Chapter 2: The Church Before Nicea
When Christ walked the earth with His disciples, preaching to the people, He unfolded clearly for the first time the sublime mystery of the Trinity. The mind of man stood helpless before this revelation. It could never grasp this truth completely. In fact, until God Himself opened up to the mind of man the secret of the Trinitarian life, no one could have even imagined the divine nature being shared equally by three divine Persons. Yet this was, above all, the mystery revealed by Christ. It was the mystery of Christ Himself: God the Son among men, come to save them from their sin.
It was to be the work of the Church on earth to continue the work of Christ. Aided by His Spirit, it was to keep alive and unchanged the truth unveiled by God; acting as His instrument, it was to share in the work of applying to the souls of men the graces won for them upon Calvary. For this reason, the history of the Church is really the history of Christ - Christ in His fullness, the Mystical Christ.
The early years of that history were troubled years. They were dominated by two chief concerns. There were on the one hand, the recurring persecutions from without, and, on the other, the doctrinal errors within. The doctrinal battles had to be carried on while the men and women who believed in Christ passed through the terrors of persecution. This was the special cross of the first few centuries.
Sometimes our modern view of the ancient Church may tend to exaggerate the nature of the persecutions. Unless we are careful, we may come to think of the Christians of the first few centuries as living constantly in the catacombs, and coming into the light of day only to meet the beasts in the martyr's arena. Actually, the persecutions were not a continual, relentless persecution of the followers of Christ. They were more periodic, interspaced with years of relative peace. But they did keep returning, again and again, until the end of the third century. In the background of these persecutions, especially in the years of peace, the Church continued to grow, became more definitely organized, and set forth its doctrine with ever increasing clarity.
The first persecution broke out soon after the death of Christ, in Jerusalem itself. It was this that first helped the faith to spread to other parts of the known world, for the Christians had to leave Jerusalem. This persecution under Agrippa, which must have begun about the year 36, brought the Church its first martyr, St. Stephen.
This, however, was only a faint echo of the two particularly fierce persecutions which marked that first century. The Roman emperors also turned their hatred against the Christians. First there was the persecution of Nero (from a.d. 64 to 67), and then - after twenty-five years of relative peace - that of Domi-tian (a.d. 95).
Yet these two trials were only the beginning. In the next century, Rome continued to persecute the followers of Christ. There was, however, one difference. In the second century, the emperors paid more attention to the legal requirements for condemning Christians. This was, of course, scant comfort to those who died "legally." It was, nevertheless, the first step toward a change in official attitude. Thus, while these later emperors were not exactly "friends" of the Church, their attitude was different enough that Tertullian could write that only Nero and Domitian were the "enemies" of the Christians.
Nevertheless, the persecutions did continue; Clement of Rome and Ignatius of Antioch died under Trajan at the beginning of the second century. Hadrian, Antoninus, and Marcus Aurelius all continued to bring Christians to trial and to punish them with death. Polycarp, the bishop of Smyrna, died under Antoninus, in 156; the church at Lyons was all but blotted out under Marcus Aurelius, only to rise again under the direction of Irenaeus.
The first real help came from the worst of the Roman emperors (from the Roman point of view). Commodus (180-192) was very little interested in enforcing the Roman law, but from this the Christians benefited. It was still against the law to be a Christian, but the State under Commodus was not too much concerned with that fact.
With the death of Commodus, matters took on a different color once again. Under Septimius Severus (193-211), the State began to take the initiative in bringing Christians to trial. Formerly, the State had waited for denunciations from the people. In practice, however, this change resulted in even more sporadic persecutions. They arose more suddenly, at the will of the Emperor; they were in some ways more violent. Eventually they died out, one by one, having spent their force with no lasting effect. Septimius Severus failed in his attempt to slow down the progress of Christianity. Nor did the bloody persecution of Maximin (235-238), brief though it was, meet with any greater success. The Christian Church remained.
In the middle of the 3rd century, with the coming of Decius (249), we came upon the last -and the most violent - persecution of the century. This general persecution aimed at stamping out the Christians once and for all. During this period large numbers of Christians apostatized. The persecution was waged on all sides: at Rome, in Africa, in Gaul, in Spain, and in Asia; Christians died by the hundreds. Gallus succeeded Decius in 251 and renewed the persecution.
Valerian, the successor of Gallus, continued this policy soon after he became emperor (253-260). It was only after his death that it appeared the trials were over. But the appearances were deceptive. After nearly twenty years of peace, Diocletian was instigated by Galerius to undertake what was to be the final persecution of the Christians (303). A period of violence followed, with many deaths, but Christianity was to triumph. The bloody purge was finally called off in 311 by Constantine, Licinius and Galerius - one of the very men who had moved Diocletian to begin it. It was now stated officially (even though begrudgingly) that "it is permissible to be a Christian." Church property was restored, religious assemblies were allowed.
The final and lasting peace came with the famous Edict of Milan in 313: the peace of Constantine. It marks the dividing point in the history of the early Church, and brings with it the first General Council of Nicea.
With these external trials as a backdrop, the doctrinal battle went on within the Church during these same years. Before St. Paul died, he wrote a letter to his disciple Timothy, summing up the Christian teaching: "Remember that Jesus Christ rose from the dead and was descended from David; this is my gospel, in which I suffer even to bonds, as a criminal" (2 Tim. 2:8). These two points were the extremes which had been joined together in Christ. He is a true Man: descended from David; but He is also God, since He rose from the dead as He had foretold. The whole doctrinal story of the early Church is a defense of these two extremes against those who would over-emphasize one point at the expense of the other.
Even before the first century had drawn to a close, there were those who had begun to challenge this central thought of Christianity. For different reasons, they denied especially that Christ was true God. When St. John wrote the Fourth Gospel toward the end of the first century, he clearly had them in mind. He explains this as the very reason why he wrote his Gospel: "But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God . . ." (Jn. 20:31).
There were also some men who denied that Christ was the Messias; these were, especially, the early Christians who belonged to the so-called "Judaizing" party. They wished to hold fast to the practices of the old Jewish Law, and yet they realized that there was in the teaching of Christ a certain rejection of at least part of this Law. In rejecting Him as the Messias, however, they also rejected Him as God.
Other Christians of the first century came into contact with systems of philosophy that taught that material things were evil in themselves. They believed in Christ, but came to deny that He was true Man. Because of these other ideas, they felt they had to deny at once that Christ ever possessed a real, physical body. To them it seemed impossible that "God" could have taken on something as "evil" as a material, physical body.
St. Ignatius of Antioch, put to death at the beginning of the second century, was greatly concerned with those who denied that Christ possessed a true human nature. On his journey to Rome, where he was to die, he wrote seven letters to different churches. In them he mentions the error of these men. We now refer to them as "Docetists," from the Greek word dokein (which means "to seem" or "to appear"). They claimed that Christ only "seemed" to have a body like ours; actually He did not. Hence Ignatius wrote: "Be deaf, then, to any talk that ignores Jesus Christ, of David's lineage, of Mary: who was really born, ate, and drank; was really persecuted under Pontius Pilate; was really crucified and died, in the sight of heaven and earth and the underworld. He was really raised from the dead, for his Father raised him, just as his Father will raise us. . . . It is not as some unbelievers say, that his Passion was a sham. It is they who are a sham! Yes, and their fate will fit their fancies - they will be ghosts and apparitions."
The men of this period eventually began to speak of the Trinity by using terms that differ from those in Scripture. This, of course, was something that had to happen. The doctrinal history of the Church is a continuation of this process. What has been said in the graphic speech of Scripture must come to be expressed in more "technical" terms to satisfy the needs of the inquiring mind of man, and to answer the objections of various heretics. This could not be avoided. But when man attempts to explain in any way the content of revealed truth, there is the grave danger that he will distort it. He may all too easily put his ideas into the words of Scripture, and give them an entirely new meaning.
Ultimately, only the proper teaching authority in the Church can give the final answer. This is the task of the Popes and the General Councils down through the ages: to single out what is a valid clarification of scriptural terminology from what is erroneous. Without the guarantee of an infallible guide in this matter, Christian truth would soon be lost in the maze of contrary opinions. Yet, we need not believe the opinion of any mere man, no matter how wise nor how saintly he may be. We are obliged to accept on faith only the word of God, and nothing more. For this reason God continues to speak through His Church. He makes use of those to whom He has entrusted the sacred office of teaching. They speak not on their authority, but on God's and we accept not their opinion but the truth testified by the authority of God who speaks through them.
Before such matters are settled, however, history recounts a long series of errors and confusions. An infallible teaching authority does not receive a new revelation from heaven. Though guided always by the Holy Spirit, the Popes and the bishops of the world have not always known what to say. They must discuss and study the truths of faith, and only then can they speak. Infallibility at that moment means that when they do speak, God will keep them from error.
Thus in these early years, we see the need of stating the very same truth of Scripture, but by expressing it in different words. In that way, the Church comes to understand revealed truth more clearly. Later, for example, we will note how the Blessed Mother is solemnly defined, at the Council of Ephesus, as the "Mother of God." This is said nowhere in Scripture in these very words; but it is true nevertheless. It is contained in Scripture, just as the belief in it was a part of the faith and teaching of the Church in the first century. But it must gradually be stated in these more precise terms.
Perhaps the first great impulse toward this process came from the Gnostics. Gnosis means "knowledge," and these were the "wise ones" who claimed to understand life properly. There were pagan Gnostics before Christ; thus Gnosticism did not develop from Christianity. When some of these men came into contact with Christian truth, however, they attempted to join the two teachings together. Frequently they fell into error. Their fundamental belief that matter is evil was at the basis of the error of "Docetism," into which some of them fell - the belief that Christ had no true physical body.
The Gnostics also thought of God as someone from whom there came forth "sparks" of some sort - emanations, they called them. This notion was to confuse the Christians of later centuries when they came to describe the relationship of the Second Person of the Trinity to the Father. In fact, the general Gnostic notions will occasionally appear in our doctrinal history for many centuries. Gnosticism developed many varied forms, so that it is really impossible to reduce them all to one system. But the general tendencies are clear when they do appear.
As a result, the early defenders of the faith were especially concerned with these and similar errors. In regard to the explanation of Christian faith in the third century two men stand out: Tertullian and Origen. These two had a tremendous effect on the "technical" vocabulary which the Church was developing - Tertullian in Latin, Origen in Greek. New words had to be coined to express the truths of the Christian faith in something beyond the words of Scripture, and they helped lead the way.
By departing from the graphic terms of Scripture, however, they were taking a certain risk, and eventually they both fell into a doctrinal error. Tertullian even left the Church and joined the group known as Montanists - a group of Christians who desired to lead extremely devout lives, but who fell into error since they felt they alone were being guided by the Holy Spirit; the Church itself had supposedly fallen into serious heresy.
In the third century, however, new errors began to rise, errors that can be identified in special ways. They were actually preparing the way for the heresy of the early Church: Arianism. The names of two men stand out in this early period: Sabellius and Paul of Samosata.
Sabellius was a priest of Lybia who taught chiefly at Rome. He attempted to explain the Trinity in a novel fashion: he admitted only a difference in names. Thus, he claimed, whenever we speak of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, we are really only calling the one divine Person by three different names, depending on how God is manifesting Himself to the Church. Sabellius has the dubious honor (given to others throughout the centuries) of having this general error named after him: Sabellianism. There were, however, other men who held similar teachings, and other names. One group was known as the Patripassiani. They logically concluded that if there was only a difference in names, it was really the "Father" who suffered on the cross. Hence the name, from Pater (father) and passio (suffer).
Paul of Samosata was the bishop of Antioch, and an important name in history, since he was a friend of Lucian, the teacher of Arius. Paul of Samosata taught things very much like Sabellius, but he attempted to explain the teaching in more scientific fashion. His starting place was God as an intelligent Being. God has intelligence, and therefore He can "utter" a divine word. This word he called by the Greek name Logos, which means the same thing. For Paul, however, this Logos was not a person at all; it was only a manner in which God manifested His power.
As a result, when Paul of Samosata came to speak of Christ, he claimed that Christ was only a man - a mere man, and nothing more. He was not God. We might call him the "adopted son" of God, but for Paul that meant only one thing: this "power" of God (the Logos) overshadowed Jesus, and dwelt in Him as in a temple.
In this teaching, the Logos is not really "distinct" from God; it is simply an impersonal power of God. Thus the Logos was not a divine person. Paul of Samosata expressed this by saying that God and the Logos were "of one substance." In saying this, he used a most important word in the history of the Church, but used it in bis own meaning: homo-ousion. As Paul of Samosata used it, it meant there was no Trinity of persons at all - no Father and Son (nor Holy Spirit). The Logos was simply an attribute or power of God. In this he was very much like Sabellius.
To this, however, Paul had added another idea: the notion of the Logos coming to dwell in Jesus of Nazareth. In this way he was helping to prepare for the big debate of the Council of Nicea, for Arius was to develop this thought in his own way. With the stage set in this fashion, two new figures appear who are destined to bring forth the first General Council of the Church. The one is Constantine, the Emperor who would give peace and official recognition to the Church. The other is Arius, who by his teaching on the Trinity, would succeed in tearing asunder the Church of Christ, and bring forth the need of a General Council. He was to do it, however, not by persecution from without, but by sowing the seeds of doctrinal error within the Church itself.