STUDIA  PATRISTICA

VOL. XCV

Papers presented at the Seventeenth International Conference

on Patristic Studies held
in Oxford 2015

Edited by
MARKUS VINZENT

Volume 21:
The Fourth Century
Cappadocian Writers

PEETERS
LEUVEN – PARIS – BRISTOL, CT
2017
 Arius Conservativus?
The Question of Arius’ Theological Belonging*

Vladimir Latinovic, University of Tübingen, Germany

Abstract
This article provides a brief overview of the scholarship on the questions of Arius’
theological belonging. The main thesis of the article is that Arius himself was not an
innovator but rather a conservative (traditionalist) and that as such, in contrast to Alexan-
der and Athanasius (who are identified as innovators), he belonged to the older Alexan-
drian theological tradition. This interpretation might offer a potential solution for some
so far unresolved questions, such as the question of the rapid spread of Arianism.

Ingemuit totus orbis, et Arianum se esse miratus est1 – ‘the whole world groaned
and was amazed to find itself Arian’. These are the words that Jerome used to
describe the situation at the Council of Rimini, which took place in 360 A.D.,
approximately forty two years after the so-called ‘Arian controversy’2 had
begun and twenty five years after the council of Nicaea began to establish
homoousios as a fixed norm of Orthodox Christology. In terms of the time
normally required for the spread of such a large and global movement like
Arianism, these are both remarkably short periods. The main question that will
be addressed in this article is how it was possible for this ‘heresy’ to extend
itself through the entire known world so quickly and so widely.3
What makes this question even more intriguing is that, if we are to believe
modern church historians, ‘Arianism’, in the sense of a homogeneous move-
ment, never actually existed.4 This assertion is based mainly on the fact that

*  This article represents an expanded version of a chapter of my doctoral dissertation ‘Chris-

tologie und Kommunion: Entstehung der homoousianischen Christologie und ihre Auswirkungen
auf den Eucharistieempfang’, defended at the Catholic Theological Faculty of the University of
Tübingen in December 2014.
1
  Sophronius Eusebius Hieronymus, Altercatio Luciferiani et Orthodoxi 19 (CChr.SL 79b, 48).
2
  Hanson finds the notion of ‘Arian Controversy’ to be a ‘serious misnomer’. See Richard
P.C. Hanson, The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God (Edinburgh, 1997), xvii, xviii.
3
  In order to grasp how inexplicable this rapid and wide-ranging spread truly was, we need
to be reminded that we are dealing with the fourth century, a time in which there was obviously
no global media sources, no social networking websites and finally, no spam emails.
4
  See for example a very interesting lecture on this topic by Hanns Christof Brennecke with
the title ‘“Arianismus” Inszenierungen eines Konstrukts’, Erlanger Universitätsreden 83/3 (Erlan-
gen, 2014).

Studia Patristica XCV, 27-41.

© Peeters Publishers, 2017.
28 V. Latinovic

there was so very little homogeneity between the different groups labelled as
‘Arian’ and that practically none of the individuals involved with them wanted
to be labelled as follower of Arius. Naturally, such reluctance was also con-
nected with the fact that at that time the label was mainly employed with rather
negative connotations, primarily as an abusive tag which the Nicenes applied
to most of their adversaries5 and as a curse-word used for all who rejected
their Christological teachings. Alexander provides a good example when, in his
Epistola Encyclica, he describes Arius as πρόδρομος τοῦ ἀντιχρίστου6 – a fore-
runner of the Antichrist.7 As for the ‘Arians’ as a collective group, Alexander
describes them as πονηρευομένων σύνοδος8 – a gang of evildoers. His pupil
Athanasius continued to employ similar vocabulary9 and in some cases actually
went a step further by using some even more extreme (and admittedly more
original) epithets such as Ἀρειομανίται10 – the Ario-maniacs. Also other
Nicene theologians followed this pattern and accused Arians of being were
beguiled by the subtlety of the devil,11 suggesting that they are more impious
than demons,12 and are blasphemers against Christ.13 In such writings, Arius is
portrayed as presumably the first heretic in history to be compared to none less
than Judas Iscariot.14
Unfortunately, none of these colourful titles assist us in resolving the ques-
tion of who Arius really was. They actually make this whole question much
more intriguing, because if someone was so vehemently hated, he must surely
have been quite a remarkable personality and hence deserves greater and con-
tinued attention. Because of this, let us explore what we know about Arius and
his belonging.

The question of belonging

Although Arianism was without doubt a fiction, Arius himself did indeed
exist, which is unfortunately one of the few things that we can say about him

5
  R.P.C. Hanson, Search (1997), 19.
6
  Alexander Alexandrinus, Epistula encyclica 3 (Opitz 3.1.1, 7).
7
  This seems a rather extreme wording for a fellow Christian whose only fault lay in his sup-
port for a different type of Christology.
8
  Alex. Al., Epistula ad Alexandrum Thessalonicensem 36 (Opitz 3.1.1, 25).
9
  The evidence does suggest that Athanasius was one of the most pugnacious theologians in
the entire history of the church which is probably one of the main reasons why he nonetheless
managed to achieve so much in circumstances that were so often against him.
10
  Athanasius Alexandrinus, De synodis Armini in Italia et Seleuciae in Isauria 13, 2 (Opitz 2.1,
240), 41, 1 (Opitz 2.1, 266), 54, 1 (Opitz 2.1, 277).
11
  See Socrates Scholasticus, Historia ecclesiastica 1, 9, 21 (GCS 1. n.F., 32).
12
  Alex. Al., Epistula ad Alexandrum Thessalonicensem 43 (Opitz 3.1.1, 26).
13
  Ibid.
14
  See Archer Taylor, ‘The Judas Curse’, American Journal of Philology 42 (1921), 234-52, 244.
 Arius Conservativus? The Question of Arius’ Theological Belonging 29

with the absolute certainty. We also know that he was born around 256 A.D.
and that his origins lay somewhere in what is now coastal Libya.15 As for his
writings, only a (presumably small) portion of his Thalia and three of his letters
have survived16 – not a great deal to start with.17 Because of this serious
absence of information and primary writings, the question of Arius’ theological
belonging becomes so important: if we might be able to discern with greater
accuracy which school or tradition he belonged to, we would perhaps be better
able to understand his motives and in doing so place his teachings within a
more historically accurate and broader context.
Due to its importance, this question has received a great deal of attention
from several patristic scholars in the past. Unfortunately, there is little universal
agreement with regard to their answers: almost all of them assign Arius to a
different theological or philosophical tradition. Stead, for example, thought that
Arius was a Middle-18 or Neo-Platonist,19 based on the fact that ‘in this
period the influence of Plato was predominant everywhere’20 but also because
Arius used some typically platonic teachings, such as the idea of ‘pre-temporal
time’.21 In contrast to Stead some earlier authors such as Loofs and Newman
believed that Arius was clearly under the influence of Aristotelianism.22 This
assertion was based on the fact that Arius used Aristotelian concepts, e.g. the
concept of ἀγενησία.23 This theory concerning Arius’ Aristotelian roots, of
course, first appeared long before the time of Loofs and Newman, and can be
found already in Jerome, who argued that Arianism et argumentationum rivos
de Aristotelis fontibus mutuatur24 – borrows the streams of its arguments from
the springs of Aristotle. To add to this already extensive list, Gregg and Groh
offered detailed theories concerning the concept of a distinctive Arian soteriol-
ogy (and actually demonstrated the existence of such in the first place) which

15
  This is confirmed not only through the testimony of Epiphanius, see Epiphanius Constan-
tiensis, Panarion/Adversus haereses 69, 1, 2 (GCS 37, 152), but also through the huge support
which Arius enjoyed in this area, see Rowan Williams, Arius: Heresy and Tradition (Grand Rapids
and Cambridge, 2001), 29-30.
16
  Constantine also mentions another letter that did not survive. See Epiphanius, Panarion 69,
9 (GCS 37, 159-60).
17
  Hanson sees this as a proof that Arius was not such a significant figure at his time. See
R.P.C. Hanson, Search (1997), xvii.
18
  See Christopher Stead, ‘The Platonism of Arius’, JTS 15 (1964), 16-31 and R. Williams, Arius
(2001), 3.
19
  See C. Stead, ‘Was Arius a Neoplatonist?’, SP 32 (1997), 39-52.
20
  C. Stead, ‘The Platonism’ (1964), 17.
21
  See also R.P.C. Hanson, Search (1997), 86.
22
  See Friedrich Loofs, ‘Arianismus’, in Albert Hauck (ed.), Realencyklopädie für protestan-
tische Theologie und Kirche (Leipzig, 1897), 6-45, 10; and John Henry Newman, The Arians of
the Fourth Century, 7th ed. (London, 1890), 29.
23
  They also suggested that Arius’ argumentation shows clear signs of sophist methodology
often used by Aristotelians.
24
  See Hieronymus Stridonensis, Dialogus contra Luciferanos 11 (PL 23, 174).
30 V. Latinovic

led them to propose that Arius was inspired and influenced by Stoicism, sug-
gesting that ‘an acquaintance with Stoic philosophy lay behind the soteriology
of Arianism’.25
As for the question of Arius’ theological belonging, here we also have a
plethora of divergent opinions. Lorenz for example, in his renowned book
‘Arius judaizans?: Untersuchungen zur dogmengeschichtlichen Einordnung
des Arius’ asserted that Arius was under the influence of Judaic groups in
Alexandria and that he theologically belonged to the circle of Origenists.26
Eduard Watts assigned Arius to the Alexandrian school27 and again Newman,
as well as Pollard were certain that he belonged to the Antiochian theological
tradition.28 One of course needs to speculate as to where Arius himself might
have placed his own theological ideas. According to one sentence from
Epiphanius’ Adversus haereses, he considered himself to be a Lucianist29 but
alas this is also disputed by modern scholarship (e.g. Williams).30
Now, unless we are to accept that all of these theories are simultaneously
correct and by doing so pronounce Arius to be possibly the most versatile
theologian in the whole of history, it seems that the question of Arius’ theo-
logical and philosophical belonging, in spite of its treatment by able scholars
in the past, is worth taking up again. Furthermore, it is worth returning to this
question because I believe that in shedding some light upon it, we might equally
gain further clarity with regard to that aforementioned rapid spread and popu-
larity of Arius’ ideas (even if ‘Arianism’ as a formal movement never did
exist). However, before exploring that specific question further, I wish to offer
some additional considerations with regard to Arius’ theological belonging.
When it comes to Christology the core question in relation to Arius’ theological
belonging comes down to whether he belonged to the so-called Alexandrian or
the Antiochian ‘school’. Of course, before even raising this question, one needs
to address the issue of the very existence of these ‘schools’. Modern scholar-
ship is at the very least sceptical and disputes that their existence can be based
on the ‘sharp distinctions drawn between the exegetical methods of the two
schools’,31 as older generations of scholars proposed. Furthermore, the traditional

25
  Robert C. Gregg and Dennis E. Groh, Early Arianism – A View of Salvation (London,
1981), 89.
26
  See Rudolf Lorenz, Arius judaizans? Untersuchungen zur dogmengeschichtlichen Einordnung
des Arius, Forschungen zur Kirchen- und Dogmengeschichte 31 (Göttingen, 1979), chapter 9.
27
  See Eduard Watts, City and School in Late Antique Athens and Alexandria (Berkeley and
Los Angeles, 1975), 173.
28
  See J.H. Newman, The Arians (1890), 27-9; and Thomas E. Pollard, ‘The Origins of Arianism’,
JTS 9 (1958), 103-11.
29
  See Epiph., haer. 69, 6, 7 (CGS 37, 157).
30
  See R. Williams, Arius (2001), 31.
31
  See John J. O’Keefe, ‘Christianizing Malachi: Fifth-Century Insights from Cyril of Alexan-
dria’, VC 50 (1996), 136-58, 138.
 Arius Conservativus? The Question of Arius’ Theological Belonging 31

distinction between ‘typology’ and ‘allegory’,32 as well as labelling Antiochene

exegesis as ‘historical’ and Alexandrian as ‘unhistorical’ is, in contemporary
theology, (rightfully) considered to be inadequate.33
Nonetheless, if we look at the patterns of development of Christology in
Alexandria and Antioch in Late Antiquity, it is at least very hard not to recog-
nize a clear dichotomy between the Christologies of these two cities as well as
to acknowledge a substantial unity on questions of Christology within each of
them. Nobody would for example dispute the fact that a high level of continuity
exists in the Christologies of Diodore of Tarsus, Theodore of Mopsuestia and
Theodoret of Cyrus on one hand and those of Alexander, Athanasius and Cyril
of Alexandria on the other. This same continuity is also perceptible in the
Christologies of some more extreme representatives of these traditions such as
Apollinaris,34 Eutyches and Dioscorus for the Alexandrian and Nestorius for
the Antiochian side. This continuity could suggest that while the above men-
tioned ‘schools’ did not exist in the sense of educational institutions sharing
one and the same exegetical method, they might have existed in the sense of
theologians (or lose groups of theologians) sharing the same or broadly similar
Christological views. A wider definition of the term ‘school’ used by art his-
torians perhaps helps explain my point here further:
Sometimes a group of artists works in the same style at the same time and place. Art
historians designate such a group as a school. ‘School’ does not mean an educational
institution. The term connotes only chronological, stylistic, and geographic similarity.35

If we apply this formula to Alexandrian and Antiochian ‘schools’ this would

not only explain above-mentioned similarities in Christology but, by the same
token, it would also provide sufficient room for the aforementioned diversity
in exegetical methods. Nevertheless, I intend to avoid using the term ‘school’
in this article to avert possible misunderstandings. As a viable alternative for

32
  See for example Charles Kannengiesser, ‘A Key for the Future of Patristics: The “Senses”
of Scripture’, in Paul M. Blowers et al. (eds), Dominico Eloquio – In Lordly Eloquence: Essays
on Patristic Exegesis in Honor of Robert L. Wilken (Grand Rapids, 2002), 90-106, 101-2.
33
  A valuable overview of the newer scholarship on this theme can be found in Elizabeth
A. Clark, Reading Renunciation: Ascetism and Scripture in Early Christianity (Princeton, 1999),
72-8. See also Frances Young, ‘The Rhetorical Schools and Their Influence on Patristic Exegesis’,
in R. Williams (ed.), The Making of Orthodoxy: Essays in Honour of Henry Chadwick (New
York, 1989), 182-99 and Donald Fairbairn, ‘Patristic Exegesis and Theology: The Cart and the
Horse’, Westminster Theological Journal 69 (2007), 1-19.
34
  History has largely concluded that Apollinaris indeed went too far with his ‘Logos-Sarx
Christology’ but the direction in which his thought proceeded was further down a pathway that
had already been set out upon by Athanasius. In this sense, we can see Apollinaris’ christology
as an extreme version of the (already extreme) christology of Athanasius.
35
  See Sharon Adams Poore (ed.), Fred S. Kleiner, Gardner’s Art through the Ages: A Global
History, 13th ed. (Boston, MA, 2008), 8.
32 V. Latinovic

this term, Adam M. Schor suggests ‘social networks’.36 Although this term
describes the lose connections between the individual members of these groups
in a satisfying way, and although methodologically social networks will with-
out doubt play a significant role in Patristic scholarship for some decades
to come,37 I still prefer the term ‘tradition’ because it better reflects the nature
of social relationships and characteristics of these groups.38
For the sake of argument, let us assume that these two theological ‘traditions’
did indeed exist. The question we need to ask next is to which of them Arius
belonged because there are valid reasons to assign him to either of them.
On one hand, he was born in Libya and was a presbyter in Alexandria, which
could ­suggest that he belonged to the Alexandrian ‘tradition’.39 On the other
hand, he probably studied under Lucian and unless he abandoned Lucian’s
theology (which he probably did not, because he prided himself on being his
disciple)40 we could just as easily assign him to the Antiochian ‘tradition’.
Another very important aspect that needs to be taken into consideration when
deciding where he belonged is that Arius was a theological adversary of Alex-
ander and Athanasius. If he indeed belonged to the Alexandrian tradition, this
would mean that Alexander and Athanasius did not, because their Christology
was completely divergent to his.
Before proposing a possible solution to this conundrum, it is necessary to
look at the difficulties that come with some widely established interpretations
of the aforementioned questions.

Difficulties with the classical interpretations

The classical explanation for the ‘Christological crisis’ of 4th century is that
Arius advocated an ‘easily recognised heresy in contrast to a known and uni-
versally recognised orthodoxy’.41 This heresy managed to spread widely, and
the ‘orthodox’ church was forced to combat it. After an extensive period of
time and significant resources invested in this goal, they ultimately managed to
defeat the ‘heretics’ and orthodoxy once again shone in its full light.
Now, besides being too simplistic, this explanation entails quite a few dif-
ficulties and actually leaves several important questions unanswered. I choose

36
  See Adam M. Schor, ‘Theodoret on the “School of Antioch”: A Network Approach’,
Journal of Early Christian Studies 15 (2007), 517-62, 527.
37
  See for example a very interesting project entitled ‘The Migration of Faith: Clerical Exile
in Late Antiquity’. Online at <http://www.hrionline.ac.uk/sites/clericalexile/> (last accessed:
01.02.2017).
38
  A future generation of patristic scholars who grew up with Facebook will probably find the
term ‘social networks’ much more acceptable.
39
  After all it is difficult to conceive of him playing such a significant role in Alexandria if he
had not belonged to its own theological milieu.
40
  See above note 29.
41
  R.P.C. Hanson, Search (1997), 95.
 Arius Conservativus? The Question of Arius’ Theological Belonging 33

to present these questions as separate theses in order for them to be more ­easily
distinguished and discussed on an individual basis:

1.  The question of authority

As one looks into the problem of the (rapid) spread of Arianism more deeply,
one of the first questions to emerge is: How was it possible for a small and
relatively insignificant presbyter from Alexandria like Arius, to lead so many
bright theologians astray and among them more than a few bishops,42 not to
mention several councils?43 Certain presbyters did indeed play quite a signifi-
cant role in Alexandria44 and could perhaps be compared to ‘coadjutor bishops’
that we have in some Christian churches today, but, their influence was limited
within the city itself. They had very little, if any, impact outside of it. Further-
more, as Arius probably did not write very much,45 his written corpus cannot
be offered as the key reason for his authority outside of the city and potential
source for the widespread of Arianism.
In fact, we have several instances in various documents from that time which
indicate that Arius possessed little if any authority outside Alexandria, even
among those who were charged with having been seduced by him and who
shared some or all of his doctrinal positions. For example, we see this in the
words of Eastern bishops gathered at the council of Antioch in 341 who stated:
ἡμεῖς οὔτε ἀκόλουθοι Ἀρείου γεγόναμεν (πῶς γὰρ ἐπίσκοποι ὄντες ἀκο­
λουθήσομεν πρεσβυτέρῳ;)46 – we are not the followers of Arius (for how
could we who are bishops follow a presbyter?). A similar example can be
found in the apology of two Western bishops, Palladius and Secundianus, who
at the council of Aquileia (381) defended themselves with the words: Arium
nec vidi, nec scio qui sit47 – ‘I have never seen Arius nor do I know who he is’,
and qui fuerit Arius ignoro, quid dixerit nescio48 – ‘I do not know who he was,
I am ignorant of what he said’.

42
  Arius himself details the list of Bishops that supported him. See Theodoretus Cyrrhensis,
Historia ecclesiastica, 1, 5, 2 (GCS 5. n.F., 26). Philostorgius also mentions some of them;
See Nicetas Choniates, Thesaurus orthodoxae fidei - Liber quintus 5, 7 (PG 139, 1367-8). In his
Letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia he even suggests that all of the bishops agree with him
except for Philogonius (of Antioch), Hellanicus (of Tripoli) and Macarius (of Jerusalem); see
R.P.C. Hanson, Search (1997), 139.
43
  The councils that restored Arius are: Synod of Bithynia (320), Synod of Caesarea (321/322),
First Synod of Tyre (335) and Synod of Nicomedia (327/328).
44
  About the role of presbyters in Alexandria see Christopher Haas, ‘The Arians of Alexandria’,
VC 47 (1993), 234-45.
45
  See above note 16.
46
  August Hahn and Ludwig Hahn (eds.), Bibliothek der Symbole and Glaubensregeln der
Alten Kirche, 3rd ed. (Hildesheim, 1962), 183.
47
  Ambrosius Mediolanensis, Gesta episcoporum Aquileiae adversum haereticos Arrianos 14
(CSEL 82.3, 334).
48
  Ibid. 66 (CSEL 82, 364).
34 V. Latinovic

If we look further at these statements from Palladius and Secundianus,

another (sub)question emerges: how can someone even be called an ‘Arian’ if
he has never heard anything about Arius or his teachings? Allegedly Marx,
talking about Marxism in France, once said to Lafargue: ‘ce qu’il y a de certain
c’est que moi, je ne suis pas Marxiste’49 – ‘what is certain is that I myself am
not a Marxist’. Could this also be applied on those who were accused that they
were ‘Arian’ but did not consider themselves to be such or perhaps even on the
Arius himself?50

2.  The question of the rapid spread of Arianism

This finally brings us back to the question introduced at the outset: how
was it possible for Arianism to spread so rapidly? Without repeating earlier
reflections, allow me to observe here that many Arius scholars have also asked
themselves this very same question.51 Newman for example writes:
So much I take for granted on starting; and then the question follows, which is my
proper subject. If the case is as I have stated it, how came it about, that in the face of
a tradition of doctrine so strong and so clear, Arianism had such sudden, rapid, and
wide-spread successes?52

If we consider that even Christianity in toto took four centuries or more to

be accepted in all of the distant corners of the Roman Empire, it becomes even
more difficult to explain how Arianism supposedly managed to do the same
within just a few decades.

3.  The question of the extraordinary geographical reach of Arian ideas

In close relation to the previous question,53 another issue arises, viz. the
extraordinary geographical reach of Arian ideas. In the classical interpretation
of Arianism. This perceived ‘heresy’ supposedly started out as a very local
phenomenon, but its ideas were soon accepted by a wide population throughout
the entire known world.54 That neighbouring Palestine and Syria were affected
is somewhat understandable (although Lienhard for example finds even this to

49
  Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, Werke 35 (Berlin, 1985), 388.
50
  After all, the same question has been raised with regard to other perceived heretics. Kyle
for example asks whether Nestorius himself was Nestorian, Richard Kyle, ‘Nestorius: The Partial
Rehabilitation of a Heretic’, Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 32 (1989), 73-83.
51
  See for example R.C. Gregg and D.E. Groh, Early Arianism (1981), ix.
52
  J.H. Newman, Tracts Theological and Ecclesiastical, The Works of Cardinal Newman 37
(Westminster, 1974), 163.
53
  These two questions are distinct because the first addressed was the speed of ‘Arianism’s’ spread
in terms of time and the second question addresses the diversity and range of its geographical
reach.
54
  See Epiph., haer. 69, 2, 1 (CGS 37, 153).
 Arius Conservativus? The Question of Arius’ Theological Belonging 35

be difficult to explain),55 but the fact that ‘Arianism’ succeeded in planting

itself among the inhabitants of Spain, southern France, and even among the
wild Gothic tribes is perplexing. What exactly made ‘Arianism’ to be so widely
acceptable across such differing context?
This contextual variety might, of course be explained with a fusion of ‘Arian’
low Christology combined with what has been called a ‘naïve’ soteriology.56
Such a fusion could have given this ‘heresy’ a broad appeal amongst the so-called
‘common peoples’ mainly because they were able to understand and relate to
these doctrinal interpretations in contrast to the more philosophically complex
Nicene Christology, but, it remains nonetheless difficult to explain how a local
Alexandrian teaching could found fertile ground in so many different cultural
and social settings. If we examine the pattern of other ‘heresies’ before and
after Arianism, we are unable to find anything similar to its success. Other
‘heresies’ remained mostly local phenomena and only rarely did some managed
to find appeal beyond their home soil.57 What was so different about Arianism
to warrant its unique success and universal appeal?

4.  The question of origins

Modern church historians often emphasize the fact that ‘Arians’ as such did
not constitute a monolithic bloc and that not only did they lack a common
Christology, but those labelled with this name expressed diverse teachings on
many other matters, too. The scholarship usually accounts for such diversity
between different ‘Arian’ groups by presuming that the diverse ideas all origi-
nated from the teachings of Arius himself, which subsequently evolved and
developed certain idiosyncratic specifics as they were disseminated among his
followers.58 But, as already mentioned, it is very hard to prove the connection
of any of these groups or individuals to Arius both historically or theologically.
Again, Christianity in toto can, itself, again, here serve as an excellent paral-
lel: today we have several hundred different Christian denominations and for

55
  See Joseph T. Lienhard, ‘The “Arian” Controversy: Some Categories Reconsidered’, Theo-
logical Studies 48 (1987), 415-37, 415.
56
  Assuming that such existed, which, according to Gregg and Groh, it did. See R.C. Gregg
and D.E. Groh, Early Arianism (1981).
57
  Exiles played quite a significant role in the spread of ‘heresies’. In most cases, such teachings
would remain a local phenomenon unless their originators were exiled by the authorities. Yet the
same can be said for key examples of what became ‘orthodox’ doctrinal interpretations. The best
example is that of the teachings of Athanasius who, during his periods in exile, managed to create
excellent contacts both with the Western church as with the emerging monastic communities.
58
  One of the rare exceptions can be found in Markus Vinzent, Asterius von Kappadokien, Die
Theologischen Fragmente, SVC 20 (Leiden, New York, Köln, 1993), where the author assumes that
Arius took his theological arguments from Asterius (p. 12) and describes him as ‘Vordenker des
Arius’. I am not persuaded that Asterius had such a profound influence on Arius, bit since I am no
expert on Asterius and because of the reasons of space I will restrain myself from further comments.
36 V. Latinovic

each we can point to a period in time by which they had significantly diverged
from the presumed original corpus of beliefs, teachings and practices. But for
Arianism we can do no such thing – au contraire – we have evidence for the
existence of separate ‘Arian’ factions right from the beginning of the entire
supposed conflict over his teachings. Arius, in the best case scenario, could
be taken as representative of but one of these factions but we have absolutely
no indication that he really started this teaching and even less evidence that
‘Arianism’ emerged and evolved directly from his teachings.59

5.  The question of non-reception

In 325 A.D., when the doctrine of homoousios was introduced at the Coun-
cil of Nicaea, only a very few bishops, at most, really believed in it and under-
stood it in a uniform way.60 As Hanson notes: ‘For nearly twenty years after
Nicaea nobody mentions homoousios, not even Athanasius’61 – it took over
fifty years until Nicene theology was widely accepted.62 The key question that
one needs to ask with regard to this is the following: if this teaching was indeed
compatible with the teachings of the pre-Nicene ‘church fathers’ why was it nec-
essary to fight such a long time for the acceptance of this teaching? Resistance
against the adoption of homousian Christology in some Western Roman prov-
inces such as Spain, lasted all until the seventh century!63
There are, of course, other examples that conciliar teachings or even entire
councils were not received and their decisions not implemented, e.g. the second
council of Ephesus (449 A.D.). But, in this particular case, the non-reception
was linked to the unexpected death of emperor Theodosius II who commenced
the council. After his death the new emperor Markian (and of course Pulcheria
who was the éminence grise behind everything) changed the course of action.64

59
  Athanasius himself saw Arius as the originator of this teaching but not as an original one,
because he claimed that Arius copied his theology from Asterius or, at least, learned from him.
See M. Vinzent, Asterius von Kappadokien (1993), 22.
60
  A good illustration of such is the letter that Eusebius of Caesarea wrote to the people of his
diocese. See Eusebius Caesariensis, Epistula ad ecclesiam Caesariensem (Opitz 3.1.2, 42-7).
61
  R.P.C. Hanson, Search (1997), 170.
62
  Of course, one should not stick the ‘Nicene’ tradition to the term ‘homoousios’. But this
term is convenient to describe the sum of new, non-subordinationist theologies, that emerged from
teachings of Alexander and Athanasius. Anatolios in his book Retreiving Nicaea more precisely
distinguishes between ‘homoousians’, ‘homoiousians’ and ‘heteroousians’ (which would in our
case be subordinationists). See Khaled Anatolios, Retreiving Nicaea, The Development and Meaning
of Trinitarian Doctrine (Grand Rapids, 2011), 21. This is of course a more suitable and more
precise terminology, but regardless of terminology the point is, that it took certain time before
this new teaching was implemented.
63
  See e.g. Concilium Toletanum VIII, can. 8 (Mansi 10, 1218).
64
  For more about this see Wilhelm de Vries, ‘Das Konzil von Ephesus 449, eine “Räuber-
synode”?’, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 41 (1975), 357-98.
 Arius Conservativus? The Question of Arius’ Theological Belonging 37

But, in the case of Arius, not only did the emperor Constantine not die but in
fact he himself changed his attitude towards Arius, rehabilitated him only two
years after the council of Nicaea had ended (in winter 327 A.D.) – allowing
him to return to Alexandria.65
Before I attempt to offer some tentative answers to these knotty questions,
let me first try to propose how a tool from modern theology might be useful in
our search for such answers.

The relationship between orthodoxy and heresy

In his famous book Rechtgläubigkeit und Ketzerei im ältesten Christentum,66

Walter Bauer proposed a very interesting theory that ‘in earliest Christianity,
orthodoxy and heresy do not stand in relation to one another as primary to sec-
ondary, but, in many regions heresy is the original manifestation of Christianity’.67
This theory needs to be tested in relation to the specific case of Arianism.68
If one looks at the situation in theology prior to the 4th century and throughout
its early years one will notice that, with regard to the Son’s nature and his relation-
ship to the Father, every trinitarian theology and consequently Christology was
subordinationist.69 As Hanson argues: ‘With the exception of Athanasius virtually

65
  See Norman H. Baynes, ‘Athanasiana’, The Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 11 (1925),
58-61.
66
  In English translation, Walter Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity, ed. by
Robert A. Kraft and Gerhard Krodel, 2nd ed. (Philadelphia, 1971).
67
  W. Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy (1971), xi.
68
  It needs to be mentioned here that the discussion about orthodoxy and heresy has since Bauer
moved on a lot. For the reception and development of this discussion see Daniel J. Harrington,
‘The Reception of Walter Bauer’s “Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity” during the Last
Decade’, The Harvard Theological Review 73 (1980), 289-98; Thomas A. Robinson, The Bauer
Thesis Examined: The Geography of Heresy in the Early Christian Church (Lewiston, 1988);
Andreas J. Köstenberger and Michael J. Kruger, The Heresy of Orthodoxy: How Contemporary
Culture’s Fascination with Diversity Has Reshaped Our Understanding of Early Christianity
­(Nottingham, 2010); Paul A. Hartog (ed.), Orthodoxy and Heresy in Early Christian Contexts:
Reconsidering the Bauer Thesis (Eugene, 2015). Judging by the sheer number of studies that dis-
cuss Bauer thesis, his ideas about orthodoxy and heresy are far from being dead. Even if they are
today not accepted in the form in which he suggested them, they without doubt influenced theo-
logical thought after him. For the way in which this occurred see Susan Ashbrook Harvey and
David G. Hunter (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies (New York, 2008), 69-71.
69
  Of course, one could point to the fact that some early Roman bishops never thought in terms
of subordinationism, but instead maintained a monarchic belief, see e.g. Markus Vinzent, ‘From
Zephyrinus to Damasus – What did Roman Bishops Believe?’, SP 63 (2013), 273-86. While I
agree that the mornarchianism of some Roman bishops was indeed non-subordinationist, I am not
quite persuaded that their theology was truly Trinitarian, especially not the one of Zephyrinus.
Together with Hippolytus (Refutatio 9, 7), I find him to be a modalist, in which case we cannot
really talk about the equality of persons but instead of modality of one and the same nature.
Hübner apparently also agrees with this when for Zephyrinus’ belief in the full deity of Christ he
38 V. Latinovic

every theologian, East and West, accepted some form of subordinationism at

least up to the year 355; subordinationism might indeed, until the denouement
of the controversy, have been described as accepted orthodoxy’.70 I attempted
to verify this thesis by examining pre-Nicene Christologies and the result indeed
confirmed that subordinationism was prevalent in most of the cases71 – with one
notable exception: two passages in writings of Clement of Alexandria.
In chapter ten of his Protrepticus, where Clement speaks about the rewards
for seeking the life with God he states that the Son is ὁ τῷ δεσπότῃ τῶν ὅλων
ἐξισωθείς72 – made equal to the Lord of the universe. Although the form
‘ἐξισωθείς’ that he employs here recognizes the Son’s equality with the Father,
it also implies that the he was not always equal but that he was instead made
such. A similar statement can also be found in one of the fragments of his
Comments on the First Epistle of John, where he actually uses the phrase
aequalitatem substantiae,73 which could even be translated as ὁμοούσιος.74
These two small hints at the existence of a non-subordinationist Christology in
Clement’s writings could suggest that Alexandria was the homeland of this new
teaching.75 This would also explain why the entire controversy began in Alex-
andria and during Arius’ period because a certain period of time would be
required for this new Christology to develop and grow.

points out: ‘Niemals hätte er so definieren können, wenn seine Glaubenstradition ein trinitarisches
Bekenntnis gekannt hätte’, Reinhard M. Hübner, Der paradox Eine, SVC 50 (Leiden, Boston,
Köln, 1999), XV.
70
  R.P.C. Hanson, Search (1997), xix. Similar quote can be found on the page 287.
71
  For some examples of subordinationism in the writings of orthodox authors see: Ignatius
Antiochenus, Epistula ad Magnesios 13, 2 (SC 10, 90); (Pseudo-)Clemens, Epistula secunda ad
Corinthios 1, 1 (Schriften des Urchristentums 2, 238), Iustinus Martyr, Apologia I pro Christianis
13, 3-4 (SC 507, 160, 162); 63, 15 (SC 507, 298); Irenaeus Lugdunensis, Adversus haereses 1, 10,
1 (SC 264, 154-6); Tertullianus, Apologeticum 21, 13-4 (CChr.SL 1, 124f); id., Adversus Praxean
2, 1 (CChr.SL 2, 1160); 4, 1 (CChr.SL 2, 1162); 5, 2 (CChr.SL 2, 1163); 9, 2 (CChr.SL 2, 1168);
26, 6 (CChr.SL 2, 1197); id., Adversus Hermogenem 3 (CChr.SL 1, 398-340); Novatianus, De
Trinitate 27, 12 (CChr.SL 4, 65); 31, 5 (CCSL 4, 76); Hippolytus Romanus, Contra Noetum 11,
1 (Biblioteca patristica 35, 172). Simonetti goes as far as to find ‘una punta di subordina­zionismo’
even in the early theology of Alexander of Alexandria. See Manlio Simonetti, La crisi ariana nel
IV secolo (Rome, 1975), 58.
72
  Clemens Alexandrinus, Protrepticus 10, 110, 1 (GCS 12, 78).
73
  Clemens Alexandrinus, Fragmentum in epistula Iohannis prima 1 (GCS 17, 210)
74
  The question as to which particular Latin expression at that time was the correct translation
of homoousios is rather complicated and several studies have grappled with it to date. See for
example Pier Franco Beatrice, ‘The Word “Homoousios” from Hellenism to Christianity’, Church
History 71 (2002), 243-72; James F. Bethune-Baker, The Meaning of Homoousios in the ‘Con-
stantinopolitan’ Creed, Texts and Studies. Contributions to Biblical and Patristic Literature 7.1
(Nendeln, Liechtenstein, 1967); Christopher Stead, Divine Substance (Oxford, 1977), 190-223.
75
  Interestingly his successors at the Alexandrian ‘school’ all held subordinationist views.
See e.g. Origenes, Commentarii in Iohannem, 2, 72 (SC 120, 252). If we are to believe one of the
Basil’s statements, also Origen’s successor in the Alexandrin ‘school’, Dionysius of Alexandria
was subordinationist: Basilius Caesariensis, Epistula 9, 2 (Les Belles Lettres 132, 38).
 Arius Conservativus? The Question of Arius’ Theological Belonging 39

When we examine different theological positions of this period it becomes

clear that Arius himself had clearly followed this subordinationist pattern and
‘objected to the application of homoousios to the Son on the ground that it
represented the Son as equal to the Father, to whom in fact nothing can be
equal’,76 while Nicene Christology did not. If this truly is the case, and my
research has clearly supported the contention that it is, then the question
emerges as to why scholarship today continues to view Arianism as a novelty.
Indeed, given the foregoing, should we not actually consider it to be a tradi-
tional teaching? And, if so, should Arius, himself, not be seen rather as a
conservative (instead of ‘progressive’ or ‘innovative’) theologian?
If we again take a moment to consider the way that Arius identifies himself,
we actually find several statements where he stresses that all he does is follow
the faith of the (fore)fathers (ἡ πίστις ἡμῶν ἡ ἐκ προγόνων)77 and in which
he claims to be a successor of their teachings.78 A quotation from one of his
works illustrates this point very well:
κατὰ πίστιν ἐκλεκτῶν Θεοῦ, συνετῶν <τε> θεοῦ, παίδων ἁγίων, ὀρθοτόμων, ἅγιον
θεοῦ πνεῦμα λαβόντων, τάδε <πάντ᾽> ἔμαθον ἔγωγ᾽ ὑπὸ τῶν σοφίας μετεχόντων,
ἀστείων, θε<ι>οδιδάκτων, κατὰ πάντα σοφῶν τε. τούτων 26.21 κατ᾽ ἴχνος ἦλθον
ἐγὼ βαίνων ὁμοδόξως ὁ περικλυτός, ὁ πολλὰ παθὼν διὰ τὴν θεοῦ δόξαν, ὑπό τε
θεοῦ μαθὼν σοφίαν καὶ γνῶσιν ἐγὼ ἔγνω.79
According to the faith of God’s elect, God’s prudent ones, holy children, rightly dividing,
God’s Holy Spirit receiving, have I learned from the partakers of wisdom, accomplished
divinely taught, and wise in all things. Along their track have I been walking, with like
opinions, I the very famous, the much suffering for God’s glory; and thought of God,
I have acquired wisdom and knowledge.80

Naturally, Nicene theologians disputed such assumptions, and it was obvi-

ously in their best interests to do so. But, what if this statement of Arius indi-
cates how he really saw himself and not (just) some form of a self-promotion?
Could it be that he indeed ‘walked along the track’ of his theological predeces-
sors and that he was a true representative of traditional Alexandrian theology
and that Alexander and Athanasius were not? Such a contention is supported
by Hanson’s assertion that ‘it would be unwise to regard Alexander as repro-
ducing official Alexandrian theology and that the very fact that he is so much
influenced by Origen precludes this conclusion’,81 and the aforementioned
fact that both Alexander and Athanasius were not subordinationists in itself

76
  Christopher Stead, Divine Substance (1977), 197.
77
 Arius, Epistula ad Alexandrum Alexandrinum 2 (Opitz 3.1, 12).
78
  See another similar quote at: Socr., h.e. 1, 26, 2 (CGS 1. n.F., 74).
79
 Arius, Thalia, in Ath., Oratio I contra Arianos 5 (Opitz 1.1.2, 113).
80
  Trans. John H. Newman, Select Treatises of St. Athanasius in Controversy with the Arians
(London, 1977), 159.
81
  R.P.C. Hanson, Search (1997), 144.
40 V. Latinovic

disproves their continuity with pre-Nicene Christology. Indeed, there are several
other factors that support this claim, which, for reasons of space, cannot be
detailed here.82

Conclusion and possible solutions

Given all of the above mentioned considerations, we are obliged to come to the
conclusion that the truly novel doctrinal interpretation was an introduction of
the Nicene Christology and that Arius’ teachings should be taken as traditional.
If we apply this assertion to the question of Arius’ belonging, we could
postulate that Arius as a traditionalist belonged to the older Alexandrian tradi-
tion while Alexander and Athanasius were innovators. This would not only
elucidate the difference between these diverse Christologies, but would also
explain how it was possible for Arius to play such a significant role in Alexan­
dria and enjoy the support of the bishops of the neighbouring provinces while
yet holding to a different Christology to his own bishop(s). This would also
explain why so many modern theologians identified his theology as Antiochian.83
Finally, if we accept Arius as traditionalist we would also be able to provide
satisfactory answers to each of the questions raised above:

1.  The question of authority

Bishops did not so much ‘follow’ Arius’s teachings as share the subordination-
ist Christology with him. This Christology belonged to an era long before Arius.

2.  The question of the rapid spread of Arianism

It was not necessary for Arianism to spread at all because it was already
present all around in the form of ‘subordinationism’.84 This would also explain
why those who were accused of being Arians did not accept this designation.
In fact, it would take until the middle of the 4th century before any subordina-
tionists in the East would first hear that they were being called ‘Arians’ by
theologians in the West.85

82
  I develop this topic much wider in my doctoral dissertation. See p. 27 footnote *.
83
  It is possible that the conservative Alexandrian and Antiochian circles had more in common,
before the two traditions separated completely on the question of the number of Christ’s natures.
The more time passed the more polarised these two traditions were.
84
  Again, the vast majority of bishops and theologians of his time were subordinationist. See
for example Roger E. Olson, The Story of Christian Theology: Twenty Centuries of Tradition &
Reform (Downers Grove, 1999), 149.
85
  See Leslie William Barnard, ‘Pope Julius, Marcellus of Ancyra and the Council of Sardica.
A Reconsideration’, Recherches de Théologie Ancienne et Médiévale 38 (1971), 69-79. See also
similar testimonies of the participants of Council of Antioch cited above at page 33.
 Arius Conservativus? The Question of Arius’ Theological Belonging 41

3.  The question of the extraordinary geographical reach of the Arian ideas
Arius’ teachings were not a local occurrence to begin with, but a widespread
global teaching (i.e. orthodox faith). In my opinion a modification of the fol-
lowing judgment from Williams’ is therefore necessary: ‘Arians thought of
themselves naturally enough as Catholics, or more accurately the very wide
spectrum of non Nicene believers thought of themselves as mainstream Chris-
tians and regarded Athanasius and his allies as isolated extremist’.86 We need
to replace ‘they thought of themselves’ with ‘they were’. They were not making
deluded presumptions but simply reflected the factual status of what was (still)
mainstream and orthodox Christological teaching and belief at that time.

4.  The question of origins

Arians did not constitute a monolithic bloc precisely because those widely
held beliefs did not originate from Arius’ teachings but from pre-Nicene
subordinationism. Arius was not the originator of this teaching but a mere
representative. He may have shaped this teaching slightly in opposition to the
novelty of the positions of Alexander and Athanasius but he did not develop it
so extensively that it could legitimately be called ‘his’ teaching. Williams once
more appears to be correct – to a certain extent – when he states that ‘Arianism
as a coherent system founded by a single great figure and sustained by his
disciples is a fantasy, – more exactly, a fantasy based on the polemic of Nicene
writers, above all Athanasius’.87
The problem of such a view is that it might well suggest that Athanasius was
a manipulator. But what if Athanasius called all of his adversaries ‘Arian’ for
a good reason? What if the label ‘Arian’, for him, actually meant ‘subordina-
tionist’? That would justify the usage of this label for all the different groups
who shared a subordinationist Christology in common.

5.  The question of non-reception

Last but not least: the doctrine of the council of Nicaea could not be received
in so many places because it was a novelty and as with any new teaching it
would take significant time before it would be accepted more widely. This means
that the so-called ‘fight against Arianism’ was actually a fight for the reception
of the Nicene theology.

86
  R. Williams, Arius (2001), 82.
87
  Ibid. 82.