Why Celebrate Nicaea?

by Richard Clutterbuck.

When I invite a Methodist congregation – usually in a service of Holy Communion – to recite the Nicene Creed with me, there’s often a sense of surprise. It’s as if this is a strange and eccentric thing to do in an act of worship. So, we might not expect Methodists to be in the forefront of the celebrations for this year’s 1700th anniversary of the Council of Nicaea. What does it matter that 318 (according to legend) bishops and their assistants assembled in a corner of the Eastern Roman Empire to thrash out a formula for teaching Christian doctrine? As a student once said to me in an Early Christian Doctrine class, “Why bother, these people are all dead, aren’t they?”

I do need to acknowledge that the historic creeds (the Nicene Creed and the Apostles’ Creed) have had a mixed reception in Methodism. Its more evangelical members might think that the councils and creeds are unnecessary; after all, we have the Bible, so what more do we need? Liberals, on the other hand, may find the idea of councils too controlling and creeds too restrictive; “don’t let anyone tell me what to believe!” John Wesley, as so often, sends a mixed message. He was always a staunch defender of the basic tenets of the Nicene Creed, such as the doctrine of the Trinity, in spite of their many contemporary critics. On the other hand, Wesley omitted the Nicene Creed from the communion service in his version of the Book of Common Prayer, edited for the newly-independent Methodist Church in the USA.

So, why should we celebrate Nicaea? I could suggest a number of reasons. One would be our solidarity with other Christians, past and present, what Jurgen Moltmann called ‘the ecumenism of time’. Another might be the conciliar method of bringing together Christians with different points of view to find a common understanding – something that, at its best, Methodism has done with its conferences. But asked to give just one reason, I would say this: Nicaea gives us an answer to the question, why bother with Jesus? The creed of the Council of Nicaea is shorter than the version we commonly recite as the Nicene Creed (it’s rather light on the Holy Spirit) but it shares the same emphasis on the drama of God’s action in creation and salvation. Jesus, the person who walked the lanes of Judea, taught in synagogues,  gathered disciples, performed miracles, suffered and died at the hands of religious and imperial powers, and (so his followers believed) rose from the dead, is one with the God who created the universe and works for its salvation.

“We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, maker of all things, visible and invisible;
And in one Lord. Jesus Christ, the Son of God…”

The clauses that follow make it clear that not only has everything that exists come into being through God’s creative care, that same God’s saving love for humanity finds its expression in the Father’s Son, Jesus Christ. Famously, Nicaea introduced the word homoousion (of the same substance) to talk up the unity between the Father and the Son, and to refute the claim of Arius (an influential priest in Alexandria) that Jesus was part of creation rather than one with the creator.

If that seems a strange point of view to us, it’s surely because the European Enlightenment sparked a series of attempts to get behind the councils and creeds to a ‘real Jesus’ who could be recovered from their theological formulae. So, the nineteenth-century gave us the ‘Jesus of History’ movement, with multiple attempts to write the life of Jesus, usually with an emphasis on his ethical teaching and example. More recently, the ‘Jesus Seminar’ painted a picture of Jesus as the wandering prophet, a thorn in the side of the powerful. While these movements have given us a lot that’s helpful and challenging, they don’t give us a reason for putting our faith in Jesus, making him the centre of our belief and worship as well as the inspiration for our practice. It’s this that Nicaea does, admittedly in the language of its day, but nonetheless as a genuine call to faith and affirmation of salvation.[i]

What we teach still matters. We might look for different language from that of Nicaea, but we can still share in its faith.


[i] It wouldn’t be right to claim her as a supporter of my point of view, but I am deeply indebted to one of my fellow-contributors to Theology Everywhere, Frances Young, who is taking a leading part in some of the celebrations of Nicaea this year. Her two recent volumes on Scripture the Genesis of Doctrine (Eerdmans 2023, 2024) shed fresh light on the early church and the complex relationship between the Bible and Christian teaching. In particular, Frances emphasises the importance of teaching in early Christianity. The early church, she says, often looked more like a school for learning than a traditional religion. What you believed really mattered; it wasn’t just a matter of fulfilling the right rituals. This teaching, she tells us, both depended on a dense and creative reading of scripture and developed its own lens for interpreting the Bible. See, also her “A Song for Nicaea” in the bulletin of the Methodist Sacramental Fellowship.

3 thoughts on “Why Celebrate Nicaea?”

  1. Thank you Richard for encouraging me to re-visit the Nicene Creed this morning.

    I am reading a Lent Book The whole Easter Story – Why the Cross is good news for all creation this year. The lines We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, ……. Through him all things were made. chimes with the overall theme of the book and has added to my pondering on the daily readings

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  2. I Wilson in his ‘Jesus the Evidence’ (1984) quotes Frances Young from her article, ‘A Cloud of Witnesses’ in this quote: “The sheer futility of the Nicene Council and all others that set out to provide a formula for Christianity has been beautifully expressed by Frances Young: ‘There are as many different responses to Jesus Christ as there are different fingerprints …. To reduce any living faith to a set of definitions and propositions one is bound to distort it. Attempts to produce creeds are inevitably divisive or compromising….. What we need is not new creeds, but a new openness which will allow manifold ways of responding and elucidating that response.'”

    We forget that at the end of the original Nicene Creed came a list of anathemas against those who could not sign up to the creed. The creed was designed to exclude all those who thought differently. It is still used in that way by some clerics and some churches and some Christian organisations today. “You are not one of us, unless you can sign up to this set of beliefs.” One of the oldest Christian doctrines is the unknowability of God; He is far above our understanding. Trying to encompass God within definitions is to try to reduce him to a size we feel that we can grasp. Our beliefs are always inadequate attempts to describe our relationship with God. What is important is the quality of our relationship with God and how that becomes manifest through our relationships with others and through the way we live our lives.

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  3. From the age of about 6 I would, if not exactly recite the creed, certainly be able to say it without looking at the text much. I say, ‘the creed’ and ‘it’ because although I think I was aware of the names ‘Nicene’ and ‘Apostles” and indeed I think I would have ‘recited’ the appropriate one based on the opening, it was simple ‘the creed’ in my mind.

    ‘The Creed’ has therefore always been liturgical for me, rather than ‘a basis of faith’, although of course I knew Credo means ‘I believe’ and the content was about shared believe. I had not come across Moltmann’s ‘the ecumenism of time’, but I strongly relate to that.

    I have known for some time (probably not as a six year old) that there were controversies around the Creeds, e.g. the Filioque clause. I was also aware of the ‘politics’ and coercion surrounding the original formulations and that some openly opposed and suffered whilst others pretty much ignored. However, as a Liberal (“don’t let anyone tell me what to believe!”, or rather, ‘don’t require anyone to have to believe literally the same as your orthodoxy’), I have not really had a problem with what I might not take literally to be true.

    It is only very recently (I am now sixty) that I even realised many liberal Christians have very serious problems saying the (a) Creed. For example, it would never have occurred to me to say, ‘came down from heaven’ or ‘ascended’ means I have to believe in a cosmology with the heavens above the earth or even more that ‘descended’ means I have to believe in a literal ‘Hell’ which is beneath the earth. ‘Being of one substance’ I find a helpful phrase to engage with a truth that cannot be literally explained; but would never have considered it a phrase to define the nature of the relationship between the first and second persons of the Trinity, which I must believe. In using male pronouns when reciting the creed publicly it never occurred to me that I was asserting (only) masculine characteristics to the divine.

    I am inclined to maintain my liturgical and broad stroke ‘ecumenism of time’ shared believe view of the creed, but I do worry a little that my readiness to recite the creed might be implying I believe things that I do not believe.

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