On May 20, the universal Church will celebrate the 1,700th anniversary of the Council of Nicaea. Convened in a small town near modern-day Istanbul, this historic gathering of bishops marked a defining moment in Christianity by clarifying the core of the Christian faith.
Yet this turning point continues to resonate strongly with contemporary Asia. This short series reflects on three key aspects of the Council — three insights to nourish our meditation on the presence of the Church, the Body of Christ, in 21st-century Asia.
This is not a history or dogmatic theology lesson, but an invitation to listen to what this historic event conveys to us today. My first reflection focuses on the Trinity — the heart of the Christian faith.
After Christianity was officially tolerated in the Roman Empire in 313 AD, political fears began to fade, and theological debates grew more intense. Internal conflicts came to light, including one led by a priest named Arius from Alexandria (in present-day Egypt), who insisted on the need to clarify who Christ is and His relationship to the one God. What does it mean to be the only Son of God? Had Christians fallen into a new kind of polytheism? Had they abandoned the monotheism that Jesus Himself, a Jew, professed?
In his effort to counter emerging heresies, Arius proposed that Jesus was a unique being created by God the Father and later welcomed into divinity. In other words, while God exists eternally and Jesus now lives eternally, there was a time when Jesus did not exist.
This doctrine, which emphasized Christ’s uniqueness while preserving the supremacy of the Father, sparked fierce disagreement. Some bishops condemned Arius’ views, and public conflict erupted. By the early 320s, crowds were passionately engaged in this controversy.
To preserve public order, the non-Christian emperor convened a gathering of all Christian bishops to resolve the issue: Was Arius right or wrong? After more than a month of deliberation in Nicaea, the bishops issued a statement of faith. That declaration became the first part of the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, still recited by many Christians today.
This text is a gem of Christian heritage — a precious reflection of divine light, to be contemplated carefully and persistently. From here in Asia in 2025, I’d like to offer a few reflections on what it reveals.
Although technical and somewhat lengthy, the Creed is above all a declaration of who Christ is: “One Lord, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all ages, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father.”
These few lines still resonate — 1,700 years later — with Christians in Asia. Our continent is home to a rich tapestry of religious traditions: some are deeply committed to the oneness of God, while others openly embrace divine multiplicity. Asian Christians often find themselves navigating between these two poles with unease.
With the Nicene Creed, Christians learn that they are no longer simply Jews or strict monotheists. Christ signifies a decisive break that many Asian Christian communities still struggle to comprehend. Christianity is neither a direct continuation nor a replacement of Israel; it is something entirely different. The disciples of Christ follow someone who is neither the Father Himself, nor merely a prophet, nor another god.
At the same time, Jesus and the Father are one. This is not polytheism! The Son is begotten, not made — true God born of true God. There is a relational dynamic within the very being of God — an infinite mystery meant to inspire and renew us constantly.
Thus, Christians must ask themselves: Does our relationship with God reflect this unity in difference? Put simply, we cannot pray only to the Father, only to Jesus, or only to the Holy Spirit — as if we could choose one and ignore the others. God is three, not solitary, not dual, but triune. And the three are inseparably united. Why separate what God has joined?
Similarly, it is unwise to elevate our ecclesial and spiritual preferences — whether Marian devotion, strict biblical fidelity, or service to the poor — to the status of the absolute. Each of these must remain connected to God the Father through His only Son, the Light born of Light. Nothing in Christianity can overshadow the Trinity itself.
A Christian life that is not Trinitarian is a Christian life at risk. This danger is very real in Asia, across all denominations.
Moreover, if the Father and the Son are one in the Spirit (as the next council of Constantinople would clarify), then Christians are called to unity as well. Yet in Asia, this Christian calling to unity is far from realized. Worse still, efforts toward unity are often non-existent, even among Catholics.
Paradoxically, our non-Christian neighbors sometimes see this unity more clearly than we do. Whether Hindu, Muslim, or Buddhist, they often view Catholics, Presbyterians, Evangelicals, and Pentecostals simply as Christians — disciples of Christ. What we fail to recognize and honor among ourselves is what others perceive from the outside and reflect to us.
They remind us that the Trinity we seek and worship cannot be possessed or privatized. No church can claim it as its own. It transcends us all.
At the same time, the Council of Nicaea illustrates how Christians must try to clearly articulate who God is — Father, Son, and Spirit — in their own languages. In its attempt to describe Christ, Nicaea introduced a new, non-biblical, technical term: consubstantial.
This new word conveys something profound not only about Jesus and the Father but also about our Christian duty: to name and explain what we contemplate in God. It expresses our calling to speak rightly of God. In doing so, we participate in the logic of the Incarnation — the revealing of God among us. Through this new word, the Council engaged in the act of divine revelation.
So what about us today in Asia? Do we dare express the Triune God’s beauty, depth, vitality, and complexity in our tongues and traditions — even using new and technical words drawn from Chinese, Malay, or Sanskrit?
Certainly, we must avoid courtly jargon. But Nicaea forbids us to settle for biblical fundamentalism or anti-intellectualism, attitudes that often creep into our communities. These are not faithful to what Christ revealed.
In short, even for those who are not theologians or historians, the mystery of the Trinity, proclaimed at the Council of Nicaea, still has much to teach us today, guiding Christian life in 21st-century Asia.
This is the first part of a three-part series of articles marking the 1700th anniversary of the Council of Nicaea.
With thanks to Union of Catholic Asian (UCA) News and Michel Chambon, where this article originally appeared.
