One Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church: How Christianity Became Exclusive

The strange irony of Christendom from the time of Constantine to the philosophers of the late 19^th century is that its very name simultaneously recollects the man that lived as a lowly carpenter – a servant of servants – and also conjures up associations of incredible power, forced homogeneity, and fatal judgment. It carries the weight of the connotation of the Crusades, witch hunts, Spanish conquistadors' massacres, and hundreds of seemingly-senseless holy wars and conflicts. Particularly in our increasingly secularizing culture, where the emphasis of spirituality is on the individual and their relation to the divine – or whatever else exists – many people are repulsed by the very idea of Christianity because of the reputation it has amassed. 

But its 21^st-century urban American reputation is hardly the vision of the early believers, nor quite the intention of founders of Christendom. The roots of the Christian religion are in the hands of a small group of students and their students who were called to faith despite being an overwhelming minority, despite being persecuted and torture, despite the costs of conversion. Their teachings were those that insisted, to the contrary of all cultural precedent, that there was “neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female” because of their newfound faith in Christ. They took in those excluded by others: the widows, the orphans, the poor. Although modern-day Christians tend to idealize these early times they read about in their scriptures, the historical transformation of Christianity from an inclusive entity to an infamously exclusive one remains, to many people, an enigma.

The line between inclusion and exclusion can be hard to find in the abstract, because it was in the Church's very attempt to be inclusive in the first two hundred years after Jesus' death – to be the universal Church – that it became most exclusive. By examining the cultural and political milieu that birthed Christianity, its rapid growth and emergence as a dominant faith, and its politicization in the Roman empire, it becomes understandable how a faith with such humble origins became a vehicle for some of the most powerful exclusion that has ever existed.

In order to understand with precision the concepts discussed, it is necessary to offer the following definitions: firstly, exclusion. For the purposes of this discussion, there exists an important little difference between what I'll call exclusivity (or inclusivity) and exclusion (or inclusion): whereas exclusivity and inclusivity concern themselves with a set of standards toward qualifications generally having to do with ability or authority, exclusion and inclusivity derive their power from the authority they already posses. Exclusion occurs when an entity or group in power exerts its power over another group or entity in order to force homogeneity upon it, creating a culture in which only compliance with the established requirements for sufficient homogeneity is acceptable. Although certain labels might be exclusive in the first sense – for example, not everyone might call themselves a title as grand as Emperor, CEO, or Professor without having earned the title – they can, in theory, be completely inclusive in the second sense, allowing any individual, regardless of personal differences, to acquire the selective title if they desire to work toward achieving that goal. Obviously, there are many complicated factors involved in whether or not anything can be completely inclusive, but when large groups in power begin to require their beliefs of those not in power only for the sake of the difference between them, it is clear that the exclusion currently in discussion is comfortably in motion.

Another term that is relevant to this discussion is “heresy,” originating from the Greek word αἵρεσις (hairesis), which means “opinion.” It also referred to the the choice young people would make in deciding what opinion to hold. The word came to have a negative connotation when certain “opinions” were excluded by authorities from the orthodoxy, which was used interchangeably with “catholic.”

The word “catholic,” for this reason, came to be used to the point of uselessness by the Church, despite the specificity and fervor of its original selection. It comes from the Greek καθολικός, or katholikos, meaning “general,” or “universal." As it came to be used by the councils, the “holy catholic apostolic Church” was the most inclusive way they could think of defining the Church: in contrast from its Judaic roots, the Christian church actively sought out others, and as time went on, actively attempted to keep the churches connected to one another in a system of governance and accountability. The spectacular irony that the etymological roots of this word and its frequent use to describe an increasingly pedantic, dogmatic church became diametrically juxtaposed in the Early Church is potent reflection of the revolution it underwent: from a group of followers, to faithfuls, to fighters.

I. Diversity and Unity in the Early Church

The first-century Church had very deep roots in Judaism. Especially before most Gentile converts had been made, early believers did not consider themselves to be particularly distinct from the Jews - they had simply accepted the coming of the Messiah. They lived in a state of joy, coming together for communion on Sundays not to contemplate Jesus' sacrifice, but to celebrate with food and drink his resurrection and to await the new political age they believed they were about to enter. This church did not have nearly as strict a structure as it would come to need in the following centuries, because it was still small and new: the Twelve Apostles seem to have continued leading Christians. Peter, John, and James in particular seem to have gained a great deal of respect and authority, as evidenced by Paul's writing of them as “esteemed pillars” in Galatians 2:9, albeit without the same formalized authority of the later bishops and popes.

The political climate of the day simultaneously made it difficult for Christianity to thrive and catalyzed its spread by creating martyrs for this new group loudly expecting salvation from their oppressors in the near future. After the destruction of Jerusalem, which had the effect of scattering the Jews throughout the Empire, the Church quickly became dominated by Gentiles. Hellenistic movements had been causing substantial problems among Jewish authorities even before the advent of Christianity, and with the birth of this new religion that some believed was explicitly meant to include the Gentiles, it's more than understandable that there would be augmented conflict. From the time of the Council of Jerusalem (which was concerned with determining the status of Gentiles within the first-century church), there was conflict within the Hebrew community about what to do with the Gentiles. 

Meanwhile, Rome had its own issues with Christianity: Nero (54-68CE)'s famous persecution of the Christians during the Fire of Rome in the first century is a token example of the extremity of anti-Christian persecution, and Domitian (81-96)'s anti-Jewish policies hardly reflected a welcoming culture for the Church. Misunderstandings of Christianity were rampant, such that it was common and acceptable to say, as did the historian Tacitus, that Christians were “a class hated for their abominations” because of their so-called atheism and counter-cultural refusal to worship the Emperor. Although the young Church was granted a period of political peace after Domitian (whom many hated for his despotism and hunger for power), official attitudes flopped between a Don't-Ask-Don't-Tell type of complacency and outright efforts to get rid of adherents to a religion the culture of the time considered to be so idiotic. 

Marcus Aurelius (161-180) was an individual in the latter camp: although he was an intelligent, enlightened individual, he was put off by the Christians because of their “obstinacy.” This marked a different type of exclusion on the part of the emperor, when he decided to support the persecution of Christians in an attempt to uproot the new religion in favor of return to Classical pagan religions. It wasn't nearly as uninformed as previously: there were definite, rationally-motivated, informed philosophical reasons to think Christians were idiots – their stubbornness in refusing to comply with cultural practices, their irritating defiance in the face of authority, their tendency to stir up trouble and then be near-blissful about the whole affair. Because the Church began to face a primarily philosophical exclusion in the Second Century, a number of apologists rose up to defend the faith on the ground of their attackers.

Marcion (c.85-c.160CE), who is sometimes described as a Gnostic philosopher, became one of the first Christian teachers to be formally excommunicated by the Church (which refers to the body bishops that met on occasion to represent their congregations to one another). He rejected the entire Old Testament, replacing it with Christian writings being commonly used for teaching in the churches, thus birthing the concept of the New Testament. Yes – the man that first thought to put together the books of the New Testament (all of which were included in the later Canon) got excommunicated for heresy.

Justin Martyr and his disciple Tatian were among the first and most influential to argue that the Greek understanding of Logos – the universal reason that makes reality comprehensible – is the same Logos mentioned in John 1:1, and that classical philosophy is compatible with Christianity. This slow but steady narrowing of the gap between the methods of the respected intellectuals of the day and this controversial mutant sect of Judaism would become very important in the next hundred years, even though the gap certainly still existed during Justin's time – after all, he isn't called Martyr without reason.

With literally deadly levels of persecution still common in the Empire, it was necessary on pragmatic and relational levels to remain united as a group. The Early Church wasn't concerned with doctrine for moral accountability, the same way the Medieval Church was, but with being united as “one body” (1 Corinthians 12). Jesus' relational way of approaching the disciples in the Gospels and his emphasis on love and inclusion of all people (associating with the prostitutes and tax collectors, treating women in high esteem, welcoming children) provided a precedent of closeness that became important to Christians when they had to rely on one another for support.

In the Early Church, communion, and not preaching or scripture reading, was the central activity of Christian meeting. The advent of Protestantism has particularly slighted the modern American Christian's ability to deeply understand and appreciate communion the way the Early Church did, despite the huge amount of attention devoted to this group. To them, “communion joined them not only among themselves and with Jesus Christ, but also with their ancestors in the faith” (Gonzalez, 110). Gathering in the catacombs, where many recent martyrs for the faith were buried, granted a sense of connectedness to their fathers and mothers in their faith, who worshiped with them in heaven as they did on earth. They understood themselves to be assuming a much more literal union with one another and God when they gathered for communion than is usually taught today. Every new believing Gentile underwent a large amount of teaching and training (called the catechumenate) before their baptism to give them context for the faith. Keeping in mind also that Christianity still had the tight-knit, community-oriented Jewish way of thinking about each other in its very recent past, even this infamously inclusive group was fundamentally committed to unity.

II. Under Persecution: The Church Fathers

As Christian philosophies and theologies continued to develop to address the growing diversity of the church, Christian leaders came to the conclusion that it was necessary to exclude some opinions (making sense of the etymology of “heresy” discussed above - heresies were incorrect "opinions"). So many new people were being brought into the faith that a constant dialogue had to be upheld to prevent Christianity from devolving into another sect of paganism. By the end of the second century, an “in”-group, called the church (ἐκκλησία, or ecclesia) with distinct boundaries had been formed, presided over by the bishops of every church in Christendom. 

Although this was an act of definition, the character of the church had yet to become outrightly exclusive: the act of excommunication performed by this group of bishops was certainly important, but it was by no means life threatening or debilitating. (Marcion, for example, went on to start his whole own church with its own scriptures and bishops after being excommunicated.) What differentiates definition from exclusion, as discussed previously, is the source and direction of power in the excluding relationship. The definition of “ecclesia” was becoming increasingly firm and stringent, but that alone didn't give the church extraordinary amounts of power. A look at the lives and teachings of four of the most influential church fathers moving into the third century, it becomes clear that both social and political power were necessary for the Church to become a powerful exclusive entity.

Irenaeus (130-202 CE) was from Smyrna, in Asia Minor, although he later moved to Lyons, Gaul and became a bishop there. Although he authored an entire famous work called Against Heresies, he was not the kind of individual that would generally seek to be involved in argumentative controversies. More than philosophy, he was concerned with pastoring his church. He had been the disciple of the martyr Polycarp, who was himself known for such profound peace and virtue that Iraneus later writes that even his enemies “began to repent that they had come forth against so godly and venerable an old man." 

What made Iraneus distinct from the generation of his teachers was that he was one of a growing generation of Christians that had been raised in the church, a lifelong believer. Iraneus was one of the first influential teachers that had not converted from something else - his own teacher Polycarp was purportedly a disciple of John the apostle. The faith was still so young at the end of the third century that the concept of Christianity as a norm had not quite sunken into the culture. Irenaeus's faith and work, however, is a window into the development of the Church into its next phase. 

Here was a Christian who had been a Christian his whole life, writing about historical figures in the Church, developing much more rigid understandings of inspiration than had commonly been possible in the past. Whereas Marcion's cannon had rejected all Gospels but John, Irenaeus was able to claim for the first time in history that “it is not possible that the Gospels can be either more or fewer in number than they are.” He argued that there were definite, highly symbolic, inspirational reasons the Bible was to be set in stone the way it was. This kind of faith in an established Christianity would not have been possible by any means only a hundred years previously, because there was no collection of New Testament scriptures for which to claim divine inspiration. Without the self-assurance that the existence of an emerging canon granted, the Church would not have been able to grow into the strong institution it did in the next century.

Tertullian of Carthage (c.160-c.225), unlike the pastoral Irenaeus, was altogether more defiant and outspoken. He was a prominent polemic against heretics, and also very political. He spoke angrily against the “unjust sentence” Trajan had put in place (the same I previously likened to “Don't Ask, Don't Tell”). The argument in his famous work Prescription against the Heretics (where “Prescription” was both a legal term referring to a preemptive appeal that could be made to annul the trial and also a different legal term referring to a property of indisputable possession by one party over another) was very unlike that of earlier Christian attempts to approach the non-Christian world. Tertullian saw a definite, important, and near impenetrable divide between orthodox Christians and heretics. His aim was not to argue with the heretics or prove them wrong, but to prove that they had no right to dispute the church, because Scripture belonged to the Church (González, 89). His argument was the first to enter into legal terminology. Whereas almost all debate had previously been in terms of conversation, adherence to teaching, and holy living, Tertullian approached the rejection of heretics by saying that they had no legal right to believe what they did or to use the scriptures they did. He is famously remembered for saying that “there is nothing further to be believed nor anything else to be sought” after having understood Christian truth – no philosophy, no secular teaching, no appreciation of the great classical works. 

This is one of Christianity's major steps into exclusion: when the “other” became off-limits. Christianity was big enough by the 3rd century that it was possible to reject everything but the tradition that the Church had built up for itself. Ironically, he was eventually attracted by Montanism, a relatively strict heresy eventually condemned by the same Church he'd defended so polemically. To his merit, he was successful in hugely influencing Christianity - he left a mountain of theology, the first composed in Latin, which would become the foundation of all Western Christian theology.

Clement of Alexandria (c.150-c.215) was quite different from the famous polemic. He was a convert; keeping in mind this background, it is understandable that he was quite convinced that universal Christian Truth could be found in Plato just as it was in Christ. He had a very high view of Greek philosophy, even saying that it was a Gentile version of the Jewish Law. Both the Law and Platonist philosophy, he argues, lead people towards the ultimate truth revealed in Christ. He believed in the deeply complex, allegorical nature of Scripture, even going so far as to say that those who are content with merely the literal meaning are like children content with milk (perhaps recollecting 1 Cor. 3:2). Clement's theology was extremely Platonist, because of this hermeneutic. His God is the Ineffable, the Logos, only approachable through metaphor and negative terms. Even human language is capable of little more than pointing to a larger reality.

Clement's disciple Origen (184/5-253/4CE) had Clement's love for Christian Platonist philosophy in common, but not his religious background or personal character. Origen was a fiery character: prolific, passionate, bitter about his father's persecution. After spending several years teaching chatechumens, he founded and dedicated himself to teaching a very popular school of Christian philosophy modeled after that of the ancients. He was tortured and died as a result of the persecution of Decius, leaving behind a vast quantity of literature. Appropriately enough, he developed a very philosophically-inclined theology (named apocatastasis) in which all people are incarnations of platonic beings called “intellects,” as God was the greatest platonic ideal. Because he believed that the platonically-ideal God of love would reconcile all “intellects” to himself, including the devil, all creatures would be saved. And most crucially – since it would become profoundly relevant in the next hundred years of Church history – he also had a christology of subordination: that God created Christ as a First Creation and was not co-eternal with the father; that he was divine insofar as his creation into unity with the Father and was therefore able to live an exemplary life and be sacrificed in atonement for sin. Some go as far as to call him a Platonist with Christian tendencies, instead of the other way around. Surely enough, he was posthumously excommunicated for it a few hundred years after his death.

III. Martyrs to Apostates: Extra Ecclesiam

Though much of the activity of these Church Fathers happened during a time of relative armistice between Rome and Christendom, Rome decided to resume its persecution of Christians soon enough. Trajan's policy that Christians shouldn't be sought out, but only persecuted when failing to worship the gods and emperor in defiance lasted from its enactment in 112 CE until the advent of the emperor Septimius Severus in 193 CE. Septimius Severus had finally managed to end a series of civil wars in other areas of the empire and decided to promote harmony and internal cohesion throughout the empire by declaring that all subjects worship Sol invictus (the Unconquered Sun). When the Jews and Christians refused, Septimius Severus created another policy banning conversion to either religion, although not the religions themselves, since they were each gaining so much popularity around this time. And so there came the very public and messy executions of a few teenage converts in 203 CE, and for a generation after the end of Alexander Severus's reign in 235 CE, persecution subsided once again. There were enormous rates of conversion to Christianity from 235 to 249, and it gained much respect as it permeated the culture.

It must be kept in mind that through all of this Church history, a completely baffling and unexpected political history was also unfolding. In the third century, "barbarian" tribes' sackings of the distant states in the Empire started becoming serious enough that large amounts of energy was being devoted to maintaining and defending the borderlands. Because so much was happening in the Empire, attention was slowly being sucked out of Rome, emptying the city. The imperium sine fine seemed to be reaching its fine, and no one could entirely believe it. 

For the first time in hundreds of years, there was a conceivable boundary to the empire, which was shrinking with every year . The emperor Decius, freaked out beyond all belief by the impending doom of the greatest empire that ever existed, decided in what seemed to be a desperate last-shot effort that it was due to the Empire's lack of faith in the gods that it was declining. Christianity wasn't at all the issue, anymore - the problem wasn't some little fringe group stirring up trouble. The problem was that everyone needed to be unified in worshiping the gods, because their survival literally depended on it. With invaders sitting on his doorstep, Decius wasn't looking for martyrs. He wanted apostates. 

Christianity had spread so infectiously (according to Tertullian, in large part because of the martyrs that had been created, with thanks, by the Empire itself) that the only feasible solution would be to create strict laws against all that refused to sacrifice to the gods and burn incense before a statue of Decius. More than an act of piety, religious fervor, intellectual disgust, or cultural intolerance, religion had become a matter of social and political necessity. Any that failed to comply were committing a serious political offense.

Needless to say, it's more difficult to fall back on doctrines than to fall on a sword, and becoming a victim of Decius' persecution was a much greater offense than to be slaughtered in glory by previous emperors. A schism in history had been created as the faithful under pressure were either condemned as apostates or exalted as “confessors." A great amount of debate followed this persecution (after Decius's successor Valerian's capture in 260 CE) regarding the status of “lapsed” believers. A bishop named Cyprus fled during persecution, earning a reputation of cowardice, despite his attempts to assure his contemporaries that he did so in order that he might continue serving his church. In response to this controversy, Cyprus called a synod (a gathering of the area's bishops) to lay down policies on excommunication in regards to the weak of faith. Certain lapsed individuals – those who had never sacrificed to the pagan gods – would be immediately taken back into the church; those who had sacrificed, but were repentant would only be readmitted on their deathbeds; those who showed no repentance would never be readmitted. 

With this development, a whole new reality came into play: the idea that there was a hierarchy of holiness dependent on one's acts of holiness and that those that succeeded were not just holy, but also saved. The reason that it had become so important to Cyprus to define exactly when and how individuals would cross the line between the Church and the Apostate was that he understood salvation as impossible outside the church: extra ecclesiam nulla salus est. And if the Church was to remain a community of saints, those who had caved under pressure had no appropriate part to play. 

Particularly due to the influence of Tertullian, Cyprus and the Western contingent wrapped up in this debate – including Novatian, a bishop of even more stringent commitments than Cyprus – became increasingly harsh and hard-lined in regard to membership and exclusion. Even baptized members of the church could lose their salvation if they chose to leave, and once you had betrayed the church, it was extremely difficult to enter back in. This power, the power to revoke salvation, was unlike any the Church has wielded in the past. With a social climate that was both generally amicable towards Christians and dotted with unholy runaways, the steadily-growing Church had been delivered the perfect fertilizer for the cultivation of exclusion.

IV. The Christianization of the Empire

So things remained for the rest of the third century. Christianity continued to grow in influence and power during this time of peace, until even the emperor Diocletian's wife and daughter were Christians. Diocletian attempted to reorganize the empire such that it might regain some of its former prosperity, and he was successful. There were two sectors of the empire – the East and the West – and each had both an augustus (presiding emperor) and a caesar (junior emperor) that would take over for the augustus when he retired. Diocletian received news around 295 CE that Galerius, the Western augustus, was having issues with stubborn Christians refusing to join the military or leaving it once there. Because this was a serious pragmatic danger, Christianity earned itself a reputation for untrustworthiness in military ranks, until it had escalated to the point where it was being demanded that Christian Scriptures be confiscated and all Christians be denied and evicted from positions of authority.

At this time, Constantinus Chlorus was serving as caesar under Galerius, and when Diocletian was forced by Galerius to abdicate the throne upon becoming ill, he made himself and Constantinus Chlorus the new augusti. Constantinus Chlorus also soon became ill while in the fields with the troops and sent for his son, a young man named Constantine. By the time his father died, Constantine was so much more popular than Gallerius that the troops declared him as their new augustus. Diocletian, by this time, was happily retired and had no desire to reestablish the order Gallerius had lost. Eventually, a new augustus and caesars were put in place, but the order had slipped through Gallerius's fingers, and Constantine was hard at work making a good name for himself. When Gallerius died in 311 CE, the path was clear for him: Constantine easily gathered up his troops, marched into Rome, and declared war on Maxentius, the Roman Emperor at the time.

It was on this night that history was made: Constantine legendarily received the order in a dream to inscribe the Chi-Rho on the shields of every solider, for in hoc signo vinces: in this sign, you will conquer. And so he did. In the battle at Milvian bridge, Constantine became the first Christian emperor. By 313, he had signed the Edict of Milan, officially legalizing Christianity and paving the way towards for Rome to become the first Christian empire.

V. Dispute to Dogma: The Ecumenical Councils

The Edict of Milan obviously served as the opening of the floodgates. Because the Empire was now officially in favor of, and neither actively nor passively against, Christianity, some radical bishops saw fit to use their power to act violently against pagan religions. Even as early as 305 CE, the Council of Elvira in Spain decreed that if any people were killed in the destruction of pagan temples, that they were not to be counted among the martyrs. The culture completely changed as a result of Christianity's legalization: it was legal to own land for churches, there was no more persecution, bishops were exempt from taxes and military service. But it wasn't until the First Ecumenical Council – the one commonly referred to as the Council of Nicaea – that it became clear exactly what astronomical impact this shift would have on the Church.

There was a conflict that arose in the church in the years following the Edict of Milan between two leaders from Alexandria named Arius (who was a popular presbyter) and Alexander (who was a bishop). Arius held the popular, but increasingly controversial view that the Father and Son were not co-eternal, and that Jesus' distinct nature (in contrast to merely distinct personhood) is what allowed him to become an atoning sacrifice. This view harkens back all the way to Origen's teachings, but because of the increasing tension between Platonist and Tertullian theologies, this particular conflict managed to stir up an enormous amount of conflict. The implication of the respective theologies meant that because Arius was teaching that Christ was not God incarnate, but rather a divine man that obeyed the Father completely and reconciled humanity to him by his obedience, the entire foundation of the Christian faith was being put to the test. 

That having been said, Tertullian's teachings were rigid enough that Alexander, who claimed that it was his responsibility as a bishop to correct corrupted teachings of presbyters under his supervision, took it upon himself to publicly condemn Arius's teachings and depose him from all positions of authority instead of beginning a conversation. If Arius and his followers were influenced by Origen's Plato-poisoned blasphemy, it ought to have been condemned and dismissed immediately to purge the Church of false teaching. Arius, who believed, along with his followers, that their position was so simple that all it would take was a simple appeal to logic and an explanation to clear up the confusion, appealed to the citizens of Alexandria and a substantial number of prominent bishops. Obviously, there was no simple explanation or quick resolution to the debate, and eventually the conflict had escalated to such a point that there were people rioting in the streets and chanting Arius's theological claims.

This is the point at which Constantine inherited the empire, bouncing onto the scene after having been converted supposedly in a dream, about as well-informed about the state of affairs as an overexcited kindergartener on their first day of school. Constantine is a curious figure in the Church. He is often championed as one of the great heroes of the Christian faith, but, he never even converted away from paganism as he swallowed up Christianity. He remained the functioning High Priest of paganism until the very last years of his life, despite later becoming a Christian saint, and was never baptized until he reached his deathbed. The mood between Church and State was tabula rasa - it had yet to be established, so there was every reason for optimism. 

After hundreds of years of persecution, the Emperor was on their side. All the power that had been wielded against them was now available to work towards their advantage. So when Constantine's advisor, the bishop Hosius of Cordoba, came back with a very negative diagnosis of the situation and Constantine decided that this was a good excuse to call together a big council of all the bishops in Christendom, it seemed like a great idea. Such a huge meeting of bishops representing such an astronomical number of Christians had never been possible before. It seemed like a decisive victory.

The historian and polemicist Eusebius of Caesarea that was present at the Council describes an air in the room that the meeting was physical evidence of the universality of the Church: it was a profound “bond of peace” to see so many diverse members of the church called together in a “single house of prayer” (Eusebius, Chapter VII). The way it actually turned out was slightly anti-climactic.

Most of the East was alienated by the controversy because so much of the controversy was rooted in Tertullian teaching. The East didn't have the same intellectual climate, so they had little to say about the distinctly Alexandrian controversy. In fact, most of the men present didn't belong to any of the groups represented, whether Arian, Alexandrian, or any number of minority groups. There was a great deal of disappointment and concern that the moment persecution had finally come to an end, there was an internal conflict – a silly controversy – that threatened to split the Church in two. Tensions grew as time passed, and by the time Eusebius of Nicomedia, who was representing Arius (who was unable to attend due to his lack of status as a bishop), got up to speak, his audience had been thrown into a fit of rage. 

With screams that he was lying and blaspheming and that he was a heretic, the speech he had written was snatched from his hands as he talked, torn to shreds, and thrown on the ground to be trampled upon. Never matter the potential merits of the argument. Never matter the spirit of cohesion and peace with which they had come together, and the historical precedent of long, drawn-out conversations about theology that required attention more than urgent decisions. Never matter their commitments to unity or communal love. Theological unity mattered more.

At this meeting, after this blatantly exclusive treatment of the Arian “other,” the majority party in attendance drafted a document called the Nicene Creed, which is today read and recited by millions of churchgoing Christians worldwide. Specifically authored to exclude the Arians and Gnostics and other “heretical” views in an attempt to preserve orthodoxy, it started out – credo in unum deum patrem omnipotentem – with special attention to the fact that Jesus was begotten, not made and that the Son was most certainly God incarnate. Thus, the Church had established a measuring stick against which to measure all believers, to determine whether they were different enough to merit exclusion from community.

Whereas exclusion from community meant little more than a different social label three hundred years prior, Christianity had become the modus operandi, and being excluded from the Church meant exclusion from society. After the catholic church “anathematized” all those in disagreement, all the bishops were forced either to sign the document in agreement or be banished from their cities by Constantine. Constantine wasn't being particularly wrathful, but he was a Roman Emperor. His job was to keep the peace, and if it was in pragmatic interest to remove the problem, that's what had to happen. 

This one act had a monumental impact on the Church: it meant that a precedent had been established for the intervention of secular authorities in theological disputes, either to call councils or determine punishments for those on the losing side of the case. Eusebius found a way to return to Constantine and plead innocent again, using every kind of persuasive rhetoric he could muster to sway him. Constantine responded favorably to Eusebius's efforts, promptly decided not only that he'd been too harsh and regretted exiling the heretics, but that they were actually correct. Constantine soon after fell ill and was baptized on his deathbed by Eusebius of Nicodemia, the heretic returned from exile.

The history gets complicated after this - Constantine had three sons, one of which decided to become pro-Arian when the other two went to war with one another - he took over the Empire when the two warring emperors died. The Bishop of Rome ended up signing an Arian confession of faith, and the conflict surrounding these theologies never split the Eastern and Western churches until the 11th century. The impact of the very earliest Christian theologians and philosophers has continued to be felt throughout Christian history, even to the present day. It's difficult to speculate as to what the Crusades would have been without the influence of Tertullian, or what the Holy Wars would have been without the likes of Clement and Origen influencing the Renaissance. The Church of the first couple centuries sometimes seems unapproachable because of its temporal distance, but there are so many American Christians today that claim to be trying to go back to the roots of the faith that we might just see some of the same patterns reflected in our Churches that was present in theirs.

The Christian Church at large is probably one of the most incredible stories of inclusion and exclusion to be examined. It is the history of a faith rooted in the ever-warring, ethnocentric culture of the Hebrew states, but which revolves around a man celebrated for being and serving the lowest of the low. This basic narrative became a faith, the faith became dogma, the dogma became law, the law became exclusion, and then exclusion became the norm. It seems one of the most counter-intuitive paradoxes around today, but we live unaware and submersed in it daily. The original Christian message seems to be something calmer than polarizing, bigoted culture wars. For any that want to minimize exclusion, perhaps there is a glimmer of hope in the vision of a shepherd that would rather cradle the sheep in his arms than lead them to the slaughter, of the lion lying down with the lamb, and of all people - regardless of social division - united in one body forever.