“And which one of them will plot the next assassination attempt, Constantia?”
“There will be no next attempt. You can put him in a place that you control completely. Thessalonica. Is there anyone in that city that would imagine conspiring against you? It is not possible. You are revered there. You could keep our family there, in a house where we would be restricted. Please consider this, Constantine. Please, for me. In the name of our Savior, I pray to you.”
Constantia at this point had fallen to her knees in front of her brother’s large chair, pushing the table completely away.
Constantine rubbed his eyes. “Get up, sister. Stand up. You are an honorable woman. You don’t need to crawl on the ground, begging. Like a slave.”
She stood up and tried to stifle her tears. He gave her a handkerchief.
He sighed and thought for a few moments about his conversation with Ossius before the last battle. “Constantia, for you—and only for you—I will do this. Take this offer to your husband. Both he and his…aide…must come and surrender to me. In person. Both of them. They must prostrate themselves in front of me, like you just did, and beg forgiveness. They must renounce all claims and vestiges of their time as…officers…of the Empire. All of their lands and money, of course. And I will arrange exile for both of them.”
Crispus, Ablabius and most of the other officers slowly shook their heads. No honorable man would accept such an offer. And any man who would accept was trouble.
Alexandria, Egypt
Late September, 1077 AUC (324 AD)
“Holiness, the war for Christianity has been won by Constantine!” exclaimed Athanasius, as he burst into Alexander’s chambers.
Alexander was sitting on his chair next to his bed—still in his bedclothes, even though it was approaching noon.
Athanasius, surprised that his mentor’s appearance, asked, “What is wrong, bishop? Are you feeling ill?”
“I’ve been feeling off these last few days. And today I had difficulty getting out of bed. Missed my morning prayers. Old age, I fear. Look forward to joining my martyred brothers in Heaven. Now, what was that you said about Constantine?”
“I pray you will be feeling stronger soon. Today, we have word that Constantine prevailed against Licinius in Chrysopolis. Pagan worship will now become a relic of the past.”
“That is excellent news. Was his victory a bloody one?”
“For Licinius’ army—not for Constantine’s. And again, as in Adrianople and the Hellespont, the Labarum was instrumental in the domination of the pagan forces.”
Alexander nodded. He was already considering the political effects of the battle. “Was Licinius killed?”
“No, he lives. Constantine granted him his life after he begged on his knees. He renounced his army, his belongings and all vestiges of being an emperor—his purple robes, standards and armor.” Athanasius seemed to enjoy describing Licinius’ humiliation.
“Well, God has smiled upon his people and we are the beneficiaries of that.”
“We must call for the Council we have discussed. Shall I arrange to have it in Antioch?”
“Yes. I think that is the best location. Invite all the bishops in the East. And notify Ossius. Let us try to have this meeting after the first of the New Year.”
“Yes, your Holiness.” And Athanasius practically ran out of Alexander’s bedroom.
Thessalonica, Greece
Early October, 1077 AUC (324 AD)
Constantine sat back in his chair, exasperated. “This is beyond any rational thought process, Ossius. This argument rages on, causing riots among lay people and dissent among priests. It is based— entirely—on rival beliefs that we can never prove or disprove. The early scriptures generally support the belief that the Nazarene was…lesser…in divine nature than God. But the later scriptures generally support the belief in an equal nature. So Ossius, tell me, which is the better belief?”
“Better?”
“Truer. Closer to the truth.”
“I do not know, Imperator.” Ossius was standing—and occasionally paced back and forth when confronted with a difficult question.
“Ossius, I’ve known you for more than 20 years. You’re holding back. I have asked you for spiritual direction in this matter and you are deliberately denying my request.”
“I do not mean to deny your appeal. But the matter is complex. With elements that could be pitfalls to both my Church and your Empire. Even if God gave me the Wisdom of Solomon, I doubt I could give you the simple answer you deserve. I don’t think it exists.” Ossius was clearly vexed—and the fact that the Emperor seemed entertained by his anguish only made matter worse.
“Will this upcoming synod in Antioch provide us with an answer?”
“I don’t think so. I fear it will only deepen the division between Arius’ supporters and Alexander’s. This Athanasius,” Ossius practically hissed when he said the name, “Alexander’s deacon, has designed the meeting to minimize the Arians’ position. That Jesus is something less than God. Arius himself is not invited, nor any of his strongest supporters. The whole thing is intended to convince me—and thus you—that the Church is united behind Alexander.”
“If it is merely for the appearance, then don’t attend,” Constantine suggested.
Ossius shook his head. “By not attending, I—and thus you— send the message that Alexander’s position is not correct. That perhaps we agree with the Arians.”
“So be it. I’m inclined to agree with the concept of a single God. With a single nature. When we first met in Nicomedia, that is what you taught me,” Constantine said.
Ossius nodded, somewhat distantly. “I probably did. These arguments—Alexander’s and Athanasius’ beliefs—are more recent. Even 20 years ago, most scholars believed in the Mosaic God, the Jewish God. After all, that is what Jesus believed. He was a devout Jew, a Rabbi.”
“Yes, yes. I know this. Tell me again when the dispute started.”
“Well, in some sense, it’s quite old. Paul considered Jesus lesser than the Father. An early scholar, Origen, also considered that Jesus was lesser than the Father. Because the Father came first. But this remained something that only a few scholars concentrated on. That changed when Arius wrote his Thalia.”
“The religious songs.”
“Yes. And those songs repeat the phrase ‘There was a time when the Son was not.’ Many times. And those songs are extremely popular with the plebeians. Working men sing them in streets. Sailors, on boats. The vast majority of our populous believe Jesus is lesser than the Father. Now, if we take the position that Arius is correct, we ignore the recent developments of our Church’s theology. We alienate many of the Eastern Empire’s bishops and other learned men who’ve come to believe that Jesus shares of the exact same nature with God.”
“But they don’t know that,” Constantine said. “No living person does. And God hasn’t sent a scroll stating that He and Jesus are the same nature.”
“No. But there are rational arguments and the wording of the scriptures gives many Christians comfort that Jesus was more than Divine—that he was Divine on earth and equal to God before and after his human life.”
“So, what changed in the last 20 years?”
Ossius stopped pacing. “If you read the scriptures and religious writings from the earliest to the most current, there has been a slow change in the interpretation of Christ’s nature. At first, He was a man, brought to earth by God, crucified and resurrected as an example for our redemption. Later, He was the Son of God, brought to earth to demonstrate His power and greatness—now seated at the right hand of God. The change has been subtle, but definitive.”
“I must not be subtle enough—because it doesn’t seem definitive.” Constantine was growing disinterested with fine theological points. “Why don’t you just choose the Scriptures that support one side of the argument
and get rid of the others? Affirm either son of man…or Son of God, and build your orthodoxy on that.”
“That would be fine, if we were an Empire. But we are a Church—a community,” Ossius answered. “Besides, most of the scriptures support both sides.”
Constantine shook his head and smirked. “Why aren’t all these new religious scriptures in one place? One book, and in some sort of order?”
“That is coming. Over a century ago, Irenaeus suggested that the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John should be the basis of a new Christian Bible. A ‘New Testament’ to go with the Jewish Old Testament. Later, Origen later suggested 27 sacred scriptures make up the New Testament. Today, most bishops are comfortable with about 20 scriptures that they feel should be in the New Testament. It is widely accepted that the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John should be part of it. Most of Paul’s letters are also generally accepted. But there are serious differences of opinion beyond those books.”
Constantine yawned. “Seems to me it would be easier to build your orthodoxy around that New Testament. The way you are doing it now…puts the cart before the horse. Plus, you’ve also made it more difficult by having no one in charge. You have dozens of bishops—but they don’t answer to anybody. They are centurions without a general.”
“I am not sure how that could change. It would upend the Church.”
“Well someone has to be in charge. That’s why I have supported Pope Sylvester so strongly. You need someone like him, or yourself, who has the authority to say what must be done. Otherwise you have local power struggles. Hundreds of different interpretations. And disagreements. And here we are.”
“Yes, Dominus. Here we are.”
“I don’t care if it is a religion or an army, it will falter if you don’t have a hierarchy,” Constantine said. Clearly, his interest in the subject was again waning.
Ossius started pacing again. “You may be correct. But many of our bishops would disagree. We have had three centuries during which the Church has survived—and grown—because of the bishops’ autonomy and sacrifice, in many cases, with their lives. Giving that up will not come naturally to them.”
“Well, they are going to have to get used to it, if you’re going to have uniform orthodoxy.”
“Perhaps uniform orthodoxy isn’t what the Church should seek, perhaps God wants our faith to be left to some individual interpretation.” Ossius said, plaintively.
“Perhaps,” Constantine answered, a little more interested. “But I would wager that someday the Church is going to need it. You know, Ossius, I often hear Arius’ Thalia being sung by my soldiers while they march. That’s…powerful.”
“Yes. I know. It is a very clever message. Far more popular than Alexander’s and Athanasius’ theological letters. Its cadence is infectious. But they are very popular poems and songs for the plebeians, not the educated opinions of the knowledgeable clergy. I am not sure they reflect what the truth of the Scriptures is,” Ossius replied.
“I go back to my question, Ossius: Who do you believe has the correct answer?”
“And I go back to my answer, Caesar: I do not know. I am older and am fond of the early Scriptures, specifically the Gospels. They seem real to me because they describe events from the perspective of eyewitnesses. Mark, Luke and Matthew are like old friends. Regardless of who actually wrote those books, those testaments are authentic to me. On the other hand, the Glory of Jesus as the Son of God is beautifully described in the Book of John.”
“That isn’t an answer, Ossius.”
Ossius stopped pacing. Again. “Then let me say it this way: Athanasius has done an effective job of getting his opinion to Alexander’s bishops—either by cajoling or threatening. Or both. He has the majority of the Eastern bishops of his opinion. And it is an opinion that I also feel comfortable with.”
“Why aren’t the Western bishops involved in the controversy?” Constantine asked.
“Most think as you do: that it is an unanswerable question. And they feel the Eastern bishops, specifically the ones in the lands around Egypt, are fixating on a divisive issue.”
“Good. How does Sylvester feel?”
“Much as I do. He will agree to whatever is decided to keep peace within the Church. He is grateful that the persecutions have ended and he is astounded at the growth of our Church— for that, he praises you. He feels the body of the Church should be concentrating on saving souls, not debating theology. He believes Jesus’ message doesn’t change if he is homoousian or homoeanian with God. Next time you see him, he will press you to build more churches throughout the Empire. He is a practical man.”
“That’s why I like him. And he won’t have to press me very hard. I have plans for a New Rome, where churches will be prominent. Helena is headed to Jerusalem, where I understand there are few churches by the holy sites.” The talk of building churches seemed to pique Constantine’s interest again. He raised his hand for a moment, waving it while he thought. “I have another question. If the Eastern bishops are inclined to interpret the Nazarene and God as equal, what effect does that have on the Holy Spirit?”
“An equal to God and Jesus in the Trinity. Three separate entities, working in unison. Arius points to the writings of Sabellian—a priest who lived over a century ago. He felt that God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit were merely different facets of one God. Not three separate entities.”
“Yes, that’s getting closer to an answer,” Constantine was looking for something while he spoke. “Whatever decision your Bishops reach, the Church’s theology must be…embraced…by everyone. Human nature is fickle and flawed. The Church must offer order. Spiritual order. If we don’t have that, these factions will be fighting for a thousand years. Politically, of course, it’s best to have a compromise solution in mind before this synod begins. Compromise, Ossius. If you have winner and losers, the losers will feel…abused. And that leaves an opening for problems later.”
“Perhaps I can have some private conversations with Alexander before the meeting. Find the theological common ground where both sides can meet.”
Constantine finally found a tablet. “Yes! Good. And I will send a letter to both Alexander and Arius, emphasizing the importance of resolving this controversy.”
Alexandria, Egypt
End of October, 1077 AUC (324 AD)
Athanasius and Alexander were riding in an open carriage to go to a market on the south side of Alexandria, not far from Arius’ former church. Alexander wanted a new rug for saying prayers next to his bed; his old one was threadbare.
Athanasius was concerned that many of Arius’ supporters were in this part of the city. He’d tried—and failed—to convince Alexander not to go to this market. So, he’d notified some of his fellow deacons about the trip.
As a result, seven young men in dark brown tunics walked alongside the carriage. Each wore a large wooden cross around his neck and carried a thick shepherd’s staff.
As they rode in the carriage, Athanasius was reading in a loud voice, parts of Constantine’s letter that was sent to both Alexander and Arius.
…now that I have made a careful enquiry into the origin and foundation of these differences, I have found the cause to be of a truly insignificant character, and quite unworthy of such fierce contention. I feel compelled to address you in this letter, and to appeal at the same time to your unity and discernment. I call on Divine Providence to assist me in the task, while I interrupt your dissension as a minister of peace. I have hope for success: Even in a great disagreement, I might expect with the help of the higher Power to be able without difficulty, by a judicious appeal to the pious feelings of those who hear me, to recall them to a better spirit. How can I help but to expect a far easier and more speedy resolution of this difference, when the cause which hinders general harmony of sentiment is intrinsically trifling and of little importance?
Athanasius couldn’t resist
commenting: “So, our good Emperor feels our disagreement with Arius is insignificant and trifling. The nature of God and our Savior is trifling? And, this from the most powerful man on earth! Is this the intellectual power of the Empire?”
“Athanasius, please. Just read the letter. I want to hear what he says.”
Athanasius continued.
As long as you continue to contend about these small and very insignificant questions, it is not fitting that so large a portion of God’s people should be under the direction of your judgment, since you are thus divided between yourselves. In my opinion, it is not merely unbecoming, but positively evil, that such should be the case.
“Is this a threat? Is he telling you that he will remove you if you don’t make a deal with Arius? And what must Arius give up?”
Alexander seemed impatient. “You must listen without prejudice, Athanasius. This is a man who just consolidated all of the political power in the Empire. He’s the first true Emperor in my lifetime. He’s no fool. And we don’t want to pick a fight with him. Keep reading.”
I say this without in any way desiring to force you to a complete unity of judgment in regard to this truly idle question, whatever its real nature may be. For the dignity of your synod can be preserved, and the communion of your whole body can be maintained unbroken, no matter how wide a difference exists among you about unimportant matters. We are not all like-minded on every subject, nor is there such a thing as one universal disposition and judgment.
“Fatherly advice from our great leader, that not everyone thinks the same. This is—”
“Athanasius! You are being disrespectful. To a lay person these matters may appear trivial. How many people pray to our Lord about their problems and wonder whether he is identical to God or merely almost like God? Not a one, I would venture.”
Athanasius closed the scroll. “Regardless of the Emperor’s pleadings, we are correct. Even if he resumes persecutions, I shall not compromise!”
Imperator, Deus Page 22