Imperator, Deus

by John R. Prann Jr.

  Arius was trying to remember the letter—but he’d written so many. “No, not specifically. But I suspect it was not complementary. I still have qualms about that book.”

  “You called him ‘a Greek-loving deviant.’” The assembly was eerily silent.

  “’A Greek-loving deviant!’” Athanasius repeated.

  “I don’t recall that wording….”

  Athanasius lifted a piece of a scroll. “Here is the letter! Do you not recognize your own hand?” He walked from behind the podium toward Arius, still holding the letter up high.

  “Yes. It appears to be my hand. But it is important to explain…”

  “Explain how the most important document of early Christianity was written by a ‘Greek-loving deviant’? Explain that this Gospel, inspired by the Almighty, was written by a deviant rather than the Apostle John?”

  A crowd of deacons on the farthest edge of the hall started to chant “Blasphemy.”

  Ossius raised his hand for silence. And the chant died down.

  Arius was still trying to find the appropriate words for his response. But he saw that Athanasius was about to say something more, so he spoke quickly: “My opinion is that the Gospels of Mark, Luke and Matthew are genuine. And the most authentic versions of Jesus’ works and deeds. I believe the Gospel of John was written well after the others. And it reflects what its authors believed, not what the namesake Apostle witnessed.”

  Athanasius looked at Arius for a moment, and then asked,” So do you not believe in the Gospel of John? Do you not believe that the Holy Gospel was written by the Apostle John? Not divinely inspired?”

  “No. I believe much of the Gospel of John. I just believe the earlier Gospels…more,” Arius answered.

  “So, you do not believe the theme of John—that Jesus walked this earth as a divine being?”

  “I believe Jesus walked this earth as the son of man.”

  More muttering and beginnings of chants. The audience was turning against Arius—and Athanasius would happily enflame the issue. Ossius saw Clodius, far to the right side of the hall, chanting something. He couldn’t allow this. He stood and raised both arms: “Silence! This is not a circus! Or a political debate. This is a theological inquiry. Please listen quietly and with respect for all.”

  Ossius stared again at Athanasius—and nodded back to the empty podium. Athanasius returned and Ossius sat down.

  “Arius, you did not answer my question. Do you believe in the Gospel of John, which reports that Jesus walked on earth as a divine being?”

  Arius looked back at his questioner. He stood tall. And was ready to make a better answer. “Yes. Of course, I believe Jesus was divine while on earth. But I believe he was a man, too. A perfect man. But a man that we, as imperfect men, can imitate and follow. Not some distant god that we have no chance of imitating. A man who lived and died. Then was reborn by the glory of God’s gift of Resurrection.”

  “So, you do not believe in Jesus as John describes him?”

  “I believe in Jesus as Origen interprets the Gospel of John’s description: ‘Begotten by the Father after creation, not equal to the Father.’ This is like Paul’s opinion, ‘an example to follow, not a myth.’ I believe, as I have written in my Thalia, that there was a time when the Son was not.”

  Athanasius made a haughty sneer. “Your poems are popular. They have made your name renowned. But, as Bishop Ossius reminds us, this is a theological inquiry.” He was about to say more.

  So, Arius jumped in: “True. Let us consider the Gospels as scholars, not as advocates. The Jesus described in the Gospel of John is not the same as the Jesus described in the Synoptic Gospels. John’s Jesus is aloof and proud to declare that He is the Son of the Father. In the Synoptics, Jesus is humble and asks His disciples and those He cures not to tell anyone that He is the Christ. John’s Jesus constantly tells His listeners ‘verily, verily’ and is impatient. “The Synoptics’ Jesus asks simple questions to make profound points—and is understanding. Now, of course, this was in fact the same man. But two different portraits. I prefer the earlier portrait, from the three original Gospels.”

  The murmurs started again. The same group of deacons—and Clodius was one of them—were resuming their “Blasphemy” chant.

  Ossius was about to silence the Council again, when someone else did it for him. A large Centurion appeared at the main entrance to the great hall. He didn’t enter completely; but he didn’t have to. The crowd fell silent immediately. Many of them had been persecuted by Romans soldiers just like that.

  The Centurion stayed by the entrance. Quintus, wearing a tunic, came in from behind him and walked directly to Constantine. The guard whispered something to the Emperor, who rose and left the assembly. Outside, Constantine recognized the tall Centurion—the same man who’d found the crossing spot outside of Adrianople. The Centurion tried to bow, but the Emperor shook his arm instead. “My son, please, it is good to see you again. What brings you here?”

  “Augustus, Dux Ablabius instructed me to deliver this letter to you. Personally.”

  “Do you know what he writes, Centurion?”

  “No, Imperator. He told me that it was important that no one see the letter but you.”

  Constantine broke the seal and opened the scroll. He frowned while reading it. And then he turned back to the centurion: “It is better that you do not know what this letter concerns. There are elements in the Empire that would take your life to know its contents. Let us meet before breakfast tomorrow by my quarters. I will give you a response to be delivered to Ablabius. Go toward my villa and ask for my Adiutor Aelius. He will get you a room, bath and dinner for this evening.”

  As the Centurion walked toward the Villa, Constantine turned to Quintus. Since his injury at Chrysopolis, Quintus could not sustain significant physical activity. So, he’d become the closest of Constantine’s guards. Practically a companion. And, because Quintus seldom spoke, secrets were safe with him.

  “Ablabius writes that Licinius and Sextus have had conversations with the barbarians concerning building an army. He caught two of the barbarians after a meeting with Licinius. They both substantiated the treachery. He wants Licinius and Sextus both executed. My concern is that Ablabius has always thought Licinius should have been executed after Chrysopolis. I suspect he is looking for every small infraction to prove conspiracy. What do you think, Quintus?” Constantine asked.

  “They should both die, Augustus.”

  “Just like that? I promised my sister her husband could live.”

  “Battles for Empires are to the death. Licinius will never accept that he is not the rightful Emperor,” Quintus replied.

  “Your argument is compelling. You are a tough man to negotiate with, Quintus,” Constantine said in mock humor. “But you are correct. Licinius and Sextus have lived too long, and that must include Licinius’ son.”

  Nicaea, Asia Minor

  July 14, 1078 AUC (325 AD)

  Athanasius had been questioning Arius for several days.

  The questions were based on letters and papers that Arius had written—in some cases, years or even decades earlier. Ossius had declared a couple of days of recess in between. During those days off, Eusebius of Nicomedia had spoken to several Council members whose opinions he respected. Athanasius had lost the crowd. The bishops and priests had heard more than enough of his prosecution of Arius. Some called it a “persecution.”

  At the beginning of the Council’s day back from its break, Athanasius took the stage and his familiar place behind the podium.

  As soon as Ossius called the Council into order, Eusebius rose and spoke. “Bishop Ossius, I have a point of order to raise before we begin our official business again.”

  “Yes, Bishop Eusebius?”

  Eusebius walked up onto the stage, near Ossius and Constantine’s seats. “Ossius,” and then he turned to face
the audience. “Brothers, we have listened patiently now for many days to this young man’s vilification of Arius’ writings. I’ve heard enough. I’m sure that, if a determined scribe were to scrutinize my letters from over a decade, he would find inconsistencies and imperfect opinions. And I’m certain the same is true for most of you. The charge of this Council is to determine the Church’s formal answer to the question of the nature of our Lord, Jesus Christ. It is not our business to scrutinize and ridicule one man’s individual beliefs. Let us remove this one man from our consideration—and only look at the issue. I do not share Arius’ opinion of the Gospel of John. I do not share his opinion of Paul’s changing Jesus’ message for one audience or another. But I do agree with Arius that God begot Christ at a time after God—that Jesus is the Son of God in the truest sense. I believe that God is timeless. So, I agree with Arius that God is the Mosaic God of the Jews—the God of the Ten Commandments, the God of Abraham. He is the ‘God Almighty’ that Jesus worshiped and gave reverence in all of His preaching. The God that Jesus states, even in John’s Gospel, is greater than He. Now, you may agree with me—or you may not. But this is the issue of this Council, not to put the many writings of Arius on trial.”

  Loud applause was the Council’s reply to Eusebius.

  Alexander, as if anticipating Eusebius’s argument, rose to reply: “What the good Bishop from Nicomedia says is true. Coming to a consensus on the nature of Jesus is our primary goal. To attain that knowledge however, we have to look to all our sources and decide their reliability. Arius has set the argument of Jesus being less divine. So, it behooves us to investigate the reliability of his opinions on a full range of theological issues. We must judge if he is a true and good Christian whose opinion we must value, or a tool of the devil sent here to mislead us.”

  The response to Alexander was not as strong—and was clearly coming mostly from deacons and younger members of the audience. Athanasius walked out from behind the podium and whispered something to Alexander.

  Eusebius, still standing, answered: “Alexander, Arius holds a different opinion than you on this matter—that doesn’t make him a ‘tool of the devil.’ He has been a devout priest for many years. He studied with some of the most respected teachers of our time. Including you. Now he has become a tool of the devil? I share his opinion. Am I also such a tool?”

  “The devil works in mysterious ways. Perhaps he is convincing you both that your argument is the correct one—in order to diminish the glory of Jesus Christ,” Alexander said.

  The audience groaned.

  Eusebius sighed theatrically and then said, “Or perhaps he has convinced you that you are correct by appealing to your pride. Pride in having a position that allows you to intimidate others.”

  Alexander was noticeably uneasy. Athanasius whispered more. And gave Alexander a small scroll. Alexander looked at the scroll and then turned to the audience. “I have no such pride. I am merely a humble servant of the Lord. I believe my deacon’s final question of Arius makes my earlier point. Arius, do you recall the verse you sent to Athanasius—similar to the verse you have in your Thalia? Let me read it to you and the Council.”

  God is inexpressible to the Son.

  For he is in himself what he is, that is, indescribable, So that the son does not comprehend any of these things or have the understanding to explain them. For it is impossible for him to fathom the Father, who is by himself.

  For the Son himself does not even know his own essence, For being Son, his existence is most certainly at the will of the Father.

  All eyes turned to Arius, who nodded and said: “Yes. I recall that I have written that. It’s from the Thalia. But my recollection of what I wrote to Athanasius is vague.”

  “Arius, by this admission, you believe Jesus can’t comprehend God.”

  “I believe God is so inexplicably powerful, great and forgiving that no one in Heaven or Earth can comprehend him.”

  “Not even Jesus, our Lord, can comprehend his Father?”

  The deacons again started chanting “Blasphemy.” But, this time, the rest of the crowd hushed them.

  Emboldened by Eusebius and the crowd, Arius responded more aggressively than he had before: “Alexander, do you understand God?” He paused momentarily for a response that didn’t come. Then he continued: “I didn’t think so. Nor do I think anyone here would claim he does. Jesus was divine. He could heal the sick and feed the poor. But could He create the cosmos? The moon, the planets, the stars? God’s power has no limits. Nor his love. Nor his forgiveness. His qualities are boundless. Unimaginable to our human minds. You say the devil may be an influence on me. But my love for God leaves no room for the devil. I believe God’s power and love will influence even the devil to repent and beg forgiveness. Some day.”

  “What??” yelled Alexander. “What did you say about Satan, the fallen angel?”

  “God’s capacity for forgiveness is so great that someday, perhaps Judgment Day, God could forgive Satan.”

  The assembly roared with calls of “Blasphemy!” and responses calling for silence. Ossius waved his arms for silence.

  Ossius finally stood, quieting the uproar, talked to Alexander and then addressed Eusebius, who was still standing on the stage. “Eusebius, it’s clear that many on the Council agree with your position that this exchange has become more about Arius than about the ideas about Jesus’ nature that he has expressed. But Alexander has told me that he is near the final point of his questioning. I will allow him to complete his inquiry.” And then he turned to Alexander, “But, Bishop, you must be the one who asks the questions. This Council is not a symposium for your deacon’s training. Eusebius, Athanasius, please be seated. Alexander, you may take the podium. But, if your questions stray far from matters relevant to this Council’s business, I will end the inquiry.”

  Alexander took the podium but was silent for a few moments while he gathered his thoughts. Finally he said in a deep voice with growing volume: “Arius, you are knowledgeable of the Synoptic Gospels; so, you must be aware that what you said a few moments ago contradicts the description of Judgment Day in those early books. And you completely ignore the description of Judgment Day in the Book of Revelation.”

  It wasn’t a question, so Arius waited for more. When it became clear there wouldn’t be, he responded: “The descriptions of God’s Judgment in the Gospels and Revelation were written by a men with their opinions. In my opinion, God’s forgiveness is best described by Jesus and his actions. He teaches us to forgive our enemies and He teaches us about God’s limitless forgiveness. Origen was of the same opinion. His writings certainly have influenced me, as I suspect they have everyone on the Council.”

  “In believing such theories, you are denying the Gospel’s words. Matthew, in his Gospel, writes that when Jesus returns He will separate those who have lived a Christian life from those that have not. He will send those that have not into everlasting punishment. You are committing blasphemy and—” Constantine coughed.

  “Alexander, please stop. You are not to pass judgement, this is an inquiry, not a trial. I will not warn you again,” Ossius said.

  “Arius, do you believe that the Scriptures are the Word of God?”

  “Yes, Bishop, I do. What we’re talking about here are my opinions, my interpretations, of the works that God inspired men to write. We can debate their meaning. Only He knows for certain. I’ve stated that God may not have made His Son identical to Himself. Whether I am right or wrong about that, God’s decision has already happened. I have stated that God may forgive Satan someday. God knows whether He will do that—or not. To Him, time is unimportant. But, to us, it is a future event that we cannot know. I don’t believe even Satan knows. What we are debating here are human judgments and opinions. We cannot know God’s nature or Jesus’. We base our opinions on what the Greek Philosophers called ‘rea-son.’ Arius turns to the crowd and continues. “Bishop Ale
xander also uses reason to conclude that Jesus has the same nature as God. He makes an interesting argument. But none of us really knows what God actually did.”

  “You are ignoring the very Word of God in the Scriptures that prove both of your opinions wrong,” said Alexander, his voice again rising and shaking at the same time. “John’s Gospel affirms our knowledge concerning the divinity of Jesus. And Matthew and the two other Synoptic Gospels are unequivocal that God will send Jesus to judge the unworthy and send them to eternal punishment in Hell. And Revelation describes it all!”

  Arius looked at Ossius, who was looking down. And Constantine, who was looking up. Clearly exasperated, Arius moved away from the podium, then back. “Alexander’ He yelled back. ‘We have a library in your city that includes numerous editions of the early Gospels. In several languages. Many contradictory to each other. They are the texts that Origen studied. That I studied. And you studied. These texts are written by men—many with their own agenda, their own opinions, just as we have here today in this Council.”

  Arius continued still yelling. “The clearest picture of Jesus we have comes from the early Synoptic Gospels. In those, Jesus states in that He was a man, the Son of man. I take Him at His word for that.” Arius literally screamed.

  “Sinner, you are not heeding the very scriptures you so admire, that you have sworn as a Priest that you believe. You, my son, are going to Hell!” Alexander screamed, his angry, quivering voice rising in a crescendo.

  A wave of objections and jeers—directed at both Alexander and Arius—flowed from the back of the hall to the front. Very loudly. Ossius rose and approached the podium, waving his arms for silence. After several minutes, the noise remained oppressive. So, Constantine also stood. And the Council quieted.

  Ossius stared at Alexander, then spoke. “I think we have heard enough of this inquiry. Let us take the rest of the day for prayers and contemplation. We will meet tomorrow at mid-day and bring this matter to some resolution.”