In The Cambridge Companion to the Council of Nicaea (Cambridge University Press, 2021), Young Richard Kim suggests that “historians, especially those with interest in the politics of religion, might view the Council of Nicaea as an event driven by the dynamics of power and authority, whereas theologians could see it as the beginnings or a continuation of a sincere effort to define (and protect) the parameters of right belief” (pg #?). Carlos R. Galvão-Sobrinho certainly fits Kim’s historian. In his book Doctrine and Power: Theological Controversy and Christian Leadership in the Later Roman Empire, Galvão-Sobrinho gives no real consideration to whether Arius was right, so to speak. Consequently, theologians may not agree with his reading of the material. However, this book is worth it for its bibliography and engagement with sources. The only flaw in Galvão-Sobrinho’s impressive scope of research is that it does, unfortunately, occasionally lack engagement with the most recent scholarship on the topic. This is likely because it’s the result of ten years of dissertation revisions and can thus be forgiven.
This work focuses, in keeping with its title, on the interplay between doctrine and power. Galvão-Sobrinho’s central argument in this book is “that the Arian controversy played an important role in the establishment of a new style of church leadership, which emerged from the concrete actions prelates took to confront one another as they engaged in the dispute” (5). According to Galvão-Sobrinho, theological conflicts in the early church were initially resolved reasonably and peacefully. This changed during the Arian controversy with resolutions shifting from doctrinal settlements to acts of power. As one might expect with such a thesis, Arius is given a sympathetic reading and Constantine’s role in everything is strongly pronounced. The treatment of Arius is juxtaposed against a much less sympathetic reading of Alexander of Alexandria and his allies. In essence, it was during the Arian controversy that a challenge to the orthodoxy of a priest or bishop became a challenge also to his authority, opening the possibility that laypeople might claim a higher degree of orthodoxy and thereby a higher degree of authority.
Galvão-Sobrinho’s introduction and opening chapter set the historical stage for the 4th century by discussing the resolution of theological disputes in the 2nd and 3rd centuries. Here Galvão-Sobrinho seems to rely heavily on the presuppositions of Walter Bauer in Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity (Fortress Press, 1971). While the work is only cited once, its influence on Galvão-Sobrinho is clear through his assumption of vast diversity in early Christianity. Thus, the reader’s estimation of Bauer’s thesis will heavily impact their assessment of Galvão-Sobrinho. Beyond this point, there are some questions left unanswered. It’s hard to imagine, for instance, that we would categorize the conflict between Tertullian and Marcion as nonconfrontational or peaceful. It would be helpful to hear from Galvão-Sobrinho about how such bitter conflicts prior to Nicaea fit into his history. Unfortunately, as the Ante-Nicene discussion is limited to a little less than 10 percent of the book, no such discussion is provided.
This tendency towards overstatement is present elsewhere in the book. Galvão-Sobrinho tells us that the “generally tolerant and conciliatory attitude [of the early Christians] was rooted in the practices of the pre-Constantinian church. Paul provided the model . . .” (25). Yet, the same Paul confronts Peter to his face (cf. Galatians 2:11–13) and that can hardly be called conciliatory. We’re told that “deposed bishops might be tempted to form parallel communities, about which not much could be done should the faithful chose to join them” (27). This ostensibly resulted in the “tolerant and conciliatory attitude” (25) prior to the 4th century mentioned above. Surprisingly, there is no mention here of the Novatian or Donatist schisms, the latter of which directly impacts Constantine’s posture towards theological disputes. Concluding the chapter, we’re told that “paradoxically, the imprecision of orthodoxy encouraged this conciliatory approach; for imprecision could accommodate variety in interpretation” (30). However, even in Nicaea we see similar imprecision with things like homoousios. Forged through conflict, this word represented compromise among many in opposition to the Arian position. This malleability is recognized by virtually all commentators of Nicaea, but it is dismissed by Galvão-Sobrinho. He will later go on to call Nicaea a “straitjacket” (92).
Moving into the Nicene period, Galvão-Sobrinho asserts that during this period it was believed that laypeople “could not hope to obtain salvation on their own, and for that reason needed priests” (40). While this is possibly accurate, it is far from obvious and not well defended by Galvão-Sobrinho. The resulting characterization of patristic soteriology sounds closer to how medieval priests are painted by reformers. This mischaracterization continues when the excommunication of the Arians by Alexander is seen as an “arbitrary act of power” (41).
In spite of these kinds of imprecisions, Galvão-Sobrinho’s work really begins to shine as he narrates Arius’ machinations. With any notion of power stripped, Arius turned to what he could control without the meddling of the church: the people. Thus far, the author’s engagement with primary and secondary literature has been impressive, but some of the argumentation has fallen short. However, as he retells Arius’ campaign to persuade the masses through song, Galvão-Sobrinho’s sings in harmony and carries the reader away. There is a shift in the ecclesial power dynamics at this point, which results in a stronger role played by the laity. This continues into the following chapter with Arius’ appeal to various clergy in the hopes that Alexander would receive him back. The final chapters are devoted to very careful and thorough reconstructions of the aftermath of Nicaea up to 361 CE. Galvão-Sobrinho’s work in the primary sources here is meticulous and invaluable. One does wish, however, that the project had continued to at least 381 CE, as it is inextricably tied to Nicaea.
In sum, Galvão-Sobrinho’s research is impressive. His careful reconstruction of Nicaea and its aftermath is masterful. The resulting work is often a challenging read, but one well worth the effort. Graduate level students who are particularly interested in the 4th century would profit from this book. Doctoral students with the same interest will find the bibliography and historical reconstruction invaluable. The conclusions derived from this research, however, are less than persuasive. There is more to consider in the Arian controversy than power.
Ryan Lytton is assistant professor and director of academic services at Life Pacific University-Virginia.
Ryan Lytton
Date Of Review:
March 12, 2021