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Telegraph
22-06-2025
- General
- Telegraph
The anniversary of the Nicene Creed offers us an opportunity to reflect
Every Sunday, in churches across the country, worshippers stand to affirm that they believe in 'one God, the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.' For many, these words are as familiar as the Lord's Prayer – part of the shared rhythm of worship and memory that shapes Christian life across generations. They are found in the Book of Common Prayer and in the contemporary language of services like Common Worship. They have been translated into nearly every language, and set to music by William Byrd, John Merbecke, and countless others. They echo in the cadences of Cathedral Choirs and the steady voice of Radio 4's Sunday Worship. Yet their roots lie far deeper, in an extraordinary moment of theological clarity 1,700 years ago. The Nicene Creed – as it is still commonly known – emerged from the Council of Nicaea in AD 325, the first gathering of Christian bishops from across the Roman Empire. It was a defining act of unity for a faith newly emerging from persecution and grappling with questions of identity. Was Jesus fully divine, or somehow less than God? The answer, forged through prayer, argument and no small courage, was clear and emphatic: Jesus Christ is 'God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God … of one Being with the Father'. The words mattered then, and they matter still. The Creed was later expanded at the Council of Constantinople in 381 to take fuller account of the Holy Spirit. This revised text – the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed, to give it its full title – remains the most widely recognised summary of Christian faith in the world today. Recited by Roman Catholics, Orthodox Christians, Anglicans and many Protestant churches alike, it remains a touchstone of what it means to be part of the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church. What's remarkable is that these ancient words have not only endured, but remained instantly recognisable. That's due in part to the continuity of liturgical tradition, but also to something less tangible – a kind of collective memory. We know them not just in our minds, but in our whole being. For many, they inhabit the same world as the worn pages of a prayer book, the scent of wood polish on pews, or the familiar strains of a well-loved hymn. Different versions exist, with small variations of language – but the core text remains the same. For many, the Nicene Creed is inseparable from the melodies to which it has been sung. It has become part of the fabric of our ecclesial and cultural memory – words held in the heart, even if we've not paused to reflect on them for years. And yet – as with all things familiar – there is a risk we stop hearing what we are saying. The words of the Creed can become a well-worn path our minds wander along, rather than a statement that stirs our hearts or arrests our thinking. That's why, in this 1,700th anniversary year, we have an opportunity. A moment to pause, to listen afresh, and to reflect on the extraordinary depth and beauty of what the Creed has to say to us about God. The Nicene Creed is not a list of abstract propositions. It is a living confession of faith, hope and love. It tells the story of a world created in love, broken by sin, and redeemed through the self-giving of God in Christ. It speaks of incarnation, of suffering, of resurrection and of eternal hope. It tells us not only who God is, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, but also who we are: people formed for relationship, for worship, for belonging. That's why this anniversary year presents such a valuable opportunity to revisit the Nicene Creed with fresh attention. One way churches and individuals are doing this is through a new set of reflections published by the Church of England, which take the Creed line by line as a prompt for prayer and theological reflection. Whether used in parish groups or private devotion, they offer a gentle invitation to sit with familiar words and explore their depth anew. In an age where public discourse can often seem thin and fragmented, the Creed offers a depth of meaning that holds firm. It does not reduce faith to sentiment or certainty, nor does it shy away from mystery. Instead, it offers a robust yet gracious framework for belief: a faith shared, inherited, and spoken together. Amid the dissonance of modern life the Creed does not offer easy answers. Instead, it provides a deep and steady orientation, a way of seeing ourselves and our world held within the story of God's enduring faithfulness. The words of the Nicene Creed have been said by emperors and exiles, in grand cathedrals and tiny chapels, in moments of triumph and of suffering. As we mark 1,700 years since they were first agreed, we have the chance not only to remember them – but to recover them. To let these ancient words speak again, and to rediscover the faith that lies at their heart.
Yahoo
24-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Sacred Mysteries: After 1700 years, Nicaea is still worth celebrating
I was wondering whether to pay a visit to Nicaea (now Iznik, in Turkey) for the 1700th anniversary of a momentous event there, but I was a bit put off by its not having a railway station. Luckily the good fathers who gathered there in 325 were not so easily deterred. I suppose they travelled by horse, mule or foot from Constantinople, though a ship would have helped across the Sea of Marmara, or the Propontis as it was then known. Worth celebrating now is that the bishops at the Council of Nicaea decided that Jesus Christ the Son of God is as much God as is God the Father. He wasn't just of a similar substance or being; he was of the same substance or being – 'God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God, begotten, not made'. That looks like the belief of the author of St John's Gospel, though the doctrine may not be easy to apply to a person who was also born and died, and, as Christians believed, rose again. The doctrine was important since, if Jesus was not fully human and fully divine, he would have been incapable of achieving atonement between God and humanity. We should have been left crushed by sin and death, unable to enter the gates of heaven. Since mankind has an unquenchable appetite for the infinite, we'd be in the most tragic of positions. The religious party that wanted the bishops at Nicaea to regard the Son of God only as a creature like us were followers of Arius, an influential priest born in the 250s. An anniversary issue on Nicaea has been printed by Communio (a learned theological journal founded in 1972 by Hans Urs von Balthasar, Henri de Lubac and Joseph Ratzinger, who became Pope Benedict XVI). In it, David M Gwynn considers how much Arius taught the errors attributed to him and how much his opponent St Athanasius should be regarded as the champion of orthodoxy. Dr Gwynn is reader in Ancient and Late Antique History at Royal Holloway in the University of London. Athanasius, he points out, was only a young priest of about 30 when he attended the council as assistant to Alexander, the patriarch of Alexandria. But he suggests that Athanasius might have drafted Alexander's circular letter denouncing Arius. Dr Gwynn writes that the teaching of Arius could not be called heresy then, as 'there were no established orthodox answers to resolve the questions under discussion'. Perhaps not, but if it contradicted points of doctrine held by Christians, it could have been seen as false. Dr Gwynn quotes a summary by Athanasius of the doctrines of the Arians. 'Not always was the Son, for he was not until he was begotten… He is not proper to the essence of the Father, for he is a creature and a thing made… The Son does not know the Father exactly… He is not unchangeable, like the Father, but is changeable by nature, like the creatures.' Dr Gwynn finds all these assertions in Arius's writings except for the last, for Athanasius's opponents repeatedly insisted that the Son was 'unchangeable and set apart from all other creatures'. I don't know that this got the associates of Arius out of trouble. To be sure, being created is not being changed, since there was nothing to be changed from. But creation adds a new thing to the world of creatures, all susceptible to change. And to class the Son as a creature, even if set apart, distinguishes him from God in a way fatal to human salvation. Anyway Dr Gwynn argues that over-simplifying Athanasius's story 'understates the scale of his contribution in defining and securing the orthodox faith'. I certainly wouldn't want that either. Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
Telegraph
24-05-2025
- General
- Telegraph
Sacred Mysteries: After 1700 years, Nicaea is still worth celebrating
I was wondering whether to pay a visit to Nicaea (now Iznik, in Turkey) for the 1700th anniversary of a momentous event there, but I was a bit put off by its not having a railway station. Luckily the good fathers who gathered there in 325 were not so easily deterred. I suppose they travelled by horse, mule or foot from Constantinople, though a ship would have helped across the Sea of Marmara, or the Propontis as it was then known. Worth celebrating now is that the bishops at the Council of Nicaea decided that Jesus Christ the Son of God is as much God as is God the Father. He wasn't just of a similar substance or being; he was of the same substance or being – 'God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God, begotten, not made'. That looks like the belief of the author of St John's Gospel, though the doctrine may not be easy to apply to a person who was also born and died, and, as Christians believed, rose again. The doctrine was important since, if Jesus was not fully human and fully divine, he would have been incapable of achieving atonement between God and humanity. We should have been left crushed by sin and death, unable to enter the gates of heaven. Since mankind has an unquenchable appetite for the infinite, we'd be in the most tragic of positions. The religious party that wanted the bishops at Nicaea to regard the Son of God only as a creature like us were followers of Arius, an influential priest born in the 250s. An anniversary issue on Nicaea has been printed by Communio (a learned theological journal founded in 1972 by Hans Urs von Balthasar, Henri de Lubac and Joseph Ratzinger, who became Pope Benedict XVI). In it, David M Gwynn considers how much Arius taught the errors attributed to him and how much his opponent St Athanasius should be regarded as the champion of orthodoxy. Dr Gwynn is reader in Ancient and Late Antique History at Royal Holloway in the University of London. Athanasius, he points out, was only a young priest of about 30 when he attended the council as assistant to Alexander, the patriarch of Alexandria. But he suggests that Athanasius might have drafted Alexander's circular letter denouncing Arius. Dr Gwynn writes that the teaching of Arius could not be called heresy then, as 'there were no established orthodox answers to resolve the questions under discussion'. Perhaps not, but if it contradicted points of doctrine held by Christians, it could have been seen as false. Dr Gwynn quotes a summary by Athanasius of the doctrines of the Arians. 'Not always was the Son, for he was not until he was begotten… He is not proper to the essence of the Father, for he is a creature and a thing made… The Son does not know the Father exactly… He is not unchangeable, like the Father, but is changeable by nature, like the creatures.' Dr Gwynn finds all these assertions in Arius's writings except for the last, for Athanasius's opponents repeatedly insisted that the Son was 'unchangeable and set apart from all other creatures'. I don't know that this got the associates of Arius out of trouble. To be sure, being created is not being changed, since there was nothing to be changed from. But creation adds a new thing to the world of creatures, all susceptible to change. And to class the Son as a creature, even if set apart, distinguishes him from God in a way fatal to human salvation. Anyway Dr Gwynn argues that over-simplifying Athanasius's story 'understates the scale of his contribution in defining and securing the orthodox faith'. I certainly wouldn't want that either.
