 113, 149;
35, 72, 73, 100; 44:7-8, 46; 44:8, 10:38, 149; 14:9-10, 32; 14:9, 149;
43, 46, 108, 110; 109:1, 238, 290; 14:28, 113, 137, 144; 17:2, 210; 17:3,
109:3, 72, 212; 148:5, 46. 40, 80, 137; 17:22, 53.
Ecclesiastes (Eccl): 3:3, xv. Acts: 1:18, 285; 4:32, 37.
Proverbs (Prov): 8:22, 49, 102, 103, Romans (Rom): 1:4, 103; 2:13, 45;
142, 207, 210, 239; 8:22-25, 26, 28, 8:32, 112; 9:5, 32, 46.
44, 139, 239, 289; 8:23, 103; 8:22- 1 Corinthians (1 Cor): 1:24, 54; 1:24-
31, 289; 8:25, 69, 103, 139, 210; 30, 39; 6:17, 37; 8:6, 143; 15:15, 35;
8:30, 47; 8:42, 212. 15:25, 238, 290; 15:28, 291; 15:45-
Song of Songs (Cant): 1:3, 69. 46, 249.
Wisdom (Wis): 7:25, 48, 69, 148; 2 Corinthians (2 Cor): 2:15, 69; 4:4,
7:25–26, 26; 7:26, 38, 40, 69. 40.
Isaiah (Isa): 1:2, 107, 140, 211; 5:7, 45; Galatians (Gal): 1:8-9, 2; 2:21, 21; 5:3,
35:4-6, 46; 44:6, 31; 45:14-15, 32, 20; 5:4, 21.
46; 53:8, 26, 71, 74, 112, 115, 224. Philippians (Phil): 3:14, 305.
Baruch (Bar): 3:36, 32. Colossians (Col): 1:5, 46; 1:15, 26, 30,
Hosea (Hos): 11:9-10, 46. 40, 54, 69, 117, 200, 289.
Hebrews (Heb): 1:3, 26, 38, 39, 40,
69, 117.
1 John: 1:5, 35, 69; 5:1, 103.
2 Index of the Contemporary Sources (FNS)

Four Egyptian Bishops, Letter to Meli- 114, 138; 45, 113; 45-46, 115, 209; 46,
tius (FNS 1): 2-3, 15; 3-4, 227; 8-9, 15. 111-112, 114-115, 138; 46-47, 206, 220;
Peter of Alexandria, Letter to the People 47, 113; 48, 114, 117, 120, 172; 52, 120;
of Alexandria (FNS 2): 15. 53, 225; 53-56, 132; 56, 91, 133, 143;
56-57, 91; 57, 91; 58, 125, 128-129, 133;
Peter of Alexandria, Canonical Letter 59, 91, 125; 61, 91, 242.
(FNS 3): 2, 225.
Alexander of Alexandria, Letter to
Synod of Ancyra, Canons (FNS 4): 2, Philogonius (FNS 9): 65-66, 126; 2,
231; 13, 16. 225; 2-4, 132; 4, 126; 5, 126.
Synod of Neocaesarea, Canons (FNS 5): Alexander of Alexandria, Festal Homily
11, 267. (FNS 10): 113, 120, 225.
Arius, Letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia Arius and Companions, Letter to Alex-
(FNS 6): 64–66, 88, 131; 2, 90, 118, ander (FNS 11): 64-66; 2, 73, 101, 106,
121, 123, 127, 131–132; 2-3, 298; 3, 100, 109, 143, 171, 206, 209, 220; 2-3, 171;
121, 132, 134, 169, 296, 298; 3–4, 73; 4, 3, 33, 100, 104, 109, 209, 212, 215; 4,
xvi, 99, 102, 106, 109, 116, 171, 206, 102, 104-105, 135, 219, 225; 5, 62, 100,
215, 220; 4–5, 114; 5, 56, 64, 94, 103– 105, 212-213, 220, 242; 26, 105.
104, 210, 217, 219.
Eusebius of Caesarea, Letter to Alexan-
Eusebius of Nicomedia, Letter to Arius der (FNS 12): 65-66, 110, 122, 124, 134,
(FNS 7): 138. 169, 198, 208; 2, 73, 91, 109, 124, 135,
Alexander of Alexandria, Letter to 171, 206, 220; 4, 74, 82, 116, 136, 171,
Alexander (FNS 8): 65-66, 88, 90, 198, 218.
107, 131, 162, 216; 1, 91; 2, 125, 129, 133; Eusebius of Caesarea, Letter to Euphra-
3, 1, 91-92, 143, 162-164, 204; 3-4, 91, tion (FNS 13): 79, 124, 134, 169, 178; 1,
143; 4, 91, 246; 4-5, 108; 5, 91-92, 108; 82, 114, 120, 136, 171, 180, 198, 218; 2,
6, 91, 131, 133, 163; 7, 92, 125, 133; 8, 137; 3, 80, 137.
133, 163; 8-9, 65, 91, 134, 139; 9, 91-92,
123, 125; 10, 108, 116, 217; 10-11, 136; Eusebius of Caesarea, Letter (FNS 14):
10-13, 91; 10-14, 108-109; 11, 108, 140; 79, 124, 137, 173, 198, 214.
11-12, 211; 11-13, 206, 220; 12, 112; 14, Eusebius of Nicomedia, Letter to Pauli-
91; 15, 112-114, 116, 119, 215, 217, 225; nus (FNS 15): 65, 66, 137; 1, 124; 1-2,
15-21, 132; 16-21, 172; 17, 112, 114, 116; 138; 2, 124; 3, 138-139, 210, 215; 3-5,
17-18, 115; 18, 115-116; 19, 114-115, 138, 215; 4, 140; 4-5, 139; 6-7, 140; 7, 171,
211; 21, 115, 225; 22, 91, 114, 116; 22-24, 209; 8, 124, 140, 225.
114; 23, 116; 26, 91, 106, 114, 117, 155, Paulinus of Tyre, Letter (FNS 16): 65-66,
209; 27, 116-117; 28, 112, 172, 211; 29, 124, 141, 225.
112, 206, 220; 31, 112, 225; 32, 112; 34,
112; 35, 91, 94, 140, 211; 35-36, 91, 133, Asterius of Cappadocia, Theological
163; 36, 1, 56, 91, 143; 37, 246; 38, 113, Fragments (FNS 17): 66, 218; 2, 114,
132, 172, 221; 38-39, 113; 39, 117; 40-41, 120; 5, 146, 171; 7, 146; 10, 149, 171; 11,
92; 41, 91, 95; 42, 91; 43-44, 92; 44, 91, 149; 14, 148; 15, 147; 16, 147, 150, 171;
INDICES 327

17, 148; 19, 147, 150, 171; 23, 150, 217; 171; 14, 167, 172-173, 177, 178, 201, 204;
27, 150; 32-33, 139, 150; 38, 149; 39, 14-15, 181; 15, 128, 160, 174-175, 179,
149; 52, 149; 54, 146, 149; 60, 149; 64, 197.
148; 66, 148. Narcissus of Neronias, Testimony of a
Arius, Hymn [Thalia] (FNS 18): 65-66, Letter (FNS 29): 66, 198, 215.
104, 106, 153-154, 171, 209, 212, 225. Constantine, Letter to the Bishops (FNS
George of Laodicea, Letter to Alexan- 30): 161, 177, 181, 186.
der (FNS 19): 65-66, 91, 116, 122, 143, Constantine, Speech to the Nicene
171, 217. Synod (FNS 31): 190; 3, 156.
George of Laodicea, Letter to Those of Synod of Nicaea, Creed (FNS 32): 3, 225;
Arius (FNS 20): 65-66, 91, 110, 143, 4, 217.
150, 171, 206.
Synod of Nicaea, Canons (FNS 33): 1-2,
Athanasius of Anazarbus, Letter to 229; 1-20, 188; 2, 227; 4, 227; 5, 163,
Alexander (FNS 21): 65-66, 91, 110, 179, 228; 6, 229; 8, 230; 9, 227; 10,
144, 206, 209. 227; 15, 228; 15-16, 227; 16, 16, 228; 17,
Athanasius of Anazarbus, Letter (FNS 229.
22): 65-66, 144, 206. Synod of Nicaea, Letter to the Church of
Theognis of Nicaea, Letters (FNS 23): Egypt (FNS 34): 230; 1-2, 175; 2, 186,
66, 122, 144. 188, 231; 2-3, 187; 3, 207; 5, 180, 204,
Constantine, Letter to Alexander and 231, 242; 5-7, 16; 5-10, 187; 7, 231, 252;
Arius (FNS 24): 65-66, 88, 156, 160; 7-8, 264; 9, 231; 11, 128, 231, 252, 264;
2, 7; 3-4, 156, 158; 4, 88, 158-159; 5, 12, 187, 232; 13, 225.
159; 6, 88, 158; 6-7, 1; 6-8, 89; 7, 88, Constantine, Letter to All the Churches
159; 8, 123, 158; 9, 88, 158-159, 166, (FNS 35): 230, 234; 1, 190, 234; 2, 186;
178, 259; 10, 89, 158-159; 12, 159; 13, 2-4, 234; 3, 187, 232; 11, 234.
158; 14, 158-159; 15, 157-158. Constantine, Letter to the Alexandrian
Alexander of Alexandria, Deposition of Church (FNS 36): 230, 234; 2, 235; 3,
Arius (FNS 25): 65-66, 164; 1-2, 165. 186; 3-5, 187; 5, 184, 232, 235, 243; 8,
Alexander of Alexandria, Encyclical 225, 232; 9, 184.
Letter (FNS 26): 65-66, 107, 163; 2, Eusebius of Caesarea, Letter to his
165; 2, 169; 3, 165; 3-6, 166; 4, 129, 131, Church (FNS 37): 191, 192, 300; 1, 175,
165, 228; 6, 180, 242; 7, 108-109, 116; 193, 197, 203, 208; 2, 199; 4, 200; 4-5,
7-10, 108-109, 217; 8, 109, 206, 220; 9, 225; 5, 102, 284; 6, 198; 7, 175, 193,
108, 120; 10, 206, 220; 11, 162, 164, 199, 200, 205, 208, 216, 218; 7-8, 193;
166; 12-13, 116, 217; 13, 109; 14, 206, 7-9, 186; 7-13, 58; 8, 193, 225; 9-16,
220; 15-16, 166; 16, 109, 134, 166; 18, 202; 10, 202; 12-13, 202; 13, 206, 238;
166; 19, 166; 20, 119, 129; 21, 162, 164. 14, 186; 15, 81, 220; 16, 82, 105, 116,
Synod of Antioch, Synodical Letter 218-219.
(FNS 28): 66-67, 160; 1, 137, 167-168, Eusebius (?), Fragment (FNS 38): 194,
198; 2, 169; 3, 167, 169; 5, 170, 188; 6, 203, 212, 222.
170; 7, 170; 8, 101, 167, 170, 225; 9, 171; Eustathius of Antioch, On Prov 8:22
10, 171, 206; 11, 170, 172; 12, 225; 13, (FNS 39): 175, 191, 193, 238, 300; 1,
328 INDICES

184, 196; 1-3, 187; 2, 199, 203; 3, 199, Pageus Presbyter, Letter to the Priors of
201, 202, 239; 4, 202, 236. Hathor (FNS 57): 268, 275.
Eustathius of Antioch, Against the Alexander of Thessalonica, Letter to
Ariomaniacs (FNS 40): 109, 206, Athanasius (FNS 58): 3, 269.
220, 246. Pinnes, Letter to John of Memphis
Eustathius of Antioch, Contra Arianos [Archaph] (FNS 59): 2-3, 269.
(FNS 41): 171, 207, 211. Arsenius, Letter to Athanasius (FNS
Constantine, Letter to the Church of the 60): 225, 269-270; 2, 128.
Nicomedians (FNS 42): 241; 1-5, 245; Constantine, Letter to Athanasius (FNS
4, 245; 6, 241; 7, 241; 13, 186-187; 14, 61): 273; 3, 269; 6, 269; 7, 270.
286; 15, 204; 15-16, 242.
Constantine, Letter to John of Memphis
Constantine, Letter to Theodotus of [Archaph] (FNS 62): 270, 274; 1, 271;
Laodicea (FNS 43): 241-242. 2, 270, 274.
Constantine, Letter to the Bishops and Constantine, Letter to Arius and His
the People (FNS 44): 240, 243; 2, Companions (FNS 63): 274, 281; 1,
244. 283; 4, 283; 5, 282; 8, 282; 9, 282; 11,
Constantine, Against the Heretics (FNS 282; 13-14, 282; 14, 245, 282-283; 14-
45): 240, 243-244; 2, 244; 5, 244. 19, 283; 17, 282-283; 20, 282; 24, 282,
Constantine, Mandate on Clerical 284; 27, 283; 29, 245, 282; 32, 245,
Privileges (FNS 46): 243. 282; 35, 283; 36, 282; 38, 282; 39, 282;
42, 283.
Melitius, Report to Alexander (FNS 48):
254, 267-268. Constantine, Letter to Arius (FNS 64):
282-283.
Synod of Antioch, Letter and Canons
(FNS 51): 225; 1, 262; 3, 16, 262; 4, Arius and Euzoius, Letter to Constan-
163, 178, 262; 5, 262; 6, 163, 177, 262; tine (FNS 65): 99, 274, 282; 2-3, 284;
9-10, 262; 10, 16; 11-12, 262, 279; 12, 3-4, 225; 4, 284; 5, 284.
163, 167, 180; 13, 16; 13-14, 262; 15, [Secundus and Theonas], Pamphlet of
262; 16-19, 262; 20, 262; 21, 228, 262; Apology (FNS 66): 137, 202, 207, 281,
22, 15, 16, 262. 284; 2, 110, 208; 5, 285.
Constantine, Letter to the People of Callistus, Letter to Paiêou and Patabeit
Antioch (FNS 52): 261; 8, 261. (FNS 67): 271, 274.
Constantine, Letter to the Synod of Constantine, Letter to the Synod of Tyre
Antioch (FNS 53): 261; 1, 261; 2, 228, (FNS 68): 1, 273; 3, 273, 275; 4, 273.
262. The Clergy of Alexandria, Letter to the
Constantine, Letter to Eusebius of Cae- Commission of Mareotis (FNS 69): 1,
sarea (FNS 54): 261; 1, 261; 1-2, 228. 277; 2, 278; 3, 278.
Constantine, Letter to the Church of The Clergy of Mareotis, Letter to the
Alexandria (FNS 55): 8, 267; 11, 267. Synod of Tyre (FNS 70): 1, 278; 3, 174;
Ischyras, Letter to Athanasius (FNS 56): 3-4, 160; 3-5, 277; 4, 65, 162; 6, 277,
277; 1, 254, 271, 280; 2, 268; 6, 282. 280; 8, 277; 9-11, 278; 11, 280.
INDICES 329

The Clergy of Mareotis, Letter to Prefect Alexander of Thessalonica, Letter to

Philagrius (FNS 71): 273; 2, 277-278; Dionysius (FNS 75): 2, 278.
2-3, 65, 160; 3, 162, 164, 277; 5, 272. Count Dionysius, Letter to the Commis-
The Egyptian Bishops in Tyre, Letter to sion of Mareotis (FNS 76): 1, 277.
the Synod of Tyre (FNS 72): 2, 276- Synod of Jerusalem, Synodical Letter
277; 3, 278; 4, 278; 5, 17, 164, 278; 6, (FNS 77): 2, 284; 3, 284; 5, 285; 6,
278; 8, 164, 278. 284.
The Egyptian Bishops in Tyre, Letter to Flavius Hemerius, Letter to the Tax-
Count Dionysius I (FNS 73): 2, 276; collector of Mareotis (FNS 78):
3, 276-277; 3-5, 278; 4, 278; 6, 278; 7,
276. Constantine, Letter to the Bish-
ops Gathered in Tyre (FNS 79): 5-8,
The Egyptian Bishops in Tyre, Letter to 280.
Count Dionysius II (FNS 74): 1, 276-
278; 4, 279. Constantine, Letter to Alexander [of
Constantinople] (FNS 80): 2, 225,
285-286; 2-3, 284.