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Chapter 4

“‘. . . In furthering all such things for the benefit of the Christians, you are to use your utmost diligence, to the end that our orders be speedily obeyed, and our gracious purpose in securing the public tranquility promoted.’”

When Alexander finished reading his just-acquired Greek translation of the Edict to the incredulous priests and deacons gathered before him in the great hall of the Alexandrian library, they could barely contain their exuberance. Cries of praise to God reverberated throughout the euphoric room. Watching them embrace each other, Alexander waited for the excitement to dissipate a bit before holding up his hands, palms outward, signifying that the clergy should restrain themselves and be silent once more.

“My brothers in Christ,” Alexander continued in Coptic with all the passion he could muster, “God has truly shown favor upon his faithful, and it is fitting that we give thanks. I therefore decree that tomorrow shall be a day of prayer and fasting in all of the churches throughout the city. It is regrettable that my predecessor, blessed Achillas, did not live to see this day, for his joy would have been boundless. And mindful of the honor that you have bestowed upon me in choosing me as your bishop, I pledge to all of you that I will work tirelessly to make the most of this opportunity to spread the gospel, now that it may be received and practiced by all without fear of persecution. I pray that each of you will rededicate yourself to the task as well.”

The chorus of solemn amens that rose from the gathering immediately gave way to renewed cheers and celebratory embraces. Even the usually staid Alexander could not suppress a broad grin as he clasped the shoulders and shook the hands of those nearest him. Then, across the noisy room, he spotted Arius, taller than the rest and difficult to miss, wearing the sleeveless tunic of the peripatetic philosophers that had become his trademark. The smile quickly left Alexander’s face. When their eyes met, Arius nodded coolly in acknowledgement, and promptly turned away to resume conversing with his jubilant colleagues. Alexander pressed his way through the boisterous crowd toward the priest, casually acknowledging others as he passed, but with more than a hint of preoccupation.

When he reached Arius, the two men hesitated for a brief awkward moment before embracing without emotion and quickly separating. “Come to my study room, Arius,” the bishop requested. “I would like to have a word with you.” Arius excused himself from the small group that surrounded him and followed dutifully.

Closing the door to the reveling behind them, Alexander sized up his priest with a keen eye, searching for any hint of defiance in his demeanor. The two had been rivals for the bishopric of Alexandria, and although Arius had been a presbyter for only a short time, the wide support he had garnered, a tribute to his charisma and rhetorical skill, had taken Alexander by surprise. In the end, Arius bowed out of the running, to Alexander’s great relief. But the strong following that Arius had garnered so quickly was still viewed by Alexander with suspicion, perhaps even a tinge of jealousy despite his office. This was not lost on Arius.

As he waited for the prelate to speak, Arius glanced at the Greek manuscript resting on the reading stand next to him, and immediately recognized the Second Epistle of Clement from its opening line: “Brethren, it is fitting that you should think of Jesus Christ as of God. . .” Had Alexander summoned him for a theological lecture? Surely this was not the time for esoteric debate! On a joyous day such as this, Arius thought to himself, we should be engaged in expressions of thankfulness, not argument.

“I have heard reports of the sermon you gave in Baucalis last week on the resurrection,” the bishop began as he reached for an earthen jug and filled two cups with wine. “Quite interesting; and by all accounts very perceptive. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to learn that you are not an Adoptionist, like Paul of Samosata and his pupil Lucian.” He handed one of the cups to Arius, who accepted it but did not drink.

Arius felt himself being baited, but could not let the slur on his mentor’s name go unchallenged. “Lucian was no Adoptionist. You know that.”

“Do I? In any event, I’d like a copy of the sermon, if you wrote it out. A most scholarly exegesis of the opening verses of Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, from what I understand. And challenging verses they are! I’m told you conceded the Adoptionists’ point that horisthentos in the fourth verse should be translated as “appointed” or “installed” rather than as “declared,” a translation which they proclaim as proof that Christ was appointed the Son of God at his resurrection, as opposed to having his preexisting sonship simply declared or affirmed by his resurrection. But then you proceeded to refute those who argue for Christ’s exaltation to sonship only at his resurrection; or at his transfiguration; or even at his baptism. ‘He who did not withhold his own son,’ you quoted from later in the epistle, surely must have had a proper son all along rather than an adopted one; wasn’t that how you put it? A masterful defense of Christ’s preincarnate sonship! It is no wonder that you have gained such a following in so short a time, Arius. You have quite a gift.”

When Arius made no response, Alexander’s tone grew stern. “And you should take better care not to use that gift to sow dissention. If you have an issue with what others preach, I suggest you take it up with them privately first. Especially me! Criticizing my sermon on the Trinity, and even accusing me of Sabellianism; was that designed to endear yourself to me? You should pick your fights more carefully, Arius! Do not forget who was chosen to shepherd this flock, and who is charged with protecting it from ravenous wolves coming down from the hills—or from Libya!”

Arius remained expressionless, hiding his indignation at this bald attack on his character. Alexander, however, could not hide his chagrin at Arius’s lack of reaction; his face reddened in anger and his eyes narrowed menacingly. “Know this, my priest: just before his death, Peter warned both Achillas and me that your views were unorthodox, even dangerous, and that you should not be sanctioned to preach. Achillas nevertheless saw fit to ordain you. I am not sure I would have, either then or now. We shall see what we shall see. Tread lightly, preacher! I have my eye on you.” Alexander raised his cup to his lips and drained it with a single swallow, his defiant eyes never looking away from Arius as he tilted his head back.

“You have no cause for concern,” Arius replied calmly, again repressing the outrage he felt. “I am obedient to my bishop. Will that be all? I am anxious to return to Baucalis and share today’s good tidings with my congregation.”

“Go,” Alexander commanded in frustration. Still emotionless, Arius placed his unsipped cup of wine on the table, and with a slight perfunctory bow to the prelate, turned and proceeded toward the door, giving a quick sideways look at the Clementine manuscript as he passed. Never, he vowed to himself as he read its first line again.