The Nicene Creed is a short, formal statement of Christian belief about God, Christ, the Holy Spirit, and the Church. It’s recited in the liturgy of Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox, many Anglicans, Lutherans, and other confessional Protestants. ()

Technically, what most churches call “the Nicene Creed” is the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed — the form finalized in 381 at Constantinople, expanding the briefer 325 Nicaea creed.

At its core, it:

Confesses one God, Creator of all.

Affirms Jesus Christ as “true God from true God,” “of one substance” (homoousios) with the Father.

Confesses the Holy Spirit as Lord and giver of life, who is worshipped together with the Father and the Son.

Confesses one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church, one baptism, and the hope of the resurrection and life of the world to come. ()

Who went against the Nicene Creed?

There are different levels of “opposed to the Nicene Creed”:

Those who literally refused to sign it at Nicaea (325).

Those who signed but still opposed its theology and worked against it.

Later leaders of anti-Nicene or semi-Nicene parties.

I’ll list them by category.

1. Those who refused to sign the Nicene Creed at the council (325)

Only three men are consistently named as outright refusers:

Arius^[1] – presbyter from Alexandria, whose teaching triggered the council; he refused the creed and its anathemas and was exiled.

Secundus of Ptolemais – Libyan bishop, patron of Arius; refused to sign, was deposed, and exiled.

Theonas of Marmarica (Marmarike/Marmarcia) – Libyan bishop; refused to sign, was deposed, and exiled.

Everyone else at Nicaea either signed or (in a few cases) signed under pressure and later tried to walk it back.

2. Bishops who backed Arius and/or resisted Nicene theology

These supported Arius at or around the council, and many later worked against the Nicene settlement, even though most did sign the creed:

Eusebius of Nicomedia^[2] – leading pro-Arian court bishop; major political opponent of Athanasius and the Nicene party.3902018

Eusebius of Caesarea – church historian; initially sympathetic to Arius, signed a slightly edited creed, then the Nicene creed itself, but stayed uneasy with homoousios.

Theognis of Nicaea^[3] – bishop of Nicaea; signed but later opposed the anti-Arian anathemas and was briefly exiled with Eusebius of Nicomedia.

Menophantus of Ephesus^[4] – supporter of Arius at Nicaea.

Patrophilus of Scythopolis – Arius-leaning Eastern bishop.

Narcissus of Neronias (Irenopolis in Cilicia) – part of the Eastern pro-Arian bloc.

Those names are the main “Arian party” bishops listed in ancient sources.

3. Later 4th-century leaders who opposed the Nicene formula (homoousios)

After Nicaea, opposition shifts from “don’t sign the creed” to “rewrite or replace it.” You get multiple anti-Nicene factions:

a) Homoiousian (“similar essence”) leaders

They said the Son was of similar essence (homoiousios) to the Father, not the same essence (homoousios), so they opposed the Nicene term:

Basil of Ancyra

George of Laodicea

Eustathius of Sebaste (very slippery politically/theologically)

b) Homoian (“like” the Father, no essence-language) leaders

They wanted to avoid all “essence/substance” talk and just say the Son is “like the Father according to the Scriptures” – explicitly a move against the Nicene homoousios:

Acacius of Caesarea

Ursacius of Singidunum (Belgrade)

Valens of Mursa

Germinius of Sirmium

These are the people behind the “Homoean” creeds of Sirmium, Rimini/Seleucia (359), etc., which were intended to supersede Nicaea.

c) Anomoean^[5] (“unlike”)/radical Arian leaders

They said the Son is unlike (anomoios) the Father in essence—hard-line anti-Nicene:

Aetius of Antioch^[6]

Eunomius of Cyzicus^[7]

These guys are the most aggressively anti-Nicene of the bunch.

4. Later historical opponents (beyond the 4th century)

If you broaden the scope to “groups who rejected Nicene Trinitarianism”:

Pneumatomachians^[8]/Macedonians – denied the full deity of the Holy Spirit, opposing the expanded Nicene faith of 381.

Medieval and early-modern anti-Trinitarians – e.g., Socinus^[9] and the Socinians; later Unitarians.

Modern anti-Trinitarian groups:

various rationalist Unitarians,

Jehovah’s Witnesses, etc., who explicitly reject the Nicene doctrine of Christ’s full deity.

Those aren’t “council participants,” but they’re historically part of the long line of Nicene opponents.

So if you just want the “who stood against it at Nicaea itself” core list, it’s:

Arius

Secundus of Ptolemais^[10]

Theonas of Marmarica^[11]

…and then a cluster of pro-Arian bishops (Eusebius of Nicomedia, Theognis, etc.) who signed but fought its theology for decades afterward.

2. Why was it written? The Arian controversy

Context: early 300s. Christianity is now legal in the Roman Empire (Edict of Milan, 313). A theological fistfight breaks out over one massive question:

Who exactly is Jesus Christ in relation to God the Father?

Arius, a presbyter in Alexandria, taught roughly:

The Son is the highest of creatures.

He was created by the Father “before” all ages.

“There was when he was not” — so the Son is not eternal in the same way the Father is. ()

For Arius, Christ is exalted, but not fully God in the same sense as the Father.

Athanasius and other bishops objected: if the Son is a creature, then:

He can’t be the full revelation of God.

He can’t truly reconcile us to God.

Christian worship (which is directed to Christ) becomes idolatry unless Christ is truly God.

The dispute spreads, becomes a political and social problem, and Emperor Constantine wants unity. So he calls a council.

3. Council of Nicaea (325): the first version

In 325, bishops from across the empire met in Nicaea (in modern-day İznik, Turkey). ()

The council:

Condemns as a heretic.

Produces a creed that:

Calls the Son “begotten, not made.”

Affirms he is “of one substance with the Father” (homoousios).

Ends with anathemas against Arian formulas like “there was when he was not.” ()

Key move: that Greek word homoousios — “of the same essence/substance” — is the council’s way of saying:

The Son is not a lesser, created divinity; He is fully, truly God as the Father is God.

But Nicaea 325 is relatively brief about the Holy Spirit: it basically ends, “And [we believe] in the Holy Spirit,” then jumps straight to anathemas.

The controversy doesn’t magically vanish. Arian and semi-Arian positions keep mutating for decades, and the empire wobbles back and forth in its support. ()

4. Constantinople (381): the expanded creed

By 381, new debates have also arisen about:

The full humanity of Christ.

The personhood and deity of the Holy Spirit.

The First Council of Constantinople (381), convened by Emperor Theodosius I, reaffirms and expands the Nicene faith. ()

This expanded creed:

Keeps the heart of the 325 Christology.

Adds extensive clauses about:

Christ’s incarnation, crucifixion, resurrection, ascension, and coming again.

The Holy Spirit as “the Lord and giver of life … who with the Father and the Son together is worshiped and glorified.”

The one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church, one baptism, the resurrection, and the life of the world to come. ()

This 381 form is what nearly all liturgical churches recite today and call “the Nicene Creed.” ()

5. Later development: the filioque and East–West friction

The original Greek creed says the Spirit “proceeds from the Father.”

In the Latin West, a phrase was gradually added:

“who proceeds from the Father and the Son” (filioque).

It appears regionally as early as the 6th century.

It’s widely adopted in the medieval Western Church.

The Eastern (Greek) churches object: the West has altered an ecumenical creed unilaterally and, they argue, distorted the monarchy of the Father in Trinitarian theology. ()

This becomes one of the flashpoints contributing to the Great Schism^[12] between East and West.

So: same creed, slightly different wording, real theological and ecclesial tension.

6. What the creed actually says, theologically

Let’s walk through the main clauses of the 381 form (the one in common use).

6.1. “We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth…”

Affirms strict monotheism.

Identifies the one God specifically as “Father Almighty,” but not in a way that excludes the Son and Spirit from true deity; it’s a Trinitarian monotheism.

Asserts God as Creator of “all things visible and invisible” — the whole created order, material and spiritual. ()

6.2. “And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God…”

Key phrases:

“Only-begotten, begotten of the Father before all ages.”→ The Son is not a creature in time; his “begottenness” is eternal.

“Light from Light, true God from true God.”→ Uses imagery of light from light: the source and the radiance share the same nature.

“Begotten, not made; of one substance (homoousios) with the Father.”→ The anti-Arian hammer: the Son is not made; he is consubstantial with the Father. ()

“Who for us humans and for our salvation came down from heaven…”→ Connects Christology directly to soteriology: if he’s not truly God and truly man, salvation collapses.

The Creed then narrates the essentials of the gospel story:

Incarnation “by the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary.”

Crucifixion “under Pontius Pilate.”

Burial.

Resurrection “on the third day according to the Scriptures.”

Ascension.

Enthronement at the right hand of the Father.

Future return “in glory to judge the living and the dead” and a kingdom “that shall have no end.” ()

So we get both who Christ is and what he has done in history for salvation.

6.3. “And in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life…”

Here, the 381 expansion is crucial:

Calls the Spirit “Lord,” → a divine title.

“Giver of life” → the Spirit’s role in creation and new creation.

“Who proceeds from the Father [and the Son, in Western forms]” → eternal relation of origin within the Trinity.

“Who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified” → explicit confession that the Spirit receives the same worship as Father and Son; thus fully God. ()

“Who spoke by the prophets” → the Spirit’s work in revelation and Scripture.

6.4. “In one holy catholic and apostolic Church…”

The creed then touches on ecclesiology and eschatology:

One: unity.

Holy: set apart by God.

Catholic: universal, across place and time.

Apostolic: founded on the apostolic witness and succession (understood differently in different traditions). ()

Then:

“One baptism for the remission of sins” → baptismal emphasis, linked to forgiveness.

“We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come” → bodily resurrection and consummated new creation.

7. Who uses the Nicene Creed, and how?

Today, the Nicene Creed (381 text, with or without filioque) is affirmed as a doctrinal standard by:

Roman Catholic Church

Eastern Orthodox Churches

Oriental Orthodox churches (Armenian, Coptic, Syriac, etc.)

Church of the East

Most Anglicans, Lutherans, and many Reformed and other confessional Protestants ()

It’s used:

As a baptismal creed

As a liturgical confession (especially at the Eucharist)

As a doctrinal boundary marker: to be “Nicene” is to affirm the full deity of Christ and the Spirit within a Trinitarian monotheism.

Some low-church Protestants don’t formally recite it, but the majority of historic Christian communions see it as a kind of minimum orthodox standard on the Trinity and Christ.

8. Why it still matters

The Nicene Creed is still a live wire for at least four reasons:

Who is Jesus?It draws a hard line: Jesus is not merely a prophet, moral teacher, or semi-divine being. He is “true God from true God,” of one substance with the Father.

Christian worshipChristians worship Christ and the Spirit. Nicaea ensures that such worship is not idolatry but the worship of the one God in three persons.

Unity and identityIn a fragmented Christian landscape, the Nicene faith is one of the few doctrinal things that still unites huge swaths of the global church. ()

Guardrail against theological driftEvery few decades, the church re-runs some version of the Arian controversy under a new brand. The creed functions as a guardrail, saying: “No, we’ve been down that road. Here’s where the boundary of recognizably Christian confession lies.”

In short, the Nicene Creed is the church’s ancient, hard-won way of saying who God is and who Jesus is in a way that makes sense of Scripture, worship, and salvation. It’s not the whole of Christian theology, but it’s a pretty dense backbone that has shaped almost everything that came after.

Good question, because “modified” here actually hides two different stories:

The move from the 325 Nicaea creed to the 381 Constantinople creed (what we usually recite).

Later Western additions, especially the Filioque (“and the Son”).

Each change has its own rationale.

1. From Nicaea (325) to Constantinople (381): why the expansion?

The original 325 creed is shorter and mainly laser-focused on Arius:

It says the Son is “begotten, not made, of one substance (homoousios) with the Father,”

Then ends pretty abruptly: “And [we believe] in the Holy Spirit.”

That’s it. No “Lord and giver of life,” no “who proceeds from the Father,” etc.

After Nicaea, Christians didn’t suddenly hold hands and agree. For fifty years, you get:

Arian and semi-Arian groups trying to reword or dodge homoousios.

New debates about the Holy Spirit: some said the Spirit was a sort of high-ranking creature (the Pneumatomachians or “Spirit-fighters”).

So when the Council of Constantinople (381) met, its main aims were:

Reaffirm and stabilize the Nicene faith against the evolving Arian/Semi-Arian camps.

Clarify the status of the Holy Spirit as fully divine, not a created power.

That’s why the 381 creed:

Keeps the heart of Nicaea’s Christology (true God from true God, begotten not made, of one essence with the Father).

Expands the section on the Spirit to say:

“And in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life,who proceeds from the Father,who with the Father and the Son together is worshiped and glorified,who spoke by the prophets…”

So the main reasons for the “modification” in 381:

Doctrinal clarification – especially the full deity of the Spirit.

Anti-heretical precision – block new workarounds that tried to downgrade Son or Spirit.

Liturgical use – the creed is now in a form that can be used more widely in worship and catechesis.

Most scholars today think the 381 text may have drawn on an existing baptismal creed that was then made to “fit” Nicaea—so it’s not just them tweaking the 325 text on the fly, but functionally it replaces the older one in church use.

2. The Filioque:^[13] “and the Son.”

Then you get a second wave of modification, this time only in the Latin West.

The 381 creed says of the Spirit:

“who proceeds from the Father.”

Western churches, beginning in some regions by the late 6th century, began reciting:

“who proceeds from the Father and the Son” (qui ex Patre Filioque procedit).

Why did they add it?

Theologically: to underline that the Son is fully equal to the Father in deity and that the Spirit is the Spirit of both Father and Son—not a Spirit of the Father only with the Son as some sort of second-tier figure. It’s tied to Western Trinitarian logic against lingering Arian or subordinationist instincts.

Pastorally/polemically: in some contexts, it was explicitly framed as a response to Arianism among Germanic peoples, stressing the Son’s full divinity.

Rome itself did not use the Filioque in the creed at mass until 1014, but by then it was long standard in Frankish and other Western liturgies.

For the Eastern churches, this was a problem on two fronts:

Procedural – the West had altered the text of an ecumenical creed without an ecumenical council, against the spirit of Ephesus’ canon forbidding new rival “creeds.”

Theological – they feared it confused the Father’s unique role as source (archē) of Son and Spirit.

This tension over the Filioque becomes one of the major doctrinal flashpoints leading up to the East–West Schism.

3. Tiny tweaks: “We believe” → “I believe,” etc.

There are also some minor liturgical edits you’ll see:

Original Greek creed starts: “We believe…”

Many Western liturgies now say: “I believe…”

This wasn’t some big doctrinal move; it’s more about how the creed was used:

As a baptismal confession: “Do you believe…?” – “I believe…”

As a personal proclamation of faith in worship.

So the pronoun shift is a small, practical adjustment compared to the big theological modifications above.

4. If you boil it all the way down

The Nicene Creed got “modified” for three main reasons across history:

To sharpen doctrine against new heresies

381: fuller exposition of the Holy Spirit’s deity and role.

Later West: Filioque as an anti-subordinationist clarification.

To fit developing liturgical and catechetical use

Turning a council formula into a creed used regularly in worship and at baptism.

Because once you use a creed as a doctrinal fence, people keep building extra railings

Each controversy tempts the church to tack on one more clarifying phrase.

From an Old School Baptist angle, that last point is exactly why they get nervous: they see this long history of “just one more clause” and worry that you end up with something functionally above Scripture. From a Nicene/conciliar angle, each modification is the church trying to guard what it already believed, not inventing a new faith.

Were there any differences about what Ariuss believed?

Yes, there are people who say, “Arius didn’t really deny the deity of Christ.”

But usually what they mean is: Arius allowed a kind of secondary, derivative ‘divinity’ for the Son—not that he believed what Nicaea means by true God.

So it’s a definitional game of “what counts as deity?”

1. What Arius actually said (in essence)

From the surviving fragments and reports, Arius taught roughly:

The Son was created by the Father “before the ages.”

“There was when he was not” (i.e., the Son is not eternal like the Father).

The Son is a creature—the highest, most exalted, through whom all other things were made—but still not uncreated, not without beginning.

He can call the Son “God” or “divine,” but always in a lesser, derivative sense. Only the Father is absolutely God, unoriginate, without beginning.

From the Nicene side, that is a denial of Christ’s true deity: if Christ is a creature, even a super-creature, he’s not “true God from true God, of one substance with the Father.”

2. Who says Arius “didn’t deny the deity of Christ”?

You find this kind of line in two main places:

a) Some modern scholars

Some historians and patristic scholars nuance things like this:

Arius isn’t just a cartoon villain shouting, “Jesus is just a man.”

He clearly gives the Son a unique, cosmic, “godlike” status far above the rest of creation.

He uses language of “God” for the Son, but as a lesser, subordinate deity.

So they’ll say things like: “Arius did not simply deny Christ’s divinity; he redefined it,” or “he affirmed a qualified divinity.” That’s an attempt to describe him accurately rather than just say “he thought Jesus was a mere prophet.”

In that limited sense, yes—some scholars will insist on the nuance:Arius diluted the Son’s divinity rather than discarded it outright.

b) Groups who like his general direction

You also have later groups (e.g., Unitarians historically, Jehovah’s Witnesses today) who are theologically closer to Arius and sometimes present him as someone who upheld Scripture against philosophical speculation. They typically:

Deny that Christ is equal with the Father.

See the Son as a created being—exalted, yes, but created.

They might say: “Arius didn’t deny Christ’s deity, he denied that Christ is the Most High God,” which is really just a way of saying: he believed in a lesser god next to the true God.

3. So did he deny Christ’s deity or not?

It depends on what you mean by deity.

If “deity” means:

Uncreated

Eternal

Of the same divine being/essence as the Father

Worthy of the same worship

…then yes, Arius denied the deity of Christ in that strong Nicene sense.

From the Nicene standpoint, Arius’ Christ is:

Not eternal in the same way (“there was when he was not”).

Not of one substance (homoousios) with the Father.

Not God in the fullest, proper sense—only the Father is that.

So the bishops at Nicaea heard Arius and said, in effect:

“However pious your language sounds, this amounts to denying that the Son is truly God.”

But if “deity” is used loosely to mean:

“Exalted heavenly being.”

“Godlike agent.”

“A secondary ‘god’ under the Father.”

…then someone can say “Arius believed Jesus was divine” without lying—but that’s not what the Creed is talking about when it says “true God from true God.”

4. The real issue: full deity vs. graded deity

The heart of Nicaea is not “Is Jesus kind of special and heavenly?”The heart is:

Is there one divine essence, fully shared by Father, Son, and Spirit?

Or is the Son a different kind of being—immense, glorious, pre-temporal, but still not what the Father is?

Arius’ answer: There is an ontological gap between the Father and the Son.Nicaea’s answer: that gap is gone. The Son is of one substance with the Father.

So yes, some will claim Arius didn’t deny Christ’s deity—but usually they either:

Mean “he gave Christ a lesser, secondary divinity,” or

Are using “deity” so vaguely that it hides the real disagreement.

From a Nicene standpoint, that’s functionally a denial of Christ’s true deity, just with nicer lighting and a better soundtrack.

What was the perceived need for the Nicene Creed?

Alright, buckle up, we’re talking about the Creed.

I’ll give you a structured run-through:

What the Nicene Creed is

Why it was written (Arius & the Arian controversy)

How it developed (325 → 381 → later changes like the filioque)

A walk-through of its main lines

Who uses it and why it still matters

Key debates around it

1. What is the Nicene Creed?

Technically, what most churches call “the Nicene Creed” is the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed — the form finalized in 381 at Constantinople, expanding the briefer 325 Nicaea creed.

At its core, it:

Confesses one God, Creator of all.

Affirms Jesus Christ as “true God from true God,” “of one substance” (homoousios) with the Father.

Confesses the Holy Spirit as Lord and giver of life, who is worshipped together with the Father and the Son.

Confesses one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church, one baptism, and the hope of the resurrection and life of the world to come. ()

2. Why was it written? The Arian controversy

Context: early 300s. Christianity is now legal in the Roman Empire (Edict of Milan, 313^[14]). A theological fistfight breaks out over one massive question:

Who exactly is Jesus Christ in relation to God the Father?

Arius, a presbyter in Alexandria, taught roughly:

The Son is the highest of creatures.

He was created by the Father “before” all ages.

“There was when he was not” — so the Son is not eternal in the same way the Father is. ()

For Arius, Christ is exalted, but not fully God in the same sense as the Father.

Athanasius and other bishops objected: if the Son is a creature, then:

He can’t be the full revelation of God.

He can’t truly reconcile us to God.

Christian worship (which is directed to Christ) becomes idolatry unless Christ is truly God.

The dispute spreads, becomes a political and social problem, and Emperor Constantine wants unity. So he calls a council.

3. Council of Nicaea (325): the first version

In 325, bishops from across the empire met in Nicaea (in modern-day İznik, Turkey). ()

The council:

Condemns Arius as a heretic.

Produces a creed that:

Calls the Son “begotten, not made.”

Affirms he is “of one substance with the Father” (homoousios).

Ends with anathemas against Arian formulas like “there was when he was not.” ()

Key move: that Greek word homoousios — “of the same essence/substance” — is the council’s way of saying:

The Son is not a lesser, created divinity; He is fully, truly God as the Father is God.

But Nicaea 325 is relatively brief about the Holy Spirit: it basically ends, “And [we believe] in the Holy Spirit,” then jumps straight to anathemas.

The controversy doesn’t magically vanish. Arian and semi-Arian positions keep mutating for decades, and the empire wobbles back and forth in its support. ()

4. Constantinople (381): the expanded creed

By 381, new debates have also arisen about:

The full humanity of Christ.

The personhood and deity of the Holy Spirit.

The First Council of Constantinople (381), convened by Emperor Theodosius I, reaffirms and expands the Nicene faith. ()

This expanded creed:

Keeps the heart of the 325 Christology.

Adds extensive clauses about:

Christ’s incarnation, crucifixion, resurrection, ascension, and coming again.

The Holy Spirit as “the Lord and giver of life … who with the Father and the Son together is worshiped and glorified.”

The one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church, one baptism, the resurrection, and the life of the world to come. ()

This 381 form is what nearly all liturgical churches recite today and call “the Nicene Creed.” ()

5. Later development: the filioque and East–West friction

The original Greek creed says the Spirit “proceeds from the Father.”

In the Latin West, a phrase was gradually added:

“who proceeds from the Father and the Son” (filioque).

It appears regionally as early as the 6th century.

It’s widely adopted in the medieval Western Church.

The Eastern (Greek) churches object: the West has altered an ecumenical creed unilaterally and, they argue, distorted the monarchy of the Father in Trinitarian theology. ()

This becomes one of the flashpoints contributing to the Great Schism between East and West.

So: same creed, slightly different wording, real theological and ecclesial tension.

6. What the creed actually says, theologically

Let’s walk through the main clauses of the 381 form (the one in common use).

6.1. “We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth…”

Affirms strict monotheism.

Identifies the one God specifically as “Father Almighty,” but not in a way that excludes the Son and Spirit from true deity; it’s a Trinitarian monotheism.

Asserts God as Creator of “all things visible and invisible” — the whole created order, material and spiritual. ()

6.2. “And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God…”

Key phrases:

“Only-begotten, begotten of the Father before all ages.”→ The Son is not a creature in time; his “begottenness” is eternal.

“Light from Light, true God from true God”→ Uses imagery of light from light: the source and the radiance share the same nature.

“Begotten, not made; of one substance (homoousios) with the Father.”→ The anti-Arian hammer: the Son is not made; he is consubstantial with the Father. ()

“Who for us humans and for our salvation came down from heaven…”→ Connects Christology directly to soteriology: if he’s not truly God and truly man, salvation collapses.

The Creed then narrates the essentials of the gospel story:

Incarnation “by the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary.”

Crucifixion “under Pontius Pilate.”

Burial.

Resurrection “on the third day according to the Scriptures.”

Ascension.

Enthronement at the right hand of the Father.

Future return “in glory to judge the living and the dead” and a kingdom “that shall have no end.” ()

So we get both who Christ is and what he has done, in history for salvation.

6.3. “And in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life…”

Here, the 381 expansion is crucial:

Calls the Spirit “Lord,” → a divine title.

“Giver of life” → the Spirit’s role in creation and new creation.

“Who proceeds from the Father [and the Son, in Western forms]” → eternal relation of origin within the Trinity.

“Who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified” → explicit confession that the Spirit receives the same worship as Father and Son; thus fully God. ()

“Who spoke by the prophets” → the Spirit’s work in revelation and Scripture.

6.4. “In one holy catholic and apostolic Church…”

The creed then touches on ecclesiology and eschatology:

One: unity.

Holy: set apart by God.

Catholic: universal, across place and time.

Apostolic: founded on the apostolic witness and succession (understood differently in different traditions). ()

Then:

“One baptism for the remission of sins” → baptismal emphasis, linked to forgiveness.

“We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come” → bodily resurrection and consummated new creation.

7. Who uses the Nicene Creed, and how?

Today, the Nicene Creed (381 text, with or without filioque) is affirmed as a doctrinal standard by:

Roman Catholic Church

Eastern Orthodox Churches

Oriental Orthodox churches (Armenian, Coptic, Syriac, etc.)

Church of the East

Most Anglicans, Lutherans, and many Reformed and other confessional Protestants ()

It’s used:

As a baptismal creed

As a liturgical confession (especially at the Eucharist)

As a doctrinal boundary marker: to be “Nicene” is to affirm the full deity of Christ and the Spirit within a Trinitarian monotheism.

Some low-church Protestants don’t formally recite it, but the majority of historic Christian communions see it as a kind of minimum orthodox standard on the Trinity and Christ.

8. Why it still matters

The Nicene Creed is still a live wire for at least four reasons:

Who is Jesus?It draws a hard line: Jesus is not merely a prophet, moral teacher, or semi-divine being. He is “true God from true God,” of one substance with the Father.

Christian worshipChristians worship Christ and the Spirit. Nicaea ensures that such worship is not idolatry but the worship of the one God in three persons.

Unity and identityIn a fragmented Christian landscape, the Nicene faith is one of the few doctrinal things that still unites huge swaths of the global church. ()

Guardrail against theological driftEvery few decades, the church re-runs some version of the Arian controversy under a new brand. The creed functions as a guardrail, saying, “No, we’ve been down that road. Here’s where the boundary of recognizably Christian confession lies.”

What Scripture Use To Defend His position?

Nice, let’s go into “Arius’ proof-texts mode.”

Important: we don’t have Arius’ own full commentary line-by-line, but from fragments of his writings and, especially, from his opponents describing his arguments, we can reconstruct the main Scriptures he used to defend his view that the Son was a created, subordinate being.

I’ll group them by the use he made of them.

1. “There was when he was not”: texts about “beginning” and “firstborn.”

Proverbs 8:22–25 (Wisdom “created”)

“The LORD created me at the beginning of his work…” (LXX / some translations)“…before the beginning of the earth… before the hills, he begot me.”

Arius applied this to Christ as the pre-existent Wisdom/Logos of God:

In the Greek Septuagint, Prov. 8:22 is kyrios ektisen me — “the Lord created me.”

So: Wisdom = the Son; Wisdom is created; therefore the Son is created, not eternal.

This is one of his favorite texts, and the Nicenes spent a lot of time arguing that this is either:

About created wisdom (a creaturely “skill”), or

Not directly about the eternal generation of the Son in the sense Arius claimed.

Colossians 1:15

“[He is] the firstborn of all creation…”

Arius read this as:

“Firstborn” = first created.

“Of all creation” = he belongs to the class of created things, just the first and highest.

In Nicene theology, “firstborn” is read as “pre-eminent heir,” not “first creature,” but Arius pressed the more literal-sounding angle: if there is an order, there must be a beginning.

2. Texts that call the Son “begotten” and “made”

Arius wanted “begotten” to imply a beginning in time—even if before the world.

Psalm 2:7

“You are my Son; today I have begotten you.”

He could apply this to argue:

The Son’s sonship begins at a certain “today.”

This “today” implies an origin, not an eternal generation.

Nicenes will say this “today” is either typological (Davidic king, fulfilled in Christ) or refers to resurrection/exaltation, not to the eternal pre-temporal relationship.

3. Subordination texts: “The Father is greater than I.”

Arius heavily leaned on passages where:

The Son is sent.

The Son obeys.

The Son calls the Father greater.

John 14:28

“The Father is greater than I.”

For Arius:

This isn’t just incarnational humility; it’s ontological.

If the Father is “greater,” then they don’t share the same full deity.

Nicenes answer: this speaks about Christ in his incarnate state and/or about order (taxis) within the Trinity, not inequality of nature.

1 Corinthians 15:27–28

“The Son himself will be subjected to him who put all things in subjection under him, that God may be all in all.”

Arius read this as:

Eternal subordination in rank and, ultimately, in being.

The Son is forever under the Father, so he must be a distinct, lesser being.

Nicenes: the Son’s mediatorial kingdom is handed up at the end; this doesn’t imply inferiority of essence, but the completion of his redemptive role.

Mark 13:32/Matthew 24:36

“Of that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”

Arius: if the Son lacks knowledge that the Father has, he can’t be omniscient, and therefore can’t be fully God.

Nicenes: this refers to Christ’s human nature and economic role, not to a defect in the divine Logos.

4. “The Lord possessed/created me”: more on Wisdom Christology

Back to Proverbs 8, since it was central:

The early church often read “Wisdom” as Christ.

Arius seized on that tradition and said: if this is Christ, and Wisdom is created, then Christ is not eternal.

Key phrases in Prov. 8 he liked:

“The LORD created me at the beginning of his work.”

“From everlasting I was established… when he established the heavens, I was there.”

To Arius:

Created “before the ages” still means created.

Pre-temporal doesn’t equal eternal in the Nicene sense.

So the Son is “before” the world, but not co-eternal with the Father.

5. Texts that emphasize agency and instrumentality

Arius also loved texts where the Son is the agent through whom God acts, but not identified as the same God.

1 Corinthians 8:6

“…yet for us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist.”

Arius’ spin:

One God: the Father = source.

One Lord: Jesus = instrument/agent.

Distinction of roles = distinction of level; the Father remains uniquely God in the highest sense.

The Nicene response stressed that this is a Christian re-reading of the Shema (Deut. 6:4), folding the Lord (Kyrios = Jesus) into the divine identity together with the Father.

6. “Firstborn among many brothers” and exalted-but-created logic

Romans 8:29

“…that he might be the firstborn among many brothers.”

Not as central as Prov. 8 or Col. 1 for Arius, but fits his pattern:

“Firstborn” suggests an order, a sequence.

He liked anything that implied the Son is the first in a line, not of the same eternal, unoriginated essence.

7. Summing up Arius’ scriptural strategy

In simplified form, Arius’s Bible argument went like this:

Texts of origin/creation

Proverbs 8:22: “The LORD created me.”

“Firstborn of all creation” (Col. 1:15).→ The Son/Wisdom has a beginning, even if pre-temporal.

Texts of subordination

John 14:28: “The Father is greater than I.”

1 Cor. 15:28: the Son is subjected.

Mark 13:32: the Son doesn’t know the day or hour.→ The Son is less in knowledge, authority, and rank.

Texts of agency

1 Cor. 8:6: “one God, the Father… and one Lord, Jesus… through whom are all things.”→ The Father is the ultimate source; the Son is the instrument.

From these, he concluded:

The Son is before all other creatures, the unique agent of creation.

The Son is created and has a beginning.

The Son is subordinate and not equal in being to the Father.

Therefore, the Son is not “true God” in the same sense as the Father.

The Nicene fathers didn’t deny that those texts existed; they said Arius was misreading them, ignoring other passages (e.g., John 1:1; John 10:30; John 20:28; Heb. 1; Phil. 2) and failing to hold everything together in a coherent Trinitarian way.

So yes, Arius absolutely argued from Scripture; he wasn’t just making things up in a vacuum. The battle at Nicaea wasn’t “Bible vs. philosophy” so much as Bible vs. Bible — with different hermeneutics and different assumptions about what “God” and “Son” must mean.

How Did the Pro Nicene Explain These Passages?

Nice, now we get to watch Athanasius & friends do biblical judo.

You asked: How did pro-Nicene theologians explain the Scriptures Arius used?I’ll take the main texts we listed and show you the standard Nicene move on each.

Big themes they keep repeating:

Distinguish eternal Son vs. incarnate/humbled Son

Distinguish essence (what God is) vs. economy/role (what the Son does in the plan of salvation)

Read texts in light of the whole canon and the church’s worship of Christ

1. Proverbs 8:22 – “The LORD created/possessed me…”

Arius: “Wisdom = the Son; the Greek says ‘created me’; therefore, the Son is a creature.”

Nicene replies (Athanasius, Basil, Gregory of Nyssa, etc.):

Text/translation argument

In the Septuagint, it’s ektisen (“created”), but:

They point out that the underlying idea can be “established,” “appointed,” or “acquired” — not necessarily “brought into being out of nothing.”

Some Nicenes emphasize alternative renderings like “the Lord possessed me” (as in many later translations), which doesn’t scream “created ex nihilo.”

Genre argument

Proverbs 8 is poetic wisdom literature, not a metaphysical treatise:

“Wisdom” is personified; it’s not automatically a one-to-one map to the hypostatic Son.

Even if Christ is typologically “Wisdom,” you can’t flatten every metaphorical phrase into literal ontology.

Economy vs. eternity

Athanasius’ favorite move: distinguish the eternal begetting of the Son from his role in creation.

When Proverbs 8 talks about Wisdom being “created” at “the beginning of his works,” it can be read as God ordering the economy of creation through the Son, not describing the Son’s eternal origin.

The Son, as eternal Word, is eternally begotten; but as the one through whom God creates, he is “set up” or “established” in relation to creation.

So, for Nicenes, Proverbs 8 doesn’t teach that the Son began to exist. It either speaks figuratively of divine wisdom active in creation, or of the Son’s role toward creation, not of his essence.

2. Colossians 1:15 – “Firstborn of all creation.”

Arius: “Firstborn of creation = first thing God made.”

Nicene reading:

“Firstborn” = rank, not first creature

They lean heavily on how firstborn works biblically:

“Firstborn” often means heir, pre-eminent one, not literally “first in time” (Israel is called God’s “firstborn”; David is made the “firstborn,” the highest of the kings of the earth, even though he wasn’t Saul’s literal firstborn, etc.).

So, “firstborn of all creation” = the one who stands over creation as heir and Lord, not “first member of the set called ‘creatures.’”

The context is lethal to Arianism

They point to the very next lines:

“For by him all things were created… all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.”

If all things were created through him:

He cannot be on the “created” side of the Creator/creature line.

You can’t have “everything created through him,” including him. That’s nonsense.

So they argue:

“Firstborn of all creation” is a title of supremacy over the created order, not evidence that the Son is part of that order.

3. Psalm 2:7 – “Today I have begotten you.”

Arius: “There’s a ‘today’ when the Son begins; so his sonship is not eternal.”

Nicene reading:

They split “begetting” into eternal vs. temporal/royal:

Eternal generation

The Son is eternally “begotten of the Father before all ages” — no “before and after” in God’s inner life.

That’s the ontological sonship.

Psalm 2 “today” as historical/messianic

They read Psalm 2 as:

A royal, covenantal word spoken to the Davidic king, which finds its fullness in Christ.

The “today” is tied to some historical event: e.g. resurrection/exaltation (cf. Acts 13:33; Heb. 1:5; 5:5), not the eternal begetting.

So:

“Today I have begotten you” = “Today I have installed you as my King, publicly owned you as my Son in your messianic role.”

That’s about the Son’s manifestation in time, not his origin in eternity.

4. John 14:28 – “The Father is greater than I”

Arius: “See? Ontological inequality. The Father > the Son.”

Nicene reading:

Two main lines:

Incarnation/humiliation

Christ speaks here as the incarnate Son, in the state of humiliation (Phil. 2:6–8).

As man, he takes the form of a servant, is sent, is obedient, and can speak of the Father as “greater” with respect to his human condition and mission.

In other words:

In the order of economy (the sending, suffering, mediating role), the Father sends, and the Son is sent. In that sense, the Father is “greater.”

Order (taxis), not essence

Even apart from the incarnation, the Father is the “source” (arche) and “fountainhead” of the Trinity.

Pro-Nicenes admit a certain order: from the Father, through the Son, in the Spirit.

But:

This order does not imply inequality of nature.

The Son is “God from God,” not “God-ish from God.”

So, “greater” = either:

Greater with respect to Christ’s humbled state as man, or

Greater as source in the Trinitarian order, without implying a lesser essence.

5. 1 Corinthians 15:27–28 – “Then the Son himself will be subjected…”

Arius: “Eternal subjection proves the Son is inferior in being.”

Nicene reading:

Mediatorial kingdom

They say Paul is talking about Christ’s mediatorial reign — his role as the incarnate Messiah ruling until all enemies are put under his feet.

When that work is finished, he “hands over the kingdom” to the Father.

Subjection of the human/mediatorial Christ

The “subjection” is the Son, as man and Mediator, presenting the redeemed kingdom back to the Father.

This is about the economy of redemption, not about the eternal inner life of the Trinity.

“That God may be all in all”

The goal is the undivided glory of God shining through the consummation.

Nothing here says, “Therefore, the Son’s essence is lesser.”

So they insist: this text is about the end of the redemptive mission and the Son’s official role, not a proof that he is ontologically second-class.

6. Mark 13:32 / Matthew 24:36 – “Nor the Son, but only the Father.”

Arius: “Son doesn’t know something. So he’s not omniscient, so not fully God.”

Nicene reading:

Two natures, one person

Once Christology develops, this becomes a classic:

As God, the Son is omniscient (cf. John 21:17; “he knew all men”; “he knew their thoughts”).

As man, he grows in wisdom and can be genuinely ignorant according to his human mind.

So when Jesus says “nor the Son,” Nicenes say:

He is speaking from the standpoint of his human nature, or according to the office in which he has chosen not to reveal this knowledge.

Voluntary non-disclosure

Some Fathers argue that:

The Son “does not know” to make it known — i.e., he does not reveal that day, because it’s not part of his mission to disclose it.

So “not knowing” can be a way of saying “not commissioned to make it known.”

In either case, the text is folded into the mystery of incarnation, not turned into an argument that the Logos itself is ignorant.

7. 1 Corinthians 8:6 – “One God, the Father… and one Lord, Jesus Christ…”

Arius: “One God = Father; one Lord = a lesser divine agent through whom God works.”

Nicene reading:

This is actually one of their favorite anti-Arian texts.

Re-reading the Shema

Deut. 6:4: “The LORD our God, the LORD is one.”

Paul splits the Shema across Father and Son:

“One God, the Father…”

“One Lord, Jesus Christ…”

But “Lord” here is not “lesser god”; it’s the divine name (Kyrios) applied to Christ.

Shared divine identity

The Father is “from whom are all things.”

The Son is “through whom are all things.”

Together, they occupy the Creator side of the Creator/creature divide.

So for Nicenes, this verse shouts: the one divine identity confessed in Israel’s Shema now includes the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

8. Romans 8:29 – “Firstborn among many brothers”

Arius: “First in a series, again implying creaturely rank.”

Nicene reading:

Firstborn as preeminence among redeemed humanity

Here, the context is clearly familial/eschatological: many “brothers”; Christ as the pre-eminent Son.

“Firstborn” = the one with priority, dignity, inheritance among the adopted children of God.

Not about his eternal essence

This text describes Christ’s place in the family of the redeemed, not his ontological origin relative to the Father.

Firstborn “among many brothers” is about grace and adoption, not about the Son’s coming into being.

9. Back to the big picture: how pro-Nicenes use these moves

They don’t just treat each verse in isolation; they operate with a few big rules:

Canon ruleYou interpret the tougher texts in light of the clearer ones that plainly ascribe full deity to the Son:

John 1:1 (“the Word was God”)

John 20:28 (“My Lord and my God”)

Hebrews 1 (the Son addressed as God, creator, worshipped by angels)

Philippians 2 (form of God, equality with God)

Any reading of Proverbs 8 or John 14 that results in a creature-Christ is judged to be out of bounds because it collides with these.

Worship rule

The church has always:

Prayed to Christ

Sung to Christ

Baptized into the name of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit

If Scripture is read in a way that makes that worship idolatry (because the Son is a creature), then it’s the reading that’s wrong, not the worship.

Essence vs. economy

Essence: who the Son is eternally in relation to the Father (homoousios, eternally begotten).

Economy: what the Son does in history as Mediator, Servant, Incarnate One.

Subordination, ignorance, suffering, obedience, “greater/less” language tends to be located in the economy or in the order of persons, not in essence.

Christ has two natures

A lot of the “Aha! He’s not God!” texts (ignorance, weakness, death) are explained by:

One person, two natures — true God and true man.

So they insist: you don’t get to use Christ’s hunger, tiredness, growth in wisdom, or functional subordination to deny his full deity.

If you zoom out: Pro-Nicene exegesis isn’t just a list of verse-by-verse tricks; it’s a whole reading strategy: hold together the full deity of the Son, the full reality of his humanity, and the unity of God, while letting Scripture’s own patterns set the categories instead of flattening it into a “one big God and his top creature” scheme.

Was there a lot of internal politics and backstabbing at and after the council?

Short answer: yes, there was a lot of politics, maneuvering, and some pretty ruthless moves around Nicaea—but most of the real “backstabbing” happened before and especially after the council, not in one dramatic soap-opera session.

Let’s split it up.

1. Constantine’s agenda: theology in the service of imperial unity

Constantine wasn’t a neutral Bible study leader; he was the emperor trying to keep his empire from fracturing.

The Arian controversy had led to riots, rival bishops, and regional factions. Constantine explicitly saw this as a threat to public order and wanted the bishops to stop fighting. ()

He convened Nicaea to get one agreed formula of faith, not because he had some deep Nicene mysticism—he mainly wanted peace and uniformity.

So from day one, the council has:

Theology on the table, but politics paying the bill.

Imperial pressure meant everyone knew that ending up on the emperor’s bad side could mean exile, loss of your see, or worse.

2. Factions and tactical alliances inside Nicaea

The bishops weren’t one big happy “Team Nicene.”

Roughly (modern scholars differ on exact numbers), there were:

A hard Arian minority (Arius and a few bishops).

A strong anti-Arian group (Alexander of Alexandria, Eustathius of Antioch, Marcellus of Ancyra, later Athanasius, etc.).

A large “middle party” of bishops who disliked Arius but were nervous about strong language like homoousios (“of one essence”). ()

Modern scholarship describes Nicaea as a kind of temporary alliance:

Alexander of Alexandria and his allies (some with almost Sabellian reputations) joined forces with others against Arius.

The term homoousios itself had been associated with Sabellians earlier, so some bishops signed on to a word they normally didn’t like just to crush Arianism. ()

That’s not quite “knife each other in the hallway,” but it is serious coalition politics:“Let’s park some of our other disagreements, team up, and make sure Arius loses.”

And then there’s the famous story of Nicholas of Myra slapping Arius. That shows up only in much later hagiography (14th century and after), so historians generally don’t treat it as solid evidence—but the legend itself reflects how heated people imagined the atmosphere to be. ()

3. Signing “with hand, not heart”

The final creed at Nicaea gets overwhelming formal support—something like 250–300 bishops sign it, depending on which list you read.

But:

Only two bishops flat-out refuse and are exiled along with Arius (Secundus of Ptolemais and Theonas of Marmarike). ()

Some Arian-leaning bishops, like Eusebius of Nicomedia, sign the creed under serious pressure. Ancient sources later say he “subscribed with hand only, not heart.” ()

That’s classic “smile for the group photo, plot later” energy.

4. The real backstabbing: the years after Nicaea

If you want Game-of-Thrones-level scheming, you look at what happens after 325.

Court politics flips

Initially, Constantine backs the Nicene line and exiles Arius and a couple of bishops. ()

But then Eusebius of Nicomedia, a very capable political operator and friend of Arius, manages to get back into imperial favor. ()

Eusebius is described by historians as:

“an ambitious intriguer,” “consummate political player,” high-handed, aggressive, using allies to spy on opponents and maneuver against them. ()

Once he’s back in power, he starts methodically targeting Nicene hardliners:

Eustathius of Antioch deposed (c. 330).

Athanasius of Alexandria—constant thorn in the side of the Arian court—exiled multiple times starting 335, via loaded councils and imperial pressure.

Marcellus of Ancyra deposed (336). ()

You can almost see the flowchart:

Lose at Nicaea.

Get exiled.

Get back in through the emperor’s ear.

Use the state’s machinery (and councils you control) to remove your opponents.

That’s not “we just disagree on Christology”; that’s ecclesiastical knife-work using imperial police.

5. Constantine and later emperors: theological flip-flopping

Constantine himself wavers:

He first enforces Nicaea.

Then, under the influence of Eusebius of Nicomedia and others, he rehabilitates Arius and some Arian bishops.

By the time he dies, the empire is already drifting into a more Arian-friendly phase. ()

His successors in the East, especially Constantius II, tilted heavily toward anti-Nicene or compromise formulas, exiling Nicene bishops and backing alternative creeds that avoid homoousios and even ban “essence” language altogether. ()

So the period after Nicaea is full of:

Councils called and re-called.

Bishops deposed, restored, deposed again.

Factions using imperial power to hammer each other.

It’s not just intra-church debate; it’s state-sponsored factional warfare in robes.

6. So… was there a lot of politics and backstabbing?

If by “backstabbing” you mean:

Private lobbying of the emperor

Signing statements you don’t really believe

Using imperial force to exile theological enemies

Forming tactical alliances with people whose theology you actually distrust

…then yes, the whole Nicene episode is soaked in that.

But it’s important to keep two things in tension:

The theology wasn’t fake.These people cared intensely about who Christ is, how salvation works, and what it means to worship one God. The dogmatic issues were real, not just a cover for power games.

The politics were absolutely real.Bishops were not floating brains; they were humans in networks, under emperors, in an empire that used religious unity as a tool of control. So the Nicene story is theology and raw power all tangled together.

In other words: Nicaea is less “pure council of saintly geniuses,” more “messy, factional, deeply human war over Christology”—and precisely in that mess, the Nicene Creed emerges as the church’s way of saying, “Despite all this, this is what we mean by God and Jesus.”

Yeah, the story doesn’t end with everyone hugging under a Nicene rainbow. The really wild stuff is the fifty-odd years after 325.

Think of it as: Nicaea wins on paper; then there’s a long, ugly “appeal process” run through emperors, rival councils, and very determined bishops.

1. Immediate aftermath: brief Nicene high, very short

Right after Nicaea:

Arius and two bishops refused the creed, were exiled by Constantine.

Bishops like Athanasius (then a young deacon, later bishop of Alexandria) ride the Nicene momentum.

But some who signed did it under pressure:

People like Eusebius of Nicomedia (a key pro-Arian court bishop) signed the creed but didn’t accept it in their bones. ()

Within a few years:

Eusebius worms his way back into imperial favor.

Arius himself is rehabilitated at court after presenting a carefully worded confession that looks orthodox enough if you squint. ()

So the post-Nicaea board resets pretty fast.

2. The counter-attack: exiling the Nicenes

Once Eusebius and friends are back in influence, the knives come out for the hardcore Nicenes.

Most famously:

Athanasius becomes bishop of Alexandria (328).

He refuses to readmit Arius or ordain pro-Arian clergy.

The Eusebian party accuses him of all kinds of things (violence, tax obstruction, breaking a chalice, you name it).

Councils are stacked against him:

Council of Tyre (335) condemns Athanasius.

Constantine exiles him to Trier in Gaul. ()

This sets a pattern:

Use church councils + imperial power to remove your theological enemies.

Athanasius will be exiled five times under different emperors. The slogan “Athanasius contra mundum” is only slightly dramatized.

3. After Constantine: emperors as theological weather

When Constantine dies (337), the empire is divided among his sons. The key one for the controversy is Constantius II in the East:

He leans toward the Arian/Homoian side.

He wants a formula without Nicene buzzwords like ousia and homoousios. ()

Under Constantius II:

A series of councils (Antioch, Sirmium,^[15] etc.) tries to replace Nicaea with milder or more Arian-friendly creeds.

Many of these formulas forbid using ousia-language at all (“no talk of ‘essence’—too divisive”). ()

The high point of this mess:

Twin councils at Rimini (for Western bishops) and Seleucia (for Eastern bishops) in 359.

They’re pressured into accepting a Homoian^[16] creed: the Son is “like the Father” (homoios), but no talk of “same essence.” ()

Jerome later quipped: “The whole world groaned and marveled to find itself Arian.” Not literally true everywhere, but emotionally accurate.

So: after Nicaea, there’s a phase where imperial policy is actively trying to walk back Nicaea and replace it with softer, more ambiguous formulas.

4. The theological trench warfare

While the emperors are seesawing, theology keeps developing:

Different anti-Nicene parties fight each other:

Anomoeans – the Son is unlike the Father.

Homoiousians – the Son is of like essence (homoiousios) with the Father.

Homoians – “like the Father” but no essence language allowed. ()

On the Nicene side, some big guns mature:

Athanasius keeps hammering away at the necessity of the Son being fully God for salvation.

The Cappadocian Fathers – Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nazianzus, Gregory of Nyssa – refine pro-Nicene theology:

One ousia (essence), three hypostases (persons).

The Father as source, but the Son and Spirit as fully sharing the divine nature. ()

They’re doing slow, patient conceptual work while many bishops are signing and un-signing creeds like bad software EULAs.

5. The tide turns: Theodosius & Constantinople (381)

The real consolidation comes with a different emperor: Theodosius I.

In 380 he issues the edict Cunctos populos, basically declaring Nicene Christianity the official faith of the empire. ()

He expels Arian bishops from key sees (e.g., Demophilus in Constantinople) and installs Nicene ones.

Then he calls the First Council of Constantinople (381):

About 150 Eastern bishops attend (the West isn’t really represented).

They reaffirm Nicaea and expand the creed, especially clarifying the deity of the Holy Spirit against the Macedonians/Pneumatomachi. ()

They condemn various Arian sub-groups and other Christological errors like Apollinarianism. ()

This is the creed we normally recite today (the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed). So, politically:

What Constantine started by backing Nicaea, Theodosius finishes by backing Constantinople.

Arianism doesn’t vanish overnight—some Gothic and Germanic tribes stay Arian for another couple of centuries—but inside the imperial church, the Nicene settlement becomes the norm.

6. Church politics after Nicaea: still very human

Even in victory, it’s not exactly serene holiness:

Constantinople 381 also elevates the see of Constantinople (“New Rome”) to second place after Rome, above Alexandria and Antioch. That move causes its own East–West tensions later. ()

There are bitter rivalries between Alexandria and Antioch over theology and over who controls Constantinople’s bishopric.

Gregory of Nazianzus himself ends up resigning as bishop of Constantinople during the 381 council after political pressure and infighting. ()

So even as pro-Nicene theology wins, the same mix of conviction + ego + imperial leverage continues.

7. Big-picture summary

After the Council of Nicaea:

Arianism is officially condemned, but it isn’t dead; it reorganizes and adapts.

Court politics flip: Arian-leaning bishops gain influence, weaponize exile and councils against Nicenes like Athanasius.

Emperors matter:

Constantine → ambiguous but Nicene-leaning.

Constantius II → pushes Homoian/anti-Nicene formulas.

Theodosius I → slams the door on Arianism, backs pro-Nicene theology.

Pro-Nicene theology matures with Athanasius^[17] and the Cappadocians^[18], giving conceptual muscle to what Nicaea had stated rather tersely.

Constantinople 381 seals the deal: the Nicene faith (in its expanded form) becomes the recognized doctrinal standard of the imperial church.

So yes: after the council it’s decades of doctrinal trench warfare, imperial meddling, and ecclesiastical skullduggery—and out of that mess comes the more precise, stable Nicene Trinitarianism that most of historic Christianity still confesses.

Did any Chuch Fathers hold a View Similar To Trott’s View on God?

Yes—but not many, and usually not safely inside the Nicene mainstream.

Let’s pin down what “Trott’s view” is first, then walk through who in church history sounds even remotely similar.

1. What is distinctive about Trott’s Trinitarian view?

In Three-Oneness of God (1840), Trott is very explicit:

He believes in a real Trinity: God eternally “exists as THREE,” Father, Word/Son, and Holy Ghost, in such a way that all three can act simultaneously and distinctly in redemption (the Father sending, the Son redeeming, the Spirit witnessing, etc.).

He equally affirms full deity of each: each of the Three, in his distinct relation, is “the one Jehovah”, absolutely God.

His fight is with the formula “three distinct persons in the Godhead,” and with eternal generation/procession language:

He explicitly rejects “three distinct persons in the Godhead” and the scheme “one person begotten, the third breathed forth,” calling it human system-building.

He insists Scripture never says three persons or that “one of these persons was begotten of the other, and that the third is breathed into existence,” and so he “reject[s] the whole, as fabulous.”

He sums himself up like this:

“I do believe in a Trinity, but not in tri-personality.”

He’s not a cheap modalist, because he rejects the idea that the Three are only “three offices or manifestations.” He insists God eternally, essentially exists as Three, but refuses to let “three persons” or Nicene “begetting/proceeding” schemes define how.

That’s a very unusual combo:

Strongly anti-tritheist, anti-scholastic, Bible-word-only,

Yet pro-eternal Trinity in some real sense,

While blocking the classic Nicene way of describing how the Three are distinct.

So: did anybody historically sound like that?

2. Early church voices with similar instincts (but not identical)

a) The “one hypostasis” crowd – Marcellus^[19] and friends

In the 4th century, some strongly anti-Arian bishops pushed “one hypostasis” language:

Marcellus of Ancyra (d. c. 374) insisted that God is one ousia, one hypostasis, and one prosopon (one “person”). He read homoousios almost as “numerically identical being”: Father and Son are one individual Monad, not three hypostases.

He opposed Arius fiercely, but was accused of modified Sabellianism: seeing the Trinity largely as an economic expansion of the one God into a dyad and then triad for purposes of creation and redemption, which collapses back into the Monad at the end.

Some notes:

Like Trott, Marcellus hated the idea of multiple hypostases/persons in God; he thought that sounded like multiple “I”s in the Godhead.

Unlike Trott, Marcellus’ three-ness seems heavily economic (tied to history), whereas Trott explicitly says God exists “as three” eternally and essentially, not just in time.

Still, in terms of instinct—“one God, one divine subject; suspicious of talking about three ‘persons’ in God”—Marcellus is surprisingly close.

You also get a “one hypostasis Nicene” strand (some early strict Nicenes seem to have accepted only one hypostasis and treated “three hypostases” as suspicious, before the Cappadocians sorted the language out).Again, not Trott’s exact map, but the monarchy-of-the-One impulse and nervousness about three hypostases/persons is similar.

b) Sabellian/modalist streams

Classical Sabellians (Noetus, Praxeas, Sabellius, later Marcellian-type folks) emphasized that God is one person and treated Father/Son/Spirit mainly as modes, names, or phases of that one person. Many refused to distinguish the Son as a distinct hypostasis.

Trott is not a simple Sabellian:

He explicitly rejects the idea that the Three are only “three names or three manifestations.”

He insists they can be simultaneously distinct in the economy of salvation.

But his:

denial of three proper divine persons,

discomfort with talk of eternal begetting and procession, and

stress that “one glorious Being and divine Person” is God,

would sound, to a 4th-century Nicene, quite a lot like a gentler, more careful Sabellianizing “Monarchian” position.

So, there were people who resisted talk of “three persons” and wanted to keep a very tight, unipersonal monotheism while still honoring Scripture’s Three. That’s the family resemblance.

3. Post-Reformation oddballs and “biblicist” anti-speculation

Once you move past the Fathers into the medieval and Reformation worlds, almost everyone who counts themselves “orthodox” is happily Nicene and explicitly holds to three persons, with eternal generation and procession.

But you do get a few patterns:

Radical Reformation & later: some fringe groups reject scholastic language and creeds, insisting on “Bible terms only.” In practice, many slide into either unitarianism (denying the Trinity altogether) or into modalism, even if they keep saying “I believe in Father, Son, and Spirit.”

In the 19th century, Trott himself and some early Hardshell/Primitive Baptists were accused (by their own critics) of Sabellian tendencies on precisely this point—denying an “ontological Trinity” of three divine persons and rejecting eternal Sonship as traditionally defined.

But here’s the key thing:

Outside those fringes, you don’t really find confessional Protestants saying:

“I believe God eternally exists as Father, Word, and Holy Spirit, each fully Jehovah, but I deny tri-personality and reject eternal generation/procession as unbiblical speculation.”

That’s Trott being Trott. It’s quite idiosyncratic in the post-Nicene, post-Reformation landscape.

4. So, did anybody hold views like Trott’s?

If we mean identical—Trinity yes, tri-personality no, eternal three-ness, no eternal generation/procession, one “divine Person” language—then:

Historically, not really. Trott’s particular combination is very unusual.

If we mean broadly similar instincts—strong emphasis on:

one divine “I,”

deep suspicion of “three persons in one essence” as over-philosophizing the mystery,

a reluctance to posit three hypostases in God,

Then yes, you can trace family resemblances to:

Marcellus of Ancyra and the “one hypostasis” Nicenes (strong anti-Arian, but accused of Sabellianizing because they insist on one hypostasis/prosopon in God).

Various Sabellian/Monarchian traditions that emphasize the one divine subject and treat three-ness more at the level of names, roles, or economy.

Later “biblicist anti-speculative” types (including Trott’s own circle) who accept that Scripture shows God as three and one but refuse any metaphysical account beyond quoting texts.

From the point of view of robust Nicene orthodoxy, all of these live near the “Sabellian / monarchian” border. From Trott’s point of view, he’s trying to stand exactly where Scripture stands and not one inch further, which is why he lands in that weird historical no-man’s-land: not Arian, not straightforward Sabellian, but also not comfortably Nicene-Cappadocian.

In other words, he’s in conversation with older “one-hypostasis” currents, but he doesn’t really have a clean historical party he can sit with.

Why did some call Trott a Sabellian?

Yeah, that label didn’t come out of nowhere. From the standpoint of standard Nicene / Calvinistic orthodoxy, Trott was basically waving a big “please accuse me of Sabellianism” flag—even though, if you read him carefully, he’s not a simple Sabellian at all.

Let’s break out why people tagged him that way.

1. He openly rejected “three persons in the Godhead.”

Trott explicitly says (paraphrasing):

I believe in a Trinity,

but not in tri-personality.

I reject the idea of “three distinct persons in the Godhead.”

He also mocks the whole traditional scheme that:

One divine “person” is begotten of another, and

The third is breathed or proceeds from them,

and says in effect, “Scripture doesn’t talk this way; I reject the whole system as human fancy.”

Now, for most orthodox folk after Nicaea and the Reformation, “three persons in one essence, with eternal generation and procession” is the benchmark of non-Sabellian Trinitarianism.

So when Trott says:

“Yes Trinity, no three persons, no eternal begetting/procession,”the standard reflex is:

“Ah. That’s Sabellian talk.”

Even if he’s trying to do something more subtle, the vocabulary screams “modalist-ish” to anyone raised on the Nicene/Cappadocian grammar.

2. He spoke very strongly of one divine “Person”

Trott loves formulations like:

“One glorious Being and divine Person,”

Jehovah is one—so strongly one, that talk of three “persons” feels to him like polytheism.

To a Nicene ear, that sounds like:

One ultimate “I” in God,

With “Father,” “Word,” and “Spirit” being ways that one “I” relates and acts.

That’s exactly the Sabellian/monarchian instinct: guard the divine unity by making sure there is only one actual hypostasis (one concrete “someone”) in God.

Even if Trott is trying to say “there is a real three-ness,” because he doesn’t give those three each a distinct “I” / hypostasis, people hear: one Person, three roles → Sabellianism.

3. He rejected the Nicene machinery (eternal generation & procession)

Classical orthodoxy says:

The Father is unbegotten,

The Son is eternally begotten of the Father,

The Spirit eternally proceeds (from the Father; in the West, from the Father and the Son).

That’s the standard way of saying:

There are three real, eternal distinctions in God, not just three hats He wears.

Trott basically says:

Scripture does not clearly teach that metaphysical map.

It’s speculative; it smells like “school divinity.”

So he drops it.

Now put yourself in the shoes of a 19th-century Reformed or orthodox Baptist polemicist:

Anyone who denies eternal Sonship, eternal procession and “three persons”…

…while loudly insisting on “one divine Person”…

…is going to get the Sabellian label almost automatically. That vocabulary lives on the “modalist side” of the Nicene fence, historically.

4. His strong emphasis on the economic three-ness

Trott is very clear that:

The Father sends,

The Word/Son redeems,

The Spirit indwells and witnesses.

So he does have a real three-ness in the economy (the history of redemption).

But his three-ness is primarily framed in terms of:

Relations and roles toward us,

Not in terms of three distinct hypostases within the eternal divine life.

That again smells like refined Sabellianism to his critics:“Sure, you talk about Father/Son/Spirit in history, but do you really think God is eternally three in Himself, or just one Actor showing up in three ways?”

He does want to say God is eternally “three,” but because he refuses the Nicene tools for articulating that (three persons, eternal generation/procession), his opponents basically don’t believe his three-ness is robust enough.

5. So was he Sabellian?

Classical Sabellian/modalist:

One divine person/subject,

Father/Son/Spirit are just names, roles, masks, often in a sequence (one after another),

No real eternal “three” in the life of God.

Trott:

Denies that Father/Son/Spirit are mere offices or manifestations;

Says God is eternally and essentially three, not just in time;

Insists the Three can act simultaneously (the Father sending the Son, the Spirit testifying, etc.);

Yet refuses to call them three “persons” or to distinguish them by eternal origin (begetting/procession).

So:

He is not a simple Noetus/Sabellius “God plays three characters” modalist.

He is very close, in structure and instinct, to the old “one-hypostasis” or “monarchian” tendency (like Marcellus of Ancyra): one ultimate divine subject, threefold expansion ad extra, and great suspicion of three hypostases.

From a Nicene/Cappadocian perspective, that cluster lives on the same side of the river as Sabellianism, even if Trott is trying hard not to be merely that.

6. The short answer in one line

Trott got called a Sabellian because:

He loudly affirmed a Trinity without tri-personality, rejected eternal generation and procession as “fabulous,” and spoke of one divine Person in such strong terms that, to Nicene ears, his “three” looked like three roles of one “I” more than three eternal hypostases.

He’s not Sabellian in the crude “God wears three masks” sense, but he’s close enough to the old one-hypostasis/monarchian orbit that his more classically Nicene contemporaries reached for the nearest label they had—and that label was Sabellian.

Trott and Beebe’s View on the Triune God

Short version: Trott and Beebe are standing on the same mountain range (one God, Father/Son/Spirit all truly and equally God), but they’re camping on different ledges and using slightly different vocabulary.

I’ll break it into two “profiles” then compare.

1. Samuel Trott – “Three-Oneness of God.”

The clearest statement is his 1840 article “Three-Oneness of God” in Signs of the Times. This is the document that got him in trouble.

a) Unity is the first, non-negotiable point

Trott insists that Scripture hammers the oneness of God even more explicitly than the Threeness:

“The Lord our God is ONE Lord. ONE JEHOVAH – that besides Him we are to have no other as the object of our worship and trust.”

He argues that any way of speaking that tends toward “three beings or gods, or parts of God” is a more serious deviation than a scheme that fails to articulate the “three” as he does.()

b) Real, eternal “Three-ness.”

He absolutely does affirm a real, eternal plurality:

“This one Jehovah, exists as THREE… the Father… the Son… the Holy Ghost…”

And not just as temporary roles. He explicitly says God exists “as absolutely, eternally, and essentially… three, as He exists as God.”

So it’s not modalism: the three are simultaneous, not successive masks.

c) Each of the three is absolutely the one Jehovah

His distinctive move is here:

“The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, each in His distinct relation, is declared absolutely and equally as God, the one God.”

So for Trott:

The Father, as distinct, is the one God (he uses 1 Cor 8:6).

The Son, as distinct, is the one God (e.g., “over all God blessed forever” linked with Jehovah texts).

The Spirit, as distinct, is the one God (Acts 5, etc.).

Then he sums it:

“Whilst He is thus three, these three are so absolutely ONE, that each is the one Jehovah, acting in His distinct relation, in all the fullness of the Godhead.”

That’s his “three-oneness”: not “one essence shared by three centers,” but “each of the three, in His distinct relation, is simply Jehovah Himself.”

d) His quarrel with “three persons in the Godhead.”

This is where he parts company with classic Nicene / Reformed language.

He says the difference between him and other Trinitarians is precisely this:

“Others contend that the three must be understood as meaning three persons, and the one as meaning one God. Their authority for this addition I feel bound to dispute, seeing the Holy Ghost has not so declared it.”

Key elements of his critique:

He rejects the talk of “three subsistences in one divine essence… these subsistences are Persons” as speculative school-language we don’t actually understand.

He says Scripture gives us “Father, Word and Holy Ghost, three… and whilst He is thus three, He is absolutely one,” and that’s where we should stop.

He explicitly rejects the classical scheme of the Son “begotten” and the Spirit “breathed forth” as a way of explaining God’s internal life, calling it “fabulous” because Scripture never actually says the divine essence is begotten or breathed.

His famous line (and the one that got him branded a heretic by some) is:

“I do believe in a Trinity, but not in tri-personality.”

However, he does not deny that each is “personal” in some sense:

He’s happy to call Father, Son, and Spirit each “a person” because they act, will, and speak.

What he refuses is the flat statement “three proper and distinct persons in the Godhead,” because he thinks that leads ordinary minds to “three gods or something like it.”

So: Trinity – yes. “Three persons in one essence” as a formula – no.

e) Why he was accused of Sabellianism

You can see why people got nervous:

He won’t say “three persons in the Godhead.”

He says each of the three “is the one Jehovah.”

He relentlessly prioritizes unity.

But he explicitly distances himself from mere modalism:

He rejects the idea that Father, Word, and Spirit are “only three offices or manifestations of God.”

He insists that the relations between Father, Word, and Spirit are “of a personal nature,” grounded in the personal pronouns and mutual relations of Scripture.

So Trott is trying to be maximally biblical and minimally speculative: Scripture says “three” and “one,” says Father/Word/Spirit, says each is God; he clamps down hard right there and refuses the traditional metaphysical scaffolding.

2. Gilbert Beebe – Trinity & Christ’s eternal glory

Beebe doesn’t write a full systematic work on the Trinity the way Trott does, but his John 17:5 editorial is one of the sharpest windows into his thinking. ()

a) Full, robust deity and eternal equality of Christ

On John 17:5 (“glorify thou me… with the glory which I had with thee before the world was”), Beebe pushes hard on the Son’s eternal divine glory:

He speaks of Christ as having:

“perfect and eternal equality with the Father in the eternal Godhead” ()

and later describes him in this way (I’ll paraphrase to stay inside the quote rules):

the brightness of the Father’s glory and the express image of His person

the eternal Word who was with God and was God

possessing “eternal, uncreated, underived, unbegotten, self-existent, independent and everlasting Godhead.” ()

So, Beebe is as high-Christology as it gets. He clearly stands in the Nicene “fully God, of one glory and Godhead with the Father” lane.

b) His problem with the easy “second person vs first person” scheme

This is where he sounds most like Trott.

Commenting on the common way people handle John 17:5, he writes:

Many think this prayer was by the humanity of Christ to his divinity, or by “the second distinct person in the Godhead” to the first.“Neither of these views are clear to our understanding.” ()

He then explains why:

If you say “his human nature” is speaking, you can’t make sense of Christ claiming a glory he had with the Father before the world was in that same “identity.” ()

If you say a “second person” came out from a “first person,” you’ve got trouble reconciling that with his “perfect and eternal equality… in the eternal Godhead.” ()

Instead, Beebe says we should understand the passage in terms of Christ’s mediatorial sonship:

He stands as Mediator between the Father and the church (“Day’s Man who could lay his hand on both”). ()

In that mediatorial relation he had that glory with the Father before the world was and asks to be glorified in it in his incarnate state.

So Beebe does not deny personal distinction of Father and Son; he refuses to slice up the Godhead into a neat “first person/second person” causal diagram and then impose that back on the text.

c) Strong emphasis on “God was manifest in the flesh.”

He piles up classic biblical lines:

“Great indeed is the mystery of godliness. God was manifest in the flesh…”

“All the fullness of the Godhead dwells in him bodily; and the church is complete in him.” ()

That combination is key for Beebe:

All fullness of Godhead in Christ (no sub-god, no deputy deity).

The same one God known in Father and Son, such that “he that hath seen the Son hath seen the Father also… he is in the Father, and the Father is in him.” ()

d) Where Beebe sounds like Trott

Even without using Trott’s exact phrases, Beebe clearly shares several instincts:

He’s suspicious of going beyond Scripture into scholastic talk about “first” and “second” persons as if we understood the intra-Trinitarian mechanics.

He keeps returning to the unity of Godhead and the mystery of “God manifest in the flesh.”

He treats Thomistic/ scholastic constructions as potentially sub-ordinationist if handled carelessly (his critique of the “second person coming out from the first” as threatening equality). ()

At the same time:

Beebe happily uses phrases like “the Father God, and God the Son,” while still insisting that in the deepest sense, they are “so inseparable and identical that he that hath seen the Son hath seen the Father.” ()

That’s closer to classical Nicene vocabulary, just with a heavy emphasis on mystery and biblical phraseology.

3. So did Beebe “agree with Trott”? Where do they line up and where do they diverge?

Where they clearly agree (in substance):

One undivided Godhead.Both insist there is one Jehovah / one God, not three beings or grades of deity.

Real, eternal distinction of Father, Son, Spirit.Trott: God “exists as three,” in such a way that Father, Son, and Spirit act simultaneously in distinct relations (predestining, redeeming, quickening).Beebe: keeps the personal relations of Father and Son, but refuses to fracture the equal Godhead behind them.()

Full deity and equality of Christ.Trott: Each of the three, as distinct, is simply the one Jehovah.Beebe: Christ has “perfect and eternal equality with the Father in the eternal Godhead,” with “eternal, uncreated, underived, unbegotten, self-existent, independent and everlasting Godhead.” ()

Suspicion of speculative Trinitarian metaphysics.Trott explicitly rejects the “first, second, third person” scheme, eternal generation/breathing, and “three subsistences in one essence” as human systems.Beebe distrusts readings that explain John 17 as “human nature to divine nature” or “second distinct person to first person,” and finds those views “not clear to our understanding.” ()

Both are deliberately staying under the ceiling of the written text—they’re more worried about over-building than under-building.

Where Trott goes further (and Beebe probably would not follow every step):

Trott draws a hard line against saying “three persons in the Godhead,” and coins the provocative sentence: “I believe in a Trinity, but not in tri-personality.”

He explicitly calls the eternal begetting/breathing scheme “fabulous” and rejects it wholesale.

Beebe never (as far as the editorial record shows) launches that kind of frontal assault on confessional language. He:

Stays closer to standard ways of speaking (Father God, God the Son, etc.).()

Focuses his fire on Arminianism, missionism, and means-systems, not on the wording of old confessions.

Historically, Beebe defended Trott’s orthodoxy and honored him highly, even while allowing that Trott’s formulations were unusual and easily misunderstood. That implies substantial agreement in doctrine but not necessarily identical phrasing or equal enthusiasm for Trott’s anti-“tri-personality” crusade.

So, boiled right down:

Trott:“Each of the three is simply Jehovah Himself, in a distinct relation; Scripture never says ‘three persons in the Godhead,’ so I won’t either. Trinity, yes; tri-personality, no.”

Beebe:“Christ and the Father share one eternal Godhead; all the fullness dwells in Christ. I’m wary of neat first-person/second-person schemes that threaten that equality or go beyond what’s written. I’ll let Scripture’s own language carry the mystery.”

They’re playing in the same doctrinal key, just with Trott pushing the anti-schoolmen rhetoric harder and Beebe keeping one foot closer to the old confessional phrasing while still sharing Trott’s instinct: don’t pretend we understand more of the divine life than God has actually told us.

Who Agreed with Trott’s Views?

Short version: almost nobody has ever stood up and said in print, “I hold the Trinity exactly as Samuel Trott does.” He’s pretty much a lonely planet with a couple of nearby moons.

Let me break it into circles of “agreement.”

1. Closest thing to explicit agreement: Gilbert Beebe

There isn’t a place where Beebe literally writes, “I agree with Elder Trott’s ‘Three-Oneness of God’ in every particular.” But there is very strong evidence that he shared Trott’s basic instincts about how to speak of the Trinity.

Two key facts:

Beebe happily published Trott’s Trinity pieces – including Three-Oneness of God (1840) and his later defenses – in Signs of the Times, without editorial rebuke, over decades. Trott was not treated as a suspect crank but as a trusted co-laborer and doctrinal heavyweight.

Beebe himself pushed back on “second person in the Godhead” language.In his editorial on John 17:5 (in Editorials of Gilbert Beebe, vol. 3), he explicitly says he cannot make sense of the common explanation that:

either Christ’s humanity is praying to his divinity, or

“the second distinct person in the Godhead” is praying to “the first person of the Trinity.”

Then he says bluntly:

“It is thought by many, that this and similar prayers of our Redeemer, were addressed by the humanity of Christ to his divinity, or that as the second distinct person in the Godhead, the prayer was addressed to the first person of the trinity of persons. Neither of these views are clear to our understanding.”

From there he relocates all this language into mediatorial categories (Christ as Mediator / Head of the church), instead of eternal “person-to-person” talk inside the Godhead – exactly the move Trott loves to make.

So:

Trott: “Three-Oneness of God; don’t talk like there are three beings or three centers, and be very cautious with ‘three persons.’”

Beebe: “I’m not happy with the standard ‘first person / second person / third person’ way of carving it; I prefer to speak of Christ in his mediatorial capacity, not as ‘second person in a Trinity of persons.’”

Different vocabulary, same allergy. That’s as close as you get to a documented “ally.”

2. Others in the Old School / Primitive Baptist orbit

a) The Signs of the Times circle in general

Trott’s Trinity material appeared in SOT and was never:

condemned by the paper,

denounced in associational minutes,

or held up as “the error we reject.”

Given how eager Old School Baptists were to blast anything they thought smelled heretical, that silence is very loud. Trott remained a respected leader, writer of the Black Rock Address, and major voice in the movement.

So we can fairly say:

A lot of Old School Baptists tolerated or quietly approved Trott’s articulation, even if they never copied his exact “three-oneness” phrasing.

But we don’t have a roll-call of elders saying: “We, the undersigned, adopt Elder Trott’s precise formula.”

b) Wilson Thompson and a “Sabellian-sounding” strand

Modern critics of Hardshell / Old School Baptists sometimes talk about “Hardshell Sabellianism” and specifically group Samuel Trott and Wilson Thompson together as examples.

That tells you two things at once:

Some early Old School men (Thompson, Trott, etc.) did use language that downplayed “three persons” and strongly stressed the unity of God in a way that makes later Baptists nervous.

At least a strand of modern Primitive/Old School critics think that whole line looked like Sabellianism (even if Trott himself consciously rejected Sabellius).

What we don’t have is Thompson writing, “I adopt Elder Trott’s essay on the Three-Oneness.” But the critics see enough similarity to lump them together.

So: Thompson might be a family resemblance, not a clean “disciple of Trott.”

3. Who definitely did not sign on?

Ironically, the clearest named voices are the ones criticizing Trott, not agreeing with him:

Elder John Clark pressed him hard on the Trinity and the person of the Son, prompting Trott’s defense in “Son of God and Godhead” (1850). That’s the debate behind some of the modern “Hardshell Sabellianism” blogging.

And among modern Primitive / Reformed folks:

Sites like Supralapsarian, Sovereign Redeemer, and Test All Things happily host Trott’s Three-Oneness of God and present it as sound teaching.

But those same sites elsewhere speak absolutely normally about “the Second Person of the Trinity” and use classic Nicene “three persons, one God” language.

So they appreciate Trott’s stress on unity and non-speculative theology, but they have not adopted his specific suspicion of “three persons” language. They’re more like friendly neighbors than converts.

4. Historical “cousins,” not disciples: Marcellus & the one-hypostasis instinct

If we zoom way out:

Certain pro-Nicene “one-hypostasis” theologians (like Marcellus of Ancyra) stressed the unity of God so strongly that later Nicenes got twitchy and edged them away from center stage.

Trott’s instinct – “hammer the unity so hard that nobody drifts into three-God talk; treat ‘persons’ very cautiously; lean on biblical titles (Father, Word/Son, Spirit) more than on abstract metaphysics” – sounds very much like that older instinct.

But:

Marcellus never heard of Trott;

Trott never read Marcellus;

there’s no historical line of influence.

It’s just that if you put their anxieties and emphases side by side, they’re in the same neighborhood.

So: theological cousins, not actually people who “agreed with Trott” in any conscious sense.

5. So, who actually agreed with Trott?

If we’re strict and honest:

Explicit, documented “I agree” voices:

None that we can point to with a clean quotation beyond Trott himself.

Strongly implied agreement / shared posture:

Gilbert Beebe, at least at the level of discomfort with “second person in the Godhead” talk and preference for mediatorial categories.

A chunk of Old School Baptists who never censured Trott and continued to publish and circulate his Trinity material as sound doctrine.

Family resemblance / partial agreement:

Possibly Wilson Thompson and a few other early Primitive Baptists, whose language has been grouped with Trott’s by later critics.

Some modern high-Calvinist and Strict/Particular Baptist writers who share the same concern—avoid tri-theism, stick close to biblical phrasing—even while retaining the standard “three persons” formula.

If you map it out, Trott is not the leader of a big school; he’s more like a sharp, eccentric Old School theologian whose way of talking about the Trinity nudged Beebe and a few others, but never became the party line. His view is a narrow but interesting tributary inside the larger river of Nicene-ish Trinitarianism among Old School Baptists.

Why did Old School Baptists not like reciting the Nicene Creed?

“Old School Baptists deny the Nicene Creed.” They don’t.

What they distrust is what a human creed becomes when you plant it in the middle of worship and say, “Stand up, everybody, and recite this.”

So: What’s wrong with reciting the Nicene Creed, according to Old School Baptists? I’ll lay it out in their own kind of logic.

1. It’s an uninspired form put into an inspired slot

Old School/Primitive Baptists are almost paranoid (in a healthy way) about this principle:

Rule of faith and worship = the Scriptures alone.

They’ll say things like:

We have no creed but the Bible.

We can’t bind anyone to recite as worship anything that God did not himself give as worship.

So for them, when a church:

puts the Nicene Creed into the service as a standing element, and

expects all members to recite it together,

They see that as elevating a human composition into a functional “second Bible” for worship.

They don’t necessarily say the Nicene Creed is false; they say:

“God did not command this text to be recited in worship. He gave us the Psalms, hymns, spiritual songs, and the plain reading and preaching of the Scriptures. Why are we putting a 4th-century council’s product in that slot?”

So the first problem is not the content, but the placement: an uninspired form being used in an inspired office.

2. Creeds easily become tests of fellowship above Scripture

Old School Baptists split from the “New School” partly because of boards, societies, confessions, and tests that were not strictly biblical.

Their fear goes like this:

Today: “We just recite the Nicene Creed; it’s helpful; no big deal.”

Tomorrow: “To be considered orthodox, you must sign that you believe exactly this creed.”

Next week: “If your language about the Trinity doesn’t perfectly match Nicaea–Constantinople, you are out.”

Trott and Beebe both did not want:

some later council, or

some ancient formula,

to become the measuring stick of orthodoxy above a man’s plain confession of Christ according to Scripture.

So their objection is:

Reciting it as creed tends to make it a badge—a human shibboleth that eventually judges who is “in” and “out,” even if the person holds the same gospel in simpler biblical language.

And they lived through a world where “confessions” and “platforms” were constantly used to divide Baptists; that scar never healed.

3. Some of its wording is theologically touchy in an Old School frame

Most Old School Baptists would affirm the substance of Nicene Trinitarianism:one God, Father/Son/Spirit, all truly and equally God, Christ truly God and truly man.

But certain phrases in the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed make them nervous:

a) Eternal generation/begotten language

“God from God, Light from Light, very God of very God,begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father…”

Trott and many Absoluter Old School men:

affirm that the Son is eternally equal with the Father;

do not like language that sounds like the divine essence of the Son is derived or “second-hand.”

Trott in particular flatly rejects the “begotten/breathed” metaphysical scheme (eternal generation/procession as speculative machinery).

Beebe, more gently, says he cannot reconcile certain “second person / first person” explanations with Christ’s “eternal, underived Godhead.”

So while they agree that the Son is not a creature, they’re uneasy with how the Creed explains his internal relation to the Father.

b) “One baptism for the remission of sins.”

“We acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins…”

An Old School Baptist will hear that and flinch:

They do not believe that baptism is a saving ordinance in itself.

They tie remission of sins to Christ’s blood alone, and see baptism as an act of obedience and a figure, not a sacramental channel.

They read Acts 2:38 and similar texts through a sovereign-grace, non-sacramental lens. So that line, standing alone in a fixed form, smells to them like baptismal regeneration or at least sacramentalism.

c) “One holy catholic and apostolic Church”

They believe in:

a mystical body of Christ (all the elect), and

visible local congregations.

But they are deeply allergic to the way “one holy catholic and apostolic Church” has been used:

to justify hierarchical structures,

to claim historical “brands” (Rome, Constantinople, Canterbury, etc.) as the Church.

So they worry that reciting those words in that historical frame sounds like signing onto the state-church / national-church concept they’ve spent their lives opposing.

4. It feels like liturgy and “religious theater”

Old School worship is meant to be:

simple,

non-scripted,

led by a man who is, at that moment, consciously depending on the Spirit,

not by reading set forms together.

So a set recitation of the Creed feels to them like:

a scripted ritual,

which people can perform with the mouth while the heart is elsewhere,

part of the whole “religious theater” they see in more formal traditions.

They associate that style with:

state-churches,

sacramental systems,

and the very “show religion” they left.

Their logic is: you can affirm every clause in the Creed as doctrine, but when you turn it into a chanting act, you risk training people to trust the act more than the reality it points to.

5. It comes from an imperial, coercive church order

They’re also very aware of the history behind Nicaea and Constantinople:

Called, chaired, and enforced by emperors.

Used as a club, at times, against dissenters—not just Arians, but later groups too.

Representing the fusion of church and empire, they absolutely reject.

So when you say “Let’s recite the Nicene Creed,” an Old School Baptist hears:

“Let’s bring into our free, separated assemblies the formula hammered out under imperial pressure, later used as a test by state-churches that persecuted dissenters—including Baptists’ spiritual ancestors.”

They’re not denying that God overruled those councils for good; they’re saying: “We’re not going to drape ourselves in that banner.”

6. What they don’t say

They do not, in general, say:

“The Nicene Creed is heresy.”

“Everything in it is wrong.”

In fact, on the core point it was written for—Christ’s full deity and true humanity—most Old School Baptists would be in very hearty agreement.

Their position is more like:

“We can rejoice that, in God’s providence, those bishops publicly confessed many truths about our Lord.But we are not bound, nor authorized, to turn their words into a standing liturgy or test of communion. Our creed is the Scriptures; our confession is Christ; our worship is governed by what God has actually commanded.”

So, what’s wrong with reciting the Nicene Creed?

From their perspective: nothing, if you read it privately as a historical summary and nod along where it’s biblical. But once you make it a formal recitation in worship and a badge of orthodoxy, you’ve crossed into exactly the territory—humanly-imposed forms, tests, and liturgies—that Old School Baptists believe Christ never gave to his churches.

Did Beebe or Trott Ever Talk About the Nicene Creed?

Trott – definitely yes. Beebe – not clearly, at least not the way Trott does.

Samuel Trott

Trott explicitly mentions and critiques the Nicene Creed and what he calls the “Nicene system.”

In an 1839 piece (“An Inquiry,” Signs of the Times, reprinted in Samuel Trott, Volume 2), he is answering charges about Western Old School Baptists and writes:

“Not that I am disposed to consider it blasphemous to deny that the Three, the Father, the Word and the Holy Ghost are in any sense three Gods, or that they are three distinct persons, or that they blaspheme who dissent from the Nicene Creed, or from my creed concerning the divine Three, in which the One God has revealed himself, providing that either of the Three is not degraded.”

So:

He knows the Nicene Creed,

He doesn’t make conformity to it the test of orthodoxy,

He talks about “my creed concerning the divine Three” versus the Nicene scheme.

In a later controversy with Elder Clark over the Trinity and eternal vital union, Trott directly attacks what he calls the “Nicene Creed” and its assumptions:

“The fact is, the assumption of the adherents of the Nicene Creed, that the Godhead of the Father and of the Son depended on the paternity of the one, and the Sonship of the other, is altogether a begged question, for which they can produce no direct authority from the Scriptures. If they will assume to be wiser than the Scriptures, I am not required to follow them, but rather to look for the old paths.”

Elsewhere in that same section he talks about the “audacity” of Athanasius and “the Nicene system,” and contrasts their speculative begetting/sunship scheme with his own way of reading the biblical names “Father” and “Son.”

So Trott absolutely does talk about the Nicene Creed – and he does so quite sharply, arguing that:

The Nicene way of tying “Godhead” to “paternity/Sonship” goes beyond Scripture.

He refuses to be bound by Nicene formulations if he doesn’t see explicit scriptural warrant.

Gilbert Beebe

With Beebe, it’s different:

In the material I can search, I don’t see him doing what Trott does – i.e., writing extended critiques of the Nicene Creed by name.

Beebe constantly deals with:

The Trinity, Sonship, deity of Christ,

Creeds and confessions (especially Protestant ones, like the Philadelphia/1689, Westminster, etc.),

And Roman Catholicism/councils in general.

Trott, not Beebe, is the one who explicitly connects Calvin and the “substance of the Nicene Creed” in his historical remarks about English Particular Baptists adopting Calvin’s theology and thereby aligning with the Nicene tradition.

Beebe’s circle obviously knew what the Nicene Creed was, and they stood in practical agreement with its core Trinitarian content while rejecting creedalism and state-church apparatus. But:

I can firmly document Trott’s direct engagement with the Nicene Creed,

I cannot, from the searchable material, point you to a specific Beebe editorial where he takes up the Nicene Creed as such and analyzes or critiques it by name.

So, historically for your purposes:

Trott: yes—named, cited, and critiqued (especially over Sonship and “Nicene system” assumptions).

Beebe: no clearly documented, extended treatment of the Nicene Creed itself; his battles are more with contemporary Protestant confessions and with Romanism generally than with Nicaea as such.

Endnotes

[1] Arius is the guy whose name got stapled to the whole controversy, so he’s worth a clean sketch.Who he wasName: AriusBorn: c. 250–256, in Ptolemais, Cyrenaica (modern Libya)Died: 336, in Constantinople (in a rather infamous sudden death, just before being restored to communion)Role: A presbyter (elder) in Alexandria, serving the Baucalis church; an ascetic, popular preacher, and sharp Bible reader.He was not a bishop, not the head of a sect, not a lone crank—just an influential pastor whose teaching crystallized a wider subordinationist stream.What he taught (in slogan form)Main line of his Christology:The Son (Logos) is not co-eternal with the Father.The Son is the first and greatest creature—created “before all ages,” but still created.Therefore:“There was when he was not.”The Father alone is without beginning; the Son has a beginning.He liked verses such as:John 14:28 – “The Father is greater than I.”Colossians 1:15 – “firstborn of all creation.”From those, he concluded:The Son is “God” in a secondary sense: exalted, unique, but subordinate in being, not equal and not of the same essence as the Father.That’s classic subordinationism: the Son is between God and creation—higher than us, lower than the Father.Why he opposed the Nicene CreedThe Nicene Creed (325) said:The Son is “begotten, not made”“of one substance (homoousios) with the Father” – truly God from truly God, not a creature at all.Arius could not sign that honestly, because:It directly denies that the Son is a created being.It says the Son is of the same essence as the Father, not just similar or subordinate.So:At Nicaea he refused to sign the creed and its anathemas.He was condemned as a heretic, deposed, and exiled by order of Constantine.Two Libyan bishops—Secundus of Ptolemais and Theonas of Marmarica—stood with him and also refused the creed; they were likewise deposed and exiled.After NicaeaNicaea did not end Arianism:Constantine later softened, and Arius was allowed back from exile after presenting a more muted confession.He was on the verge of being formally restored to communion in Constantinople when he died suddenly (sources describe a catastrophic collapse in the latrine).But his theology outlived him:Arian and semi-Arian positions became very influential at the imperial court under Constantius II and among many Eastern bishops.Later, versions of Arianism spread widely among Germanic peoples (Visigoths, Ostrogoths, Vandals, etc.).So: Arius personally was exiled, recalled, then died; but “Arianism” as a label stuck to a whole family of anti-Nicene, subordinationist theologies for centuries.Why he matters in the Nicene storyIn terms of the Nicene Creed:Arius is the foil: the creed is consciously written against his main claims (created Son, “there was when he was not,” a lesser divinity).The key words “begotten, not made” and “of one essence with the Father” are the church’s way of saying:the Son is not in the creature category at all; whatever God is, the Son is.So when someone says “Arius,” think:Libyan presbyter, serious ascetic, clever exegete, who insisted the Son was a super-creation and thus forced the church to say, in formal, conciliar language, “No—He is true God of true God.” ↩︎

[2] Eusebius of Nicomedia is basically the political brain of the Arian side.Here’s the profile, tuned to why he opposed Nicaea:Who he was4th-century bishop; first bishop of Berytus (Beirut), then bishop of Nicomedia (where the imperial court sat), and finally archbishop of Constantinople shortly before his death (c. 341).A pupil of Lucian of Antioch, same theological school as Arius, and one of Arius’ closest supporters.His role at Nicaea (325)Came in as the leading Arian-leaning bishop, backing Arius against Alexander of Alexandria.Fought hard against the inclusion of homoousios (“of one essence with the Father”) in the creed.Eventually signed the Nicene Creed, but only after long resistance; ancient sources say he “subscribed with hand only, not heart.”Because he kept defending Arius afterwards, Constantine exiled him a few months later.Leader of the anti-Nicene reactionOnce recalled from exile (c. 329), he became the architect of the anti-Nicene party (“the Eusebians”):Used his huge influence at court (Constantine, then Constantius II) to undo Nicaea and promote Arian or semi-Arian formulas.Engineered the deposition and exile of key Nicene bishops:Eustathius of Antioch (330)Athanasius of Alexandria (335)Marcellus of Ancyra (336)Supported rival, Arian-friendly bishops like Gregory of Cappadocia in Alexandria.Peak of his powerIn 339, he maneuvered himself into the see of Constantinople, making him the most powerful anti-Nicene bishop in the empire until his death (341).He’s the one who baptized Constantine on his deathbed in 337—an Arian bishop giving the emperor his final sacrament.So if you’re listing opponents of the Nicene Creed, Eusebius of Nicomedia is not just another name on the list—he’s the chief strategist of the anti-Nicene party, the man who spent the decade after Nicaea using imperial power to roll the Nicene decision back. ↩︎

[3] Eusebius of Caesarea is the awkward middle child at Nicaea: not a hardcore Arian like Eusebius of Nicomedia, not a clear Athanasian either, but a learned, conservative Origenist who tried to keep a “subordinationist but still Scriptural” view of the Son and then had to swallow the Nicene formula.Here’s the focused snapshot.Who he wasEusebius of Caesarea (c. 260–339) – bishop of Caesarea Maritima in Palestine.Famous as the “Father of Church History” for his Ecclesiastical History, chronicling Christian origins up to his time.Theologically shaped by Origen: strong on the transcendence of the Father, comfortable with a kind of subordinationism (Son truly divine, but “under” the Father).His stance in the Arian crisisModern scholarship has increasingly argued:Eusebius, more than Arius, was actually Alexander of Alexandria’s main theological opponent – Arius was in many ways the symptom, Eusebius the coherent system.Before Nicaea he’d already been rebuked/excommunicated at Antioch for being too favorable to Arian-style subordinationism.He did not teach “the Son is a creature in the Arian way,” but:The Son is generated by the Father,Truly divine but in a derived and subordinate sense, eternally “after” the Father.So: closer to a semi-Arian / Origenist than a straight Arius clone.At the Council of Nicaea (325)He was one of the most prominent bishops present and likely a major theological voice in the debates.He first proposed a more modest creed (based on the baptismal creed of Caesarea) that did not contain homoousios.When Constantine and the pro-Nicene group insisted on adding homoousios (“of one essence with the Father”), Eusebius hesitated but finally signed the Nicene Creed.He then wrote a letter to his church in Caesarea explaining how he understood the creed:He stressed that homoousios must not be taken in a material sense (no “cutting off” or “division” in God).He interpreted it as meaning the Son is “in every respect like the Father” and has no resemblance to creatures—that He is “of no other substance or essence but of the Father.”That is: he tried to read homoousios in a generic / likeness sense, not as strict numerical identity of essence the way later Nicenes (especially the Cappadocians) would emphasize.So he signed Nicaea, but on a minimal, “safe” interpretation.Why he counts as an “opponent” of Nicene theology (in a loose sense)He is not an enemy of the council like Eusebius of Nicomedia, but:Before Nicaea he denied the strict eternity of the Son in the way Alexander wanted and held to a graded, subordinationist Trinity.He resisted the homoousios language and only accepted it under explanation, and with some reluctance.After Nicaea, he stood between parties, often sympathetic to the more moderate anti-Athanasian bloc, even presiding later over the synod that deposed Eustathius of Antioch, a strong Nicene.So:Formally: he accepted and signed the Nicene Creed.Theologically: he remained a conservative Origenist subordinationist, uneasy with what Athanasius and later Nicenes made of homoousios.If you’re building your list of “who opposed the Nicene Creed,” Eusebius of Caesarea is not in the hard-refusal group (like Arius, Secundus, Theonas), but he is a key representative of the soft opposition / reluctant acceptance side that tried to tame and reinterpret Nicaea rather than celebrate it. ↩︎

[4] Menophantus of Ephesus is one of those “shadow” figures of the Arian crisis: important enough to be named in the sources, but not important enough to leave us sermons or treatises.Here’s what we can say with some confidence.1. Who he wasOffice: Bishop of Ephesus in the early 4th century.School: Listed among the pupils of Lucian of Antioch, the same theological school that produced Arius, Eusebius of Nicomedia, Theognis of Nicaea, and others.So he belongs to that Lucianic, subordinationist network that became the backbone of the Arian side.2. His role at NicaeaTheodoret says:There were a few men who opposed the Nicene doctrines and sided with Arius; among them were Menophantus, bishop of Ephesus, Patrophilus of Scythopolis, Theognis of Nicaea, Narcissus of Neronias, Theonas of Marmarica, and Secundus of Ptolemais. They even drew up their own formulary of faith and presented it to the council.So:Menophantus was part of the hard-core Arian bloc at Nicaea.He explicitly opposed the Nicene party’s theology and tried to substitute an alternative creed.Unlike Secundus and Theonas, he apparently did not flat-out refuse to sign in the end (the sources only name those two as non-signers), but he was clearly on the resisting side.3. Later career and depositionAfter Nicaea, Menophantus shows up again in the continuing Arian–Nicene battles. In a later synod (under pro-Nicene pressure), a group of Arian-leaning bishops were deposed:“They deposed from the episcopates… Menophantus, bishop of Ephesus… Ursacius, Valens, George of Laodicea, Narcissus, Acacius…”So:He seems to have remained aligned with the Arian / semi-Arian faction.Eventually, when the political winds shifted back toward Nicene orthodoxy, he was removed from office along with other prominent Arianizers.A later writer even lumps him (with Eusebius, Theognis, Maris, etc.) among those who “for a long time watered and tended the crop of tares” under emperors favorable to Arianism.4. Summary in one lineMenophantus of Ephesus was:a Lucian-trained, Arian-leaning bishop; an open supporter of Arius at Nicaea who helped draft an alternative creed, later deposed as part of the broader purge of key Arian bishops once the Nicene side briefly regained the upper hand. ↩︎

[5] Nice one. “Anomoean” is one of those labels that sounds like a D&D monster but is actually a very specific 4th-century theological faction.1. What “Anomoean” meansFrom Greek an-omoios = “unlike.”So Anomoeans are “the unlike-people” – they said the Son is unlike the Father in essence.They’re also called:Heterousians (“different in substance”),Aetians (after Aëtius),Eunomians (after Eunomius).All of that is basically: extreme Arian party.2. What they taughtCompared to Nicene and other Arian-ish groups:Nicenes: Son is homoousios – “of the same essence” as the Father.Semi-Arians / Homoiousians: Son is homoiousios – “of similar essence.”Anomoeans: Son is anomoios – “unlike” the Father in essence; different substance, different will.Key ideas:Only the Father is truly unbegotten and thus truly God.The Son is a created being, “unlike” the Father by nature.The Son’s will is also different from the Father’s – they objected even to a shared will.So they take Arius’s subordinationism and run it all the way out to the edge: not just “less than the Father,” but essentially different from Him.3. Main leadersTwo big names:Aëtius of Antioch – founder of the sect; a sharp dialectician, accused of “rationalist” hubris. He openly argued that if the Father alone is unbegotten, then the Son must be totally unlike Him in essence.Eunomius of Cyzicus – Aëtius’s disciple, the real system-builder.Claimed we can know God’s essence precisely as “unbegottenness.”Since the Son is “begotten,” his essence can’t be the same; therefore “unlike.”Other Anomoean bishops include Theodulus, Paemenius, Candidus, Florentius, Thallus, and several others listed in late church historians like Philostorgius.4. Their place in the Arian messThey show up under Constantius II (mid–4th century) as the hardline Arian wing:Held councils at places like Antioch and Sirmium.Fought not only the Nicenes but even the semi-Arians, who said the Son was “like in essence.”The semi-Arians condemned them at Seleucia (359); they fired back and condemned the semi-Arians.In short: they were too radical even for many Arians.Their extremity is one of the reasons the Cappadocian Fathers (Basil, Gregory Nazianzen, Gregory of Nyssa) had to hammer out such careful language on essence, persons, and the Spirit. A lot of Basil’s Against Eunomius is exactly that: dismantling Anomoean logic.5. FateCondemned along with Arianism in the Council of Constantinople (381), which reaffirmed Nicene faith and expanded the Creed (especially on the Holy Spirit).As a distinct sect, Eunomians/Anomoeans fade after the early 5th century, though anti-Nicene ideas keep popping up in new costumes.So, in the anti-Nicene lineup you’ve been collecting:Arius: Son is a creature, subordinate.Homoians/Semi-Arians: Son is “like” or “similar” to the Father, but avoid essence language.Anomoeans: Son is unlike the Father in essence and will – the sharpest, most aggressive form of Arianism. ↩︎

[6] Aëtius of Antioch is basically the razor-edge brain of extreme Arianism—the man who weaponized logic against Nicene theology.Here’s the focused rundown.1. Who he wasName: Aëtius (often called Aëtius the Arian or Aëtius of Antioch).Dates: Active mid-4th century; born c. early 300s in Cilicia (Asia Minor).Background:Started out poor; worked as a goldsmith, then as a physician’s assistant, then turned to rhetoric and theology.Studied under Lucian’s successors and other subordinationist teachers, eventually becoming a leading radical Arian thinker.He never held one of the great sees like Alexandria or Constantinople, but his influence was huge because of his sharp, controversial teaching.2. What he taught – the core Anomoean moveAëtius is the founder of the Anomoean party (“unlike”):He insisted that the essence of God is strictly and uniquely “unbegottenness.”Since the Son is begotten, His essence cannot be the same as the Father’s.Therefore the Son is “unlike” (anomoios) the Father in essence — not just subordinate, but different in nature.He pushed three strong claims:The Father alone is unbegotten and therefore truly God in the highest sense.The Son, being begotten, is a creature, exalted but on the created side of the Creator–creature line.It’s a logical contradiction to say the begotten Son has the same essence as the unbegotten Father.Where a lot of earlier Arians hedged or left room for ambiguity, Aëtius is ruthlessly consistent. He’s the guy who says the quiet part loud.3. His role in the 4th-century conflictsBecame a major theological force under Constantius II, especially in Antioch and the East.Gathered disciples, the most famous being Eunomius of Cyzicus, who systematized and spread his teaching.His followers (Aëtians / Eunomians / Anomoeans) clashed not only with Nicenes, but also with Homoiousians and more cautious Arians who found his “unlike in essence” language too extreme.He shows up in the acts and correspondence surrounding:Eastern synods at Antioch, Sirmium, Seleucia, etc.The ongoing fight over whether the Son is “like,” “similar,” or “unlike” the Father.Because he was so aggressive and rationalistic, he was repeatedly condemned and exiled, then recalled when political winds shifted.4. Why he mattered for Nicene theologyAëtius forced pro-Nicene theologians to sharpen their game:Basil of Caesarea and Gregory of Nyssa wrote major works Against Eunomius that are really aimed at dismantling Aëtius’s type of logic.They argue that:“Unbegottenness” isn’t the essence of God but a personal property of the Father.God’s essence is beyond comprehension, so you can’t cram it into a single concept and then deduce the Trinity like a geometry problem.In other words: Aëtius’s overconfident rationalism pushes the Cappadocians to articulate divine mystery and incomprehensibility more carefully.5. In one sentenceAëtius of Antioch was the sharp-tongued, hyper-logical architect of Anomoean Arianism, arguing that because the Father is unbegotten and the Son is begotten, they must be unlike in essence—an extreme anti-Nicene stance that provoked some of the finest pro-Nicene theology in response. ↩︎

[7] Eunomius of Cyzicus is basically Aëtius with a publishing contract: the most polished theologian of extreme Arianism (Anomoeanism).Here’s the tight profile.1. Who he wasName: Eunomius of CyzicusDates: c. 335–c. 395Positions:Ordained deacon and then bishop under the patronage of Aëtius.Briefly bishop of Cyzicus (in Asia Minor) before being deposed for his radical views.He becomes the public face and systematizer of the Anomoean party (the “unlike” camp).2. His theology in a nutshellEunomius takes Aëtius’ logic and turns it into a tight system:We can know God’s essence precisely.He claimed that God’s essence is perfectly knowable as “unbegottenness.”So when we say “God is unbegotten,” we’re not just naming something about Him; we are naming what He is.The Son is begotten, so His essence can’t be the same.If the Father’s essence is unbegottenness, and the Son is begotten, their essences must be different.Therefore the Son is “unlike” (anomoios) the Father in essence—not homoousios, not even homoiousios, but unlike.The Son is a unique creature, not true God.Eunomius taught that the Son was a created being, the first and greatest of God’s works, but still on the creature side of the Creator/creature line.Same move as classic Arianism, but argued with more relentless logic and less ambiguity.So if Nicene theology says “we can’t exhaustively know God’s essence and the Son shares that incomprehensible essence,” Eunomius says, “no, we can know it (unbegottenness), and that’s exactly why the Son can’t share it.”3. Role in the Arian controversyBecame the chief theologian of the Anomoean / Eunomian party, named after him.Wrote a major work often referred to simply as his Apology, laying out his theology. This provoked a series of Nicene responses.Consecrated bishop of Cyzicus c. 360, but his teaching stirred so much conflict that he was quickly deposed.Continued to lead a distinct Eunomian church/network, ordaining clergy and holding separate assemblies, even after formal condemnations.He clashed not just with Nicenes, but also with more moderate Arians and Homoiousians who thought his “unlike in essence” view went too far.4. Why Nicene theologians cared so muchBecause he was so sharp and confident, pro-Nicenes had to really sharpen their own Trinitarian thought:Basil of Caesarea wrote Against Eunomius (multiple books), attacking:the idea that “unbegottenness” defines God’s essence,Eunomius’ claim that God’s essence is fully knowable,and his denial of the Son’s consubstantiality.Gregory of Nyssa followed with a more extensive Against Eunomius, one of the longest and most detailed pro-Nicene works we have.They argue, in essence:God’s being is incomprehensible; we know God truly but not exhaustively.“Unbegotten” is not the essence, but a personal property of the Father.The Son shares the same divine essence while being personally distinguished by eternal generation.So Eunomius is a kind of “anti-teacher” who ends up forcing Nicene theology to become more precise and sophisticated.5. Condemnation and legacyThe Council of Constantinople (381) condemned the Eunomian/Anomoean position along with other Arian forms and reaffirmed the Nicene faith, especially by expanding the Creed’s article on the Holy Spirit.After the 4th–early 5th century, Eunomians fade as an organized movement, though their writings lingered as a kind of “extreme Arian” reference point.So, in your anti-Nicene roster, Eunomius of Cyzicus is:the chief dogmatician of radical Arianism, arguing that because the Father’s essence is “unbegottenness,” the begotten Son must be unlike Him in essence—a position that the Cappadocians then dismantle at great length. ↩︎

[8] The Pneumatomachians are one of the more creative ways the 4th century tried not to be Nicene.In one line:Pneumatomachians (“Spirit-fighters”) were 4th-century anti-Nicene Christians who denied the full divinity and personhood of the Holy Spirit, treating Him as a created, subordinate being rather than true God.Here’s the quick profile.1. Name and basic ideaName: Pneumatomachi (Greek πνεῦμα pneuma, “Spirit” + μάχη machē, “fight”) = “fighters against the Spirit.”Also called Macedonians, after Macedonius I of Constantinople, a semi-Arian bishop associated with the movement.Core belief:Father = truly GodSon = exalted, “similar in essence” (homoiousios) to the FatherHoly Spirit = not fully God – a created power/minister, subordinate to Father and Son.So they basically took Arian subordinationism and applied it to the Spirit.2. Relation to the Nicene CreedThey were anti-Nicene in two ways:They rejected the Nicene logic of consubstantiality: one essence, three fully divine persons. For them the Spirit is not of the same essence (homoousios) as Father and Son.Their denial of the Spirit’s Godhead is a big reason why the Council of Constantinople (381) expanded the Nicene Creed to say:“And [we believe] in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life,who proceeds from the Father,who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified,who spoke by the prophets.”That clause is basically a giant anti-Pneumatomachian billboard.3. Notable Pneumatomachian leadersAncient sources list several bishops as prominent Pneumatomachi:Macedonius I of Constantinople – semi-Arian bishop whose name gets attached to the movement.Marathonius – bishop of NicomediaEleusius – bishop of CyzicusSophronius – bishop of PompeiopolisEustathius of Sebaste – important theologian in the groupSabinus – bishop of HeracleaThey held synods, backed Homoiousian (“similar essence”) creeds, and opposed both full Nicenes and some Homoians.4. How the church respondedAthanasius (in his Letters to Serapion) argued biblically for the Spirit’s full deity.Basil of Caesarea wrote On the Holy Spirit, building the case from Scripture and liturgy that the Spirit is worshipped, glorified, and acts personally as God.Gregory of Nazianzus just says the quiet part loud and calls the Spirit God.Finally:Council of Constantinople (381) formally condemned Macedonian / Pneumatomachian teaching and locked in the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed as the standard Trinitarian confession.So: Pneumatomachians are what you get when you say, “Fine, we’ll accept the Son is God-ish per Nicaea, but we are not giving full deity to the Spirit.” The church’s answer was basically the 381 upgrade of the Creed: if the Spirit gives life, speaks in the prophets, and is worshipped with Father and Son—He’s not a cosmic intern, He’s God. ↩︎

[9] Socinus is like the anti-Nicene Creed on legs.We’re talking about Faustus Socinus (Fausto Sozzini, 1539–1604), Italian theologian whose ideas became Socinianism, a major fountainhead of later Unitarianism.Here’s the distilled version with the Nicene angle foregrounded.1. Who he wasBorn December 5, 1539 in Siena, Italy; died 1604 in Poland.Nephew of Lelio (Laelius) Sozzini, an earlier antitrinitarian; Faustus systematized and spread the family’s radical theology.Spent his mature years among the Polish Brethren (the “Minor Reformed Church”) and became the leading figure of their Anti-Trinitarian movement—hence “Socinians.”So he’s not “sort of Nicene but quirky.” He’s explicitly anti-Nicene.2. His key beliefs (all collisions with Nicaea)The Nicene Creed says:Christ is true God from true God,begotten, not made,of one essence with the Father;the Spirit is worshiped and glorified with Father and Son.Socinus basically takes dynamite to that structure:No TrinityHe rejects the doctrine of the Trinity outright; for him God is one person only, the Father.No pre-existence of ChristChrist did not exist as a divine person before his human birth.Jesus is a uniquely inspired man, not the eternal Son consubstantial with the Father.No ontological deity of ChristThe “deity” of Christ is official or functional, not essential: he is Messiah, Lord by office, not by eternal nature.No classical atonementHe rejects substitutionary, propitiatory atonement (“Atonement through the death of Jesus” in the Nicene/Western sense).His famous De Jesu Christo Servatore argues that Christ “saves” by teaching, example, and moral influence, not by satisfying divine wrath.Strong rationalism; Scripture under the bar of reasonScripture is authoritative, but always read through rational consistency; anything that looks like a contradiction to reason (e.g., “one essence, three persons”) gets reinterpreted or rejected.So from the Nicene perspective, Socinus hits the eject button on:the Trinity,the full deity and pre-existence of Christ,the deity of the Spirit,classic atonement,and (by extension) the whole metaphysical framework implied in the creed.3. His historical impactHis followers in Poland and Transylvania (Polish Brethren / Racovians) created the Racovian Catechism, a kind of anti-Nicene manual that spread across Europe.Later Unitarians (especially in Transylvania, England, and New England) draw heavily on Socinian themes:Christ as moral teacher,God as single person,heavy stress on reason and conscience.In your “opponents of the Nicene Creed” lineup, Socinus is not a nuanced semi-Arian tinkering with homoiousios. He’s the early-modern guy who looks at the whole Nicene package—Trinity, consubstantial Son, worship of the Spirit, vicarious atonement—and says, “Nope. Scrap and rebuild from reason and Scripture.” ↩︎

[10] Secundus of Ptolemais is one of the really interesting “hardline Arian” bishops at Nicaea.Here’s the quick sketch:He was bishop of Ptolemais in Cyrenaica (Libya), and a close patron and supporter of Arius.He attended the Council of Nicaea (325) and stood with the small Arian bloc (Eusebius of Nicomedia & co.).When the Nicene Creed was produced, almost everyone ended up signing it—often under pressure.Only two bishops refused to sign the creed and accept its decrees:Secundus of PtolemaisTheonas of MarmaricaBecause they refused, the council deposed them and Emperor Constantine exiled them, along with Arius himself.Later on:As Constantine shifted to a policy of reconciliation with Arians, Secundus was apparently restored to his see for a time.An Arian successor, Stephanus of Ptolemais, later held the see but was deposed around 360 as the tides of imperial theology kept sloshing back and forth.So, if you’re building a list of “who really opposed the Nicene Creed at the council itself,” Secundus is one of the two bishops who literally said “no” and paid for it with deposition and exile. ↩︎

[11] Theonas of Marmarica is the other “hard-no” bishop at Nicaea, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Secundus.Here’s what we can actually say about him (which isn’t a lot, but it’s sharp):Office & region:He was bishop of Marmarica in Cyrenaica (Libya), a neighboring region to Ptolemais.Allegiance:Sources call him one of the most devoted adherents of Arius—a convinced Arian, not just a wobbly moderate.Before Nicaea:Bishop Alexander of Alexandria’s early circular letter against Arius already mentions Theonas and Secundus as supporters of Arius and says they had been deposed in their local context—though in practice this wasn’t enforced, since they show up at Nicaea as full participants.At the Council of Nicaea (325):He joined the pro-Arian bloc (with Eusebius of Nicomedia, Patrophilus, Narcissus, etc.).When the Nicene Creed was drafted, almost all of that bloc eventually signed under pressure. Only:Theonas of MarmaricaSecundus of Ptolemaisrefused to sign the creed and to join in anathematizing Arius.Fate after Nicaea:Because of their refusal, both Theonas and Secundus were deposed and exiled, sharing Arius’s fate (Arius was also exiled; his books ordered burned).Beyond that, Theonas disappears into the fog: no surviving writings, no famous comeback, just remembered in the sources as:the Libyan Arian bishop who, with Secundus, would not bow to the Nicene formula and paid for it with deposition and banishment. ↩︎

[12] Alright, quick tour of the Great Schism (the East–West Schism) with the wires exposed.1. What it was (in plain terms)The Great Schism usually means the East–West Schism of 1054:the long, messy breakup between the Western (Latin) church centered on Rome and the Eastern (Greek) churches centered on Constantinople, resulting in what we now call the Roman Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church.1054 is the “symbol date” (mutual excommunications of Pope Leo IX’s legates and Patriarch Michael Cerularius), but the split was centuries in the making and wasn’t even fully felt at the grassroots level right away.2. Deep causes (why East and West drifted apart)Think of it as several layers stacked:a) Political and cultural driftTwo empires: After Constantine, the Roman world effectively splits into a Greek East (Byzantium) and a Latin West.Different:Languages (Greek vs Latin)Political centers (Constantinople vs Rome/Ravenna)Legal/administrative habits.So the “one church” is living in two very different civilizational ecosystems.b) Ecclesiastical power and papal claimsIn the West, as the empire collapses, the bishop of Rome becomes the stabilizing figure and develops a strong sense of universal jurisdiction.In the East, the model is pentarchy: Rome, Constantinople, Alexandria, Antioch, Jerusalem – five patriarchates, with Rome “first in honor” but not as a universal monarch.So you get a growing clash between:Roman primacy as jurisdictional supremacy, andEastern conciliar / patriarchal balance.c) Theological and liturgical disputesThe famous flashpoints:The Filioque – West adds “and the Son” to the Nicene Creed’s line about the Spirit proceeding from the Father.East: You can’t alter an ecumenical creed; this also distorts the Father’s unique role as source.Eucharistic bread – West uses unleavened bread; East uses leavened and considers unleavened “Judaizing.”Other practices – fasting rules, clerical marriage, etc.Theologically, the core quarrel eventually narrows to:Papal claims and the Filioque – who can change the Creed, and what exactly is the inner life of the Trinity doing.3. Key pre-schism blow: the Photian Schism (9th c.)Before 1054, you already have a rehearsal:Photian Schism (863–867) – Emperor deposes Patriarch Ignatius, installs Photius; Pope Nicholas I rejects this and excommunicates Photius.Photius then excommunicates the pope and attacks the Filioque and Roman claims.This schism gets patched up, but:It sets precedents: Rome vs Constantinople, mutual excommunications, Bulgaria mission competition, arguments over papal authority.It’s a dry run for 1054.4. The 1054 blow-up (the “Great Schism” moment)Patriarch Michael Cerularius closes Latin churches in Constantinople and criticizes Western practices (unleavened bread, etc.).Pope Leo IX sends legates (headed by Cardinal Humbert) to negotiate.Talks go badly; Humbert storms into Hagia Sophia (July 1054) and slaps a bull of excommunication on the altar, excommunicating Cerularius and his supporters.Cerularius and a local synod respond by excommunicating the papal legates.At the time, many didn’t think “we’ve just divided the Church forever.” It’s only later that 1054 becomes the shorthand date. But it’s a very visible symbolic rupture.5. Why it hardened into a permanent splitSeveral later events salted the earth:Crusades, especially the Fourth Crusade (1204) – Latin crusaders sack Constantinople, set up a Latin patriarch; for the East this is basically: the West has turned into an invading empire masquerading as Church.Repeated, failed reunion attempts:Council of Lyons (1274)Council of Florence (1438–39)These produce short-lived unions that are rejected by much of the Orthodox laity and clergy.So by the late Middle Ages, you’ve got:Two separate communions,Mutual condemnations of each other’s claims,Distinct canonical and liturgical lives.And the division persists to this day.6. Connection back to the Nicene CreedSince we’ve been talking Nicene all along, note:Both sides accept the Nicene–Constantinopolitan Creed.The West inserts the Filioque (“and the Son”) into the line on the Spirit;The East keeps the original “who proceeds from the Father” and complains the West violated both doctrine and council discipline by altering an ecumenical symbol.So the same creed that was supposed to be the rallying symbol of unity becomes, ironically, one of the sharpest points of division.Very compressed version:The Great Schism isn’t one fight, but centuries of cultural drift, imperial politics, papal claims, and theological disputes—crystallizing around papal supremacy and the Filioque—finally symbolized by the mutual excommunications of 1054 and then hardened by crusader violence and failed reunion attempts. ↩︎

[13] Filioque is the tiny Latin word that managed to start a bar fight in the Trinity.Let’s walk it through.1. What “Filioque” actually isFilioque = Latin for “and the Son.”It’s the extra phrase Western churches added to the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed’s line about the Holy Spirit.Original (381, Greek text):“the Holy Spirit, … who proceeds from the Father”Western, later version:“the Holy Spirit, … who proceeds from the Father and the Son (qui ex Patre Filioque procedit)”So the controversy is:Does the Spirit proceed from the Father alone, or from the Father and the Son?2. How it got in there (history in 60 seconds)381 (Constantinople): Creed says “who proceeds from the Father.” No Filioque.Late 500s: Some Latin churches in Spain start adding Filioque to fight Arianism among the Goths—emphasizing that the Son is fully divine, co-source (with the Father) of the Spirit.589 (Council of Toledo): Filioque appears formally in a regional creed in Spain; from here it spreads through the Latin West.8th–10th c.: Frankish kingdoms love it; it becomes a marker of “we’re not Arians.” Rome hesitates; Pope Leo III (early 800s) famously approves the doctrine but refuses to alter the Creed’s text and even has the original Creed (without Filioque) engraved in Greek and Latin on silver plates.1014: Under pressure from the German emperor Henry II, Pope Benedict VIII allows the Filioque into the creed at Rome. Now the whole West is using it liturgically.1054: Among many issues (papal authority, practices, politics), this unilateral change to the Creed becomes one of the flashpoints in the East–West Schism.So: it started as a regional, anti-Arian tweak in Spain, eventually became standard in the West, and was never accepted by the Eastern churches.3. What the West meant by FilioqueWestern theology (Augustine onwards) tended to say:The Father and the Son together are one principle of the Spirit’s procession.The Spirit is the “Spirit of the Father and of the Son;” He proceeds from the Father through the Son and from the Father and the Son (two ways of saying one reality).So the Filioque was meant to:Guard the Son’s full deity – if the Spirit proceeds from Him as from the Father, the Son is clearly not a lesser god.Express the unity of the Father and Son – one shared “breathing forth” of the Spirit.Modern Catholic explanations bend over backwards to say:The East is right to insist the Father alone is the “source” (archē / principle) in the strict sense.The West is right that the Spirit is eternally related to both Father and Son.“From the Father through the Son” (Eastern formula) and “from the Father and the Son” (Western) can be read as complementary, if carefully unpacked.That’s the irenic reading, at least.4. Why the East objects so stronglyThe Orthodox objections have two sharp edges:a) Procedural: you don’t mess with an ecumenical creedCouncil of Constantinople (381) produced the Creed;Council of Ephesus (431) basically said: no new rival creeds.From the Eastern viewpoint:The West unilaterally altered the ecumenical symbol—without a council of the whole Church.That’s a canon-law and ecclesiology violation, regardless of whether the doctrine is right or wrong.b) Theological: it blurs the “monarchy of the Father”Eastern Trinitarian theology is obsessed (in a good way) with:the Father alone as the “archē” (source) of Son and Spirit.Son: begotten of the FatherSpirit: proceeds from the FatherAdd “and the Son,” and they worry you’ve:made the Spirit depend on two origins,confused the personal properties,or subordinated the Spirit (since now He “comes from” the Son, who doesn’t in turn “come from” Him).So for many Orthodox writers, Filioque isn’t a cute Western flourish; it’s a distortion in the inner life of the Trinity and a symptom of Rome going off-script.5. Where things stand nowVery compressed:Roman Catholic Church:Holds Filioque as doctrinally valid.Admits the original Creed had no Filioque.In official ecumenical documents, often quotes the Creed without Filioque to respect the 381 text.Eastern Orthodox Churches:Recite the Creed without Filioque.See the insertion as both anti-canonical and theologically problematic, though some modern Orthodox accept a nuanced “through the Son” kind of rapprochement.Many Protestants:Historically inherited the Western version with Filioque.Some (esp. Lutherans, Anglicans) in ecumenical contexts now happily use the Creed without Filioque to align with the original text and avoid picking a side in a 1000-year-old family feud.If you zoom out: Filioque is one word that encodes a whole bundle of questions—Who can change a creed? What exactly is the Father’s role in the Trinity? How do we talk about the Spirit’s relation to the Son without collapsing the persons or splitting the Godhead?The fun (and headache) is that both sides are trying to protect the same thing—one God, three distinct persons, no sub-gods—while accusing the other of quietly sawing through one of the beams. ↩︎

[14] The Edict of Milan (313) is basically the moment the Roman Empire went from “hunt the Christians” to “fine, you can exist.”1. What it wasNot literally one “edict on a bulletin board,” but an agreement made in February 313 in Milan (Mediolanum) between:Constantine I – emperor in the WestLicinius – emperor in the Balkans/EastLicinius then issued letters to eastern governors (the texts we have) spelling out the policy.2. What it didIn short, it legalized Christianity and granted broad religious freedom:Ended official persecution of Christians (the Diocletian-era persecutions).Gave freedom of worship to all religions, not just Christians.Ordered the return of confiscated Christian property—church buildings, lands, etc.—at state expense.This marks the end of the “age of the martyrs” and the beginning of what historians call the “Peace of the Church.”Important correction people often miss:The Edict of Milan did not make Christianity the official state religion.That comes later with the Edict of Thessalonica in 380 under Theodosius I, which makes Nicene Christianity the empire’s official faith.3. Why it matteredA few big shifts:From persecution to protection – Christians go from outlawed sect to legally recognized communities.Property & structure – with buildings and property restored, the church can publicly organize, build basilicas, and operate openly.Imperial favor – Constantine then keeps stacking privileges for Christians (legal rights, tax benefits for clergy, imperial support for councils, etc.).So the Edict of Milan is the hinge: it doesn’t yet create a “Christian empire,” but it opens the legal door so that, within a few generations, the empire and Nicene Christianity are deeply entangled.If you imagine church history as a drama, this is the scene where the persecuted underground movement suddenly gets a very powerful friend—and all the complicated baggage that comes with that. ↩︎

[15] Sirmium is where a lot of the post-Nicene theological knife-fights happened… in a provincial capital on the Sava River.Two layers here: the place and the councils/creeds.1. What/where is Sirmium?Ancient city in the Roman province of Pannonia, on the Sava River.Located at what is now Sremska Mitrovica, Serbia.Big deal in late antiquity:Made one of the four imperial capitals under Diocletian’s tetrarchy.Capital of the praetorian prefecture of Illyricum.A key Christian center by the 4th century, with multiple churches and a resident emperor (Constantius II spent a lot of time there).Because the emperor liked to park there, bishops kept getting summoned there. Which leads to…2. Councils of Sirmium: the Arian “factory”Several synods were held there (commonly dated 347, 351, 357, 358, and c. 375/378). The important ones are in the heart of the Arian controversy.Sirmium II (351)Presided over by Constantius II.Targeted Photinus of Sirmium, a bishop with views similar to Marcellus (strong “one-God-one-hypostasis” guy). He was deposed.Produced an Arian-leaning creed (sometimes called the “Sixth Arian Confession”), supporting homoiousios (“similar in substance”) – the semi-Arian position.Sirmium III (357) – “The Blasphemy of Sirmium”This is the infamous one.A small group of bishops (Germinius, Valens of Mursa, Ursacius of Singidunum) produced a creed that:Declared both homoousios (“same substance”) and homoiousios (“similar substance”) unscriptural.Forbade use of ousia/substantia language in the churches.Explicitly subordinated the Son: “the Father is greater than the Son.”This document:“Since many persons are disturbed by questions concerning what is called in Latin substantia, but in Greek ousia… there ought to be no mention of any of these at all… since in the divine Scriptures nothing is written about them, and they are above men’s knowledge…”Nicenes later dubbed this the “Blasphemy of Sirmium”, because it tried to ban the very terms (homoousios, etc.) that defended Nicene Christology and clearly taught a lower, non-consubstantial Son.Sirmium IV (358)Another attempt at “compromise.”Said simply that the Son is homoios (“like”) the Father, without “same” or “similar in substance.”This vague Homoian formula (“like the Father according to the Scriptures”) becomes the banner for many later anti-Nicenes, including among the Gothic/Germanic tribes.Jerome famously summarized this whole period by saying:“The whole world groaned, and was astonished to find itself Arian” – and he’s thinking in part of these Sirmium-type compromises.3. Why Sirmium matters in the Nicene storyIt’s the imperial Arian workshop: under Constantius II, Sirmium is where key anti-Nicene creeds get drafted and then exported to councils like Arles, Milan, Rimini, and Seleucia.The Second Sirmian Creed (357) marks the peak of Homoian / anti-Nicene influence: an attempt to forbid essence-language altogether and normalize a “greater Father / lesser Son” theology in the empire.The formulas hammered out there shaped the theology of Arian Gothic and Germanic tribes for centuries.So when you see “Sirmium” in this context, think:Not just a random Balkan city, but Constantius’s headquarters and the drafting room where some of the most important anti-Nicene creeds were cooked up—especially the notorious 357 creed that tried to outlaw homoousios and declare the Son simply “less than the Father.” ↩︎

[16] Homoian is one of the big anti-Nicene camps – the “Bible-only language, no ‘essence’ talk” party.Let’s place them in the food chain of 4th-century chaos.1. What “Homoian” meansThe word comes from Greek homoios = “like.”Nicenes: homoousios – the Son is of the same essence as the Father.Semi-Arians / Homoiousians: homoiousios – the Son is of similar essence to the Father.Homoians: just say the Son is “like the Father”, full stop, no talk of “essence/substance” at all.Their key move:“Let’s stop using the words ousia (essence) and hypostasis in creeds; Scripture doesn’t use them, so we won’t either. We just confess the Son is ‘like the Father according to the Scriptures.’”So they reject both homoousios and homoiousios as non-biblical and divisive.2. Their doctrinal profileThe Homoian position, in practice:The Son is “like” the Father (homoios tō Patri) “according to the Scriptures.”Refusal to say “same essence” or “similar essence” – they think that’s speculative Greek metaphysics.In reality they’re subordinationist: the Father is greater; the Son is divine-ish but not equal in being.So they’re a kind of “pious, Scripture-sounding Arianism”:more conservative than the hardcore Anomoeans (“unlike”),clearly against Nicene consubstantiality (“same essence”).3. The Sirmium connectionHomoian theology crystallizes in imperial politics under Constantius II, especially at Sirmium:Sirmium III (357) – the “Blasphemy of Sirmium”This creed declares:Don’t use ousia words at all (no “essence,” no “substance,” no homoousios or homoiousios).The Father is greater than the Son; the Father is the only one who knows Himself perfectly.It’s deliberately anti-Nicene and anti-“essence language.”Sirmium IV (358) – the Homoian formulaThis one gives the classic Homoian line:The Son is “like the Father in all things, according to the Scriptures.”No “same,” no “similar essence,” just like. That formula gets pushed at the big double council of Rimini (West) & Seleucia (East) in 359 – Jerome’s “the whole world groaned and was astonished to find itself Arian” line is aimed at this Homoian takeover.So: Sirmium is basically the creed factory for Homoian religion.4. Key Homoian leadersSome of the main Homoian bishops:Acacius of Caesarea – very influential Eastern court bishop.Ursacius of Singidunum (Belgrade).Valens of Mursa (in Pannonia).Germinius of Sirmium.These guys are the ones drafting and promoting the Homoian creeds, especially at Sirmium, Ariminum (Rimini), and Seleucia.They are distinct from:Anomoeans (Aëtius, Eunomius): “Son is unlike the Father in essence.”Homoiousians (Basil of Ancyra & co.): “Son is similar in essence to the Father.”Homoians try to sit in the middle and say: “All of you stop this ‘essence’ talk. Just say ‘like’ and go home.”5. OutcomeHomoian formulas had a strong imperial run:Under Constantius II, Homoian creeds were basically the official theology of the empire for a while.They also heavily influenced the Gothic and Germanic Arian churches (who picked up “the Son is like the Father” without Nicene equality).But:The Council of Constantinople (381) reaffirmed Nicene theology, condemned Arian varieties, and restored homoousios as the standard.Homoianism as a party faded, leaving behind mostly the Germanic Arian tribes (Visigoths, Ostrogoths, Vandals) who inherited a Homoian-style creed.So, in your anti-Nicene lineup:Homoian = the “Scripture-only wording” Arian camp:“The Son is like the Father according to the Scriptures; don’t ask us about essence,”which in practice meant, “No Nicene ‘same essence,’ and the Son is subordinate.” ↩︎

[17] 1. Basic factsName: Athanasius of Alexandria (often “Athanasius the Great,” “Athanasius the Confessor”)Born: c. 296–298 in or near Alexandria, Roman Egypt (Wikipedia)Died: May 2, 373, in Alexandria (Wikipedia)Office: Bishop / Patriarch of Alexandria from 328–373 (45 years), though 17 of those years were spent in exile… five separate times. (Wikipedia)Nicknames and titles:“Father of Orthodoxy”“Pillar of the Church” (Gregory of Nazianzus) (Wikipedia)Later: one of the four great Eastern Doctors in Roman Catholic reckoning.2. Early life and formationBorn into a Christian family in Alexandria, the intellectual crossroads of the Roman world. (Wikipedia)Received a solid classical education; wrote in Greek, knew Coptic, soaked in Scripture and early theology. (Wikipedia)As a young man (probably late teens/20s) he writes:Contra Gentes (Against the Heathen)De Incarnatione Verbi (On the Incarnation)These are pre-Arian but already Christ-saturated and strongly incarnational. (Wikipedia)He becomes deacon and secretary to Bishop Alexander of Alexandria, which puts him right at ground zero for the Arian controversy. (Wikipedia)3. Nicaea and becoming bishop325: Athanasius is at the Council of Nicaea as Alexander’s deacon and theological attack dog against Arius. He’s not running the council, but he’s a sharp, vocal Nicene voice. (Wikipedia)328: After Alexander dies, Athanasius (about 30-ish) is elected bishop of Alexandria. His election is contested by Arian and Melitian opponents, but he becomes the key Eastern defender of the Nicene formula (homoousios). (Wikipedia)From then on his life is basically: be bishop → get accused → get exiled → come back → repeat.4. The five exiles (Athanasius contra mundum)His opponents (especially the Eusebian/Arian party) use imperial influence and rigged councils to get him deposed repeatedly:First exile (335–337) – Under Constantine, after the Council of Tyre; he’s sent to Trier in the West. (L. D. Y. Singer)Second exile (339–346) – Under Constantius II; he takes refuge in Rome and then with pro-Nicene Western support (Julius of Rome, Council of Sardica). (L. D. Y. Singer)Third exile (356–362) – Again under Constantius II; a military raid on his church forces him to flee. He hides among the monks of the Egyptian desert for years, writing major anti-Arian works. (Wikipedia)Fourth exile (362–363) – Briefly under Julian the Apostate, who tries to destabilize the church by recalling all exiled bishops, then expelling influential ones. (Wikipedia)Fifth exile (365–366) – Under Valens; again a short exile, ending when local support and political shifts bring him back. (L. D. Y. Singer)Through all of this, the people of Alexandria mostly remain fiercely loyal — he’s not just a remote theologian; he’s their pastor and symbol of resistance. (New Advent)Hence the famous tag: Athanasius contra mundum – “Athanasius against the world.”5. Main theological contributionsa) Trinitarian / ChristologicalHe’s the sharp edge of Nicene theology:Defends that the Son is “of one essence” (homoousios) with the Father.Insists this is not philosophical fussiness but essential for salvation:only if the Word is truly God and truly man can humanity be united to God. (Wikipedia)Key anti-Arian works:De Decretis (On the Decrees of Nicaea) – explains and defends the council’s language.Orations Against the Arians – long, sometimes savage attacks on Arian exegesis and doctrine. (Wikipedia)He’s not a speculative system-builder; he’s a polemicist and pastor, constantly tying doctrine to worship and redemption.b) On the incarnation & soteriologyIn On the Incarnation, he lays out:Creation ex nihilo.The fall as a slide into corruption and death.The Word taking flesh to destroy death and renew the image of God in us.It’s tight, clear, and has legitimately “classic” status in both East and West. (Wikipedia)c) Monasticism & asceticismHe writes the Life of Antony, a biography of the desert monk Antony the Great. (Wikipedia)That book goes viral in late antiquity; it massively boosts interest in monastic life across the empire and later into the Latin West (Augustine is famously influenced by it).So he’s not only shaping doctrine; he’s shaping spirituality and monastic culture.d) New Testament canonIn his 39th Festal Letter (367) he gives a list of 27 New Testament books—the same list widely recognized today. (Wikipedia)He also distinguishes between canonical books and other edifying writings (e.g., Wisdom of Solomon, Sirach, Didache, Shepherd of Hermas) that may be read but aren’t on the same level as Scripture.He’s not the only voice in the canon conversation, but his festal letter is a key milestone.6. Death and legacyDies peacefully in Alexandria on May 2, 373, after outliving many of his enemies and seeing the tide turning decisively toward Nicene orthodoxy. (Wikipedia)Within a few years, the pro-Nicene settlement is ratified and expanded at Constantinople (381); Athanasius’ line wins the long war.Veneration & remembrance:Honored as a saint across Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox, Anglican, and Lutheran traditions. Feast day usually May 2 (Western), Jan 18 (Byzantine), 7 Pashons in Coptic calendar. (Wikipedia)Later given the title Doctor of the Church in the West.Remembered as the guy who basically refused to let the church downgrade Christ to a shiny creature, no matter how many times the empire threw him out of town.If you zoom out: Athanasius is where pastoral guts, political misery, and sharp Trinitarian theology all crash into each other. He’s not just the “anti-Arian guy”; he’s one of the main reasons that, centuries later, saying “Jesus is truly God and truly man” sounds normal rather than controversial. ↩︎

[18] The Cappadocians are basically phase two of Nicaea: the guys who made Nicene Trinitarianism really work.Usually people mean three 4th-century bishops from Cappadocia (central Turkey):Basil of Caesarea (Basil the Great) – bishop of Caesarea, organizer, monastic reformer, doctrinal general. (Encyclopedia Britannica)Gregory of Nazianzus – brilliant preacher and poet, briefly bishop of Constantinople, called “the Theologian.” (Wikipedia)Gregory of Nyssa – Basil’s younger brother, deep philosophical theologian, more speculative and mystical. (Wikipedia)Sometimes people also sneak in their sister Macrina, who shaped Basil and Gregory of Nyssa spiritually and theologically; some modern scholars call her “the fourth Cappadocian.” (Wikipedia)1. Historical slot: after Nicaea, before ConstantinopleTimeline-wise:Nicaea: 325, creed says the Son is homoousios (of one essence) with the Father.But for decades after, the East is a mess of semi-Arians, Homoians, and various anti-Nicene factions.The Cappadocians work in the 360s–370s to clarify and defend Nicaea and to answer a new fight: is the Holy Spirit fully God?By the time of the Council of Constantinople (381), it’s largely their language that gets baked into the “final” Nicene Creed: “one essence (ousia) in three persons (hypostaseis).” (Wikipedia)So Athanasius blows the whistle on Arianism; the Cappadocians diagram the playbook.2. What they actually did theologicallya) They fixed the language problem: one essence, three personsPost-Nicaea, people were suspicious: talk of homoousios sounded to some like Sabellianism (collapsing Father and Son into one person).The Cappadocians’ big move:One ousia (essence), three hypostaseis (persons).Ousia = what God is: one divine being, one nature.Hypostasis = someone who is that nature: Father, Son, Spirit personally distinct. (Wikipedia)Basil’s famous explanation: essence is like “humanity,” person is like “this human (Paul, Peter, John).” There is one “Godhead,” three who are God. (Wikipedia)That formula becomes the standard orthodox way of talking about the Trinity in both East and West.b) They nailed down the full deity of the Holy SpiritThe earlier Nicene creed barely said anything about the Spirit. There were folks (the Pneumatomachi, “Spirit-fighters”) who said: fine, the Son is God, but the Spirit is a kind of super-angel.The Cappadocians went after that:Basil, in On the Holy Spirit, argues from doxology and liturgy:if the Spirit is worshiped and glorified “with the Father and the Son,” then he must be truly God. (Orthodox Church in America)Gregory of Nazianzus, in his “Theological Orations,” explicitly calls the Spirit God and insists he is consubstantial with Father and Son. (Reformation Chambers)Gregory of Nyssa develops a tight account of how the three share one divine activity and so one divine being. (Wikipedia)When the 381 Creed says of the Spirit, “the Lord and giver of life… who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified,” that’s pure Cappadocian work.c) They clarified how God is one without erasing the threeGregory of Nyssa especially pushes this:There is one divine action outwardly: whatever God does, Father, Son, and Spirit all do together, not as three separate gods. (Parker's Pensées)The distinctions are in origin:Father = unbegotten sourceSon = begotten of the FatherSpirit = proceeds from the FatherBut because they share one nature and one activity, they are one God, not three.That combination — one essence, distinct hypostases, one operation — is the mature Nicene framework.3. The three personalities, in quick strokesBasil of Caesarea – “the organizer”Born c. 329, bishop of Caesarea, dies 379. (Encyclopedia Britannica)Elite education (Caesarea, Constantinople, Athens); friends with Gregory of Nazianzus from student days. (Reasons to Believe)Writes:On the Holy Spirit (key anti-Pneumatomachian treatise) (Orthodox Church in America)Monastic rules and ascetic writings that shape Eastern monasticism.Major church administrator, defender of the poor, organizer of hospitals and charitable institutions.He’s the practical strategist of the trio.Gregory of Nazianzus – “the orator”Born c. 329, dies 390. Friend of Basil, briefly patriarch of Constantinople. (Wikipedia)Famous for the Theological Orations preached in Constantinople, especially on the Son and the Spirit. (New Advent)Style: razor-sharp, rhetorical, sometimes savage, always theologically dense.Insists unapologetically on the full deity of the Spirit; calls anyone who denies Mary as Theotokos “without the Godhead.” (Wikipedia)He gets the rare title “Theologian” in the Eastern tradition — that’s how central his teaching became.Gregory of Nyssa – “the thinker”Basil’s younger brother, bishop of Nyssa (small town, big brain). Born c. 335, died c. 395. (Wikipedia)More speculative, influenced by Origen and Platonism.Writes:Against Eunomius (sophisticated defense of Nicene Trinitarian doctrine). (Wikipedia)Mystical works like Life of Moses and Homilies on the Song of Songs.Develops ideas like:God’s infinite nature (we never “finish” knowing God).Strong anti-slavery stance, unusual for his time. (Wikipedia)He’s the most philosophically adventurous of the three.4. Why they matter in the Nicene storyWithout the Cappadocians, you would likely have:A Nicene word (homoousios),Lots of suspicion about Sabellianism,And no clear way to talk about the Spirit.What they give the church is:A coherent grammar for speaking of one God in three persons.A solid, scripturally argued case that the Spirit is fully God, not a divine-ish helper.A bridge that draws many former Semi-Arians into the Nicene camp by clarifying what Nicaea didn’t mean (it didn’t erase the distinctions of Father/Son/Spirit). (Wikipedia)In short: Athanasius saved Nicaea from being erased; the Cappadocians saved Nicaea from being misunderstood.Short answer: yes—but not many, and usually not safely inside the Nicene mainstream.Let’s pin down what “Trott’s view” is first, then walk through who in church history sounds even remotely similar.1. What is distinctive about Trott’s Trinitarian view?In Three-Oneness of God (1840), Trott is very explicit:He believes in a real Trinity: God eternally “exists as THREE,” Father, Word/Son, and Holy Ghost, in such a way that all three can act simultaneously and distinctly in redemption (the Father sending, the Son redeeming, the Spirit witnessing, etc.). He equally affirms full deity of each: each of the Three, in his distinct relation, is “the one Jehovah”, absolutely God. His fight is with the formula “three distinct persons in the Godhead,” and with eternal generation/procession language:He explicitly rejects “three distinct persons in the Godhead” and the scheme “one person begotten, the third breathed forth,” calling it human system-building. He insists Scripture never says three persons or that “one of these persons was begotten of the other, and that the third is breathed into existence,” and so he “reject[s] the whole, as fabulous.” He sums himself up like this:“I do believe in a Trinity, but not in tri-personality.” He’s not a cheap modalist, because he rejects the idea that the Three are only “three offices or manifestations.” He insists God eternally, essentially exists as Three, but refuses to let “three persons” or Nicene “begetting / proceeding” schemes define how. That’s a very unusual combo:Strongly anti-tritheist, anti-scholastic, Bible-word-only,Yet pro-eternal Trinity in some real sense,While blocking the classic Nicene way of describing how the Three are distinct.So: did anybody historically sound like that?2. Early church voices with similar instincts (but not identical)a) The “one hypostasis” crowd – Marcellus and friendsIn the 4th century, some strongly anti-Arian bishops pushed “one hypostasis” language:Marcellus of Ancyra (d. c. 374) insisted that God is one ousia, one hypostasis, and one prosopon (one “person”). He read homoousios almost as “numerically identical being”: Father and Son are one individual Monad, not three hypostases.He opposed Arius fiercely, but was accused of modified Sabellianism: seeing the Trinity largely as an economic expansion of the one God into a dyad and then triad for purposes of creation and redemption, which collapses back into the Monad at the end.Some notes:Like Trott, Marcellus hated the idea of multiple hypostases/persons in God; he thought that sounded like multiple “I”s in the Godhead.Unlike Trott, Marcellus’ three-ness seems heavily economic (tied to history), whereas Trott explicitly says God exists “as three” eternally and essentially, not just in time. Still, in terms of instinct—“one God, one divine subject; suspicious of talking about three ‘persons’ in God”—Marcellus is surprisingly close.You also get a “one hypostasis Nicene” strand (some early strict Nicenes seem to have accepted only one hypostasis and treated “three hypostases” as suspicious, before the Cappadocians sorted the language out).Again: not Trott’s exact map, but the monarchy-of-the-One impulse and nervousness about three hypostases/persons is similar.b) Sabellian / modalist streamsClassical Sabellians (Noetus, Praxeas, Sabellius, later Marcellian-type folks) emphasized that God is one person and treated Father/Son/Spirit mainly as modes, names, or phases of that one person. Many refused to distinguish the Son as a distinct hypostasis.Trott is not a simple Sabellian:He explicitly rejects the idea that the Three are only “three names or three manifestations.” He insists they can be simultaneously distinct in the economy of salvation.But his:denial of three proper divine persons,discomfort with talk of eternal begetting and procession, andstress that “one glorious Being and divine Person” is God,would sound, to a 4th-century Nicene, quite a lot like a gentler, more careful Sabellianizing “monarchian” position.So: there were people who resisted talk of “three persons” and wanted to keep a very tight, unipersonal monotheism while still honoring Scripture’s Three. That’s the family resemblance.3. Post-Reformation oddballs and “biblicist” anti-speculationOnce you move past the Fathers into the medieval and Reformation worlds, almost everyone who counts themselves “orthodox” is happily Nicene and explicitly holds to three persons, with eternal generation and procession.But you do get a few patterns:Radical Reformation & later: some fringe groups reject scholastic language and creeds, insisting on “Bible terms only.” In practice, many slide into either unitarianism (denying the Trinity altogether) or into modalism, even if they keep saying “I believe in Father, Son, and Spirit.”In the 19th century, Trott himself and some early Hardshell/Primitive Baptists were accused (by their own critics) of Sabellian tendencies on precisely this point—denying an “ontological Trinity” of three divine persons and rejecting eternal Sonship as traditionally defined.But here’s the key thing:Outside those fringes, you don’t really find confessional Protestants saying:“I believe God eternally exists as Father, Word, and Holy Spirit, each fully Jehovah, but I deny tri-personality and reject eternal generation/procession as unbiblical speculation.”That’s Trott being Trott. It’s quite idiosyncratic in the post-Nicene, post-Reformation landscape.4. So, did anybody hold views like Trott’s?If we mean identical—Trinity yes, tri-personality no, eternal three-ness, no eternal generation/procession, one “divine Person” language—then:Historically, not really. Trott’s particular combination is very unusual.If we mean broadly similar instincts—strong emphasis on:one divine “I,”deep suspicion of “three persons in one essence” as over-philosophizing the mystery,a reluctance to posit three hypostases in God,then yes, you can trace family resemblances to:Marcellus of Ancyra and the “one hypostasis” Nicenes (strong anti-Arian, but accused of Sabellianizing because they insist on one hypostasis/prosopon in God).Various Sabellian / monarchian traditions that emphasize the one divine subject and treat three-ness more at the level of names, roles, or economy.Later “biblicist anti-speculative” types (including Trott’s own circle) who accept that Scripture shows God as three and one but refuse any metaphysical account beyond quoting texts.From the point of view of robust Nicene orthodoxy, all of these live near the “Sabellian / monarchian” border. From Trott’s point of view, he’s trying to stand exactly where Scripture stands and not one inch further, which is why he lands in that weird historical no-man’s-land: not Arian, not straightforward Sabellian, but also not comfortably Nicene-Cappadocian.In other words: he’s in conversation with older “one-hypostasis” currents, but he doesn’t really have a clean historical party he can sit with. ↩︎

[19] Nice one-word prompt there. Let’s zoom in on Marcellus of Ancyra—he’s one of the most fascinating “almost-Nicene-but-also-kind-of-Sabellian” figures in the 4th century.I’ll keep it tight but meaty.1. Who was Marcellus?Marcellus of Ancyra (d. c. 374) was bishop of Ancyra in Galatia (modern Ankara, Turkey).He attended the Council of Nicaea (325) and was an outspoken anti-Arian ally of Athanasius and Alexander of Alexandria.Later, he was accused of Sabellianism, condemned by a council (Constantinople c. 336), and deposed from his see—though he eventually returned and lived out his days with a smaller following.So he starts as a Nicene hero and ends up as “uhhhh… are you too Nicene?” in the eyes of many.2. His core theological idea: one hypostasis, dynamic TrinityMarcellus’ hallmark was his “one hypostasis” theology:He insisted there is one hypostasis (one concrete “being/individual”) of God, not three.For him, God is originally a Monad (single reality). The Logos and Spirit exist “in” God, but not yet as distinct persons/hypostases.The “Trinity” in his scheme unfolds in time:Before creation – God is simply one (the Monad).At creation and incarnation – the Logos “goes out” from God and becomes:“Son”“Image”The visible expression of God in the worldGod as Monad becomes a Triad as part of the economy (plan) of salvation.At the end (1 Cor 15:24–28) – when Christ hands the kingdom to the Father and “God is all in all”:The temporary triadic expansion collapses back into the one Monad.So: Trinity for Marcellus is primarily economic and eschatological—a way God stretches out into history and then resumes simple unity.That’s why later writers say he taught that the Trinity is a “transitory dispensation” rather than an eternal threefold life in God.3. Why he was accused of SabellianismClassic Sabellian/modalist vibes:One underlying divine individual.Father, Son, and Spirit are phases / modes / successive roles of that one God in the story of salvation.The distinct “Son” doesn’t exist as a co-eternal hypostasis; “Son” is a title that really kicks in at incarnation.Eusebius of Caesarea and others accused him of:Denying the distinct individuality (hypostasis) of the Son, making Son and Father essentially the same “I” under different names.Modern scholars are split:Some see him as a genuine Sabellianizing theologian.Others (e.g., Sara Parvis, Joseph Lienhard) argue he’s a more complex, scripture-driven anti-Arian who ended up on the edge of later orthodoxy, not simply a crude modalist.Either way, from the vantage point of the later Cappadocian settlement (“one ousia, three hypostases”), Marcellus is out of bounds.4. Relationship to NicaeaThis is the fun bit: Marcellus is very important for how Nicaea was perceived.Some modern scholars (like R.P.C. Hanson, Lewis Ayres) argue that if you read the 325 Nicene Creed “at face value,” it sounds compatible with a one-hypostasis theology—like that of Marcellus and Eustathius of Antioch.The creed doesn’t clearly distinguish one ousia / three hypostases yet; that Cappadocian clarity comes later.So you get this picture:At Nicaea, Marcellus’ kind of theology helped win the day against Arius, emphasizing God’s unity and the full deity of Christ.After Nicaea, many Eastern bishops become nervous: the Nicene language seems to have no built-in protection against Marcellan “one-hypostasis” theology, which they considered too close to Sabellianism.That fear of Marcellus is actually one of the reasons the East pushes back on the Nicene formula for decades—until the Cappadocians re-interpret Nicaea in a three-hypostasis sense.5. Writings and what survivesMarcellus wrote a major work against the Arian theologian Asterius the Sophist. Most of it is lost, but we have fragments:They show him:Defending trinitarian monotheism.Emphasizing that terms like “Son,” “Image,” “Firstborn” apply to the Logos primarily in connection with creation and incarnation, not eternally.Modern studies on him:Sara Parvis, Marcellus of Ancyra and the Lost Years of the Arian Controversy 325–345.Joseph Lienhard, Contra Marcellum: Marcellus of Ancyra and Fourth-Century Theology.Those are the go-to academic treatments.6. How he compares to Trott (since you asked about that earlier)You can see some parallels:Both hate the idea of multiple independent “persons” in God that sound like three centers of self-consciousness.Both are suspicious of speculative metaphysics (eternal begetting, procession) not plainly laid out in Scripture.Both want to guard the monarchy of the one God very strongly.But:Marcellus makes the Trinity largely economic and temporary—God becomes triad in history and reverts to Monad at the end.Trott, by contrast, explicitly says God is eternally three (not just in time), yet refuses “three persons” and the whole Nicene-Cappadocian procession scheme.So Trott is like a weird modern cousin of Marcellus: sharing the “one hypostasis instinct” and anti-speculative posture, but trying to keep an eternal three-ness that Marcellus doesn’t really have.In sum: Marcellus of Ancyra is the 4th-century bishop who stands right on the fault line between Nicene anti-Arian zeal and Sabellianizing “one-hypostasis” theology. He’s crucial for understanding why Nicaea was both victorious and controversial, and he’s probably the closest ancient echo to the kind of instinct Trott shows—though the details don’t line up perfectly. ↩︎

1 comment:

Andy WDecember 17, 2025 at 6:15 PM
Thank you for this detailed and extensive article. I appreciate all the research you put into this, and the effort to write and share it.
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Wednesday, December 17, 2025

NICENE CREED AND OLD SCHOOL BAPTISTS (Santamaria)

OLD SCHOOL BAPTISTS & THE NICENE CREED

FOREWORD

Contents

THE NICENE CREED

1. What is the Nicene Creed?

Who went against the Nicene Creed?

2. Why was it written? The Arian controversy

3. Council of Nicaea (325): the first version

4. Constantinople (381): the expanded creed

5. Later development: the filioque and East–West friction

6. What the creed actually says, theologically

6.1. “We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth…”

6.2. “And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God…”

6.3. “And in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life…”

6.4. “In one holy catholic and apostolic Church…”

7. Who uses the Nicene Creed, and how?

8. Why it still matters

Were there any differences about what Ariuss believed?

1. What Arius actually said (in essence)

What was the perceived need for the Nicene Creed?

What Scripture Use To Defend His position?

1. “There was when he was not”: texts about “beginning” and “firstborn.”

Colossians 1:15

2. Texts that call the Son “begotten” and “made”

3. Subordination texts: “The Father is greater than I.”

4. “The Lord possessed/created me”: more on Wisdom Christology

5. Texts that emphasize agency and instrumentality

6. “Firstborn among many brothers” and exalted-but-created logic

7. Summing up Arius’ scriptural strategy

How Did the Pro Nicene Explain These Passages?

1. Proverbs 8:22 – “The LORD created/possessed me…”

Text/translation argument

Genre argument

Economy vs. eternity

2. Colossians 1:15 – “Firstborn of all creation.”

3. Psalm 2:7 – “Today I have begotten you.”

4. John 14:28 – “The Father is greater than I”

5. 1 Corinthians 15:27–28 – “Then the Son himself will be subjected…”

6. Mark 13:32 / Matthew 24:36 – “Nor the Son, but only the Father.”

7. 1 Corinthians 8:6 – “One God, the Father… and one Lord, Jesus Christ…”

8. Romans 8:29 – “Firstborn among many brothers”

9. Back to the big picture: how pro-Nicenes use these moves

Canon ruleYou interpret the tougher texts in light of the clearer ones that plainly ascribe full deity to the Son:

Worship rule

Essence vs. economy

Christ has two natures

Was there a lot of internal politics and backstabbing at and after the council?

1. Constantine’s agenda: theology in the service of imperial unity

2. Factions and tactical alliances inside Nicaea

3. Signing “with hand, not heart”

4. The real backstabbing: the years after Nicaea

5. Constantine and later emperors: theological flip-flopping

6. So… was there a lot of politics and backstabbing?

1. Immediate aftermath: brief Nicene high, very short

2. The counter-attack: exiling the Nicenes

3. After Constantine: emperors as theological weather

4. The theological trench warfare

5. The tide turns: Theodosius & Constantinople (381)

6. Church politics after Nicaea: still very human

7. Big-picture summary

Did any Chuch Fathers hold a View Similar To Trott’s View on God?

1. What is distinctive about Trott’s Trinitarian view?

2. Early church voices with similar instincts (but not identical)

a) The “one hypostasis” crowd – Marcellus[19] and friends

b) Sabellian/modalist streams

3. Post-Reformation oddballs and “biblicist” anti-speculation

4. So, did anybody hold views like Trott’s?

Why did some call Trott a Sabellian?

1. He openly rejected “three persons in the Godhead.”

2. He spoke very strongly of one divine “Person”

3. He rejected the Nicene machinery (eternal generation & procession)

4. His strong emphasis on the economic three-ness

5. So was he Sabellian?

6. The short answer in one line

Trott and Beebe’s View on the Triune God

a) The “one hypostasis” crowd – Marcellus^[19] and friends