Commentary 25/05/15 Nicaea, state power and 21st-century Asia

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Constantine’s ambiguous role reminds Christians in Asia that the relationship between Church and State must remain a dynamic space

Constantine’s ambiguous yet beneficial role at the Council of Nicaea reminds us of the complex relationship between religion and politics in the Christian perspective. (Photo: rome.us)

By Michel Chambon

Published: May 15, 2025 04:23 AM GMT

Updated: May 15, 2025 05:04 AM GMT

In this second commentary on the Council of Nicaea, I would like to revisit the pivotal role played by the man who convened it: the Roman Emperor Constantine the Great. It is indeed paradoxical that a cornerstone of Christian theology — the Nicene Creed — was born out of a decision initiated by a head of state who was not, at the time, a Christian.

What insight might this political-religious paradox offer Asia today?

To understand this, we must first recall who Constantine was. A formidable military leader of the Roman Empire, Constantine was the son of one of the four leaders of the empire. His mother, Helena, was from humble origins and a Christian from what is now northern Turkey.

After his father’s death, Constantine was proclaimed ruler by his troops. Ambitious and unafraid of using violence, he eliminated his rivals to become the sole emperor. He then reorganized the Roman administration, separated civil and military powers, and moved the capital to the Bosporus, founding Constantinople.

Constantine also promoted religious tolerance, granting Christians the freedom to worship openly. Over time, he began to intervene in Church affairs, and in 325, he convened a council of Christian bishops to resolve key theological disputes. This historic event — the Council of Nicaea — marks its 1700th anniversary this month.

To make this unprecedented council possible, Constantine mobilized the imperial postal system and logistical apparatus to transport bishops from across the empire. He personally opened the council and hosted it in his summer palace in Nicaea. With a global vision and a keen awareness of Christianity’s transnational nature, he ensured that this council was not a purely Roman affair. Bishops from outside the empire were also invited.

Thus, this non-Christian emperor played a central role not only in convening the council but also in shaping its scale and implementation. Thanks to his support at the highest level of government, Christians were able to clarify their trinitarian faith.

And yet, Constantine was not a Christian! He was only baptized years after the council — ironically, by an Arian bishop, representing the very heresy the Nicene Creed had condemned. A supreme paradox.

Still, it must be acknowledged that this first ecumenical council, a milestone in Christian history, was initiated by Constantine, a non-Christian. At a time when Christians were divided, the impulse to unite them came from outside their community. It was the non-Christian world that enabled the Christians to regroup and move forward.

This paradoxical role of a pagan figure is a recurring theme in Christian tradition. Faith often deepens through engagement with non-believers — and sometimes even because of them.

In the First Testament, the Jewish people rediscovered and deepened their monotheistic faith during their exile in Babylon. It was in encountering foreign powers that believers came to truly understand the universal nature of the one true God, not just a tribal protector, but the God of all, for all.

Jesus, too, experienced transformation in his encounters with non-Jews. Whether crossing Jewish borders or engaging with pagans, he was moved and became increasingly aware of the universal scope of his mission.

The early Church, in turn, underwent a similar transformation through the actions of a non-Christian emperor. It was an outsider to the Christian community — an ambitious political leader — who enabled the Church to clarify its beliefs and advance.

For those of us living in 21st-century Asia, this offers a compelling lesson, especially in the face of unreliable or even intrusive regimes. Let us say it plainly: it is not necessary for our political leaders to be Christian — or even virtuous — for them to serve as instruments of God’s plan. They, too, can contribute to the coming of the Kingdom. Christian communities, our teachings, and our theological institutions do not hold a monopoly on Christ’s presence.

Atheist, Hindu, or Muslim leaders can, in fact, help Christians progress. This is Constantine’s lesson. If the Father of Jesus is the one living Lord of the universe, then the coming of His Kingdom is not the private domain of Christians alone. It is also something that emerges through engagement with the non-Christian world, as well as through the political machinery of our modern nation-states.

That said, we should not idealize Constantine’s role — or the capacity of the state to contribute to Church affairs and the coming of the Kingdom. In reality, Christians differ significantly in their eval‎uations of Constantine and the political significance of his example.

Orthodox Christians, for instance, venerate him as a saint. Catholics do not. This divergence highlights two distinct approaches to understanding the relationship between the Church and State, as well as the interplay between religious and temporal power. To complicate things further, Protestant and Eastern Christian traditions have also developed distinct perspectives on Church-State relations.

Constantine thus reminds us of a deeply Christian paradox: there is no single, definitive Christian model for relating the spiritual and the political. The two cannot be entirely separated, nor can they be completely merged. While every church and society tends to champion its own politico-religious system as ideal, if not superior, Constantine, both saint and non-saint, reminds us that Christian history has never reached a clear consensus.

Despite all our institutional efforts, detailed constitutions, and affirmative doctrines, there is no perfectly Christian arrangement for Church-State relations. And this unresolved tension is, in fact, good news for Asia. The Kingdom is not yet fully realized, but it is on its way. Every political system contributes to it, despite itself, and each one remains imperfect.

From a Christian perspective, the political and the religious are not isolated spheres but interrelated ones. And as with any relationship, it is a dynamic interaction that changes both partners over time. If transformation is absent, the relationship has likely devolved into domination, where one side controls the other. But a genuine relationship allows mutual growth and transformation.

Constantine’s ambiguous yet beneficial role at the Council of Nicaea reminds us of the complex relationship between religion and politics in Christian perspective — not a fusion of Church and State, nor a complete separation, and not merely a hierarchy of one over the other, but a dynamic, living relationship that remains open, evolving, and full of possibility.

The Kingdom of God lies ahead of us, not behind, not entirely contained in any political system, nor confined within the walls of our churches.

Constantine’s ambiguous role reminds us — especially Christians in Asia — that the relationship between Church and State must remain a dynamic space, open to the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit. Nurturing this relationship should be a continuous journey, guided not by fear, tribalism, cowardice, or aspirations for dominance, but by faith in the Triune God who transcends our worldly limitations, ecclesial divisions, and ideological preferences.

This is the second part of a three-part series of articles marking the 1700th anniversary of the Council of Nicaea. You can read the first part here.

*The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official editorial position of UCA News.