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Arius: Heresy and Tradition
Arius is widely considered to be Rowan Williams's magnum opus. Long out of print and never before available in paperback, it has been newly revised. This expanded and updated edition marks a major publishing event.
Arianism has been called the "archetypal Christian heresy" because it denies the divinity of Christ. In his masterly examination of Arianism, Rowan Williams argues that Arius himself was actually a dedicated theological conservative whose concern was to defend the free and personal character of the Christian God. His "heresy" grew out of an attempt to unite traditional biblical language with radical philosophical ideas and techniques and was, from the start, involved with issues of authority in the church. Thus, the crisis of the early fourth century was not only about the doctrine of God but also about the relations between emperors, bishops, and "charismatic" teachers in the church's decision-making. In the course of his discussion, Williams raises the vital wider questions of how heresy is defined and how certain kinds of traditionalism transform themselves into heresy.
Augmented with a new appendix in which Williams interacts with significant scholarship since 1987, this book provides fascinating reading for anyone interested in church history and the development of Christian doctrine.
Arianism has been called the "archetypal Christian heresy" because it denies the divinity of Christ. In his masterly examination of Arianism, Rowan Williams argues that Arius himself was actually a dedicated theological conservative whose concern was to defend the free and personal character of the Christian God. His "heresy" grew out of an attempt to unite traditional biblical language with radical philosophical ideas and techniques and was, from the start, involved with issues of authority in the church. Thus, the crisis of the early fourth century was not only about the doctrine of God but also about the relations between emperors, bishops, and "charismatic" teachers in the church's decision-making. In the course of his discussion, Williams raises the vital wider questions of how heresy is defined and how certain kinds of traditionalism transform themselves into heresy.
Augmented with a new appendix in which Williams interacts with significant scholarship since 1987, this book provides fascinating reading for anyone interested in church history and the development of Christian doctrine.
392 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 2001
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286 people want to read
About the author
Rowan Williams
260 books337 followersRowan Douglas Williams, Baron Williams of Oystermouth, is an Anglican bishop, poet, and theologian. He was Archbishop of Canterbury from December 2002-2012, and is now Master of Magdalene College, Cambridge and Chancellor of the University of South Wales.
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Displaying 1 - 22 of 22 reviews
June 3, 2025
Maybe the real Arius was the enemies we made along the way?
March 18, 2021
Williams' work is certainly important reading for anyone who professes the faith of Nicaea and wishes to know more deeply how it came to be confessed in precisely this way. His approach is unique in that he focuses almost exclusively on the figure of Arius himself, attempting to free the heresiarch from the shackles of polemical mischaracterizations that he believes have plagued reflection on the controversy ever since Alexander and Athanasius. Williams is not trying to say that Arius' theology should have been received as it stood, nor does he deny that Arius introduced a unique and novel answer to certain questions that permeated the theological discussion at his time in Alexandria—but he does seek to show that Arius was in fact seeking to provide a faithful, consistent, and orthodox answer to questions that were, so to speak, "not settled." In other words, there was no great "orthodox consensus" against which Arius was purposefully seeking to rebel.
But in addition, there was similarly no great "Arian" consensus either, in the sense that we could legitimately apply the term "Arian" to the large group of anti-Nicenes that are commonly associated with his name. Williams shows that many of Arius' most ardent supporters, such as Eusebius of Nicomedia, were in fact suspicious of his theology to some extent or another, but lent him some support more or less because they were even more suspicious of the theology of Alexander, which they perceived to be destroying the freedom of God's creative will.
All in all, Williams' work is valuable primarily as a well-researched and carefully considered attempt to give an account of the structure of Arius' theology from within his own streams of thought, rather than as presented by his opponents. As Williams notes, this is no easy task, and part of the reason it has proved so difficult for centuries is because so little of Arius' actual writing is extant. But Williams argues convincingly that we can in fact recover the core of Arius' thought, especially from the Thalia, and he presents this picture in a mostly helpful way. Most important to Arius is the fact that God is, by definition, agennētos/anarchos; therefore, He is utterly free, and everything that is not agennētos/anarchos (which includes, by definition, the Son [who has an arche]) is in some sense created by the free act of His will. And perhaps his most distinctive emphasis is the absolute unknowability of the Father (even by the Son), a question that will await especially Gregory Nazianzen for further clarification. The other very helpful aspect of this work is its inclusion of the text of the Thalia, as well as a number of "creedal documents" as an appendix that provide the reader with important primary material from both sides of the controversy.
This is not the book to read for a full-blown, positive account of Nicene theology, but it certainly does important work in clarifying the thought-world in which that theology was hammered out and clarified. Nicene believers may question whether Williams' characterization of Athanasius is at all times the most charitable. But even Williams at times seems to recognize that there is at least a question whether or not it may in fact be legitimate for a "controversialist" like Athanasius to speak of his opponent's theology in a way that the opponent himself would not characterize it, precisely because he perceives a deeper truth to his criticism than his opponent is able to see. Athanasius believes that his opponents form a united front, even though they would certainly resist such a characterization themselves. But must Athanasius be dismissed out of hand in this regard? May he not, in fact, be correct, on a deeper level? This, I believe, is an area worthy of further reflection.
But in addition, there was similarly no great "Arian" consensus either, in the sense that we could legitimately apply the term "Arian" to the large group of anti-Nicenes that are commonly associated with his name. Williams shows that many of Arius' most ardent supporters, such as Eusebius of Nicomedia, were in fact suspicious of his theology to some extent or another, but lent him some support more or less because they were even more suspicious of the theology of Alexander, which they perceived to be destroying the freedom of God's creative will.
All in all, Williams' work is valuable primarily as a well-researched and carefully considered attempt to give an account of the structure of Arius' theology from within his own streams of thought, rather than as presented by his opponents. As Williams notes, this is no easy task, and part of the reason it has proved so difficult for centuries is because so little of Arius' actual writing is extant. But Williams argues convincingly that we can in fact recover the core of Arius' thought, especially from the Thalia, and he presents this picture in a mostly helpful way. Most important to Arius is the fact that God is, by definition, agennētos/anarchos; therefore, He is utterly free, and everything that is not agennētos/anarchos (which includes, by definition, the Son [who has an arche]) is in some sense created by the free act of His will. And perhaps his most distinctive emphasis is the absolute unknowability of the Father (even by the Son), a question that will await especially Gregory Nazianzen for further clarification. The other very helpful aspect of this work is its inclusion of the text of the Thalia, as well as a number of "creedal documents" as an appendix that provide the reader with important primary material from both sides of the controversy.
This is not the book to read for a full-blown, positive account of Nicene theology, but it certainly does important work in clarifying the thought-world in which that theology was hammered out and clarified. Nicene believers may question whether Williams' characterization of Athanasius is at all times the most charitable. But even Williams at times seems to recognize that there is at least a question whether or not it may in fact be legitimate for a "controversialist" like Athanasius to speak of his opponent's theology in a way that the opponent himself would not characterize it, precisely because he perceives a deeper truth to his criticism than his opponent is able to see. Athanasius believes that his opponents form a united front, even though they would certainly resist such a characterization themselves. But must Athanasius be dismissed out of hand in this regard? May he not, in fact, be correct, on a deeper level? This, I believe, is an area worthy of further reflection.
December 4, 2016
It feels arrogant to give only four stars to one of my favorite contemporary theologians. But this monograph is more difficult than need be because its layout is backward (a nicer way to say, read linearly, many readers likely won't go past the intro or first section, as was the case with my priest). After fighting to find a thesis, I re-started reading this work, beginning in the middle, continuing to the end, then going back to the beginning; read like this, it made far more sense because it seems like Williams began the book in mid-argument, then progressed to give necessary background to understanding his point.
This book is not for the general reader. It assumes a background with both early Church history and with heresiology. I found it very enlightening for understanding the early Alexandrine church structure and he does a wonderful job explaining the theological/philosophical discrepancies that will come to necessitate later church councils.
This book is not for the general reader. It assumes a background with both early Church history and with heresiology. I found it very enlightening for understanding the early Alexandrine church structure and he does a wonderful job explaining the theological/philosophical discrepancies that will come to necessitate later church councils.
March 10, 2018
Generally of greater use to the theologian than a historian, I still found Williams' unusually competent and precise in his historical and chronological arguments as well as in his theological push for a more 'objective' view of who Arius was, what he taught and where his ideas originated, as well as their impact.
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August 22, 2025There are some very insightful passages in here, but it is rather uneven. Not sure I am persuaded by William's case against Newman's reading of the Alexandria vs. Antioch divide.
January 14, 2014
Being faithful to church teachings does not mean merely chanting former slogans, but critically receiving the church’s witness and faithfully putting it into a new context in response to a new crisis. Rowan Williams has cogently suggested that we saw such a handling of philosophical issues in the Nicene crisis (Williams 2002). According to Williams’ reading, Arius conservatively employed a number of respected (if pagan) philosophical traditions which compromised the biblical narrative of the Son‟s being with the Father.
Williams begins his narrative with a review of earlier treatments of Arius, most notably that of John Henry Cardinal Newman. Newman plays off the Alexandria vs. Antioch thesis, putting Arius in the latter camp (along with anyone who champions secular power and literalistic exegesis). Newman’s move, Williams tell us, is actually a parable of his own day in the Oxford controversy. While Newman’s own conclusions were painfully mistaken, he does illustrate a tendency in all church historians of this controversy: reading Nicea as a template for our times. Williams himself acknowledges that he will do the same thing (Barth/Bonhoeffer = Athanasius; Hitler = Arius, LOL)..
Williams has a very interesting suggestion that there were two models of “communal theology” (my phrase) in Alexandria and Egypt around the time of Arius. There was the model of students gathering around a venerated teacher (Origen is a good example; Williams calls this the Academic model) and the rising church-centered episcopacy model. Williams places Arius in the former, and notes that part of Arius’ failure is that he tried to maintain the former model when both his friends and enemies had switched to the latter model.
From this Williams has a number of illuminating suggestions about church unity, boundaries, and identity. After surveying history, he notes that the “church around Alexander in 313 was not a harmonious body” (41). He notes elsewhere concerning such a pluralism that “the church before Constantine was simply not in an institutional position to make binding pronouncements” (90). While we may certainly say that there was a proto-Nicene theology in embryonic form in the early church, it’s harder to make the claim that “the boundaries of Catholic identity were firmly and clearly drawn in advance…[T]he whole history of Arius and Arianism reminds us that this is not so” (83).
Alexandrian Theology
It is tempting to conclude since Athanasius was an Alexandrian, that Alexandrian theology was always pro-Nicene, and, conversely, that Antiochean theology is Arian. Williams provides a brilliant summary of Philo, Clement, and Origen to demonstrate that both Nicene and Arian conclusions were found in earlier Nicene models. We first see this iccn Philo. As Williams notes, “Philo is clearly concerned to deny that there is anything outside God that has a part in creation, and so it is necessary for him to insist upon the dependence of the world of ideas on God” (118). This leads us to the discussion of the Logos. Is the Logos God, part of God, Demiurge, or creature? Philo is surprisingly conservative on this (from our standpoint). He sees the Logos as the arche of existing things…”God himself turned towards what is not God” (119). Indeed, this sounds a lot like Justin Martyr’s teaching.
Yet Philo’s theology is inadequate from a Christian perspective. The Logos functions more like a mediator between Creator/creation, neither begotten or unbegotten. Williams anticipates later discussion with the insightful comment that “What is metaphor for Philo is literal for Arius” (122). Philo’s importance, however, and Williams demonstrates this clearly, is he “mapped out the ground for the Alexandrian tradition to build on,” and Arius is firmly in that tradition (123).
As Christianity became more prominent in Alexandria, Christian thinkers began to take up Philo’s mantle. Foremost of these is Clement. Clement adopts Philo’s scheme but is bolder with his language. While preserving the transcendence of God Clement can say that God descended to us (126). Clement’s problematic focuses on the knowability of God: “How can the essence of God be partly knowable as Logos and partly unknowable” (130)?
Discussion of Clement leads us to the undisputed master of antiquity, Origen. In Origen, among other things, we see the ambiguity of terms like ousia and hypostasis. Origen loosely employs both as “real individual subsistence” (132). This point is key for it illustrates why many semi-Arians and homoiosians were reluctant to embrace Nicene language: ousia was seen as indivisible and positing another hypostasis in God seemed to divide the essence or create two gods.
Most importantly for our discussion of Origen is his treatment of the Son’s relationship to the transcendence of the Father. The Father is supremely transcendent because he has no “defining coordinates” (137). He is not a member of any class but above all classes. Origen actually makes several advances in noting that the Son participates in the Father’s glory and is more than simply an instrument connecting God and the world. However, Origen was still an Alexandrian: God-Father is completely unknowable and the source of all. The Logos is the source of the world of ideas. “God is simple and the Son is multiple” (139). To put it another way, “The Father is the arche of the Logos and the Logos is the arche of everything else” (142).
Did Origen cause Arius? It’s hard to say. Arius certainly took key moves from Origen but not the whole package. Origen’s “Logos” is eternal. Arius’s is not. However, Origen left too many loose ends to prevent something like Arianism from happening.
The Neo-Platonist Philosophers
Understanding the philosophical worldview of Neo-Platonism is key for this discussion.
Plato: distinguishes between what always exists and what comes into existence. He envisions something like a process leading up to the creation of time (183). This problem is bound up with the issue of form and matter. Aristotelians deny that there can be form without matter; hence, eternal creation. Origen, Plotinus, and the Neo-Platonists did not have this problem because they posited an eternally active Form-er in the ideal world. There is an object to the Forming, but it is an ideal object(s). This makes sense of Origen’s positing a dual-creation: the intelligible world precedes the material world.
Paradoxically, this pre-temporal activity raises the strange question of whether the Father-One-The Beyond can even know anything. The “One” (for lack of a better term) is utterly simple. Williams captures the problem perfectly: “Thinking and understanding, even the perfect understanding of simple nous, involves duplication and distancing” (201, emphasis added). He goes on to say, “The paradox of understanding is that, as pure need or openness, nous is truly in contact with the One; but in its seeking to realize itself actively as understanding, it produces the multiplicity of the world of ideas, which separates itself from the One” (ibid).
As bizarre as this sounds, it is not too far removed from some Christian formulations. Certainly, Christianity can see “echoes” in Neo-Platonism (One-Nous/Logos-World Soul). Another problem is raised: as noted above in the Alexandrian milieu thinking and knowing involves duplication and distance. Yet who is going to say that there is “distance” between Father and Son? The only apparent alternative is to identify subject and object within the divine mind, which raises the question of how one can distinguish the persons of the Trinity.
This perhaps allows us to view Origen in a more sympathetic manner. As Wiliams’ remarks, “Origen’s Logos contemplates the father, and finds in that contemplation the whole world of rational beings coming into existence in its (his) own life...He sees the Father’s simplicity in the only way he can see it, as the wellspring of an infinite (or potentially infinite) variety and so gives multiple and determinate reality to the limitless life flowing into him in his contemplation” (205). As beautiful as it is, Origen still has a huge epistemological problem: he has a gulf between the simple Father and the multiple Logos (207).
The above paragraphs simply put Arius’s (and his opponents’) issues into context. Arius didn’t wake up one day and say, “I’ a-gonna hate me some God today.” No,
Conclusion:
As relates to Williams handling of philosophical texts and their conclusions, this book is nothing short of brilliant. Further, Wiliams’ thesis is basically sound: Arius received a number of conservative philosophical traditions which made it difficult to affirm the biblical narrative. However, one cannot help but wonder if Williams has a deeper project. Is this book not also a commentary upon his own reign as Archbishop of Canterbury, particularly in light of the Anglican communion’s problem with modernism? If Arius is in the “conservative” camp and Athanasius combated him by deconstructing Arius’ philosophical premises, then we cannot help but ask, “Who is the conservative in today’s controversy?”
While Williams himself is not a liberal, one cannot help but suspect his own reign has been disastrous for the Anglican church’s continuing self-identity. With gay bishops and female priestesses on the rise, one cannot help but ask what is Williams really trying to say? Is he not trying to give a justification of his own ambiguous handling of the sexuality question?
June 2, 2020
Arius: Heresy and Tradition was ground-breaking when it was first released in 1987. Since its publication, the topic of Arius and 4th century Christian theology has received considerable attention. The 2nd edition of Arius (2001) is not a thorough revision; in addition to a new preface, two appendices are added, including a helpful survey of advances in scholarship on Arius and response to criticisms William's book received. The 2nd appendix presents the texts of several important creedal documents from the 2nd century. The book itself is difficult, not easy in style, documentation (giving quotes in several languages), nor argument.
In Arius, Rowan Williams seeks to look beyond the portrait of Arius and Arianism presented by the pro-Nicene parties, particularly Athanasius. Williams situates Arius and the documents we have that testify to his life and teaching within the events of the 4th century and the philosophical milieu of that time. As John Behr writes, "the great merit of William's work is that it examines the profile of Arius himself, rather than attempting to discern the essence of 'Arianism'" (The Nicene Faith Part 1, 134). The portrait that emerges is that of a "conservative" presbyter using the tools of contemporary philosophy to elucidate the contours of the Father-Son Trinitarian relationship as received from his theological predecessors. In the 1st appendix, Williams acknowledges that by limiting himself to theological and philosophical influences discernable in Arius' surviving writings and those concerning him, he neglects the possible influence of liturgy and popular piety. The historical reconstruction of the events of the Arian controversy and timeline are convincing and have had some staying power in the scholarship up-to and beyond the 2nd edition. However, the philosophical and theological reconstructions of Arius' thought remain, on William's own admission, speculative. Williams' interpretation of Arius's philosophical heritage has been particularly criticized, as Williams notes in the 1st appendix. In addition to the history of events, another lasting contribution of this volume is its contribution towards dismantling the idea of a concrete school of thought in the 4th century that could be called "Arianism." Arius shared similar concerns with other anti-Nicene parities but did not gain a theological following. Williams also argues against the reading that pits Arius as an Antiochene literalist and rigorous logician over-against the more spiritually-minded Alexandrians and the position that sees Arius as a simplistic heir of Origen's thought. Instead, Arius bears continuity with the thought of Origen and other significant scholars of the 3rd century but is not the heir of any one person. Williams argues that Arius, like Origen, exemplifies an "academic" or school-based approach to Christian authority, that attributes authority in spiritual accredited, charismatic teachers, over against the Catholic approach embodied in Nicaea, which places authority in the ecclesiastical hierarchy.
Read my full review here
In Arius, Rowan Williams seeks to look beyond the portrait of Arius and Arianism presented by the pro-Nicene parties, particularly Athanasius. Williams situates Arius and the documents we have that testify to his life and teaching within the events of the 4th century and the philosophical milieu of that time. As John Behr writes, "the great merit of William's work is that it examines the profile of Arius himself, rather than attempting to discern the essence of 'Arianism'" (The Nicene Faith Part 1, 134). The portrait that emerges is that of a "conservative" presbyter using the tools of contemporary philosophy to elucidate the contours of the Father-Son Trinitarian relationship as received from his theological predecessors. In the 1st appendix, Williams acknowledges that by limiting himself to theological and philosophical influences discernable in Arius' surviving writings and those concerning him, he neglects the possible influence of liturgy and popular piety. The historical reconstruction of the events of the Arian controversy and timeline are convincing and have had some staying power in the scholarship up-to and beyond the 2nd edition. However, the philosophical and theological reconstructions of Arius' thought remain, on William's own admission, speculative. Williams' interpretation of Arius's philosophical heritage has been particularly criticized, as Williams notes in the 1st appendix. In addition to the history of events, another lasting contribution of this volume is its contribution towards dismantling the idea of a concrete school of thought in the 4th century that could be called "Arianism." Arius shared similar concerns with other anti-Nicene parities but did not gain a theological following. Williams also argues against the reading that pits Arius as an Antiochene literalist and rigorous logician over-against the more spiritually-minded Alexandrians and the position that sees Arius as a simplistic heir of Origen's thought. Instead, Arius bears continuity with the thought of Origen and other significant scholars of the 3rd century but is not the heir of any one person. Williams argues that Arius, like Origen, exemplifies an "academic" or school-based approach to Christian authority, that attributes authority in spiritual accredited, charismatic teachers, over against the Catholic approach embodied in Nicaea, which places authority in the ecclesiastical hierarchy.
Read my full review here
August 11, 2024
Arius is the archetypal heretic who has come down to us as the epitome of evil, like another Judas setting out to do as much damage as he can to Christianity.
One of the achievements of this book is that it contextualises Arius and helps us to see that he was not necessarily ill willed or motivated in any sense against Christianity. On the contrary (with some important caveats) he was ‘a committed theological conservative’ (p175) and it was (to some extent) his very conservatism which meant that he ended up falling on the wrong side of orthodoxy.
Arius was genuine when he insisted that he was just repeating the faith as he had learned it, and as it had come down to him. And part of his insistence and refusal to hear an alternative was that the theological language he knew and used was crafted to avoid other heresies (like Valentinianism and Sabellianism). So the price of what others called orthodoxy was to him, the potential of slipping into older heresies; and that is partially why he took the stand he did.
That is not to say that he is the ‘right’ and ‘true’ representative of orthodoxy and that it is everyone else who is wrong. No, while he was trying to hang on to older forms of language he was also innovating in his understanding of that language, and in the implications which he was prepared to accept. Where there had been a fuzziness underlying some previous theology he brought a clarity which made sense in his mind, but which horrified others when they realised the implications that it meant Christ was a ‘creation’ of God the father.
While the book was learned throughout, in places it was not clear whether some of the erudition was entirely well focused. For example, the author makes a distinction in theological styles between those who were Catholic and those who were academic (p91); a distinction which is broadly institutional vs spiritual approaches. We are told that Arius followed the more ‘academic’ approach and that that was partially why he was prepared to get into conflict with bishops.
That analysis seems to be somewhat tentative, but more significantly it is not clear what it adds, if anything, to an understanding of Arius’ thinking about Christ.
One of the interesting features of this revised edition is the appendix where the author responds to scholarly developments in the almost twenty years since the first edition was published. This summarises the views of others and sketches out the kinds of response which the author would make, albeit in very abbreviated format.
Overall this is an academic book intended for an academic audience. It casually cites Greek in the text, sometimes explaining its meaning but often not doing so. It refers casually to a wide range of philosophical and theological writers, assuming a background knowledge in the reader. It is a masterful summary of what we know about Arius, but it is not necessarily the most accessible approach for readers without a theological or philosophical background. The book would have benefited from a section written in much simpler language to summarize its core ideas.
One of the achievements of this book is that it contextualises Arius and helps us to see that he was not necessarily ill willed or motivated in any sense against Christianity. On the contrary (with some important caveats) he was ‘a committed theological conservative’ (p175) and it was (to some extent) his very conservatism which meant that he ended up falling on the wrong side of orthodoxy.
Arius was genuine when he insisted that he was just repeating the faith as he had learned it, and as it had come down to him. And part of his insistence and refusal to hear an alternative was that the theological language he knew and used was crafted to avoid other heresies (like Valentinianism and Sabellianism). So the price of what others called orthodoxy was to him, the potential of slipping into older heresies; and that is partially why he took the stand he did.
That is not to say that he is the ‘right’ and ‘true’ representative of orthodoxy and that it is everyone else who is wrong. No, while he was trying to hang on to older forms of language he was also innovating in his understanding of that language, and in the implications which he was prepared to accept. Where there had been a fuzziness underlying some previous theology he brought a clarity which made sense in his mind, but which horrified others when they realised the implications that it meant Christ was a ‘creation’ of God the father.
While the book was learned throughout, in places it was not clear whether some of the erudition was entirely well focused. For example, the author makes a distinction in theological styles between those who were Catholic and those who were academic (p91); a distinction which is broadly institutional vs spiritual approaches. We are told that Arius followed the more ‘academic’ approach and that that was partially why he was prepared to get into conflict with bishops.
That analysis seems to be somewhat tentative, but more significantly it is not clear what it adds, if anything, to an understanding of Arius’ thinking about Christ.
One of the interesting features of this revised edition is the appendix where the author responds to scholarly developments in the almost twenty years since the first edition was published. This summarises the views of others and sketches out the kinds of response which the author would make, albeit in very abbreviated format.
Overall this is an academic book intended for an academic audience. It casually cites Greek in the text, sometimes explaining its meaning but often not doing so. It refers casually to a wide range of philosophical and theological writers, assuming a background knowledge in the reader. It is a masterful summary of what we know about Arius, but it is not necessarily the most accessible approach for readers without a theological or philosophical background. The book would have benefited from a section written in much simpler language to summarize its core ideas.
April 12, 2018
This is the most difficult book I ever read.
It was suggested to me by a guy who is doing a Ph.D in Semitics, who happens to know all about the history and philosophical background in the fourth century. I do not share his background, and this made reading the book with anything like intelligence extremely difficult.
I have a working knowledge of church history and theology, so I thought I would be okay. It turns out that actual scholarly theology and history for experts is quite a different beast than anything I'd encountered.
And yet, even though it was a total grind and I can't remember a single thing about, say, the possible influence of Iamblichus on the Nicene debate, it did occasionally hit really interesting topics, like how it turns out that you had no real idea of what Arius had to say in the first place, or how the role of liturgy is non-trivial as a driving force in theology.
And then comes the conclusion, which was an absolute feast after a long difficult talk by a professor you respect but never could quite understand. It is filled with things like this:
"The nature of the Nicene crisis is not something utterly remote: churches are still in our own age tempted to sidestep the question, 'what, in our own terms, is it that is distinctive in the Christian proclamation'"?
And you ooh and ahh and it was probably all worth it.
It was suggested to me by a guy who is doing a Ph.D in Semitics, who happens to know all about the history and philosophical background in the fourth century. I do not share his background, and this made reading the book with anything like intelligence extremely difficult.
I have a working knowledge of church history and theology, so I thought I would be okay. It turns out that actual scholarly theology and history for experts is quite a different beast than anything I'd encountered.
And yet, even though it was a total grind and I can't remember a single thing about, say, the possible influence of Iamblichus on the Nicene debate, it did occasionally hit really interesting topics, like how it turns out that you had no real idea of what Arius had to say in the first place, or how the role of liturgy is non-trivial as a driving force in theology.
And then comes the conclusion, which was an absolute feast after a long difficult talk by a professor you respect but never could quite understand. It is filled with things like this:
"The nature of the Nicene crisis is not something utterly remote: churches are still in our own age tempted to sidestep the question, 'what, in our own terms, is it that is distinctive in the Christian proclamation'"?
And you ooh and ahh and it was probably all worth it.
April 19, 2020
A masterful, if otherwise misguided, presentation from a great intellect. The way to preserve the Church’s tradition (Faith) is through innovative language and formulations. This is the interpretative lens through which which the then Archbishop of Wales read the fourth century ‘Arian’ controversy. In this view, Arius was an arch-conservative who struggled to find an acceptable formulation to the tradition he was holding. This resulted in his isolation. Athanasius was the one who knew how to preserve the tradition by venturing the innovation of the “ομοουσιος”. Of the two men, Athanasius is the one who lost sight of the moral implications of the divine story of salvation, which resulted in his misconduct while dealing with Church affairs and theological controversies. Arius is the victim of his own “conservativeness” but also of the rhetorics of polemic of Athanasius. Arius was not “Arian” and Athanasius was not “orthodox” but “Athanasian”. Orthodoxy comes later, it is made....
May 24, 2022
A necessary read, though very technical at times, for anyone interested in the development of Christian doctrine. As Williams stresses in the book, and John Behr has corroborated, we must move past the study of theology which posits black-and-white, simple chronologies of ideas and heresies which challenge a pristine orthodoxy. Orthodoxy is defined by the views which rise up naturally in history. Seen in this context, Arius ceases to be an enigmatic or catch-all heresiarch which he is so often described as by popular theological works. He was a conservative Alexandria theologian of his day who saw the necessity of defending the remoteness and simplicity of God from what must have been seen as dangerous novelties from Nicene Orthodoxy. But these categories are only convenient for us in hindsight and the true picture will always be more messy one you get into the details. Williams showcases this very well in his book, but does not sacrifice clarity and relevance for obscurity.
September 16, 2019
A really useful examination of Arius from both a theological and historical perspective. Williams tries valiantly to "de-otherize" Arius from those who would alienate him. This is a key work for contemporary scholarship on Arius, since it imagines Arius as something other than the demon presbyter of Fleet Street.
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May 20, 2025The deeper discussions of metaphysics, while necessary, got to a point where I grew uninterested, but on the whole it's a great book. Lots to learn about both how doctrine develops and the complicated ways heresy can arise.
February 8, 2025
This book goes deep in the weeds. I learned a lot, but thought it could have maintained its complexity while still providing a bit more clarity.
April 5, 2016
The Archbishop's book takes Arius seriously as a theologian and philosopher, and examines his history and the context in which he worked. His history is painstakingly elucidated from the few surviving pre-Nicene documents, but the actual council seems to get kind of a short shrift.
But that's because the meat of the book is about Arius's theology and Arius's context. The theology is, again, painstakingly recreated, from the few passages we have, mostly from Athanasius's posthumous attacks on Arius. The context is highly important - Williams shows how Arius identified the same problems inherent in Middle Platonism (and their Christian contemporaries) as the Neoplatonists did, and used Neoplatonist ideas to synthesize a uniquely Christian system. He has his own critiques of Arius's system from a Nicene standpoint, but he seems to respect Arius as a system-builder more than, say, Athanasius who effectively attacked that system but didn't really build his own.
To get back to the history, unfortunately for Arius, he came up with his system (which attracted relatively little support, though there were plenty of fellow anti-Niceneans) at the same time that Constantine decided that unity was the most important thing his new Church could give him. In the post-Nicene history, Constantine comes off as exiling basically whomever he thinks is a threat to that unity - first Arius, then a prominent pro-Nicenean who apparently insulted his mother, then the most pro-Nicene party of Alexander and Athanasius after they refused to receive Arius back. One is left to wonder what might have happened if Arius had not died suddenly when he was about to be reinstated.
The theological conclusion is somewhat less impressive, I think. After warning against drawing tortured analogies to contemporary problems - a common affliction for those discussing Arius - he goes on to draw a tortured analogy to a (vaguely) contemporary problem - the German church in the 1930s.
But that's because the meat of the book is about Arius's theology and Arius's context. The theology is, again, painstakingly recreated, from the few passages we have, mostly from Athanasius's posthumous attacks on Arius. The context is highly important - Williams shows how Arius identified the same problems inherent in Middle Platonism (and their Christian contemporaries) as the Neoplatonists did, and used Neoplatonist ideas to synthesize a uniquely Christian system. He has his own critiques of Arius's system from a Nicene standpoint, but he seems to respect Arius as a system-builder more than, say, Athanasius who effectively attacked that system but didn't really build his own.
To get back to the history, unfortunately for Arius, he came up with his system (which attracted relatively little support, though there were plenty of fellow anti-Niceneans) at the same time that Constantine decided that unity was the most important thing his new Church could give him. In the post-Nicene history, Constantine comes off as exiling basically whomever he thinks is a threat to that unity - first Arius, then a prominent pro-Nicenean who apparently insulted his mother, then the most pro-Nicene party of Alexander and Athanasius after they refused to receive Arius back. One is left to wonder what might have happened if Arius had not died suddenly when he was about to be reinstated.
The theological conclusion is somewhat less impressive, I think. After warning against drawing tortured analogies to contemporary problems - a common affliction for those discussing Arius - he goes on to draw a tortured analogy to a (vaguely) contemporary problem - the German church in the 1930s.
September 12, 2012
I can see why this book is considered by many to be Rowan Williams' magnum opus: this book is without a doubt the most comprehensive study of Arius and the Christological controversy of the 4th century that bears his name that I have ever seen, or, truthfully, that I can imagine. Williams begins by recapitulating the sum of Arius scholarship throughout the last two hundred years, and then proceeds to retrace the biography and history of Arius and his writings in as much as is possible (a formidable task indeed!) before analyzing his theology and the sources thereof, and finally unfolding the philosophical influences that ultimately seem to have comprised the framework Arius was working under.
This book is dense to say the least, and not a work I would recommend to many, but I am compelled to give it five stars precisely because it represents an incredibly insightful and wholistic treatment of one of the most notorious heresies in the history of the Christian church and the heresiarch himself. Williams' greatest accomplishments in my view are his ability to recover the actual man and the content of his teaching from ages of demonization (not that Williams defends his heresy whatsoever, but that he points out that Arius likely had no malicious intentions, but in fact believed himself to be doing sound, God-honoring biblical exegesis), and his successful analysis of Arius' various influences.
This book is dense to say the least, and not a work I would recommend to many, but I am compelled to give it five stars precisely because it represents an incredibly insightful and wholistic treatment of one of the most notorious heresies in the history of the Christian church and the heresiarch himself. Williams' greatest accomplishments in my view are his ability to recover the actual man and the content of his teaching from ages of demonization (not that Williams defends his heresy whatsoever, but that he points out that Arius likely had no malicious intentions, but in fact believed himself to be doing sound, God-honoring biblical exegesis), and his successful analysis of Arius' various influences.
January 30, 2017
Those who know ancient Greek and Latin will do much better at processing this book than I did. I thoroughly enjoyed it though, and there is still much to learn from the English in the book, but the writing is very academic. You will come away with a greater understanding of the trinitarian issues especially encountered in 4th century, and a better understanding of broader church history. Much time is spent on the theology of Origen, and the Alexandrian school for example. In my opinion, there is too much time spent on speculating on the potential influence on Arius from the philosophers. If you enjoy philosophy, you will enjoy the analysis of Plotinus, Iamblichus, Plato, and Aristotle. It is just speculative though. One of the main points is to emphasize that there was not a unified Arian party during Arius' time, but rather Arius was just one among many in the eastern church that had a diversity of theological views that diverged from the theology of Nicaea. Arius being only a presbyter would not be the leader of a movement over the bishops.
July 28, 2015
Arius is the archetypical heretic. He was brilliant, and he came at the perfect time in church history to shake things up. The Church was wrestling with just who Jesus was. Was He a created subordinate to God, or was He God incarnate?
There’re a few interesting things about Arius. For one, he was no slouch. He would beat many of us in a debate. Also, he meant well. This was no villian from a Disney cartoon, complete with flaring nostrils and bruise-colored cape. He held his positions in an honest attempt to do justice with Scripture.
I've studied enough history to have encountered a few of the Church’s “bad guys”. I think Arius got it wrong, but many of those who colored outside the lines helped us discover and appreciate the big picture.
There’re a few interesting things about Arius. For one, he was no slouch. He would beat many of us in a debate. Also, he meant well. This was no villian from a Disney cartoon, complete with flaring nostrils and bruise-colored cape. He held his positions in an honest attempt to do justice with Scripture.
I've studied enough history to have encountered a few of the Church’s “bad guys”. I think Arius got it wrong, but many of those who colored outside the lines helped us discover and appreciate the big picture.
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July 27, 2011This book is not for the average reader. I fully agree with Jim Holton. HAving said that there are of course deep insights and Williams treats Arius as a theologian in his own right, as far as that is possible. It is only at the end in the post script that he brings in Athanathius in any substantial way. I didn't quite get the relevanse of part 1 and 2, but part 3 was interesting and I certainly learnt much about Plato and Aristotle, strangely enough, when reading a book about Arius.
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January 16, 2012I know more than the average person about church history. I know more than the average person about Platonism. I know a lot more ancient Greek than the average person. This book has to do with all these things and was way over my head. I learned some things and some things were interesting, but it was way over my head.
June 22, 2013
Likely now the standard work on Arius. Williams is especially good at placing him within his Alexandrian context. Bogs down a bit when Williams starts reconstructing his Iamblichan Neoplatonism. A sympathetic reading.
December 7, 2016
One would not have thought so much could be done on Arius.
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