“Zur Chronologie der Anfänge des trinitarischen Streits“

In an introductory essay in Athanasius Werke 3.1.3 (2007), Dr. Heil gave an overview of the complex issues of chronology in the early Arian controversy. The paper below was presented in German at the international conference “Nicaea 2025: Context, Event & Reception” in Rome, April 2-5, 2025. In it Dr. Heil comments on the most recent two decades of scholarship concerning the early Arian controversy. She has kindly granted us permission to publish online this English translation of her essay. We will provide a reference to the German version once it is published.

Contents:

Introduction

First question: Does the dating of a text alter its interpretation?

Second question: Do the documents and data follow a single line of development?

Conclusions

Introduction

The chronology of the Trinitarian controversy is a subject of debate1, and certain questions will undoubtedly remain unresolved, despite the considerable history of research that has accumulated over time. Insights that remain significant today are owed to the philologist Eduard Schwartz (1858–19402), who, more than 120 years ago, sought to re-establish the study of the Trinitarian controversy on a new footing. He argued that, for the purposes of historical and chronological analysis, extant source texts must be examined independently of the collections, treatises, and historical accounts from Late Antiquity in which they were introduced, cited, and commented upon—often in ways that reflected the specific biases of the respective authors. This methodological insight precluded the simple repetition of accounts found in the works of Athanasius of Alexandria or the church historians of Late Antiquity. Consequently, Schwartz concluded that a critical new edition of the “Documents on the History of Athanasius” and the “Documents on the Arian Controversy” was required.

To this end, between 1904 and 1911, Schwartz began examining the relevant sources in a series of nine essays titled “Zur Geschichte des Athanasius,” all published in the Nachrichten der Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften in Göttingen. Building on this work, a new collection of documents concerning the history of the Arian controversy was compiled as Athanasius Werke III (Athanasius’s Works, Vol. III); this was part of the critical edition of the works of Athanasius of Alexandria—initiated in 1930 and edited by Hans Lietzmann (1875–19423) and Robert Pierce Casey (1897–1959). Lietzmann’s student Hans-Georg Opitz (1905–1941) managed to publish two fascicles in 1934 and 1935 under the title “Urkunden zur Geschichte des arianischen Streits 318–328” (Documents on the History of the Arian Controversy 318–328). Six additional fascicles of this seven-part collection have now been edited by Hanns Christof Brennecke, with the assistance of Annette von Stockhausen, myself, and other collaborators. The document collection has since grown to 121 numbered entries—with numerous sub-entries—spanning over 1,500 pages; it covers the history of the Trinitarian controversy up to the conversion of the Visigothic ruler Reccared and the so-called Symbolum Quicumque/Athanasianum, which can be dated to around 600 AD.4 For our first fascicle (designated as Fascicle 3 in the printing process), which also includes a translation of Opitz’s documents, we decided to reorder the documents based on our own chronological assessments, resulting in a numbering system that differs from that of Opitz.

Drawing on the aforementioned methodological principle established by Schwartz, Samuel Fernández recently published another collection of documents concerning the Council of Nicaea (325) under the title Fontes Nicaenae Synodi: The Contemporary Sources for the Study of the Council of Nicaea (304–337).5 In the preface, after referencing Eduard Schwartz and Hans-Georg Opitz, he writes: “The method consists of liberating the documents from the unnatural context in which they have been transmitted—polemical, apologetic, narrative—in order to examine them iuxta propria principia and to situate them once again within the precise moment of their creation and the motivations of their authors—motivations which, while they may indeed have been polemical and apologetic, were nonetheless their own, rather than those of the individuals who transmitted them.”6 Thus, Opitz’s extracted documents reappear here—enriched with additional material, such as that concerning the Meletian schism in Egypt—yet they are arranged differently and renumbered due to a revised chronology.

Consequently, there are now three collections of documents, each employing a different chronology and numbering system. This situation is not only confusing for purposes of consultation and citation but also points to a significant problem. While the benefits of critically re-examining and re-presenting the sources are substantial—particularly in terms of overcoming anti-heretical biases—the resulting methodological challenge cannot be overlooked: when documents are detached from their original narrative contexts—such as Eusebius’s biography of Emperor Constantine (De vita Constantini) or Athanasius’s one-sided account in De synodis—they must be integrated into a new chronology and historical context. However, the source texts themselves often provide no information regarding their date of origin, and establishing a relative chronology of the documents is possible only in rare instances. Consequently, the chronology of events and documents harbors certain uncertainties and enigmas. Moreover, the surviving source texts are neither objective nor neutral; instead, they generally exhibit a degree of partisanship. Furthermore, due to the processes of transmission, they are available only selectively; one can only surmise how many texts have actually been lost. In addition, our modern interpretation is influenced by the perspectives of individual researchers—whether shaped by a critical stance toward the Church, a personal preference for a specific school of thought within the history of theology, ideals regarding what constitutes a successful synod, or other premises, such as their understanding of historical developments.7 Clearly, one is by no means entering the safe harbor of neutrality when documents lie like isolated islands in an ocean; rather, one is charting a new course based on one’s own preconceived notions.

Consequently, establishing a chronology for the documents relating to the history of the Arian controversy is a complex task. This applies equally to the early years preceding the Synod of Nicaea—a subject that has occupied many scholars for decades. Listed here—without claiming to be exhaustive—are only those authors who published work following the release of the documents on the Arian controversy by Hans-Georg Opitz in 1934 and 1935 accompanied by his 1934 article on their chronology8:

William Telfer (1936 and 1946), Norman H. Baynes (1948), Wilhelm Schneemelcher (1954), Éphrem Boularand (1972), Thomas A. Kopececk (1979), Charles Kannengießer (1970 and 1982), Timothy D. Barnes (1978 and 1981), Christopher Stead (1988), Rowan Williams (1987 and 2002), Richard P.C. Hanson (1988), Thomas Böhm (1991), Uta Heil (1990 and 2007), Christoph Markschies (1996), Lewis Ayres (2004), Winrich Löhr (2005), Sara Parvis (2006), Xavier Morales (2019; 2025), Samuel Fernández (2023; 2025), Matthias Simperl (2025), and David Gwynn (2025).9

Although the list could be extended further, these names illustrate the intensity of the debate. For the sake of clarity, the key detailed questions and issues regarding the chronology of the early Trinitarian dispute are outlined here:

•           What was the significance of Emperor Licinius’s ban on synods?10 – While there was previously much debate regarding Licinius’s ban on synods and the date of Constantine’s victory over him, a consensus has since emerged (autumn 324).11 This question has significant implications for the estimated duration of the dispute prior to Nicaea (the so-called “short” or “long” chronology) and the dating of pre-Nicene synods. Recently, Samuel Fernández again questioned the significance of the ban on synods, reconstructing the events leading up to Nicaea as if the ban had never existed.12

•           After his condemnation in Alexandria, did Arius travel to Palestine and then to Bithynia, or vice versa, or did he remain in Egypt? – Or did Arius perhaps communicate with other bishops solely by letter? William Telfer, for instance, suggested that Epiphanius of Salamis’s account of Arius’s travels was fabricated. There is certainly no doubt that Arius was already elderly and well-connected at the start of the dispute. However, it remains unclear whether the conflict with Alexander—which led to his condemnation and deposition—prompted him to go into hiding in Alexandria to rally support for his cause, or whether he left Egypt and traveled elsewhere. Palestine and Bithynia are possible locations, but which route did he take? This detail affects the dating and provenance of letters to and from Arius, as well as the timeline of other events, such as the synods held in Palestine and Bithynia.

•           What is the relationship between the two letters by Alexander of Alexandria (Urk. 4b = Doc. 2.2 = FNS 26; Urk. 14 = Doc. 17 = FNS 8)? – The chronological order of the two letters from the Alexandrian bishop is a topic that has been discussed repeatedly and at length; this will be addressed further below. Answering this question requires considering an additional issue: Was Urk. 4b = Doc. 2.2 = FNS 26 authored by Alexander himself or by his deacon Athanasius? Since Christopher Stead’s article (1988), the theory has been advanced that one of the two extant letters by Alexander (Urk. 4b) was actually written by Athanasius, who later succeeded Alexander as bishop. This theory has recently been reaffirmed by Xavier Morales.13 This assessment also has implications for dating the document, as the differences between Alexander’s two letters might be explained by the different authors rather than by a chronological gap. However, a follow-up question arises: when would Alexander have entrusted this important task to his deacon Athanasius—early on in the dispute or towards its end? Or are the differences between the letters not actually that significant, given that Alexander surely endorsed both works? Sara Parvis even concluded that both letters (one written by Athanasius on Alexander’s behalf, the other by Alexander himself as a covering letter) were written at roughly the same time and circulated in parallel.14

•           How should the dating and significance of Arius’s Thalia be assessed in relation to Alexander’s portrayal of “Arianism”? – Even though other “Arians”—such as Asterius and Paulinus of Tyre—have moved into the spotlight in recent years, Arius and his work remain centrally important. Since little of his output has survived15—apart from the famous Thalia, which exists in fragments and shows parallels to Urk. 4b (= Doc. 2.2 = FNS 26)—the dating of the Thalia naturally influences the chronology of the other documents as well. Unfortunately, this text can be neither dated nor localized with certainty,16 inevitably leading to circular reasoning. Studies by Winrich Löhr and Xavier Morales, for instance, reach diametrically opposed conclusions: while the text is central to Morales’s interpretations and dating, Winrich Löhr assigns the Thalia only marginal importance, pointing instead to other oral material from Arius.17

•           The Schism of Colluthus – The dating, cause, and relevance of this schism in Alexandria—mentioned by Alexander in Urk. 14.2 (19.11–20.2 Opitz; = Doc. 17.2 = FNS 8.2)—are subjects of debate. This detail illustrates, in particular, how textual passages can be interpreted in conflicting ways: Does Colluthus’ signature in Urk. 4b.21 (10.19f. Opitz; = Doc. 2.2.21 = FNS 26.21) indicate that he had not yet been expelled, or—conversely—does it signify his successful readmission following expulsion, as Rowan Williams suggests? Or is the schism of Colluthus a separate matter entirely, unrelated to Arius, as Winrich Löhr maintains?18

Of course, further aspects could be added, but this suffices to illustrate the complexity of the topic. Assessments depend on a very close reading of the texts, and the answer to one question can influence other open points of discussion. Ultimately, all these questions and further observations must be considered together; it would be problematic if a new chronology addressed only some of the tricky questions and ignored the rest. However, instead of re-analyzing the chronology of the Arian controversy before the Synod of Nicaea in detail, this short article aims to raise two fundamental questions and discuss each using an example.

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First question: Does the dating of a text alter its interpretation?

At first glance, it might appear that the dating of an event and its associated documents interests only those historians with a particular passion for chronological challenges. Such details might seem relatively unimportant, given that the documents contain their theological statements and arguments regardless of when they were written. One could therefore argue that it makes no difference whether a letter was written in 318, 322, or 325; we can read the letter today and grasp its meaning without burdening ourselves with chronological details.19 Why, then, is there such intensive research into chronology and such a controversial debate, as outlined above? There appear to be two main reasons for this:

One reason is likely that a chronology of the documents creates the impression of providing a secure foundation for one’s account of historical developments—as if it offered an objective basis for one’s own interpretation. Consequently, references to chronology are frequently used to substantiate narratives regarding the evolution of the Arian controversy, since chronological details seem to operate on a more indisputable level. This insight clarifies why chronology has become the subject of fierce debate, given that interpretation hinges on specific chronological details. For another—and related—obvious reason is that the dating of a text, or the description of its historical context, inevitably influences how that text is interpreted. The following example serves to illustrate these aspects.

It is well known that the letter Arius and his followers sent to Alexander (Urk. 6 = Doc. 1 = FNS 11) serves as an important piece of evidence regarding Arius’s theology. Was this his initial theological statement in the dispute, or was it composed at a later stage?20

In his assessment, Hans-Georg Opitz follows Epiphanius’s introductory remark—which suggests that the letter was either written in Nicomedia or sent from Nicomedia to Alexandria—despite Schwartz’s methodological principle of disregarding such secondary contextual details when interpreting the documents. Epiphanius’s note presupposes that the debate in Alexandria, including the synodal condemnation of Arius, had already taken place, and that Arius had subsequently traveled and found a supporter in Eusebius of Nicomedia. With Eusebius’s backing, Arius reportedly drafted the letter to propose a theological consensus to Alexander.21 Thomas A. Kopecek offers a similar interpretation, viewing the letter as a statement of Arius’s position intended for a synod in Bithynia presided over by Eusebius of Nicomedia. Arius subsequently sent the letter to Alexander as well, aiming to demonstrate that he had by no means strayed from the true faith but had, in fact, received it from Alexander himself.22

William Telfer offers a modified version of this interpretation of the letter. Although he rejects the testimony of Epiphanius,23 he nonetheless regards Urk. 6 as a compromise. However, he locates this agreement not in Nicomedia but in Caesarea, linking it to a Palestinian synod mentioned by Sozomen (Hist. Eccl. 1.15.12). It was precisely for this reason, he argues, that Eusebius of Caesarea later criticized Alexander for having deliberately misrepresented Arius (Urk. 7 = Doc. 9 = FNS 12)—a criticism grounded in the aforementioned proposal for consensus found in Urk. 6. Thus, the text was not merely a proposal, but actually achieved a broader consensus. Alexander, however, abandoned this consensus by subsequently condemning Arius—after Eusebius of Nicomedia had also unilaterally favored Arius and ignored the consensus.

Samuel Fernández reaffirms Opitz’s earlier chronology and once again locates the letter in Nicomedia. Despite his criticism of Opitz, he too relies on the brief note by Epiphanius as well as the assessment of Manlio Simonetti, who discerns a shift in stance between Arius’s two letters (Urk. 1 = Doc. 15 = FNS 6 and Urk. 6 = Doc. 1 = FNS 11): in Urk. 6, Arius—at the urging of the Eusebians—had moderated the doctrine he set forth in Urk. 1 (specifically by omitting the ex nihilo element found in the earlier letter).24 [9/10] He finds his view confirmed by the fact that Athanasius, in De synodis 15.2, refers to Arius’s Thalia which was likewise composed “at the instigation of the Eusebians”—implying by analogy that Document 6 was also composed “at the instigation of the Eusebians.”25

Sara Parvis offers an alternative, more subtle interpretation of this letter. She argues that it should be dated to the period following Arius’s condemnation and expulsion from Alexandria—that is, after the Synod of Alexandria. However, Arius was not attempting to modify his views to reach a consensus with Alexander; rather, the letter was designed to deeply antagonize Alexander while appearing relatively innocuous to neutral parties. Once Alexander predictably rejected it, Arius (or his followers) circulated it in the East, asking others to endorse it.26 Thus, Arius was convinced of his cause, aware of his strong support, and intent on exposing Alexander.

In his 1987 book on Arius, Rowan Williams reached a completely different conclusion. Far from being a later text that presupposes various stages of the dispute—including Arius’s excommunication—Urk. 6 should be placed at the very beginning. He notes:

… it is surprising that the text contains no complaint regarding excommunication or mistreatment, but merely sets out a series of theses that Alexander is expected to acknowledge as identical to his own public teaching. The text makes more sense if placed earlier in the controversy, prior to the first major synodal condemnation. … If this is the case, the letter is the first actual Arian document we possess.27

The Erlangen editorial team, led by Hanns Christof Brennecke, adopted this decision to reorder the documents—moving Urk. 6 to the first position—and presented a detailed justification for this new chronology. Xavier Morales also favors this solution;28 Matthias Simperl has recently concurred with this assessment as well, arguing for an early placement at the start of the conflict.29

Winrich Löhr also addressed the issue of dating the letter, placing it earlier—though still after Arius’s initial condemnation at the synod of 100 bishops in Alexandria: “He attempts to justify Alexander’s support for Arius’s teaching, and it was clearly written at a time when Arius still hoped to heal the rift with Alexander.”30 He suggests: “Document 6 could make sense as a profession of faith from someone whose orthodoxy had been called into question and who wished to be rehabilitated.”31

It is evident that the chronological placement of Urk. 6 (Doc. 1 / FNS 11) also influences the theological interpretation of the document. Was it written at the start of the debate, before the dispute escalated and Arius was condemned? In that case, we would encounter an “early” Arius during the initial phase of the controversy, scarcely influenced by his later supporters. It would thus serve as the most important textual witness to his theology. Furthermore, Arius and his differences with Alexander would move not only to the center of the debates but also to the very beginning of the dispute. Read in this light, Arius’s references in the letter to the shared tradition of the forebears and to points of agreement with Alexander32 signal a communion that still existed. The heretics Valentinus, Mani, Sabellius, and Hierakas—whom Arius cites in the letter33—also form a common front shared by Arius and Alexander.  All these passages frame a fundamental concern of Arius: to describe the pre-existent generation of the Son from the Father precisely, without recourse to Gnostic-materialist ideas.

If the letter is dated later, it takes on more the character of a tactical maneuver: whether Arius is deradicalizing his theology on the advice of the “Eusebians,” whether he is tacitly omitting mention of his prior condemnation, or whether the heretics named serve merely as an argumentative strategy to win Alexander over through rhetorical skill. Furthermore, the letter recedes into the background regarding the description of his theology, making it questionable whether the core points of his position are truly to be found there. The dispute also takes on a different profile, as it was not triggered solely by Arius and his differences with Alexander, but rather by a complex situation involving multiple players; a diffuse conflict may well have already been smoldering between Alexander and the “Eusebians,” with Arius acting as merely one—somewhat contentious—participant among others.34 The central figure thus shifts to a secondary role. It would even be possible to interpret the text as a provocative strategy: Arius not only ignores his earlier condemnation but indirectly exposes Alexander as a heretic. For if Alexander fails to agree with Arius—something he ought to do, given that he himself had imparted this theology to Arius—he would find himself aligned with the listed heretics.

It is evident that chronological factors also influence the interpretation of a text. A fundamental methodological problem remains: there is always the risk of first developing a hermeneutic for a text and then searching for a matching chronology. Avoiding this problem is particularly difficult in the case of the Arian controversy, given the many gaps in knowledge and the fact that not all documents from the early period have survived. Consequently, many questions remain open, leading to a second question: Is it possible to arrange these documents and dates along a single line of development?35

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Second question: Do the documents and data follow a single line of development?

When someone develops their own new “post-Eusebian” or “post-Athanasian” version of the history of the Trinitarian controversy, there is a temptation to present it as a single, linear development based on a central motif or “master narrative.” This applies not only to monographic accounts but especially to collections of documents; due to the necessary process of sorting, these inevitably create the impression of a homogeneous sequence and a quasi-objective chronology. Adequately accounting for and presenting all the unknown elements, overlapping developments, and divergent perspectives is a difficult and challenging task. Therefore, the following points must be considered when examining the Trinitarian controversy:

•           First, it should be noted that not all participants in the controversy were equally well-informed. By no means was every letter a circular letter, nor did all individuals receive relevant letters and documents at the same time. Furthermore, there were overlaps, delays, and unexpected events; moreover, not all bishops were equally engaged. For instance, Paulinus of Tyre apparently held back at first, as Eusebius of Nicomedia urged him to finally take a stand (Urk. 8 = Doc. 4 = FNS 15). He eventually complied36 and was one of the participants at the synod in Palestine that advocated for the rehabilitation of Arius (Urk. 10 = Doc. 8). This explains why Arius, in his letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia (in Urk. 1 = Doc. 15 = FNS 6), cites him as someone who had also been condemned by Alexander.37 Paulinus was certainly a significant participant in the debate—serving briefly as Bishop of Antioch in 324 until his death and evidently influencing Aetius—yet he remains elusive, perhaps partly due to his advanced age.

•           Secondly, there are many gaps and unknowns that must be taken into account. To quote Winrich Löhr: “… we must admit that the greater part of the source material has disappeared and that it will be impossible to determine exactly what happened during the first phase of the Arian controversy prior to the Council of Nicaea.”38 A few such lacunae may be mentioned here, without claiming to be exhaustive: regarding the synod in Bithynia, only a summary exists (Urk. 10 = Doc. 8). Presbyter George (George of Laodicea)39 had evidently written from Antioch to both Alexander and Arius (Urk. 12 = Doc. 6 and Urk. 13 = Doc. 7) in an attempt to mediate the dispute, yet no reactions or replies from Alexander have survived—or did he simply ignore them? Since Athanasius provides quotations from George’s letters in De synodis 17, the letters certainly arrived and were preserved. Even the involvement of Eusebius of Caesarea remains unclear, as he surely wrote more letters than have come down to us, and his own correspondence was not even preserved by him personally—it is Athanasius who quotes the famous synodal letter addressed to his congregation.40 While certain events must be assumed to have occurred even in the absence of documentary evidence—such as an invitation to the synod in Ancyra—the gaps are substantial enough that some cannot even be identified. Naturally, this complicates the task of arranging the documents. This becomes particularly evident in the account given by Xavier Morales; in his recent book on Nicaea, he defended his late dating of Urk. 4b41 and—in order to offer a plausible historical narrative nonetheless—concluded that Alexander had deliberately omitted the entire earlier evolution of the conflict since 321 and, in particular, had obscured the support Arius had received from the group of Syrian bishops.42 Alexander acted in a strategically wise manner here by attempting to build alliances against the powerful bishop of the imperial residence, Eusebius of Nicomedia, and by skillfully adopting Constantine’s concept of the necessary unity of the Church. Thus, historical gaps are here compounded by “strategic gaps,” which actually highlights even more clearly the extent of the uncertainties burdening any reconstruction.

•           And if one considers—thirdly—that the delivery of letters takes time, that delays can occur, and that items of correspondence may overlap,

•           and—fourthly—takes into account that letters can be rediscovered later or sent out again to additional recipients (cf. Urk. 4ab = Doc. 2.1/2 = FNS 2543)—thereby undergoing, so to speak, a second phase of existence or reading—the situation becomes even more complex.

•           Fifthly, a theological idea developed by someone in a letter or treatise does not immediately move to the center of the other parties’ deliberations; a linear progression toward the increasing clarification of a disputed issue is therefore an illusion. For instance—insofar as the extant sources reveal—it was central for Eusebius of Nicomedia to preserve the essence of the Father as inviolable, with the consequence that the Son did not originate from (ἐκ) His essence, or from (ἀπό) Him, but at most through (ὑπό) Him. The aspect of the timing of this origination is not as prominent as it is for Arius himself or even for Eusebius of Caesarea. The relevant document is the aforementioned letter to Paulinus of Tyre (Urk. 8 = Doc. 4 = FNS 15). Here, Eusebius asserts that the Son did not proceed from God’s essence and that He by no means shares the nature of the Unbegotten, but is rather completely different in terms of nature and power.44 He even adds ousia terminology to his quotation from Proverbs 8:2245 and reaffirms his position with the words: “If, however, the fact that he is described as begotten gives rise to the claim that he originated from his Father’s ousia and thereby possesses the same nature, we recognize that Scripture speaks not only of him as begotten but also of things that are by nature completely unlike him.” He concludes: “For nothing proceeds from his ousia; rather, since all things came into being through his will, everything is exactly as it was created.”46 This reveals the distinctive profile of Eusebius of Nicomedia rather than a specific stage in the course of the dispute.

•           Sixthly, parallels in content—contrary to common assumptions—do not necessarily indicate chronological proximity. Arguments or observations can be revisited, rediscovered, or further developed at a later date—or simply ignored. It is well known that the Nicene Creed explicitly emphasizes the generation of the Son from the essence of the Father. However, it is problematic to conclude from this that texts or letters containing similar terminology—whether used positively or negatively—must also be chronologically close to the Synod of Nicaea;47 this applies particularly to the aforementioned circular letter from Alexandria (Urk. 4b = Doc. 2.2 = FNS 26). Indeed, Urk. 4b presents the “Arian” thesis that the Son is not equal to the Father in terms of essence (§ 7 οὔτε δὲ ὅμοιος κατ᾿ οὐσίαν), that he ξένος τε καὶ ἀλλότριος καὶ ἀπεσχοινισμένος ἐστίν ὁ λόγος τῆς τοῦ θεοῦ οὐσίας (§ 8), and ἀνόμοιος τῇ οὐσίᾳ τοῦ πατρός (§ 13) and does not originate from the essence of God.48 Thus, this text appears to anticipate the terminology of the Nicene Creed. But does this imply chronological proximity? After all, Eusebius of Nicomedia already discusses the generation of the Son from the essence of the Father (as described above); one could therefore argue for a chronological link between Urk. 4b and that letter from Eusebius to Paulinus of Tyre—especially since Eusebius of Nicomedia is also mentioned in Alexander’s circular letter.49 Although this letter cannot be dated with certainty, it surely belongs to an earlier phase of the controversy, as it initially calls upon Paulinus of Tyre to take a stand.

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Conclusions

A list of documents can only be presented in a single sequence, thereby creating the impression of a neat, linear, and chronological progression. However, the considerations presented here demonstrate the need for caution and the development of a critical awareness—not least because of the inevitable circularity involved: the dating of a text influences its interpretation, and vice versa. There is no uniform trend toward a progressive clarification of the issue or increasing polarization over the course of the dispute. Even if one desires—in the spirit of historical-critical historiography—to identify causes and effects in order to map out causal mechanisms and consequences, gaps will inevitably remain. Historical developments were shaped more by chance and contingency than they appear in retrospect, even though we tend to look for a clear, linear process or a trajectory of progress. Furthermore, we must acknowledge that our reconstructed history remains fragmentary and subjective. Our own contemporary perspective is merely a provisional snapshot. To quote Reinhart Koselleck:

We must therefore learn to deal with the paradox that a history which generates itself over time is always distinct from the history that is retrospectively designated as “history.” Moreover, this discrepancy constantly resurfaces. For any history once reconstructed through scholarship remains an anticipation of incompleteness, because actual history moves on. The gap between the history that constantly shifts from situation to situation in reality and the history that is temporarily fixed or arrested by scholarship thus harbors an insoluble paradox. For the discrepancy between actual history and interpreted history constantly reproduces itself.50

This insight naturally applies to the broad lines of development in human history, but it can also be applied to more specific topics, thereby illustrating the difficulty of dating the documents. Consequently, modern “post-Eusebian” or “post-Athanasian” reconstructions should be viewed with caution given the significant uncertainties involved. Furthermore, greater attention ought to be paid to discrepancies and contradictions. There is also no reason to assume a simple developmental trajectory—such as the sharpening or softening of a theological profile or some other specific trend. Moreover, it must be noted that any reconstruction is influenced by subjective biases: whether one wishes to give more weight to late antique polemics against “heretics,” shield the legacy of Origen from “Arian” distortion, prioritize biblical theology over “philosophical” theology, or regard Constantine’s influence on the Church as significant or negligible—certain sympathies, antipathies, and preconceptions inevitably come into play. Other examples could be cited.

As noted above, chronological considerations can obscure the fact that a new reconstruction is merely an attempt. By establishing a chronology, a researcher may create the impression of presenting an unassailable, neutral foundation for their interpretation; after all, a chronology demonstrates a putative causality and thus offers a coherent narrative sequence of events. Clearly, a chronological argument transforms into an argument regarding the history of theology when the interpretation of a document hinges on its dating and historical placement. Whenever a narrative risks collapsing due to specific chronological details, those details can become the subject of fierce debate. Yet, when one considers the aforementioned issues, it becomes evident that one may also fall prey to a fallacy.

However, the six obstacles identified can also offer some relief: they reduce the pressure to recount a seamless chain of events based on the principle of cause and effect. This insight could also help shift the debate on chronology into a more relaxed phase.

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Back to Early Arian Documents 

Translated by TM

Last updated 10/20/2026 by JSW

  1. This contribution has given me the opportunity to revisit the chronology following my earlier publications on the subject (Uta Loose, “Zur Chronologie des arianischen Streits,” ZKG 101 [1990]: 88–92; and the introductory remarks on chronology in “Dokumente zur Geschichte des arianischen Streits” [AW III 1,3; Berlin/Boston, 2007], XIX–XXXIV). I would like to express my sincere thanks to Christoph Markschies for discussing this topic and to David Gwynn for his thoughts on the aspects presented in this article (see also note 9)!
  2. See Uta Heil and Annette von Stockhausen (eds.), Crux interpretum: Ein kritischer Rückblick auf das Werk von Eduard Schwartz (TU 176; Berlin/Boston, 2015).
  3. See Wolfram Kinzig, “Hans Lietzmann (1875–1942),” in Theologie als Vermittlung: Bonner evangelische Theologen des 19. Jahrhunderts im Porträt (eds. Reinhard Schmidt-Rost, Stephan Bitter, and Martin Dutzmann; Arbeiten zur Theologiegeschichte 6; Rheinbach, 2003), 220–231; and William Baird, “H. Lietzmann (1875–1942),” in History of New Testament Research 2: From Jonathan Edwards to Rudolf Bultmann (Minneapolis, MN, 2003), 434–442.
  4. Urkunden zur Geschichte des arianischen Streits 318–328 (edited on behalf of the Church Fathers Commission of the Prussian Academy of Sciences by Hans-Georg Opitz; Athanasius Werke III; Berlin, 1934/1935 [= Urk.]); a translation and continuation in: Dokumente zur Geschichte des arianischen Streits (edited on behalf of the Berlin-Brandenburg Academy of Sciences by Hanns Christof Brennecke, Uta Heil, and Annette von Stockhausen; Berlin/New York, 2007–2026 [= Dok.]).
  5. Samuel Fernández, Fontes Nicaenae Synodi: Die zeitgenössischen Quellen zur Erforschung des Konzils von Nicäa (304–337) (Contexts of Ancient and Medieval Anthropology 10; Paderborn, 2024) (= FNS).
  6. Fernández, Fontes Nicaenae Synodi, ixX: “The method consists of freeing the documents from the unnatural context in which they were transmitted – polemic, apologetic, narrative – to study them iuxta propria principia, placing them back at the precise moment in which they were composed and into their authors’ motivations, which may also have been polemical and apologetic, but which, in any case, were their own, not of those who transmitted them.”
  7. Samuel Fernández’s aim is to present a well-founded, neutral new account, accusing Opitz of inconsistency. See Fernández, “Outbreak” (see note 9), 432, note 6: “Opitz took a crucial step, yet he did not complete the move because he integrated into his collection not only documents but also retrospective accounts.” He states on p. 433: “Therefore, the present article aims to reconstruct the outbreak and initial parameters of the ‘Arian’ crisis by giving precedence to contemporary documents over ancient retrospective accounts of the controversy.” However, it remains unclear why, for example, Constantine’s speech at Nicaea (FNS 31), which is based on Eusebius’ literary composition, was included; and in some of his assessments, Fernández himself refers, for example, to introductory remarks by Athanasius or Epiphanius (see below), contrary to his intention to ignore them.
  8. Hans-Georg Opitz, “Die Zeitfolge des arianischen Streites von den Anfängen bis zum Jahre 328,” ZNW 33 (1934): 131–159. Rebecca Lyman’s summary of the research in “Arius and Arianism: The Origins of the Alexandrian Controversy”—in Young Richard Kim (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Council of Nicaea (Cambridge, 2021), 43–62—is rather brief (p. 46).
  9. William Telfer, “Arius Takes Refuge in Nicomedia,” JThS 37 (1936): 60–63 [Arius, rejected by the Eusebians, wrote the Thalia in Alexandria to strengthen his local following]; id., “When Did the Arian Controversy Begin?” JThS 47 (1946): 129–142 [mid-323, not 318; i.e., the so-called short chronology]; Norman H. Baynes, “Sozomen, Ecclesiastica Historia I 15,” JThS 49 (1948): 165–168; Wilhelm Schneemelcher, “Zur Chronologie des arianischen Streites,” ThLZ 79 (1954): 393–400 [defense of Opitz against Telfer and his short chronology]; Éphrem Boularand, L’hérésie d’Arius et la Foi de Nicée (Paris, 1972); Thomas A. Kopecek, A History of Neo-Arianism, Vol. 1 (PMS 8; Philadelphia, 1979 [pp. 1–59 on the early Arian controversy]); Charles Kannengießer, “Où et quand Arius composa-t-il la Thalie,” in: Kyriakon: FS Johannes Quasten I (eds. P. Granfield and J. A. Jungmann; Münster, 1970), 346–351 [see n. 15 below]; id., “Holy Scripture and Hellenistic Hermeneutics in Alexandrian Christology: The Arian Crisis, Protocol of the 41st Colloquy, 6 Dec. 1981,” in: Colloquy 41 of the Center for Hermeneutical Studies in Hellenistic and Modern Culture (eds. C. Kannengießer and I. Lawrence; Berkeley, 1982), 1–40 [the Thalia in Athanasius, Syn. 15 actually originates from Aetius]; Timothy D. Barnes, “Emperor and Bishops, A.D. 324–344: Some Problems,” AJAH 3 (1978): 53–75; id., Constantine and Eusebius (Cambridge, Mass., 1982); Christopher G. Stead, “Athanasius’ Earliest Written Work,” JThS 39 (1988): 76–91; Rowan Williams, Arius: Heresy and Tradition (first edition 1987; revised edition; Grand Rapids (MI) and Cambridge, 2002 [with new chronology, see below]); Richard P.C. Hanson, The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God: The Arian Controversy 318–381 (Edinburgh, 1988 [summary on pp. 134–138 following Opitz]); Thomas Böhm, Die Christologie des Arius: Dogmengeschichtliche Überlegungen unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Hellenisierungsfrage (STG 7; St. Ottilien, 1991); Uta Heil (see note 1); Christoph Markschies, “Theologische Diskussionen zur Zeit Konstantins: Arius, der ‚arianische Streit‘ und das Konzil von Nizäa, die nachnizänischen Auseinandersetzungen bis 337,” in: Das Entstehen der einen Christenheit (250–430) (eds. Charles and Luce Pietri; Die Geschichte des Christentums: Altertum 2; Freiburg et al., 1996), 271–344; Lewis Ayres, Nicaea and its Legacy: An Approach to Fourth-Century Trinitarian Theology (Oxford, 2004 [pp. 15–20 rely on Hanson]); Winrich Löhr, “Arius Reconsidered I and II,” ZAC 9 (2005): 524–560 and 10 (2006): 121–157; Sara Parvis, Marcellus of Ancyra and the Lost Years of the Arian Controversy (New York, 2006 [73–83 for her summary]); Xavier Morales, “Athanase a-t-il rédigé l’encyclique d’Alexandre d’Alexandrie?”, RHE 114 (2019): 541–589; id., *325. Le grand et saint synode de Nicée: Histoire du premier concile œcuménique* (Paris, 2024); Samuel Fernández, “Who Accused Whom of What? The Outbreak of the ‘Arian’ Controversy,” JECS 31 (2023): 431–458; id., “Eusebio de Cesarea y desarrollo del sinodo de Nicea,” Anuario Historia de la Iglesia 32 (2023): 97–122; id., Nicaea 325: Reassessing the Contemporary Sources (Context of Ancient and Medieval Anthropology 14; Paderborn, 2025); Matthias Simperl, Das Schreiben der Synode von Antiochia 324/25: Rekonstruktion der Überlieferungsgeschichte, Edition, Übersetzung und Kommentar (TU 195; Berlin and Boston, 2025); David M. Gwynn, Richard Price, and Michael Whitby, with Philip Michael Forness (eds.), Documents of the Early ‘Arian’ Controversy and the Council of Nicaea (TTH 91; Liverpool, 2025—includes a very helpful Chapter 3, “On sources and chronology,” featuring an overview of the various tendencies in Late Antique historiography; many thanks to David Gwynn for providing the manuscript and for the discussion regarding this issue!).
  10. On Emperor Licinius see Bruno Bleckmann, Art. “Licinius”, RAC 23 (Stuttgart, 2010): 137–147. See also Uta Heil, “Emperor Licinius and the Christians: A Contribution to Religion and Law at the Beginning of the Fourth Century,” in: FS Stefan Schima = Jahreshalbschrift in Österreichisches Archiv für Recht & Religion 72 (2025): 107-122.
  11. See Opitz, “Zeitfolge” (see note 8), 132–142.
  12. Fernandez, “Outbreak” (see note 9), 439f.; it says on p. 439: “Much of the discussion has focused on Licinius’ ban on holding synods and on the synods of Palestine and Bithynia. But the accounts of these meetings are retrospective, σύνοδος is not always used as a technical term, and the dates and effectiveness of Licinius’ anti-Christian laws are unclear.”
  13. See the details in note 9.
  14. Parvis, Marcellus (see note 9), 69–72; pages 73–75 contain her summary of the events leading up to the Council of Nicaea.
  15. For his significant letter, see pp. 10ff. below.
  16. The dating of the Thalia is linked to the question of Arius’s travels. Cf. Charles Kannengiesser, “Où et quand Arius composa-t-il la Thalie?” (see note 9 above); contrary to Telfer (who rejected the idea of ​​Arius’s travels), Kannengiesser concludes that Arius composed the Thalia at the behest of the Eusebians as a direct response to his excommunication by Alexander. Cf. Mark DelCogliano, “How Did Arius Learn from Asterius? On the Relationship between the Thalia and the Syntagmation,” JEH 69 (2018): 477–492, here 488f., who dates the Thalia itself to the year 323.
  17. Morales, 325. Le grand et saint synode (see note 9), 82–92: The Thalia contains three new Arian ideas that were not previously discernible and should therefore be dated prior to Doc. 4b; for this very reason, the latter should also be placed after Doc. 14. Löhr, “Arius Reconsidered I” (see note 9), 557, downplays the relevance of the Thalia and points to oral material: “After all, it is perfectly conceivable that Arius only reiterates in the Thalia positions that he had already formulated on previous occasions. Moreover, as has already been mentioned, Doc. 4b,10 seems to point to an oral debate as the possible source for its doxography, perhaps a debate that took place precisely at the synod of the 100 bishops (Doc. 4b,11).”
  18. Williams, Arius (see note 9), 45–51 and 57f.: He situates this at a synod in Alexandria in the winter of 324/325, presided over by Ossius of Córdoba, which issued Doc. 4b; Löhr, “Arius Reconsidered I” (see note 9), 544–546. Parvis, *Marcellus* (see note 9), 46 and 73, regards Colluthus as a follower of Arius who later switched sides.
  19. This question is, of course, also relevant to the reception of these texts, for example, by later theologians, including those of today. Is historical-critical research into the chronology of the texts, into historical developments that correct earlier accounts and offer new insights, also theologically relevant?
  20. For this example, it suffices to briefly introduce the debate surrounding this letter and to forgo a detailed comparison with other letters and texts by Arius (especially Urk. 1 = Doc. 15 = FNS 6 and the Thalia [see above]).
  21. Epiphanius, haer. 69,7,1 (GCS Epiphanius 3, 157,20-24 Holl; English translation: Frank Williams, The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis Books II and III. De Fide, Second, revised edition [Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies 79; Leiden, 2003], 337): Ἀλλὰ καὶ ἄλλην, ἀπὸ Νικομηδείας τῷ ἁγιωτάτῳ πάπᾳ Ἀλεξάνδρῳ ἀπολογίας χάριν δῆθεν γραφεῖσαν καὶ χείρω πάλιν τῆς αὐτοῦ ἰοβολίας ἀπαραλείπτως βλασφήμων ῥημάτων ἐμπεπλησμένην καὶ ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ ἐν Ἀλεξανδρείᾳ ἀπεσταλμένην, ὑπετάξαμεν. καὶ ἔστιν ἥδε. / “Moreover, I submit another letter written from Nicomedia by Arius in self-defense, if you please, and sent to the most holy Pope Alexander. Once again it is filled, to an incomparably worse degree, with the blasphemous utterances of his venom. This is the letter: … .” Cf. the introduction of Athanasius in Ath., syn. 16.1 (AW II 243.24f. Opitz), without mentioning Nicomedia. Despite the methodological premise of treating source texts in isolation from their context, as is the case here with Epiphanius, Opitz nevertheless attributes a certain value to Epiphanius’s remark.
  22. Opitz, “Zeitfolge” (see note 8), 148f.
  23. Kopecek, Neo-Arianism 1 (see note 9), 36–39. Since he dates Doc. 14 early, he believes this letter (Doc. 6) to be a response to both of Alexander’s letters, Doc. 14 and also to Doc. 4b (circular letter). He writes (36): “In direct contrast to Alexander’s claim that the Arians had apostatized after he had correctly instructed them in Church doctrine, the confession presented itself as ‘our faith of our ancestors, which we also learned from you, blessed Pope.’ Alexander’s attempt to deflect responsibility for Arianism from himself was flatly rejected; the doctrine of Arius was presented as if it had been taught by the Alexandrian bishop himself.”
  24. Fernández, “Outbreak” (see note 9), 436–438 with note 32. Cf. now Fernández, Nicaea 325, 64: “The letters and the so-called Thalia of Arius can be ordered on the basis of a discrepancy identified by Simonetti [referring to Manlio Simonetti, “Ancora sulla datazione della Thalia di Ario”, SSRel 4 (1980a): 349–354]. In his letter to Eusebius, Arius claimed that the son had been created ‘out of nothing’ (FNS 6.5). This shocking statement is not explicitly found in Arius’s other writings, i.e., the Thalia and his letters to Alexander and Constantine.” The absence of this statement in the Thalia, which is younger than the letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia, suggests that Arius moderated his language – not his teaching – and that therefore his letter to Alexander (FNS 11) is younger than the one addressed to the Bishop of Nicomedia (FNS 6). Therefore, for Fernández, this supposed theological change determines the chronology and order of the letters.
  25. cf. Fernández, Nicaea 325, 64 note 3: “he wrote the Thalia ‘at the suggestion of those around Eusebius’ (ἐπιτριβεὶς… παρὰ τῶν περὶ Εὐσέβιον), that is, as Eusebius of Nicomedia was fully involved in the conflict (Ath., syn. 15.2 [AW 2, 242]).” (“He wrote the Thalia ‘prompted by those of Eusebius’ (ἐπιτριβεὶς… παρὰ τῶν περὶ Εὐσέβιον), that is, when Eusebius of Nicomedia was fully involved in the conflict (Ath., syn. 15.2 [AW 2, 242]).”) For Fernández (“Outbreak” [see note 9], 441f.), it is also important to date this letter later than the other letter from Arius (Urk. 1) in order to prove that the dispute did not break out because Alexander criticized Arius, who then had to defend himself, but rather because Arius and his followers criticized Alexander’s teachings.
  26. Parvis, Marcellus (see note 9), 73: “Arius, who by now has strong support, including that of most of the bishops of Upper Libya, eleven presbyters and deacons, and a number of upper-class women, either has a high-profile dispute with the schismatic Colluthus, or provokes a showdown with Alexander, accusing him of heresy. … At some point, Arius and his friends produce a statement of their faith which is calculated to annoy Alexander intensely but to seem relatively innocuous to neutral parties (Urk 6), Alexander predictably rejects it, and Arius or his supporters circulate it around the East, asking people to sign it … .”
  27. Rowan Williams, Arius (see note 9), 52: “…it is surprising that the text makes no complaint about excommunication or ill-treatment, but simply sets out a series of propositions which Alexander is invited to recognize as identical with his own public teaching. The text makes slightly better sense if placed earlier in the controversy, before the first major synodal condemnation. … If so, this letter is the first actual Arian document we possess.” He defended his chronology in the second edition of his monograph.
  28. Morales, “Athanase” (see note 9), 548 Note 38: “… I depart from the hypothesis that this confession was written later at the instigation of Eusebius of Nicomedia, who advised Arius to attempt reconciliation, and that as such it represents a watered-down version of Arius’s teaching.” (“… je m’écarte de l’hypothèse selon laquelle cette profession aurait été écrite plus tard, à l’instigation d’Eusèbe de Nicomédie, qui aurait conseillé à Arius une tentative de réconciliation, et que, comme telle, elle représente une version atténuée de l’enseignement d’Arius.”) Furthermore, he states: “It is unlikely that Arius advanced as far as Bithynia after his expulsion from Alexandria.” (“It is unlikely that Arius, after his expulsion from Alexandria, moved as far as Bithynia.”).
  29. Simperl, Antioch (see note 9), 333: “According to Brennecke/Heil’s plausible reconstruction, the theological declaration that Arius and other Alexandrian clerics presented to their bishop Alexander (document 6) is the first document of the Arian controversies that has been handed down to us.”
  30. Winrich Löhr, “Arius reconsidered 1” (see note 9), 555.
  31. Winrich Löhr, “Arius reconsidered 1” (see note 9), 555–556.
  32. Arius, Urk. 6.2 (12.3f.); 6.3 (13.2–4); 6.4 (13.13f. Opitz).
  33. Arius, Urk. 6.3 (12.10–13.1 Opitz).
  34. See also note 25 above. Thus, Arius’s condemnation at Nicaea in 325—or rather, the confirmation of his earlier condemnation by Alexander—would fit into the developmental trajectory of this situation; under pressure from Emperor Constantine, all parties were able to agree on this “sacrificial pawn.” However, this interpretation fails to explain the evident support Arius received from many quarters, nor does it account for the truly central role he plays in many texts.
  35. Fernández (*Nicaea*, 65; see note 9) poses this question (“Is it possible to combine these data into a single chain?”) and presents his proposed “chain” on pp. 65–66.
  36. One can only speculate as to whether this aligns with the fragments from Eusebius of Caesarea’s *Contra Marcellum* (Urk. 9 = Doc. 5 = FNS 16).
  37. These indications yield a relative chronology for a small number of documents (Urk. 8 – Urk. 9 [?] – Urk. 10 – Urk. 1) and suggest a later dating for Urk. 1 = Doc. 15 = FNS 6.
  38. Löhr, “Arius reconsidered 1” (see note 9), 543: “… we must admit that most of the source material has disappeared and that it will be impossible to find out exactly what happened in the first period of the Arian controversy before the Council of Nicaea.”
  39. Mark DelCogliano, “Georg of Laodicaea: A Historical Reassessment”, JEH 62 (2001), 667–692, esp. 670–672.
  40. Two important letters by Eusebius of Caesarea have survived only through the acts of the Second Council of Nicaea (787): Urk. 3 = Doc. 10 = FNS 13/14; Urk. 7 = Doc. 9 = FNS 12: ACO 2, 734–736 and 560–562 Lamberz.
  41. An important and frequently analyzed document is this circular letter from Alexander of Alexandria (or Athanasius? Urk. 4b = Doc. 2.2 = FNS 26). The number “4b” indicates that the text has been transmitted alongside document Urk. 4a = Doc. 2.1 = FNS 25—thus representing an instance of the text’s dual use (the sixth topic in the list above) as early as antiquity. The text itself is a circular letter addressed to other bishops, in which Alexander informs them of the prior condemnation of Arius and some of his followers by a synod of 100 bishops from Egypt and Libya. He asks them to endorse this decision and to withhold support from Arius and his adherents. Meanwhile, Eusebius of Nicomedia had intervened on Arius’s behalf—a move Alexander sharply criticizes. The letter also contains a brief summary of the heresy (see p. 14 below) and a short refutation supported by biblical citations. It should be noted that this letter is not the original document recording the condemnation by the Egyptian synod of 100 bishops (which has not survived), but rather a subsequent circular letter based upon it. Furthermore, as previously mentioned, Alexander later sent this letter—accompanied by a cover note (Urk. 4a)—to the presbyters and deacons of Alexandria and Mareotis, requesting their signatures, as there were also dissenters in that region who supported Arius. The letter (Urk. 4b) has been preserved with these signatures. Consequently, the second version comprises the initial version of the letter (Urk. 4a + Urk. 4b) together with the signatures attached to Urk. 4a. The brief covering letter indicates that Alexander had previously written to Arius and his followers, urging them to renounce their heretical teachings. This letter, too, had already been signed by the clergy. However, this letter has not survived either. One problem is that the events described in this letter cannot be reconciled with those in Alexander’s other letter (Urk. 14 = Doc. 17 = FNS 8). In Urk. 4b, 4.11.20, Alexander complains about the interference of Eusebius of Nicomedia but makes no mention of Eusebius of Caesarea or the Syrians. In the other letter (Urk. 14.37), the situation is exactly the reverse: three bishops from Syria are mentioned, but Eusebius of Nicomedia is not. The presentation of the key “Arian” statements also differs. Urk. 4b appears to be closer to Arius’s *Thalia*, yet unfortunately, this text cannot be dated either, so it offers no assistance in this regard. This circular argument has already been pointed out.
  42. Xavier Morales, 325: Le grand et saint synode de Nicée (see n. 9 above), 112.
  43. See n. 41 above.
  44. Eusebius of Nicomedia, Urk. 8.3 (16.3-5 Opitz): … καὶ οὐκ ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας αὐτοῦ γεγονός, καθόλου τῆς φύσεως τῆς ἀγεννήτου μὴ μετέχον ἢ ὂν ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας αὐτοῦ, ἀλλὰ γεγονὸς ὁλοσχερῶς ἕτερον τῇ φύσει καὶ τῇ δυνάμει, πρὸς τελείαν ὁμοιότητα διαθέσεώς τε καὶ δυνάμεως τοῦ πεποιηκότος γενόμενον.
  45. Urk. 8.4 (16.9f. Opitz): … κτιστὸν εἶναι καὶ θεμελιωτὸν καὶ γεννητὸν τῇ οὐσίᾳ καὶ τῇ ἀναλλοιώτῳ καὶ ἀρρήτῳ φύσει καὶ ὁμοιότητι τῇ πρὸς τὸν πεποιηκότα μεμαθήκαμεν.
  46. Urk. 8,6 (16,15-17,1 Opitz), and 8,7 (17,4f. Opitz) : Εἰ δὲ τὸ γεννητὸν αὐτὸν λέγεσθαι ὑπόφασίν τινα παρέχει, ὡς ἂν ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας τῆς πατρικῆς αὐτὸν γεγονότα καὶ ἔχειν ἐκ τούτου τὴν ταυτότητα τῆς φύσεως, γιγνώσκομεν ὡς οὐ περὶ αὐτοῦ μόνου τὸ γεννητὸν εἶναί φησιν ἡ γραφή, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐπὶ τῶν ἀνομοίων αὐτῷ κατὰ πάντα τῇ φύσει. … οὐδὲν γάρ ἐστιν ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας αὐτοῦ, πάντα δὲ βουλήματι αὐτοῦ γενόμενα ἕκαστον, ὡς καὶ ἐγένετο, ἐστίν.
  47. Simperl interprets Doc. 4b as a very late document, originating shortly before Nicaea and thus even after the Synod of Antioch in 324/325. He bases this view on the text’s arguably more concise theology and sharper counter-arguments, a presumed theological development within the Arian camp (Arius’s Thalia and Asterius’s Syntagmation), and the striking, intensive use of ousia-terminology. Precisely for this reason, the text should be situated in close proximity to the Nicene Creed—as it paves the way for ousia-terminology—and dated to the period following the Synod of Antioch (Doc. 18), where *ousia* terminology is irrelevant. Cf. Simperl, Synode von Antiochia (see note 9), 321–327; on pp. 323f., he states: “The interest shown by Doc. 4b in ousia-terminology also demonstrates the letter’s temporal proximity to the Nicene Creed, which, beyond the term homoousios, defines the generation of the Son from the Father’s ousia.” And on p. 325: “Conversely, a significant indication of the earlier date of Doc. 18 is the absence of any ousia terminology, which is characteristic of the circular letter from Alexander (Doc. 4b) drafted by Athanasius. In the context of the Synod of Antioch, *ousia* terminology appears exclusively during an interrogation conducted by Ossius with Narcissus of Neronias, based on a letter from Eusebius to Euphrantion of Balaneae (Doc. 3). There, however, the only relevant factor is the number of divine ousiai, not the relationship of the Son to the Father’s ousia—a topic addressed by Alexander and Athanasius.”
  48. See note 41 above.
  49. Furthermore, there are differences between Doc. 4b and the Nicene Creed: the doctrine of the so-called “double Logos,” as found in Doc. 4b, is not discernible in the Nicene Creed, indicating inconsistencies in the orientation of these documents. It is also worth noting that the anathemas of the Nicene Creed appear to correspond more closely in content to a passage from Alexander’s other letter (Doc. 14.10f.). This demonstrates that similarities in content do not necessarily imply chronological proximity.
  50. Reinhart Koselleck, „Vom Sinn und Unsinn der Geschichte“, in: his Vom Sinn und Unsinn der Geschichte: Aufsätze und Vorträge aus vier Jahrzehnten (ed.. Carsten Dutt; Berlin, 2014), 9–31, here 19f. See also his „Erfahrungswandel und Methodenwechsel: Eine historisch-anthropologische Skizze“, in his, Zeitgeschichtliche Studien zur Historik (Frankfurt am Main, 2003), 27–77.

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