Education

The words “Anglican” and “Anglicanism” have become so commonplace we can easily overlook their fairly recent provenance. They don’t stretch back to the ancient Celtic Church of the Britons of Roman Britannia. Nor do they even go back as far as the English Reformation of the 16th century. It is true that the Latin phrase “Ecclesia Anglicana” had been used occasionally for the Church in England beginning in the High Medieval period. However, the English terms, “Anglican” and “Anglicanism” really only came into common use in the 19th and 20th centuries as the Church of England became more intentional in her relationships with the churches she had planted in other parts of the world.

“Anglican” and “Anglicanism” have generally come to refer to the Christian faith and ecclesiastical polity, history, and traditions that took root in the British Isles, evolving over centuries from the Church in England to the Church of England, and eventually growing into a global communion of churches all over the world. The Episcopal Church is one such Anglican Church because we emerged from the Church of England in the British colonies in America, and we remain in communion with the Church of England. So, as Episcopalians and Anglicans, our particular Christian heritage and ecclesial genealogy must be traced back to the arrival of Christianity in the British Isles.
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Jan. 25, 2025
Part 2—Christianity’s Arrival in the British Isles

After his Resurrection and before his Ascension, Jesus sent his disciples out “to make disciples of all peoples, baptizing them in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28:19). Scripture records some of the stories of that first generation of the Church taking the Gospel into the wider world. Tradition adds still more tales. And then legends have arisen where Scripture and Tradition are silent. One such legend suggests that Joseph of Arimathea was the first to bring the Christian faith to the British Isles.

According to Scripture, Joseph was a wealthy member of the Great Sanhedrin in Jerusalem, and he was also a disciple of Jesus (Matthew 27:57; Luke 23:50-51). When Jesus was crucified, Joseph used his influence to acquire Christ’s body and offered his own tomb for the burial (Mark 15:43).

That’s all Scripture has to say about Joseph; however, legend picks up his story after Jesus’ resurrection.

Inspired by the Great Commission, so the legend goes, Joseph of Arimathea used his wealth to finance a missionary journey up to the northern edges of the Roman Empire—across the sea to Cornwall and then to Glastonbury, Somerset to proclaim the gospel and plant a church. It’s said that when Joseph reached his destination and looked down upon Glastonbury from Wearyall Hill, his walking staff—made from Judean hawthorn—took root in the soil upon which he stood and blossomed. Even today, descendants of that ancient hawthorn tree survive in Glastonbury and bloom twice a year—around Easter and, curiously, during Christmastide.
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<Feb. 1, 2025
strong>Part 3—The First Bishop of Albion

In addition to the legend of Joseph of Arimathea establishing a church in Glastonbury, tradition tells of yet another first-century missionary bringing the Christian faith to Roman Britannia. His name was Aristobulus. A document written in the 4th century names him as one of the Seventy Disciples of Jesus in Galilee mentioned in the Gospel according to Luke (10:1). The Eastern Orthodox hold that Aristobulus was the brother of St Paul’s missionary companion, Barnabas. And he has often been identified with the Aristobulus mentioned by Paul in his Epistle the Romans (16:10).

Paul wrote that letter to the Church in Rome as he was preparing to visit them for the first time on his way to Spain. However, Paul never seems to have made it to Spain. He did get to Rome, as he had planned, but in chains, which he hadn’t planned. Paul had been arrested in Jerusalem and transported under guard to the capital of the Empire. There he probably remained under house arrest until his martyrdom during the Emperor Nero’s persecution of the Christians.

Paul’s Epistle tells us that the Christians in Rome knew of Aristobulus and that members of his household were among them. It also reminds us that Christians were taking the Gospel to the farthest reaches of the Roman Empire and beyond. Presumably, Aristobulus was one of these apostolic missionaries, bringing the faith to the British Isles—then known as Albion—as its first bishop. Tradition preserves no details about his missionary and pastoral work among the Britons and contains conflicting accounts of his death. Either Aristobulus was martyred, perhaps in the country we now call Wales, or he died peacefully and was laid to rest in Glastonbury.
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Feb. 9, 2025
Part 4—A First Century Church in Roman Britannia

If the legend of Joseph of Arimathea journeying to Glastonbury and the tradition of Aristobulus becoming the first Bishop of Albion contain historical truth, then Christianity came to the British Isles in the apostolic age of the first century. This would mean there was a Church in Roman Britannia with as ancient a provenance as the Churches in Alexandria, Rome, and some of those mentioned in the New Testament. And there are reasons not to discount these legends and traditions too hastily.

At the beginning of the third century (around AD 200), the North African theologian, Tertullian mentioned that the Britons even beyond the boundaries of the Roman Empire had faith in Christ. Not long after, the great theologian and teacher at the Catechetical School in Alexandria, Origen testified to the same. Based on these two writings, we know there was a Church in the British Isles by at least the second century. We also know that by the latter half of the first century the gospel was being proclaimed and churches were being established in cities all over the Empire. Why not Roman Britannia as well?

Julius Caesar first laid eyes on the white cliffs of Dover as he sailed with two legions to Albion fifty-five years Before Christ. However, it was under Emperor Claudius in AD 43 that the Romans truly invaded the island of Britain and established the southern half as an imperial province. The Romans had just put down the rebellion of the Briton warrior chieftain, Boudica, “Queen” of the Iceni tribe as Saint Paul was arriving in Rome in chains. Within a few short years, the Emperor Nero would begin the first major persecution of the Christians in Rome. While around the same time, the Empire faced the outbreak of the First Jewish Revolt, a war that led to the Roman siege and destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70. It isn’t difficult to imagine Joseph of Arimathea or Aristobulus joining other Christians fleeing these horrors and seeking new homes where they could live and spread the Faith in the more remote frontiers of the Empire, like Britannia.
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Feb.16, 2025
Part 5—Lucius, King of the Britons, Becomes Christian

In his 8th century Ecclesiastical History of the English People, the Venerable Bede (c. 673-735) expanded on the brief witness to Christianity in 2nd century Roman Britannia found in the writings of Tertullian (c. 155-c. 220) and Origen (c. 185-c. 253). According to Bede, a certain Lucius, whom he calls “king of the Britons,” became interested in the Christian Faith. Desiring to be properly converted from his paganism, Lucius sent a message to the Bishop of Rome, Pope Eleutherius around AD 179.

The fact that King Lucius was aware of Christianity in the mid-second century supports the legends and traditions of the gospel being proclaimed in the British Isles very early. However, Lucius’ appeal to the Bishop of Rome raises an important question. If Christianity had already taken root in Roman Britannia by the end of the first century, then why did Lucius entreat the Bishop of Rome to assist his conversion? Why didn’t he simply avail himself of the Celtic and Roman Christians of Britannia to baptize and initiate him into the Church?

There are several potential reasons Lucius turned to the Bishop of Rome to oversee his conversion—none of which are mutually exclusive. First, the Christian communities of Roman Britannia may have been small and sporadically spread throughout the province, making them difficult to find. Second, Christian churches were still illegal in the 2nd century and faced occasional local persecution throughout the Empire, which might have made Christians wary of a political leader seeking them out. Third, as a major chieftain of the Britons and possible “client king” for the Romans, Lucius may have felt that honor demanded the pedigree of his baptism be through the most important Christian leader nearest to him—namely, the Bishop of Rome. Finally, by the 2nd century, the Church was developing an extended period of catechesis—instruction in the faith and practice of Christianity—before baptism. Lucius may have desired the best catechesis he could receive and assumed that this was more likely to come from the Christian leadership in the capital of the Empire than from the local Christian leadership in the Empire’s rural frontier.
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Feb. 23, 2025
Part 6—Paganism in Roman Britannia

About four hundred years after the Venerable Bede (c. 673–735) provided a written record of Lucius, the 2nd century “king of the Britons” who converted to Christianity, two other medieval historians added to the story. Geoffrey of Monmouth (c. 1095–c. 1155 ) and William of Malmesbury (c. 1095–c. 1143) name the two missionaries sent by the Bishop of Rome at Lucius’ request as Faganus/Phagan and Duvianus/Deruvian. Presumably, these two clergymen were sent as bishops. But what did they find in Roman Britannia when they arrived?

The majority of the people in the province would have been pagan. The Romans and Romanized Britons would have worshiped the gods and goddesses of the Roman pantheon—Apollo, Diana, Jupiter, Mars, Minerva, Mercury, Silvanus, Vesta, etc.—as well as the household gods, such as the Lares and Penates, and the lesser deities known as daemons and genii. The Roman soldiers brought their worship of the Persian god, Mithras with them. And other mystery cults, such as the one dedicated to the Egyptian goddess, Isis found their way up to Britannia. But all these religious expressions would have already been well known to the two missionaries from Rome.

Unfamiliar to these clergymen from the capital of the Empire would have been the Celtic paganism of the Britons who resisted or ignored Romanization. Since the Celtic languages were oral only, not written, the Celtic pantheon is mostly unknown. Some names of Celtic gods have been recorded, but there’s precious little preserved beyond those names. One Celtic deity worshiped by the Britons was a goddess of springs, founts, and wells called Coventina. Bodies of water—especially places where water and land meet and merge—seemed to be held as sacred by the Britons. At these sites, shrines and temples were constructed where the Celtic Britons, like the Romans, sacrificed animals, gave gifts of food and money, and made supplications to their gods. Traditionally, the priestly practice of sacrifice among the Britons would have been officiated by elders known as Druids; however, the Romans had maintained a campaign of persecution against these priestly leaders since establishing their province in the British Isles. So, by the 2nd century AD, the sacrifices of the Britons to their Celtic gods would have probably been personal and performed by the suppliants, themselves.
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March 2, 2025
Part 7—House Churches in Roman Britannia

Paganism may have dominated 2nd century Roman Britannia; however, as we’ve seen, there’s good reason to believe Christianity had already begun to take root in the province. Unfortunately, there are no known records describing the Church there in the 1st or 2nd century. To reconstruct a glimpse of the Church as it was encountered by the two clergymen sent by Pope Eleutherius at the request of Lucius, “king of the Britons,” we must look to descriptions of the early Church elsewhere.

Christianity began as a movement within Judaism and the Church remained mostly Jewish through the 1st century. So, as it spread throughout the Roman Empire, the earliest churches tended to be in cities with communities of diaspora Jews with a synagogue. A small group of the Jews and some gentile “God-fearers” would attend the Shabbat worship in the synagogue on Saturday and then gather again Saturday night in someone’s home for Christian worship, centered around the Eucharistic meal. However, there’s no textual or archaeological evidence of a synagogue in the British Isles at that time, and by the 2nd century, churches had already begun to be largely gentile communities independent of synagogues.

A book of Christian catechism and prayers called the Didache, which was written around the same time as much of the New Testament, describes the church as a community whose life together was gathered around Baptism and the Eucharistic meal, which was accompanied by prayers, preaching, and teaching. In AD 112, Pliny the Younger, a pagan Roman governor in what is now Turkey, wrote to the Emperor that the Christians “gather before dawn on a set day, sing a hymn antiphonally to Christ as if he were a god, and bind themselves by a sacred promise not to do anything bad but to never commit theft, fraud, or adultery, and to never break trust or refuse to forgive debts. Then, after dispersing, they gather again for a harmless and common meal.” Similarly, around AD 155, the Christian Philosopher, Justin Martyr described the local church gathering all the Christians “in the city and countryside” together each Sunday to read from “the books of the prophets” and the Gospels, hear a sermon, pray, and then celebrate the Eucharist with bread and wine. These sacraments of Baptism and Eucharist, and this liturgy of worship were surely similar in the small house churches of Roman Britannia, as well.
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March 9, 2025
Part 8—Christians of Second Century Roman Britannia

Apart from joining them for worship, is there any way that the missionaries sent from Rome by Pope Eleutherius at the behest of King Lucius would have recognized the Christians already living in Roman Britannia? Would they have been noticeably distinctive or distinguishable from their pagan countrymen? It seems that the most likely answer to these questions is, no—probably not.

In the 2nd century, Christianity was still considered an illegal superstition by the Roman Empire. Moreover, the Empire was often wary of nearly all organized or institutionalized social groups—especially, clandestine groups like churches. So, Christians would have wanted to remain somewhat inconspicuous, at least until they knew they could trust the person with whom they were interacting.

An anonymous, 2nd century Christian text known as the Epistle to Diognetus says that “Christians are not distinguished from the rest of humanity by country, language, or custom” (5.1). They live wherever they find themselves to be, it goes on to say, “and follow the local customs in dress and food and other aspects of life” (5.4). For, “they live in their own countries but only as resident aliens. They participate in everything as citizens and yet endure everything as immigrants. A Christian’s homeland is as a foreign country to them, and every foreign country is as much their homeland as where they were born” (5.5). But the Epistle of Diognetus does suggest one way Christians might be recognized by the discerning eye—namely, their virtue. A Christian may be recognized by their commitment to their spouse and family; by their eschewal of wealth and violence; and by their care for children, the elderly, the sick, and the infirm.
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March 16, 2025
Part 9—Persecution of Christians in Roman Britannia

That anonymous, 2nd century text, the Epistle to Diognetus claimed that since Christians live in their respective countries as resident aliens, whose true “citizenship is in heaven” (5.9, quoting Phil 3:20), “they participate in everything as citizens, but endure everything as immigrants” (5.5). Although distinguishable only by their virtue and that “they love everyone;” nevertheless, “they are persecuted by everyone” (5.11). Indeed, the text suggests that those who persecuted Christians didn’t even understand and couldn’t explain why they did it (5.17). However, Pliny the Younger’s Letter to the Emperor Trajan (AD 112) and other contemporary sources do provide reasons for Roman persecution of Christians.

The Imperial government was generally wary of any organized groups that gathered without the sanction of the Empire for fear that they may become seedbeds for organized political opposition, subversion, or even rebellion. The churches were just such illicit, organized groups. Moreover, the name that Christians used for their gatherings (ekklesia, in Greek), which we now translate as “church,” had political connotations, as it was also the world used for the gathering of the voting citizens of a city-state. And when these ekklesiai, or churches would meet, the Christians would pledge their loyalty as disciples to a man executed under Roman law for treason by the Roman prefect or governor of the Judean province of the Empire. Indeed, the Christians would gather to worship this criminal “as a god,” even as they refused their civic duty to make sacrifices at pagan shrines to the emperor and the patronal gods of their city.

For all these reasons, the Roman Empire remained suspicious of and occasionally hostile toward Christians. Still, most of the persecutions within the Empire in the first two centuries Anno Domini were sporadic and local. If a city faced a natural disaster or a plague or a famine, then the Christians may become the scapegoats, taking on the blame because they refused to appease the gods believed to oversee the wellbeing of the city. However, by the 3rd century, much larger persecutions—even Empire-wide persecution—began to take place. There are no specific records of a local persecution of Christians in Roman Britannia in the 1st and 2nd centuries. But in the 3rd century, persecution came to the British Isles, producing the first martyrs of Britain: St Alban, St Julius, and St Aaron.
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March 23, 2015
Part 10—Martyrs of Roman Britannia

With the possible exception of a few years during the reign of the Emperor Domition at the end of the 1st century, persecutions of Christians within the Roman Empire remained occasional and local up through the 2nd century. During the 3rd century, the empire entered a period of social, economic, and (especially) political tumult—witnessing the rise and fall of a dizzying number of emperors whose short reigns tended to end in death on the battlefield or assassination. One of these, Trajanus Decius was acclaimed emperor by his troops and accepted as such by the Senate in AD 249. Shortly thereafter he passed a law requiring all citizens and subjects of the empire to make a sacrifice to the Roman gods for their blessing upon him. When Christians resisted the edict, some were imprisoned and others were executed, including the Bishop of Rome, Pope Fabian. However, the persecution was short-lived, ending with the death of Decius and his son in the Battle of Abritus against the Goths and Scythians in 251.

Persecution flared up again in AD 257 during the reign of Valerian, who had become emperor four years prior. Emperor Valerian directly targeted Christians, seeking to purge them from positions within the Imperial government and to make an example of their leaders through execution. This persecution died with Valerian when he was executed as a prisoner of the Persian Sassanid Empire in 260. But the peace after Valerian’s death was not to last. Persecution was revived under the Emperor Diocletian beginning in 299. At first, Diocletian only targeted Christians in the military and government; however, in 303, he released the first of four edicts expanding and intensifying persecution to throughout the empire. Christians—especially clergy—were imprisoned or executed, Christian scriptures were confiscated and burnt, and church buildings, which were all relatively new, were destroyed. This “Great Persecution” continued even after Diocletian abdicated the imperial throne and retired from public life in 305, not fully coming to an end until Emperor Constantine’s Edit of Milan in 313.

At the northern edge of the empire, it seems that the persecution of Christians wasn’t pursued with as much zeal. However, there were some Christians persecuted to martyrdom in Roman Britannia. St Julius and St Aaron are two such martyrs associated with Caerleon in Wales; though, the details of their stories are now unknown. The Story of St Alban, on the other hand, has been preserved and passed down. Alban of Verulamium was a pagan, Roman citizen in Britannia who harbored a fugitive Christian clergyman during persecution. So impressed with the clergyman’s example and instruction, Alban offered himself in place of his recent guest when the soldiers came to search his home. The magistrate demanded Alban make sacrifice to the gods, but he refused, proclaiming his commitment to Christ alone as Lord and sealing his fate.
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March 30, 2025
Part 11—An Ancient Church Building in Roman Britannia?

The “Great Persecution” begun by Emperor Diocletian in AD 299 didn’t just target Christians but also their material culture. By the end of the 3rd century, Christian communities had collections of books—some scrolls but mostly codices—of Scripture and other important texts. They had art, amulets, and likely special vessels used for the Eucharist. And at least some Christian communities had begun to build and meet in church buildings.

The oldest of these buildings recovered by archaeology was built about 232 in Dura-Europos, a Roman garrison town in Syria. This church was located near houses but also around temples to pagan gods, a Mithraeum, and a synagogue. It seems to have originally been built as a house that was then renovated and repurposed solely for church use about 8 years later. Like other Roman houses, the portico and rooms encircled an open courtyard. The largest room—created by combining the triclinium (dining room) with a smaller room—was where the congregation assembled for the liturgy of Holy Eucharist. Connected to that room in the back or west end of the structure was a smaller room probably used for the instruction of catechumens preparing for baptism who would be dismissed from the liturgy before the eucharistic prayer and holy communion. Another separate room in the northwestern corner of the house-turned-church contained what’s usually considered a baptismal font on the western wall but might have been a sarcophagus for the bones of a venerated martyr or saint. Whether a baptistry or a martyrium, this room, like the others, was adorned with frescoes inspired by scenes in the Old Testament and the Gospels.

This church was abandoned around 257 when the Persian Sassanid Empire took Dura-Europos from the Romans and exiled the population; hence, it avoided destruction during the “Great Persecution.” It’s unknown whether there were any such early churches in Roman Britannia. A plaque in the medieval church of St Peter Upon Cornhill, in an area of London that was part of Roman Londinium, boasted an ancient provenance. Unfortunately, the old church burnt down in the Great Fire of 1666 and was completely replaced by the new building constructed thereafter. Apart from that now lost plaque, there are no records of whether the church was built sometime after the “Great Persecution” or if it truly is as old as legend claims and survived the destruction wrought by Diocletian’s anti-Christian edicts.
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April 6, 2025
Part 12—British Christianity at the end of the Great Persecution

In AD 313, the new Roman Augusti or Co-Emperors, Licinius and Constantine issued an edict ending all persecution of Christians and allowing them to assemble in church legally. The “Great Persecution” had died out in the western Empire after Diocletian abdicated the Imperial throne and retired from public life in 305. However, it continued in the eastern Empire until the eastern Emperor Galerius issued an Edict of Toleration in 311. Very shortly thereafter, Galerius died from disease and his successor, Emperor Maximinus Daza renewed the persecution in the eastern empire. With the Edict of Milan, the new eastern Emperor Licinius and the new western Emperor Constantine finally made it safe and legal to be Christian throughout the entire Roman Empire.

Constantine’s personal beliefs at the time of his accession are difficult to discern. His religious practice shows a commitment to some of the traditional pagan gods and traditions of Rome. On the other hand, he was also clearly interested in the Christian faith and acted as a patron of the Church—providing financial, material, and social support. As its patron, Emperor Constantine also seems to have considered it his duty and privilege to intervene in Church administration and politics to resolve conflicts and promote flourishing, as he deemed fit. For example, just a year and a half after the Edict of Milan, Constantine called a Synod in the city of Arles in Roman Gaul (modern France) to settle a dispute between a group of Christians who would later be called Donatists and the rest of the Church.

Three bishops from Roman Britannia are known to have attended the Synod of Arles in 314: Adelfius, Eborius, and Restitutus. Adelfius may have been the Bishop of Lindum Colonia, which is now the City of Lincoln. Eborius was the Bishop of Eboracum, now York. And Restitutus was the Bishop of Londinium, sometimes referred to as Roman London. This means that Britannia by the early 4th century had bishops located in the major cities with priests and deacons to assist them and probably some church buildings already in use while others were being built. From the first century when Nicodemus and Aristobulus may have first brought the faith to the British Isles through King Lucius’ attempt to cultivate Christianity there in the 2nd century and its survival in the 3rd century through the courage of martyrs like Julius, Aaron, and Alban; the Church had come to flourish in Roman Britannia as Christianity entered a new era of Imperial support.
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April 27, 2025
Part 13—Bishops of Britannia attend the Synod of Arle

When the three Romano-British bishops—Adelfius of Lindum Colonia (Lincoln), Eborius of Eboracum (York), and Restitutus of Londinium (London)—left Roman Britannia in AD 314 for the Synod of Arles in Gaul, they were responding to the Western Roman Emperor Constantine’s call for help resolving a dispute in the Church. This disagreement arose because of the Great Persecution of Christians under Constatine’s predecessors. During the persecutions, some Christians not only abandoned the faith but also proved their apostasy by handing over copies of scripture scrolls and codices to be burnt and other “holy things” to be seized by the Empire. These Christians who betrayed the faith and handed over scriptures were known as traditores and even included clergy among their number.

The whole Church (or Church Catholic) tended to hold that these traditores who wished to return to the faith after the end of the persecutions could be reconciled to the Church through penance. Yet, debate raged over whether they could resume leadership roles. A rigorist faction of North African Christians believed that the apostasy of the traditores proved they never had true Christian faith to begin with; therefore, they would need to be baptized again (in addition to doing penance) if they wished to return to the Church. This group also insisted that the sacraments and sacramental rites performed by bishops and priests who became traditores were retroactively invalidated by their betrayal. Hence, anyone who had been baptized by one of these traditor clergy were never truly baptized and would need to be baptized again. Moreover, any clergy ordained by a traditor bishop was likewise not validly ordained and the baptisms they performed were similarly invalid.

Most bishops throughout the Church rejected the strict conclusions of this rigorist faction of the North African Church. But the issue came to a head in AD 311 when an archdeacon named Caecilianus, who was unpopular among the rigorist faction, was ordained as Bishop of Carthage. The rigorist faction alleged that one of the three bishops who ordained Caecilianus, Felix of Abthugni (in modern Tunisia), had been a traditor. Thus, they rejected the validity of Caecilianus’ ordination as Bishop of Carthage and ordained their own preferred candidate, a lector named Majorinus. The Church in North Africa was thereby split between the rigorist faction and the rest of the Church, most obviously in Carthage where two rival bishops claimed ecclesiastical jurisdiction and oversight.
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May 4, 2025
Part 14—The Lead Up to the Synod of Arles

After issuing the Edict of Milan in AD 313, declaring tolerance for Christianity throughout the Empire, the Western Roman Emperor Constantine took an interest in resolving the conflict afflicting the Church in northern Africa. A substantial minority and several prominent bishops had broken away from the rest of the Church there because they felt the majority was too tolerant of sin and unfaithfulness by allowing former traditores too easily back into the Church after their apostasy and relinquishing of Scriptural scrolls and codices during the Great Persecution. This more rigorist faction had elected and ordained their own Bishop of Carthage, Majorinus after rejecting the ordination of Caecilianus as Bishop of Carthage on the grounds that one of the three bishops who ordained him—Felix, Bishop of Abthugni—had been a traditor.

Emperor Constantine delegated the mediation of the conflict to the Bishop of Rome, Pope Miltiades. The rigorist faction appealed to Constantine to have the matter judged by Bishops from Gaul, since Gaul and Britannia had suffered the least intense and shortest period of persecution and were therefore not compromised by traditores. Since Pope Miltiades was originally from northern Africa, the rigorist faction also feared he may be biased for the majority. So, Constantine had Reticius, Bishop of Autun; Maternus, Bishop of Cologne; and Marinus, Bishop of Arles travel to Rome to advise Pope Miltiades in the matter. The Bishop of Rome invited leaders from both the majority party and the minority, rigorist party to join him, the three Gallic bishops, and fifteen Italian bishops at the Lateran Palace in early October of 313 to reach a resolution.

The Bishop of Carthage chosen and ordained by the rigorist faction, Majorinus died before the Lateran Synod. Instead of letting the matter die with Majorinus, the breakaway, rigorist faction elected and ordained another alternative Bishop of Carthage, Donatus Magnus. With Donatus at their lead, the rigorist faction arrived in Rome to argue their case; however, they were frustrated to find that Pope Miltiades expected them adduce evidence and arguments to back up their accusations that Felix of Abthugni and Caecilianus had been traditores. Donatus and the rigorist faction saw this expectation as proof of Pope Miltiades’ bias and left the Synod before making their case. Consequently, the Lateran Synod decided in favor of Bishop Caecilianus and the majority. The rigorist faction rejected the ruling of the Lateran Synod and petitioned Emperor Constantine to call another Synod in Gaul and consisting only of Gallic and British bishops, which the Emperor did in AD 314.
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May 11, 2025
Part 15—The British Bishops Oppose Donatism

When the rigorist faction of the North African Church chose Donatus of Casae Nigrae (Negrine in modern Algeria) to succeed Majorinus as their alternative Bishop of Carthage, the selection wasn’t just symbolic. Donatus became the acknowledged leader and primary spokesman for the rigorist faction. So much so, in fact, that the whole breakaway, rigorist faction came to be known as Donatists. Being identified by the name of their leader is an indication that they were seen as schismatics by the rest of the Church Catholic; however, that judgment wasn’t a foregone conclusion when the Synod of Arles was called to definitively adjudicate the matter.

The fact that the Donatists were able to prevail upon Emperor Constantine to call another synod after the Lateran Synod presided over by Pope Miltiades had already rendered judgment against them is a good reminder of the still circumscribed power of the Bishop of Rome in the 4th century. The Donatists argued that they could only receive fair treatment at a synod in Gaul since the Church in Roman Britannia and Gaul faced the shortest and least severe persecution in the prior decade and were therefore not known for having traditores in their ranks. So, Constantine instructed Marinus, Bishop of Arles to call a much larger synod in his city to set down a final judgment on the Donatist controversy.

Donatus and his retinue arrived in southern Gaul for the Synod of Arles in the summer of AD 314, surely hopeful that his rigorist faction and his episcopacy as Bishop of Carthage would be vindicated. The Synod, which included the three bishops from Britannia, did rule that proven traditores could no longer continue in or be restored to leadership in the Church. However, that largely undisputed point was the closest the Donatists came to any kind of success, for the Synod also declared that only an official, imperial document from the time of the persecution naming the alleged traditor as such could count as acceptable proof thereof. This meant that the episcopacy of Caecilianus as Bishop of Carthage was reaffirmed and the episcopacy of Donatus was rejected as invalid and in schism. More importantly, the Synod decreed that even if a priest or bishop were proven to have been a traditor, the sacraments and sacramental rites—particularly, baptisms and ordinations—performed by those traditor clergy would still be valid. This would prove to be the most important declaration of the Synod because it clarified that the efficacy of the sacraments was based upon God’s Word of Promise contained therein and the Grace communicated thereby rather than the personal faithfulness, theological orthodoxy, or moral rectitude of the clergy.
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May 18, 2025
Part 16—The Church in Britannia Flourishes Under the Pax Romana

With the conclusion of the Synod of Arles, Bishops Restitutus, Eborius, and Adelfius presumably returned to their respective cities and churches in Roman Britannia. The sources pass into silence about these bishops and the Church in Britannia for the rest of the first half of the 4th century. Concerning this time, the Venerable Bede (c. 673-735) only says that “the faithful Christians who in time of danger had hidden themselves in woods and deserts and secret caverns came out of hiding. They rebuilt the churches which had been razed to the ground; they endowed and built shrines to the holy martyrs. Everywhere, they displayed them as tokens of victory, celebrating festal days and performing their sacred rites with pure hearts and voice.”

Since the Edict of Milan in AD 313, the Christians of Britannia and throughout the Empire were able to build publicly recognizable church buildings. One might say that for the first time in its history, Christianity was able to enter the religious marketplace without fear or disadvantage. The Edict of Milan hadn’t favored Christianity over paganism, Judaism, or any of the other religious and philosophical traditions, communities, and institutions in the Empire. Rather, it was more of a guarantee of toleration and religious freedom for (nearly) all traditions, including Christianity. But just this basic, official toleration allowed the Church to flourish in a still majority pagan Empire.

The Church was also assisted in its growth by the patronage of Constantine. Even as he continued to support some pagan temples, the Western Roman Emperor had also emerged as the primary benefactor of the Church. He paid for churches to be built and furnished both in the holy land as pilgrimage sites and throughout the Empire. He also financed the copying of books of the Old Testament (Septuagint) and the New Testament; albeit, a consensus on the exact canon of the New Testament had not yet been reached at the time. He empowered bishops to take on the duties of magistrates in some circumstances. And, as with the Donatist controversy, Constantine also took an active role in helping the Church resolve disputes and adjudicate competing claims of legitimacy. This would become especially important when the teachings of priest named Arius clashed with those of his bishop, Alexander of Alexandria, igniting a debate throughout the whole Church.
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May 25, 2025
Part 17—A Church Controversy Brewing Far From Britannia

Although Britannia was among the first of the provinces to recognize Constantine’s imperial claim, it always remained on the periphery of the Empire, both geographically and in terms of importance. Similarly, despite the role of the three British Bishops in the Donatist controversy, the Church in Britannia remained more of a missionary frontier than a hub of Christianity. The most important cities for the Church were around the Mediterranean—Jerusalem, Rome, Antioch, and Alexandria.

Jerusalem retained significance for being both the place Christ was crucified and raised and the birthplace of the Church. Rome’s importance was based on being the capital of the Empire and the city where both St Peter and St Paul had been martyred. Syrian Antioch could also claim Petrine patronage as St Peter had overseen the Church there before he went on to Rome, and an influential Catechetical School had developed there. Finally, as the great intellectual and academic center of the Roman Empire, Alexandria in Egypt became the home of the other great Catechetical School of the Church.

This Catechetical School could boast some of the Church’s greatest minds of the 2nd and 3rd centuries on its roster of teachers and students, such as St Athenagoras of Athens, St Pantænus the Philosopher, St Clement of Alexandria, and Origen. It stood amid the other famous schools of Alexandria, like the pagan Musaeum and Serapeum. The best thinkers among pagans, Jews, and Christians met, mingled, and debated in the Alexandrian marketplace of ideas. They discussed music, poetry, politics, ethics, the natural world, and the nature of divinity. It was into this milieu in AD 313 that Arius—a tall, soft-spoken priest of a church in Alexandria—began to preach and teach on a question that had only begun to be addressed by the bishops and theologians of the Patristic Era of the Church. That question was, how can Christians claim to believe in one God but still teach and worship Jesus as the only-begotten Son of God? What exactly is the metaphysical relationship between God the Father and Jesus Christ (and the Holy Spirit)?
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June 1, 2025
Part 18—The Source of Trinitarian Language

By the time Arius began teaching and preaching in AD 313, the Church hadn’t yet articulated the nature of the metaphysical relationships between the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit with the same depth and nuance as they would later that century. Still, the language of their faith and worship was certainly trinitarian. Theophilus, Bishop of Antioch from c. 169 to c. 183, first referred to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as “trinity” (trias/triados, in Greek) in an apologetic work written during his episcopate. A generation later, the lay theologian of Carthage in northern Africa, Tertullian wrote in a Latin text of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as a trinitas. So, by the 2nd to 3rd centuries, the word “trinity” was already starting to become a shorthand used by Christians for the threefold divinity in which they placed their faith.

The word “trinity” may have taken some time to be coined, but the language it summarizes goes back to Scripture, itself. According to the gospels, God the Father calls Jesus His Son (Mk 1:11; Mt 3:17; Lk 3:22), Jesus addresses God as Father (Mk 11:25, 14:36; Mt 6:9; Lk 11:2; Jn 17:1), and Jesus identifies himself as the Son who uniquely reveals the Father (Mt 11:27; Lk 10:22; Jn 15:15). Moreover, they record the Father sending the Holy Spirit to be imparted by Jesus on his disciples (Jn 20:22; Lk 24:49). And the Pauline Letters, the Epistles of John, and the Book of Hebrews all reflect further upon the divinity of Jesus and the Holy Spirit in relationship to God the Father.

Indeed, almost from the beginning, Christians began to see the divinity of Father, Son, and Spirit revealed in the very warp and woof of all Scripture, even the Old Testament. When Theophilus of Antioch first spoke of the trinity in the 2nd century, he wasn’t writing about any of the books of the New Testament but about the Book of Genesis. He suggested that the first three days of creation in Genesis 1 are a trace or sign of the trinity—each day in order representing the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, respectively. And yet, for all the faith early Christians had in the scriptural witness to the divinity of Jesus and the Spirit along with God the Father and all their confident use of the trinitarian language bequeathed to them thereby, very few had even tentatively begun to explore the nature of the trifold Godhead’s unity by the beginning of the 4th century.
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June 15, 2025
Part 19—Jewish Categories for Trinitarian Thinking

One of the reasons early Christians might not have felt the need to rigorously explore and theologically describe the trifold nature of God is that Judaism already had language and categories that helped them talk about God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. In the ancient Roman Empire, no one asked how many gods you worshiped. Rather, the question was, which gods do you worship? Whatever differences there were between the various Jewish groups at the time, all Jews tended to give the same answer. They worshiped only the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; the God who freed their ancestors from slavery in Egypt, gave them the Torah (the Law) on Mount Sinai, and brought them to the promised land. That the Jews worshiped their God over all other gods wasn’t especially distinctive. However, what was unique about the Jewish answer was that they also claimed that their God was the one and only High God who created the whole Cosmos and everything in it, including the lesser spiritual powers and principalities that the pagans called, “gods.” This belief is epitomized in the central prayer of Judaism, the Shema, which begins with the words of Deuteronomy 6:4: “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.”

Yet, by the 1st century AD—the time of Jesus and the apostles—it was common for many Jews to speak about different aspects of God’s divinity. For example, Jews understood God to be made present in the Holy of Holies in the Temple in Jerusalem by His Holy Spirit. And apocryphal books written in the centuries just before Jesus’ life show that at least some Jews understood the “one like a Son of Man” at the right hand of the heavenly throne of the “Ancient One,” who receives the everlasting kingdom, according to the Book of Daniel, as sharing in the divinity of God (the Father). Moreover, the Book of Proverbs and the Book of Wisdom speak of God’s very own divine Wisdom as being somehow, mysteriously distinct from God and through whom God created all things. The Jewish philosopher, Philo of Alexandria—who was a contemporary of Jesus but never knew him—considered the second divine “power in heaven” and the divine Wisdom of God to be the same, and he called it the Logos. This is the Greek term used for Jesus in the Gospel according to John, chapter 1, which is translated as the “Word.”

The apostles and earliest Christians realized that Jesus was the “one like a Son of Man” (a phrase he often used for himself, according to the gospels), who shares in the divinity and kingship of the “Ancient One.” They recognized Christ as God’s very own divine Wisdom or Word, who became flesh and dwelt among them. They also recalled that the Holy Spirit of God rested on Jesus as in the Holy of Holies in the Temple. And Christ promised that he would send this same Holy Spirit of God to rest upon them and every new Christian at Baptism, when they were made members of his risen Body. So, from the very beginning, the Church had the language and categories for proclaiming their faith in One God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
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June 22, 2025
Part 20—The Unicity of God and the Heresy of Modalism

As the Church slowly transitioned from being made up mostly of Jews during the age of the apostles to being constituted mostly by Gentiles in the 2nd century, Judaism and Christianity began growing apart into two separate faith traditions and communities. Christianity continued the tradition of speaking of distinct, irreducible aspects of God’s divinity, or hypostases—namely, the Father, who is the “Ancient of Days;” the Son, who is the Wisdom or Word of God; and the Holy Spirit of God. Judaism, on the other hand, became more and more reticent of speaking of divine hypostases—stressing the simple, unicity or oneness of God instead. The long historical process of separating and disentangling the emerging Christianity from the developing Rabbinic Judaism was neither fast nor uniform, and the two traditions have never ceased influencing each other. By the 2nd century, some bishops and rabbis had drawn clear boundaries between the Church and the Synagogue and sought to enforce those borders; however, the lines were routinely crossed by individuals and ideas. For example, some Christian thinkers and leaders were persuaded to also abandon the idea that the divinity of the one God could have hypostases.

Several 3rd century priests—notably Noetus and Sabellius—taught that the unicity of the One God would be compromised if the divinity had three hypostases—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. According to them, the One God only appears or manifests in these three modes. For Noetus and Sabellius, when the One God manifests in the mode of the Creator, who elects Israel and gives them the Law in the Old Testament, the One God is properly spoken of as the Father. But when the One God manifests in the mode of the person, Jesus, who is born of the Virgin Mary to save humanity, the One God is called the Son. And when the One God manifests in the mode of the spiritual power bestowed on Christians to sanctify them, the One God is known as the Holy Spirit.

These appearances of the One God under different modes are like an actor who plays three different parts in a play, or like a woman who presents herself as a mother with her children, as a wife with her husband, and as a professional in her career. Just as the woman is always the same woman whatever mode her different relationships require of her, and the actor is the same person no matter which roles he takes on during a play, so it is with the One God, said Noetus and Sabellius. God in Himself, in His own divine life, is not the Father, the Son, or the Holy Spirit but just the One God. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are simply different names for the different modes of the One God’s relationship with and work for us creatures. Centuries later, this view would be called the heresy of Modalism. In its own day, it was rejected by the great minds of the Church Fathers and the majority of the Church for denying that the One God is eternally the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, irrespective of God’s relationship with and work for us creatures.
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June 29, 2025
Part 21—Plato, Philosophy, and the Alternative of Neoplatonism

The Church rejected the Modalist view of God suggested by Noetus and Sabellius. But as with all heresies, Modalism helped the Church further refine its understanding of God’s self-revelation as the One who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Modalism had sought to preserve the unicity or oneness of God by claiming that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were just the modes in which God appeared to manifest Himself when either creating, saving, or sanctifying us. By rejecting this view, the Church came to better recognize and understand that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit must be three distinct, irreducible aspects of the divinity of the One God.

Some of the philosophical schools of the ancient world were also trying to understand the nature of divinity. The pagan philosopher, Plato (427–347 BC) and his student, Aristotle (384-322 BC) may have believed in many lesser divinities, but they also both taught that there was One God that was utterly unique and transcendent. Between their writings, Plato and Aristotle identified the One God as perfect Being, Goodness, Truth, and Beauty, who is the incorporeal, unmoved ultimate source of all movement and change (i.e., becoming) in the cosmos. The Jewish philosopher, Philo of Alexandria (c. 20 BC–c. AD 50) considered Plato’s view of God to be consistent with Moses’ teaching in the Torah—the first five books of the Old Testament. And St Justin Martyr (c. 100–c. 165), along with many other Jewish and Christian thinkers, believed that Plato must have read the Torah to have understood God so well. Hence, different Jewish, Christian, and pagan philosophers and philosophical schools were influenced by Plato and Aristotle, including a group that historians have come to call the Neoplatonists.

Ammonius Saccas (175–243) was a Platonist philosopher in Alexandria who had been born and raised in a Christian family. Ancient sources disagree over whether Ammonius Saccas remained a Christian throughout his life or left the faith; however, his students included both Christians like the great theologian, Origen (c. 185–c. 253) and the pagan Neoplatonist, Plotinus (c. 204–270). In his Enneads, Plotinus said that the source of everything that exists is the One, which transcends the whole cosmos and all existence. The One, Plotinus argued, is a foundational or basic, irreducible reality, or hypostasis. From the One emanates a second hypostasis that Plotinus identified as Nous or Mind. And, from the Mind emanates a third hypostasis, the World Soul. So, just as the Church Fathers were affirming that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are three foundational, irreducible aspects of the divinity of the One God, the Neoplatonist philosopher, Plotinus was arguing for three fundamental realities or hypostases—the One, the Mind, and the World Soul—in a hierarchy of emanation.
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July 27, 2025
Part 22—The Teachings of Plotinus and Arius Compared

As a priest in the city of Alexandria, Arius (c. 256-336) may well have known the work of the Neoplatonist, Plotinus (c. 204–270). The pagan philosopher had studied and started his own career in that very city less than a hundred years before Arius began his ministry there. Moreover, Arius’ understanding of the relationships between the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit had some similarities to Plotinus’ description of the relationships between the One, the Nous (or Mind), and the World Soul.

Plotinus had taught that the One was completely and utterly transcendent of all things—the created Cosmos, of course, but also the Nous that emanated from the One. Similarly, Arius taught that God the Father completely and utterly transcends the whole of the created Cosmos and also the Son who is begotten by Him. Thus, for Arius, only the Father is properly the One God. The Son is also divine because he isn’t a creature who inhabits the created Cosmos, but the divinity of the Son is entirely derivative, lesser, and utterly different from the divinity of the Father. For Arius, the Son can be called a god and Lord, but he can’t be called the One God.

Moreover, just as Plotinus referred to the One, the Nous, and the World Soul as three hypostases (i.e., distinct, irreducible realities), Arius also taught that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are three hypostases. Indeed, many Greek-speaking Christians referred to the divine persons of the Trinity as hypostases. However, similar to Plotinus’ understanding of the hypostases, Arius taught that this meant that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were three separate beings. According to Arius, the Father is the One God, and He begat or created the Son as a lesser divinity before the beginning of time so that the Son (through the Holy Spirit) could create the Cosmos and all other creatures. Just as Plotinus had claimed that the Nous emanated the World Soul and the World Soul emanated the Cosmos, Arius tied the creation of the Cosmos to the Son and the Holy Spirit. However, Arius rejected the language of emanation as unbiblical.
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August 3, 2025
Part 23—The Priest versus his Bishop

When Arius began teaching his understanding of God and Christ, there were likely many Christians who had never given much thought to these weighty theological matters. To speak of one’s faith in and praise for the One God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit was simply to use the language of scripture, tradition, and worship. Perhaps most Christians knew to avoid the mistake of thinking of Father, Son, and Spirit according to the Modalism held by the followers of Sabellius, but that was only an example of how not to understand the theology of their scripture and liturgy. For many, a positive way to think about and understand their theological language for God probably remained undefined and unsought.

For the Church in Roman Britannia on the northern edge of the Roman Empire, nuanced theological discussions about the nature of God and the relationships between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit may not have seemed especially important. However, in Alexandria, the intellectual and academic hub of the Empire and home of one of the two Catechetical Schools of the Church, the questions surely felt more pressing. By 318, Arius and his teachings had become well known throughout Alexandria, and many Christians there found his theology appealing. Arius’ account of God and Christ countered the Modalist heresy of Sabellius, shared some significant similarities with the Neoplatonic philosophy of Plotinus, and was also still simple and straightforward enough to be basically understood and espoused by even uneducated Christians. There was, however, one important person who was not persuaded by Arius—his bishop.

Alexander, Bishop of Alexandria argued that Scripture reveals that the Son is fully God, co-eternal with the Father and eternally begotten by the Father. Furthermore, he insisted that the priests under his oversight in Alexandria acknowledge this truth and teach it. Arius could do neither without abandoning his own theology. For Arius, the Son was not fully God but a lesser divinity brought into being by the One God. That meant for him that the Father and Son couldn’t be co-eternal because only the unbegotten One God was eternal, and he only became known as the Father once he begat or created the Son. Therefore, Arius opposed his bishop’s instruction and continued teaching his own theology. And many Christians who may have never considered deeply the theology and words of their tradition before found themselves vexed by the question of the nature of Christ’s divinity— aligning with either the priest, Arius or the bishop, Alexander.
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August 10, 2025
Part 24—The Christological Controversy Spreads

After Arius repudiated the instruction of his bishop, continuing to teach publicly his own theology, Bishop Alexander sought to bring the popular priest into conformity or else be deposed. His efforts were to no avail. Instead, Arius found a following not only among lay Christians in Alexandria but also among some of the priests and deacons there. So, Bishop Alexander called a local synod, including the other bishops of Egypt to adjudicate the dispute. As Alexander expected, the Egyptian bishops aligned with him, condemning Arius’ teachings.

Arius responded to the synod’s judgment by writing letters to sympathetic clergy throughout the Empire, beseeching their support. Among those who responded to Arius’ request were the prominent bishops, Eusebius of Caesarea Maritima in Judea (the Roman Province of Syria Palaestina) and Eusebius of Nicomedia (in the region of Bithynia in what is now Turkey). Nicomedia had been established by Diocletian as the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire and was still such at this time. Therefore, it’s bishop, Eusebius was one of the most important and influential church leaders in the Empire. He was also, apparently, in full agreement with Arius’ teachings. So, after excommunication, Arius went into exile from Alexandria, settling in Nicomedia under Eusebius’ protection and oversight.

Not all of Arius’ defenders were necessarily in full agreement with his theology like Bishop Eusebius of Nicomedia was. Some may have simply thought that the point of dispute was too obscure and nuanced for Bishop Alexander to demand conformity and uniformity. In other words, they may have thought that both Bishop Alexander and Arius were within the ambit of orthodoxy despite their disagreement. And, again, others may not have been fully convinced of Arius’ position but like Arius, felt that Bishop Alexander’s theology was too close to the heretical Modalism of Sabellius. The Emperor Constantine was initially among the Christians who believed that the theological differences between Arius and Bishop Alexander were too esoteric to cause division. He wrote to the two clergymen expressing his opinion and desire for them to drop the matter. However, Arius and Bishop Alexander agreed upon one thing—they were both convinced that nothing less than the truth, itself, and orthodox Christian faith were at stake in this debate, even if an Emperor couldn’t see it.
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August 17, 2025
Part 25—An Empire United; a Church Divided

By the time Constantine became aware of the dispute over the nature of Christ’s divinity, the controversy had already spread beyond Alexandria and Roman North Africa. Constatine had been preoccupied with a different division—namely, his political quarrel with his co-emperor from the Eastern wing of the Empire, Licinius. Constantine and Licinius had divided the Empire between them in AD 313, an occasion marked by Licinius’ marriage to Constantine’s half-sister and the issuing of the Edict of Milan. However, their fragile and tense alliance erupted into open conflict within three years with the Battle of Cibalae followed by the Battle of Mardia. The results of these conflicts were in Constantine’s favor. He gained some of Licinius’ territory for the western half of the Empire and established himself as the superior of the two emperors.

Such a tenuous alliance couldn’t last. By 324, the tension gave way to civil war between the co-emperors. After several battles, Licinius was decisively defeated at the Battle of Chrysopolis. Constantine allowed Licinius to live provided he concede the imperial throne of the East. That is to say, Constantine allowed Licinius to live until he had a justifiable excuse to have Licinius executed, which Constantine discovered in short order. Licinius’ fate aside, the most important outcome of the war was Constantine’s accession to sole Emperor of both the Eastern and Western Roman Empire. Yet just as Constantine was uniting the Empire under his solitary reign, the Church was dividing over the debate between Arius and Bishop Alexander.

Fresh from his most recent military victories, Constantine applied himself to conquering this ecclesiastical battle. But his attempt to mediate and encourage a resolution had no effect. As with the Donatist controversy, he decided the best way to handle the dispute was to call together a synod of bishops to make a definitive judgment on the matter. However, the Donatist controversy had remained relatively localized to Roman North Africa. This debate, on the other hand, had spread throughout the Empire. Therefore, Constantine decided to invite the participation of all of the bishops of the inhabited world—or, at least, of the civilized world, which to the Roman mind was synonymous with the Roman Empire. So, toward the end of 324, the Emperor circulated a letter calling the bishops together for an ecumenical council in Ancyra (modern Ankara, Turkey). But then on second thought, so that he could be present for the deliberation and thereby add his imperial imprimatur to the decision of the bishops, Constantine relocated the council to Nicæa (modern İznik, Turkey).

August 31, 2025
Part 26—The Council of Nicæa

The Council of Nicæa began in either late May or June of AD 325. Though all the bishops throughout the Roman Empire—and perhaps beyond—had been invited and encouraged to participate, most bishops in attendance came from the primarily Greek-speaking Eastern half of the Empire. A tradition places the full cohort of bishops at 318; however, this specific number may be a symbolic allusion to the male servants of Abraham’s household that the patriarch mustered to free his kinsman, Lot from captivity (Genesis 14:14-16). Among those present may well have been the wonder-working saint, Nicholas, Bishop of Myra. Also present was, of course, Alexander, Bishop of Alexandria, and his theologically brilliant Archdeacon, Athanasius. But noticeably absent was the Bishop of Rome, Pope Sylvester I, who sent instead two priests to act as his representatives.

Emperor Constantine inaugurated the Council when he entered the hall in the imperial palace and took his seat upon his throne amid the bishops. Constantine was apparently a sight to behold, arrayed in the imperial purple and decked in gold and jewels. But it’s said that many of the bishops in attendance outshone the splendor of the Emperor with the emblems of their piety etched into their bodies in the form of scars and wounds from the Great Persecution. Constantine addressed the bishops in Latin, and after his words had been translated into Greek, he turned the active presidency of the Council over to his chief ecclesiastical advisor, Hosius, Bishop of Corduba (now Córdoba, Spain).

Hosius was not neutral but a supporter of Bishop Alexander, which surely lent considerable weight to the anti-Arian bishops. Arius’ most powerful and persuasive defender at the Council was Eusebius, Bishop of nearby Nicomedia. He must have realized fairly early in the proceedings that his position was in the minority. Even the other Eusebius, Bishop of Caesarea Maritima, who had protected and defended Arius immediately after his expulsion from Alexandria, had grown silent in his support of the controversial priest. Moreover, it was clear from his opening address that the Emperor expected nothing short of consensus from this Council. To achieve that end, the bishops determined that they needed a Symbol (σύμβολον/sumbolon)—a sign or token of their unity in Faith—that could be adopted by the whole Church as a sufficient statement of orthodox teaching.
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September 7, 2025
Part 27—Precursors of the Symbol of Nicæa

The articulation of a Rule of Faith (Regula Fidei, in Latin; κανών της πίστεως/kanón tēs písteōs, in Greek) is as old as the Apostolic Age and the formation of the New Testament. Indeed, in developing their creeds, the various church communities drew directly from the apostolic confessions and teachings contained in the gospels and epistles. One of the earliest and most basic of these confessions was the proclamation, “Jesus is Lord.” Saint Paul wrote to the church in Corinth that no one could make this profession of faith apart from the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, which is received by Christians in baptism and knits them together in the Body of Christ (I Cor 12:3).

To proclaim that “Jesus is Lord” (Kurios, in Greek) is a pledge of allegiance to Christ over any other power “in heaven or on earth” that would claim the title of Lord (Kurios), as the Roman Emperor did (I Cor 8:5). It is also a confession of Christ’s divinity as the son of God, the Father (I Cor 8:6). As such, it cannot not be deduced through reason or inferred through observation. Rather, it is a truth that is revealed (Mt 10:25-26), entrusted to the Church (Mt 16:15-19), and confirmed by the Holy Spirit when proclaimed by each baptized Christian.

Since Christ commissioned his disciples to baptize “in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Mt 28:19), the proclamation that “Jesus is Lord” was often embedded in a larger trinitarian confession. According to the 3rd century text known as The Apostolic Tradition, catechumens preparing for baptism would be taught their church’s Rule of Faith and have it explained to them through a long period of instruction. Then, when the time came for them to be baptized, they would receive this same Rule of Faith, being asked if they affirm it. The catechumen would say, “I believe” (Credo, in Latin) and be baptized after each of the three articles, concerning the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, respectively. It’s safe to assume that buy the time the Council of Nicæa was convened, ever bishop had a Rule of Faith for use at baptisms in the churches under his episcopal oversight. And these creeds all followed the same trinitarian format, with a focus on the divinity, sacrifice, and Lordship of Christ at their center.
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September 14, 2025
Part 28—The Symbol of Nicæa

The bishops at the Council of Nicæa endeavored to produce a Rule of Faith that could be shared and used by the whole Church Catholic, recalling their unity in Baptism. As the Apostle had written, “there is one Body and one Spirit . . . one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all” (Ephesians 4:4-6). To that end, the bishops seem to have brought forward their creeds for consideration. For example, in a letter to his churches, Eusebius, Bishop of Caesarea Maritima, mentioned sharing with the Council his Rule of Faith. Yet, no creed that already existed could adequately fulfill their purpose. For even as the bishops desired for the Council’s Rule of Faith to be a Symbol of the Church’s unity, they also intended for it to preclude the theology of Arius.

The article of the creed concerning the Son of God and his relationship to the Father needed to be worded very carefully. Against Arius’ teaching that the Son of God was created by the Father out of nothing, the Rule of Faith written by the bishops at Nicæa proclaimed that the Son is “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made.” Still, even these precisely chosen words could potentially be affirmed and adopted through creative interpretation by Arius and those who agreed with his theology. A more definitive statement was needed.

To the sentence quoted above, the bishops added that the Son is “of one Being with the Father.” The key word in this phrase, in the original Greek, is ὁμοούσιος/homoousios. This word has also been translated as “of one substance” or “consubstantial” and “of one essence.” The point is that the divine nature of the Father is one and the same as the divine nature of the Son. This is in contradistinction to Arius’ teaching that the divine nature of God the Father is unique only to Him, and the Son of God has a created nature so that he is a different being from and lesser divinity than the Father. By including that phrase with the word, homoousios, the creed asserts that when Christians proclaim that the Son of God is begotten of the Father, this means that the Son’s Being (or Substance or Essence) is the same as the Father’s Being (or Substance or Essence). For this reason, the supporters of Arius strongly objected to that word in the Rule of Faith being composed at the Council.
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September 21, 2025
Part 29—The Council Ends and the Debate Begins

Despite the reticence of some of the bishops around the inclusion of the word, ὁμοούσιος/homoousios, nearly all in attendance at the Council of Nicæa ratified the Rule of Faith. Even the leading defender of Arius’ teaching, Eusebius, Bishop of Nicomedia added his signature to the endorsement. By the conclusion of the Council in July 325, a near consensus of all the participants had been achieved around their Symbol. Copies of the Creed were, therefore, sent to the bishops throughout the Roman Empire, including the bishops of Roman Britannia. However, the immediate effect of the Nicene Symbol of Faith was not to produce the unity that was the goal and purpose of the Council.

Eusebius of Nicomedia may have agreed to the Creed, but he refused to accept the Council’s official declaration of Arius as anathema and excommunicated. This resulted in Bishop Eusebius being deposed from his episcopal see (i.e., seat of authority as bishop) and exiled from Nicomedia by Emperor Constantine not long after the Council. The same happened to Theognis, Bishop of Nicæa; Zopyrus, Bishop of Barca; and Maris, Bishop of Chalcedon for similarly refusing to condemn the teachings of Arius. Despite the precision of the language in the Creed, these bishops were convinced that they could profess the Nicene Rule of Faith while continuing to hold to Arius’ theology in which the Son is distinct in divinity from and subordinate to God the Father.

These bishops and their defenders pressed their case, making appeals to the emperor. Within two years of the Council, Constantine was willing to consider their argument. He called Arius out of exile to present his theology and its compatibility with the Nicene Rule of Faith. The emperor was satisfied with Arius’ claim that his theology remained within the bounds of Nicene orthodoxy; however, many bishops remained convinced that Arius’ teachings were heterodox and refused to accept his restoration. In AD 328, Constantine recalled Eusebius and the other exiled Arian bishops and restored them to their episcopal sees. That same year, Arius’ former bishop and chief opponent, Alexander, Bishop of Alexandria died. Athanasius, who had attended the Council of Nicæa as Bishop Alexander’s assistant was elected the new Bishop of Alexandria, becoming the most vocal, prolific, and articulate defender of the Nicene Rule of Faith against Arius’ teaching.
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September 28, 2025
Part 30—The Rise of Arian Christianity

From the beginning of his episcopate, Bishop Athanasias made it clear that he would maintain his predecessor’s excommunication of Arius despite the Emperor’s recommendation that the controversial cleric be restored to full communion with the whole Church. In AD 330, Athanasius wrote a short book called On the Incarnation. Unlike later works from his long and tumultuous career as Bishop of Alexandria, such as his Orations Against the Arians, this earlier text wasn’t defensive or polemical. Indeed, On the Incarnation never mentions Arius or his teachings, and it doesn’t even directly address the issue discussed at the Council of Nicæa. Rather, the book lays out with nuanced but clear logic the implications of the theology expressed in the Nicene Rule of Faith for the question of salvation. In the incarnation, God the Son, the Divine Word “became human so that humans might become divine.”

With such writings, Athanasius became the de facto spokesman of what could be called Nicene Christianity. But he was never as politically astute as the lead proponent of the Arian faction, Eusebius of Nicomedia. Upon his return from exile and restoration as Bishop of Nicomedia, Eusebius wasted no time in getting back into Constantine’s good graces. By 335, Eusebius had convinced a number of other bishops and the Emperor that Athanasius’ intransigence on the restoration of Arius and another issue were offenses worthy of punishment. A synod called by Constantine at the behest of Eusebius and presided over by the Bishop of Nicomedia declared Athanasius deposed. Thereafter, Constatine exiled Athanasius from Alexandria to Trier in Roman Gaul.

Athanasius’ exile would last until Constantine’s death on the Feast of Pentecost in 337. Not long before he came down with the illness that took his life, the Emperor had been persuaded by Eusebius to compel the Nicene bishops to acknowledge and accept Arius’ restoration as a priest in full communion and good standing. However, by this time, Arius was in his eighties, and he died before his full reinstatement could be enforced. When Constantine was lying on his death bed near Nicomedia later that Spring, he sent for Eusebius, the champion of Arianism, to finally administer the baptism he had been putting off for so long. Thus, the first Christian Roman Emperor died, leaving the Empire united but the Church divided between Nicene and Arian factions.
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October 26, 2025
Part 31—The Era of Arianism

At the time of Constatine’s death in AD 337, he had been the sole Augustus of the Roman Empire since his defeat of Licinius in 324. He had also appointed four Caesars under him—his sons, Constantine II, Constantius II, and Constans; and his nephew, Dalmatius. The Empire seemed poised to return to the kind of tetrarchy established by Constatine’s imperial predecessor, Diocletian. However, Dalmatius was assassinated within months of Constantine’s death, and the Empire was split between Constantine’s three sons as Augusti.

The oldest and youngest sons—Constantine II and Constans—favored Nicene Christianity. But Constantius II, who was with his father when Bishop Eusebius of Nicomedia administered the Emperor’s deathbed baptism and last rites, maintained Constantine’s tendency in later life to favor Arian Christianity. He forced the Nicene bishop of Constantinople into exile and transferred Eusebius from Nicomedia to his father’s “New Rome.” Eusebius, now Bishop of Constantinople, used his authority to persuade Constantius II to impose a second exile on Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria. He also consecrated an Arian bishop, Ulfilas and sent him as a missionary of Arian Christianity to the pagan Goths of the northwest.

In Constantius II, Eusebius had found an emperor who unreservedly championed his Arian Christianity. However, the other two emperors still favored Nicene Christianity. Then, in 340, the eldest brother, Constantine II, died in battle attempting to seize Constans’ territory. This left the Empire divided between the Arian, Constantius II and his much younger brother of the Nicene faith, Constans. By the time Eusebius died in 341, it seemed that his Arian Christianity was ascendent as the future of the Church and the Empire. In the words of the Venerable Bede about this era, “the Arian heresy . . . infected not only all of the churches of the continent, but even those of the [British] Isles . . .” (Ecclesiastical History of England, Book I, chapter viii).
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November 9, 2025
Part 32—Arian Christianity Fractures

Just before his death in AD 341, Eusebius, formerly Bishop of Nicomedia, elevated to Bishop of Constantinople, presided over a Synod in Antioch. This synod produced a Creed more amenable to Arian Christianity that was meant to replace the Rule of Faith composed at the Council of Nicæa. The Antiochene Rule of Faith, sometimes called the Dedication Creed, didn’t rule out the Nicene interpretation of the Son’s relationship to the Father, but it didn’t affirm or support it either. This was Eusebius’ final triumph—Athanasius deposed and in exile again and the creation of an Arian-friendly creed endorsed by the Eastern Augustus, Emperor Constantius II.

In response, the Western Augustus, Emperor Constans called a Synod in Serdica (modern Sofia, Bulgaria) in 343 with the approval of Constantius II. Constans hoped that his synod would restore Athanasius and reaffirm Nicene Christianity; however, it was poorly attended and achieved no consensus. That failure presaged an increasingly difficult and contentious reign for Constans, which was ended in 350 when a popular general, Magnus Magnentius had Constans killed and usurped his imperial throne. Constantius II rallied his forces and moved against Magnentius, finally defeating him in 353. With this victory, the Empire was once again consolidated under the rule of one Augustus or emperor, and he was an adherent and promoter of Arian Christianity.

Yet, even as the Empire was united under a sole, Arian emperor, Arian Christianity was fracturing. Three factions or three clusters on the spectrum of Arianism emerged. One group of Arian Christians felt that Eusebius and even Arius had been too willing to compromise with the bishops supporting Nicene Christianity. These Arian Christians came to be designated the Anomoians or Heterousians because they asserted that the Son is of a different being, essence or substance (ἑτεροούσιος/heterousios) than the Father; therefore, the Son is not similar (ἀνὅμοιος/anomoios) to the Father in any way. On the other end of the spectrum, a group sometimes called the Semi-Arians by historians were attempting to compromise with the Nicene Christians by suggesting that the Son is of a similar being, essence, or substance as the Father. There is literally one iota of difference between the word for “similar being” in Greek, homoiousios (ὁμοιούσιος) and the Greek word, homoousios (ὁμοούσιος) in the Nicene Creed, which proclaims that the Son and the Father share the “same being.” Eventually, a third group of Arian Christians emerged who suggested that discussion of God’s being, essence, or substance (οὐσία/ousia) was probing too deep into the divine mystery and all Christians could say is that the Son is similar (ὅμοιος/homoios) to the Father. These Arian Christians became known as the Homoians.
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November 16, 2025
Part 33—A Tale of Two Synods

The Arian Emperor of the unified Roman Empire, Constantius II threw his support behind the Homoian faction of Arian Christianity. Perhaps he assumed that the Homoian option of eschewing questions of being (essence or substance) in the relationship between the Father and the Son and simply asserting that “the Son is like the Father” could bring together the Nicene Christians with most Arian Christians. Only the minority Anomoian (or Heterousian) Arians who rejected any essential or substantial similarity between the Father and the Son would be unwilling to affirm that “the Son was like the Father.” But shouldn’t both the Nicene Christians, who asserted that the Son was of the same being (homoousios) as the Father, and the (Semi)Arian Christians, who believed the Son was only of a similar being (homoiousios) as the Father, be able to come together in agreement that “the Son is like the Father?”

In 358, Constantius II called for two synods to be held the following year. One would be held in Nicomedia for the Eastern (or Greek-speaking) bishops. The other synod would be in Ariminum (modern Rimini, Italy) for the Western (or Latin-speaking) bishops, including two bishops from Roman Britannia. The goal of the synods was to unite the Church under the Homoian position. However, in the nearly forty years since the Council of Nicæa, reverence for that august assembly in the halcyon days of Constantine’s reign had been cultivated by the theological writings of the regularly deposed and exiled bishop of Alexandria, Athanasius. Nicene Christianity seems to have secured a majority in the Church despite the efforts of an Arian Emperor. And when an earthquake hit Nicomedia before the Eastern synod could meet there, the Nicene Christians may have seen this as portent of God’s displeasure with the Emperor’s attempt to achieve an Arian compromise.

Of course, Nicene bishops were basically absent from the Eastern synod when it was finally convened in September of 359 in Seleucia (modern Silifke, Turkey). The Nicene bishops in the Eastern half of the Empire—like Athanasius—had been deposed, exiled, and replaced with Arian bishops. However, the Arian bishops of the Synod of Seleucia still couldn’t reach consensus. The Homoian Arians had the backing of the Emperor, but the Homoiousian Arians maintained the indispensable importance of their insistence that the Son’s being is similar to the Father’s being but not the same. The Synod of Seleucia, therefore, ended in division. Meanwhile, the Western bishops of the Synod of Ariminum had already concluded their proceedings with a consensus—in favor of Nicene Christianity! Neither of these two outcomes was acceptable to Constantius II.
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November 30, 2025
Part 34—Two British Bishops and a Pagan Emperor

Emperor Constantius II let the delegation from Western Synod of Ariminum know of his displeasure with their decision in favor of the Nicene faith and his preference for Homoian Arianism. The delegation was persuaded by the Emperor’s perspective and sent word back to the bishops still gathered in Ariminum (now Rimini, Italy) that they too were to accept the Imperial preference. How could they object? The two bishops from Britannia, for example, were completely reliant on the Emperor’s patronage to cover the cost of their travel, room, and board just to attend the synod. And, indeed, all the bishops understood the importance of remaining in the Emperor’s good graces. The Bishops in Ariminum accepted the Homoian position.

After securing the support of the Western bishops, Constantius II still needed to persuade the Eastern bishops to exchange their narrow Homoiousian Arianism for his broader Homoian Arianism. To that end, the Emperor called a synod of both Eastern and Western bishops to meet in Constantinople in 360. Though the synod was only lightly attended, it achieved the goal of deciding in favor Homoian Arianism for the whole Church in the Empire and producing a corresponding creed. When Constantius II died of illness the following year, he believed he had secured a future of unity for both the Empire and the Church, and he bequeathed them to his cousin Julian to uphold and sustain for the next generation.

Yet Constantius II couldn’t have predicted what would happen upon his death, for he and his Empire and his Church had all been deceived. Julian had secretly rejected the Christianity of his upbringing in favor of paganism. He had no interest in the debates among the Arians or between the Arian and Nicene Christians. Julian’s plan was to lead the Empire back to the old gods who were still worshiped in the hearts of many Roman citizens and upon the hearths of many Roman homes. Some bishops may have feared the renewal of persecution; however, the new, pagan Emperor was savvy enough to realize that Imperial violence would only unify the Christians and provide a new wave of martyrs to inspire the Church. Instead, he removed patronage from the Church and redirected funds to pagan priests and institutions. Temples that had been abandoned and fallen into disrepair were restored and reconsecrated for sacrifices to their respective gods. Christian philosophers and teachers were removed from their academic and court positions as preferment was extended to pagan Neoplatonists instead. Both Arian and Nicene Christians watched helplessly as Julian deftly repositioned the Church to marginality in the Empire once more.
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December 7, 2025
Part 35—The End of Imperial Paganism

Emperor Julian turned his focus to pursuing military victories to show that the gods were pleased with his reign and return of the Empire to paganism. But this proved to be the fatal flaw in his strategy. In retreat from a battle against the Persian Sassanid Empire, Julian was severely wounded. Despite his physician’s best efforts, the last pagan Emperor of the Roman Empire died in late June 363, and with him died the program to return the Empire to the gods of old. Julian’s short reign of less than two years was simply inadequate for his program of re-paganization to take root. Julian was succeeded by the commander of the imperial guard, Jovian, a Christian.

Jovian’s reign was even shorter than Julian’s. After submitting to a chastening treaty with the Sassanid Emperor, and while still making his way to Constantinople, Jovian was found dead one morning. Though he only reigned a little more than half a year, Jovian had been able to walk back Julian’s anti-Christian efforts. He issued an edict of toleration similar to Constantine’s Edict of Milan, restored imperial patronage to the Church, and brought Athanasius back from his fourth exile, reinstating the great defender of Nicene Christianity as Bishop of Alexandria.

Jovian, it seems, had been a Nicene Christian, himself. Yet, apart from his restoration of Athanasius, his policies avoided the conflict in the Church between the Arian and Nicene parties. Perhaps he had hoped that the days of Julian’s reign had produced a deeper sense of unity within the Church. Perhaps his reign had simply been too brief for him to translate his preference into policy. In any case, Jovian was succeeded by Valentinian I, a Nicene Christian, and his brother, Valens, a Homoian Arian Christian. Valentinian I, the senior of the two Emperors, chose to be Augustus of the Western half of the Empire, appointing Valens as the Augustus of the Eastern half. The Empire was divided administratively, once again, and imperial support was divided between the Nicene and Arian options.
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December 21, 2025
Part 36—Athanasius’ Rapprochement with the Homoiousian Arians

Valens, the Augustus or Emperor of the Eastern half of the Roman Empire and a Homoian Arian, tended to avoid dabbling too much into the dispute between Nicene and Arian bishops. However, in AD 365, he did rescind Jovian’s order to end the exile of a number of Nicene bishops, including Athanasius of Alexandria. So, for the fifth time since becoming a bishop in 328, Athanasius was exiled from his episcopal see in Alexandria. Fortunately for the long-suffering bishop, popular support for him had grown so strong and widespread that Emperor Valens was compelled to end Athanasius’ final exile within only a few months. Athanasius’ popularity had increased not only because of his tireless advocacy for the Nicene faith, which was becoming the dominant position within the Church, but also because he had begun working to achieve a rapprochement with the Homoiousian faction of Arian Christianity.

The Homoiousian bishops had long been uncomfortable with the suggestion that they were followers of Arius. Yet, they couldn’t fully accept the Nicene Creed because of its insistence that the Son is of the same being (homoousios) as the Father. They feared that this formulation of the relationship between the Father and the Son left room for the Modalist heresy of Sabellius; hence, they insisted that the Creed ought to say that the Son is of a similar being (homoiousios) as the Father. This meant that in the decades after the Council of Nicæa, the Homoiousian bishops were naturally aligned with the other Arian Christians who rejected the homoousian formula in the Nicene Creed. But this alliance of necessity was not to last.

During the ascendancy of Arian Christianity in the Empire, the Homoiousian Christians found themselves in debates with the other Arian factions. They came to think that the extreme Anomoian Arians, who insisted that the Son was unlike the Father because Jesus was a part of Creation, were as guilty of a dangerous heresy as the Sabellian Modalists. Moreover, the compromise of the Homoian Arians, who wanted to avoid all discussion of being or essence regarding the relationship of the Son to the Father allowed for the Anomoian heresy to persist. In other words, the very success of Arian Christianity helped the Homoiousian bishops realize they had more in common with the Nicene bishops than with the other Arians. Athanasius had recognized this also and began to make efforts at reconciliation with the Homoiousian bishops by focusing on their shared faith in the full divinity of Christ and by showing that the Nicene formulation leaves no room for Sabellian Modalism.
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VIDEOS FROM PAST ADULT FORUM SERIES

Being Christian in a Secular Age

The Summer 2021 Adult Christian Education Program is an exploration of Discipleship amid Secularism.

I

Mapping the Secular

II

Stories of the Secular

III

Our-narrating the Secular Stories

IV

Dispelling Disenchantment

V

Glimpses of Transcendence

How Did We Get the New Testament?

The Fall 2020 Adult Christian Education Program is a survey of the New Testament.

I

The New Testament and Its World

II

Oral Tradition and First Writings

III

Paul and the Undisputed Letters

IV

The Disputed Letters of Paul

V

The Catholic Epistles: James, Jude, and I & II Peter

VI

The Gospel according to Mark

VII

The Q Source and the Didache

VIII

The Gospel according to Matthew

IX

Luke-Acts

X

The Gospel & Epistles of John

Religions of the World

The 2019-2020 Adult Christian Education Program is a study of the Religions of the World.

Video Recordings of that study can be found below.

HINDUISM

Hinduism—Part 1

Hinduism—Part 2

Hinduism—Part 3

Hinduism—Part 4

Hinduism—Part 5

Hinduism—Part 6

Interlude:

JAINISM

BUDDHISM

Buddhism—Part 1

Buddhism—Part 2

Buddhism—Part 3

Buddhism—Part 4

Buddhism—Part 5

Buddhism—Part 6

Buddhism—Part 7

Buddhism—Part 8

Buddhism—Part 9

Buddhism—Part 10

Interlude:

CONFUCIANISM & TAOISM

ISLAM

Islam—Part 1

Islam—Part 2

Islam—Part 3

500 Years of Reformation

In 2017, the Fork Church joined other Episcopal and Lutheran Churches in Hanover, VA in commemorating the 500th Anniversary of the Reformation with a lecture series.

The videos for three of those lectures can be found here.

Education

Click here to view VIDEOS FROM PAST ADULT FORUM SERIES

Our Anglican Tradition as a Parish in the Episcopal Church

Being Christian in a Secular Age

I

Mapping the Secular

II

Stories of the Secular

III

Our-narrating the Secular Stories

IV

Dispelling Disenchantment

V

Glimpses of Transcendence

How Did We Get the New Testament?

I

The New Testament and Its World

II

Oral Tradition and First Writings

III

Paul and the Undisputed Letters

IV

The Disputed Letters of Paul

V

The Catholic Epistles: James, Jude, and I & II Peter

VI

The Gospel according to Mark

VII

The Q Source and the Didache

VIII

The Gospel according to Matthew

IX

Luke-Acts

X

The Gospel & Epistles of John

Religions of the World

HINDUISM

Interlude:

JAINISM

BUDDHISM

Interlude:

CONFUCIANISM & TAOISM

ISLAM

500 Years of Reformation

David Holmes

“High Church, Low Church: Virginia Churchmanship and the Reformation”

Bob Pritchard

“What Luther Taught Us: Martin Luther’s Influence on the English Reformation”

David Zahl

“Law and Grace, 500 Years Later: A Fresh Look at the Reformation”

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