Did Constantine corrupt the Council of Nicaea?

Did the Roman Emperor Constantine hijack Christianity? If you only know history from to TikTok or Youtube conspiracy channels, you’ve probably heard the claims: Constantine picked the books of the Bible, invented the Trinity, and at the Council of Nicaea in 325AD he forced bishops to vote Jesus into divinity. In other words, Constantine is behind Christianity as we know it, with politics triumphing over the truth, and erasing any trace of the genuine Christianity that came before.

Now that all makes for great clickbait, but there is zero evidence to support any of those claims. So let’s set the historical straight, starting with a simple timeline of key events leading up to Nicaea.

For the first few centuries after Jesus, Christians had not known imperial favour. Originally considered a sect of Judaism, Emperor Nero blamed the Christians for the Great Fire of Rome in 64AD, isolating Christianity as a unique religious movement, and launching the first state-sanctioned persecution of Christians, albeit local. The Apostles Peter and Paul were both martyred in Rome during Nero’s reign of terror. Thus Christians lost the protections afforded to the Jews as a legal religion, with Christianity now considered a new and illegal superstition.

Emperor Trajan’s response to Governor Pliny in 112 AD echoes this status, not calling for Christians to be hunted down, but advising that if they are caught, and refuse to recant, they should be punished, by exile or execution. This was the status quo faced by Christians in those early centuries, with localised threats prompting Christian apologists to make the case for Christianity to be respected by their pagan critics and persecutors. But despite the potential cost of following Jesus, Christianity continued to grow.

Fast forward 200 years and the tetrarchy of 4 Roman Emperors, masterminded by Diocletian, launch the first empire-wide attempt to snuff out Christianity. Known as the Great Persecution from 303 to 311AD, a series of 4 edicts called for the destruction of churches, banning of Scriptures, stripping of rights, and forced sacrifices to the gods and emperors, under pain of torture or threat of death. But despite Diocletian’s best efforts to reunify the Roman Empire through a pagan revival, the tetrarchy descended into civil wars.

Enter Constantine. Inheriting his father’s throne in 306AD, a pagan Constantine fought a series of battles against rival emperors. This culminated in a famous skirmish against the usurper Maxentius at the Milvian Bridge of Rome in 312AD. On the eve of battle, Constantine recounts receiving a divine vision, whereby he was told to conquer Maxentius’ forces in Christ’s name. He thus ordered his soldiers to paint the Chi-Ro symbol of early Christianity onto their shields and standards. Their subsequent victory saw Constantine rise to become the undisputed ruler of the Western empire.

Now some critics argue Constantine’s conversion was a political ruse, trying to leverage Christianity to help him rise to power and unify the empire. But scholars like Keith Hopkins and Rodney Stark, using demographic projections, estimate only 5 to 10 percent of the Roman Empire was Christian at the time. Some 3 to 6 million people. And those Christians had been marginalised from cultural power during the Great Persecution. So it seems more likely that Constantine’s vision, whatever that was, really did spark the beginnings of his conversion—a process that unfolded over a couple of decades—and that any ulterior political motives were genuinely mixed with a desire for true devotion. Whatever the truth of Constantine’s spiritual change, the situation for Christianity shifted dramatically with Constantine’s ascendency.

In 313AD, Constantine in the West and Licinius in the East convened to sign the Edict of Milan, decriminalising all religions, imbuing Christians with equal rights, and calling for the restitution of Church assets confiscated during the persecutions. But to bust a popular myth or misconception, Constantine did not enshrine Christianity as the state religion. That happened generations later with Emperor Theodosius in 380AD. Constantine did, however, begin to fund the building of new churches, and commissioned his mother Helena to honour sacred Christian sites in the Holy Land. Thus began a new era for Christians, defined by a strange marriage between Church and state; kingdom and empire.

So what about the council of Nicaea? Are any of the conspiracies true?

Prior to Constantine, an ecumenical council of bishops from across the empire seemed unthinkable. But with the change in Christianity’s status, and the Church’s growing role as a stabilising force, Nicaea was convened in response to a major disagreement that threatened to destabilise the Church: the Arian controversy. Is God the Son of one substance with the Father, and co-eternal? Or is Jesus a lesser being, created by God?

Arius, an influential priest from Alexandria, denied the Trinity and the true divinity of Christ. Arius believed that Jesus was a lesser creature of God the Creator, summed up in his famous slogan: “There was a time when He [the Son] was not.” But Arius’ popularity, and the spread of Arianism, led to fierce debates in the Church. So driven chiefly by a desire for empire-wide unity, and having learned how councils can be an effective tool for resolving division with the Donatist Controversy, Constantine convened the Council of Nicaea in 325AD.

Bishops travelled from around the empire. Reported estimates range from 250 to 318 in attendance. These were battle-hardened bishops, many of whom bore the scars of Diocletian’s Great Persecution, having refused to compromise their convictions for the sake of imperial appeasement. Theodoret described the council as an assembly of martyrs, with Scholasticus recounting that Constantine’s humility as he kissed their wounds in honour.

While Constantine presided over the opening sessions of Nicaea, urging the bishops to strive for unity, he did not dictate theology to the bishops, remaining silent or absent during the prolonged debates. To know what really happened at Nicaea we can study the primary sources: the Nicene Creed, the 20 Canons of Nicaea, and various letters. But by far our best ancient source for what happened over those 2 or so months comes from one bishop in attendance: Eusebius.

As the bishop of Caesarea, and a celebrated Church historian, Eusebius was originally sympathetic to some of Arius’ views. During the weeks of theological debate amongst bishops, however, Eusebius was persuaded of the orthodox teaching: that Christ is homoousious or of one substance with the Father, and that he is co-eternal, begotten, not made. After debates were heard, the council moved to carefully crafted the Nicene Creed, which was then signed by the overwhelming majority of bishops, including Eusebius, with only a handful of Arius’ closest supporters dissenting.

So let’s do a bit of myth-busting:

Did Constantine corrupt Christianity at Nicaea? No. He merely provided the safety and financial backing for Christian bishops to debate together what the Scriptures say about Jesus.

Did Constantine invent the Trinity? No. Tertullian had already used that word to capture the Bible’s teaching about God over a century before. Namely, that there is only one God. Yahweh. But that the Father, the Son, and the Spirit, while distinct, are all equally Yahweh. One being, three persons. One what. Three whos. And beyond those biblical components being testified to in hundreds of passages,  Scripture even includes explicitly trinitarian formulas with New Testament passages like the Great Commission in Matthew 28:19, or Paul’s benediction in 2 Corinthians 13:14. So no. Neither Constantine nor Rome invented the Trinity.

But what about the conspiracy theories about the books of the Bible? Did Constantine decide the Canon at Nicaea? Again, No! Which apostolic and first century books were considered divinely inspired was not even discussed at Nicaea. By this time, circa 250, in his Homily on Joshua 7.1, Origen of Alexandria had already listed the 27 books of the New Testament, or as he called them, Apostolic Trumpets. These are the same 27 New Testament books affirmed by Athansius’ Pascal Letter of 367AD. But none of the 20 Canons of Nicaea make any reference to debates around Scripture. No if you read these primary sources, at Nicaea, beyond the creed, the bishops sought to offer judgement on a range of practical matters. Like not to appoint priests who castrated themselves; as they might not be psychologically fit to interpret Scripture and shepherd God’s people. Why new converts shouldn’t be rushed into ministry. How to appeal an excommunication if you feel the bishop has an unjust personal vendetta against you. And how priests should be above reproach in who they choose as housemates. All very benign, wise advice, albeit sometimes strange to our ears removed from the theological controversies of their context.

Long story short, Constantine didn’t corrupt Christianity at Nicaea. Even if Constantine did have sinister motives, with empire-defiant bishops, forged through the fires of persecution, they would hardly have malleable convictions. No the Nicene Creed is a beautiful crystallisation of God and the gospel, all entirely defensible from the New Testament Scriptures to be the Church’s unifying doctrine. But Constantine’s conversion, and Christianity’s newfound political favour, certainly raised a new set of challenges. How would a Church that had been purified through persecution now remain faithful to Jesus when given privilege, prosperity, and power? That question, no doubt, is the topic for a video of its own.