Tag Archives: arianism

Race-ing Toward Nicea part 2: Constantine, DuBois, & Lynching

                                                                                                                                    Whither, Eusebius of Caesarea?

For part one see: Race-ing Towards Nicea part 1: The Incarnation

I am continuing to wrestle with Peter Leithart’s Defending Constantine: The Twilight of an Empire and the Dawn of Christendom. Simultaneously I am working through James Cone’s The Cross and the Lynching Tree and today I would like to present a potential inter-textual reading of both works.

In Defending Constantine (Chapter 10 “Justice For All”), Peter Leithart goes through the nitty gritty details of Constantine’s views on justice as well as his executive decisions when it came creating laws. Among some of his peculiarities was Constantine’s contention, much like Liberation Theology, that justice must be served to the oppressed. In those days, the Roman court system was oppressive and heavily biased towards the rich and powerful. Some of Constantine’s laws worked against this. In addition, Constantine outlawed crucifixions. The theological imagination for the secular philosopher/emperor Constantine was attracted to Christianity, and in that move, ended a murderous practice. However, Constantine still kept capital punishment itself around; Leithart just notes that Constantine just found more “creative” ways of executing criminals.

Torture and gory body-policing activities sponsored by the state such as the cutting off of thieves’ hands were acceptable Constantinian practices. Back then, these were social norms. It was expected that Constantine not to be able to transcend his cultural milieu. Like the Christian realists of the mid-20th century and even today, Constantine achieved what they would consider a “proximate justice.” The death penalty was such the norm back then that Constantine joked with Arius that the Emperor considered Arius and his fellow dissidents to be “gallows rogues,” or persons who found ways, time and again from being hung from the gallows ala Mordecai in the Book of Esther.

One interesting move that Leithart makes (as part of his larger Dominionist agenda in looking at the theological & social conservativism of the Global South) is to point out the African context from which the Donatist and Arian cotnroversies arose. In both instances, Christian bishops INVITED Emperor Constantine to help resolve these disputes. In the case of the Donatists, property rights were at stake. Radical Libyan Christians who took an uncompromising stance against bishops and laity who gave in to Roman persecution by denying Jesus as their Savior to save their own hides. The conflicts were so intense that Donatists were sometimes murdered for their beliefs. Appealing to political powers that be (an outside third-party) seemed to be the realistic approach to these issues.

James Cone’s The Cross And The Lynching Tree is written at the intersections of atonement theory, theodicy, and the struggle against White Supremacy. As Cone is making his argument in favor of USian Christians looking at the Cross through the history of the lynching tree, he notes that it was poets and artists during the Harlem Renaissance that first made the connection. Jim and Jane Crow was institutional, legal white supremacy maintained by placing black bodies on the gallows. One such writer, novelist and Christian scholar was W.E.B. DuBois DuBois’ Christian anti-racist imagination enabled him to use theological imagery to work to dismantle White Supremacy. Lacing his Christian prayers with appeals to the Prince of Peace, commenting on the race riots started by White Supremacists by referring to the book of Psalms, DuBois lived as an example of liberating Christian orthopraxis.

A few years ago in seminary, a group of African American students (including myself) protested against the injustices done to the Jena Six. The Jena Six situation was a high school fight started because someone hung a noose around the tree where the white kids usually sit. Under the murderous threat from the history of imperialist, racist KKKristianity which includes Emperor Constantine who himself had threatened an African man (as a joke) with lynching, the black high schoolers had little choice but to STAND THEIR GROUND.

No one can do an honest assessment of the Nicene-Chalcedon tradition without acknowledging its enforcement through, at minimum, the threat of violence (i.e., the anathemas and damnations and exiles etc.).  However, the Nicene-Chalcedonian formulas are not beyond the liberating grasp of the Holy Spirit.  In fact, Nicea & Chalcedon & the Apostles’ Creeds are are important to the extent that they remind  us Gentile Christians of our metanarrative that we find in Scripture, and that our stories are not our own, and that THE story is not about us. Tradition (with a capitol T) ideally should be used to keep our nationalistic desires in check, but when it fails to do so, history and Scripture witnesses to the fact that God uses outsiders, the rejects to prophesy deliverance to the Body of Christ.

No one represents this moreso than the the U.S. American prophet W.E.B. DuBois.  Living in the 20th century context where white Christians could recite the Creeds by rote memory, and then in the very next breathe, call a black person n*gger before lynching her, W.E.B. Dubois embodied Nicene-Chalcedonian orthopraxis as a testimony to Jesus Christ Our LORD and Liberator. In his essay, “The Gospel According To Mary Brown,” Dubois writes the Gospel narratives for his time, with a mulatto man portraying Jesus. Joshua is lynched because of his message of peace and anti-White Supremacy. As his mother Mary is found weeping, Joshua appeared to her, with his hair shining, white clothes (biblical language for holiness of the martyrs), “for his voice was the Voice of God.” When Mary asked where did Joshua go, Joshua tells her, “I was crucified, dead, and buried. I descended into Hell. On the third day, I rose from the dead. I ascended into Heaven and sit on the right hand of my Father, from whence I shall come to judge the Quick and the Dead.”

In an earlier post, I was mistaken to suggest that Constantine and Athanasius represent two different kinds of Christianity. It would be better for me to have said that Eusebius of Caesarea and the bishops and presbyters that made room for the devil by inviting Constantine to the table represent the imperial version of Christianity, the one where the nation-states’ story matters more than the Resurrection itself.

Eusebius and Athanasius represent two types of Christianity that we all have to struggle with. Eusebius and the Christian empire/dominionist tradition that Leithart favors is obsessed maintaining power over others (coercion, violence, war, white supremacy, lynching). The Nicene-Chalcedonian orthopraxis of Clement & Athansius of Alexandria and W.E.B DuBois offers a different way of being & doing in the world, that of living on the margins of exile, and pointing to the Logos as our Teacher & Prince of peace.

Other posts of interests:

Nestorianism Returns: Tea Party Politics vs Hypostatic Unity

Book Review: W.E.B. DuBois: American Prophet

Emperor Constantine and the Conservative Case for Reparations

How Do We Preach Chalcedon in the 21st Century?

Have you ever heard any of the following preached from the pulpit?

  • And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature (Luke 2:52) – This refers to Jesus’ human side growing in wisdom.
  • At the temptation in the wilderness it was only Jesus’ humanity that was tempted, because God cannot be tempted.
  • At the crucifixion it was Jesus’ humanity that was killed, not his deity.
  • The miracles that Jesus performed were indicative of his divine nature, not his human.

In 451, the Council of Chalcedon was convened to address the person of Christ.  There were two opposing camps: the Alexandrians, who emphasized Jesus’ divinity over his humanity (Docetism), and the Antiochians, who emphasized Jesus’ humanity over his divinity (Nestorianism).

Instead of creating a creedal statement that drew a line in the sand, the council provided a definition that created a box or paradigm.  So long as beliefs of the two opposing camps fell within the confines of the box, then both (the more moderate Alexandrians and moderate Antiochians) could be considered orthodox.

The Definition, in summary, affirms that Jesus is fully God and fully human, and that these two natures are united but also distinct in the person of Christ.  What makes this more of a paradigm than a line is that the statement in no way tries to define the divinity or humanity of Christ, nor does it try to explain how the two natures are in relationship with one another, other than that they are indeed in relationship and not collapsed into one nature.

Karl Barth uses the Chalcedonian Definition throughout his Church Dogmatics.  Sometimes he uses it in the classical sense, referring to the person of Jesus and his two natures.  Sometimes he uses it examine the work of Christ.  And, more radically, he takes the paradigm and applies it to the relationship between God and the Church in his discussion of vocation in IV.3.2.

Some have accused Barth of being either Antiochian or Alexandrian in his leanings.  But, if you read through the Dogmatics, what he actually does is alternate and explore the Chalcedonian Definition from both positions.  The problem, which is often the problem with Barth, is that he can take hundreds of pages to get to the other side of the dialectic.  (George Hunsinger, for example, has mapped out how in CD IV Barth flips between the two idioms and basically the entire IV.1 is “Alexandrian”, IV.2 is mostly Antiochian, and IV.3 is both.  No wonder people accuse Barth of being one or the other, when an entire volume is basically in one idiom).  On the other hand, Charles Waldrop suggests that, particularly in III.2 in which Barth looks at the humanity of Christ and tends towards an Antiochian position, it is an Antiochian position working within the framework of an overall Alexandrian Christology.

Barth, of course, takes a lot of license with the Chalcedonian Definition, and refuses to be constrained by the Greek metaphysical definitions of nature and person.  For example, instead of using ‘Natur’ to talk of the natures of Christ, he uses the German word ‘Wesen.’  Sarah Coakley argues that, in general, the West and East approached the Chalcedonian Definition differently, with the West looking at it very rigidly, tied directly to the Greek language.  The East, on the other hand, saw flexibility in the Definition, and found ways to use it liturgically and with fluidity.  (I argue, in a different venue, that that is indeed what Barth is doing in his use of Chalcedon, in that he approaches it with an Eastern flexibility).

The other problem is that Barth “shorthands.”  So, he will write “Jesus, Son of God,” but what he actually means is “The Son of God who is Jesus of Nazareth.”  Likewise, when he refers to “Jesus of Nazareth,” what he means is “Jesus of Nazareth who is the Son of God.”

Of course, this is also what the NT authors do. They may refer to Jesus of Nazareth, but that does not mean that they deny that he is also the Son of God, and vice versa.  And maybe that is where our problem lies in preaching.  We assume that when the author refers to one nature, they ignore or even deny the other nature.


So here are my questions to pose to all of you pastors, preachers and teachers:

Should we preach Chalcedon today?

Do our congregations, which are steeped in a largely biblically-illiterate culture, just “know” that Christ is fully divine and fully human when we preach?

Is Chalcedon useful today?

What would happen if we dropped the “shorthand” and began using the full sentence in our preaching?

How do we guard against the tendency towards either Docetism or Nestorianism in our churches?

Should evangelical churches, that are largely creedless, begin to re-examine and find ways to adopt these ancient statements in a post-modern context?



Charles Waldrop, “Karl Barth’s Concept of the Divinity of Jesus Christ” Harvard Theological Review (1981): 241-263

George Hunsinger, “Karl Barth’s Christology: Its Basic Chalcedonian Character” in Disruptive Grace: Studies in the Theology of Karl Barth, pg 131-147.

Coakley, Sarah. “What Does Chalcedon Solve and What Does it Not? Some Reflections on the Status and Meaning of the Chalcedonian ‘Definition’”, in The Incarnation: An Interdisciplinary Symposium on the Incarnation of the Son of God. Pg 143-163.



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