The tag of “Early Church Father” comes at a considerable cost. Namely, most people don’t have a blessed clue who you were.
So it goes with Athanasius of Alexandria. Even his given name conjures an image of a cold marble monument in a museum, not to be touched or gathered around for too long.
The man’s existence was anything but dry history. In 45 years of ministry, he spent 17 of them exiled. Four different Roman emperors sent him packing a total of 5 times.
What compelled his superiors and opponents in the Christian church to make his life miserable?
Before you understand his enemies, you must first get a feel for where he lived and worked. Born in the late 290s A.D., Athanasius called Alexandria, Egypt home. Alexandria shined as a cultural beacon in the Roman empire. Pagan philosophers, Hellenistic Jews, and Christian converts vied for supremacy. The Library of Alexandria teemed with classical and rare works.
It’s no surprise then that Athanasius grew up well-educated in both the Scriptures and Greek literature. In his early adult years, he held the post of secretary to Bishop Alexander of Alexandria, who was a main player at the Council of Nicaea.
What prompted this council in 325 A.D?
Arius, a smooth-talking priest from Libya got to thinking, and what he thought turned most of Christendom upside down. Arius put forward, “If the Father begat the Son, then he who was begotten had a beginning in existence, and from this it follows there was a time when the Son was not.”
In plain terms, Arius denied Jesus’ eternal existence. Which denied His Godhood. Which denied the Trinity. His followers were called Arians.
At the Council of Nicaea, Athanasius took a front-row seat to Bishop Alexander to counter this view and defend Christ’s divinity.
The council succeeded in putting key elements of Christian doctrine into what became known as the Nicene Creed. The council upheld that Jesus always existed and no beginning. The creed put all of Christianity on notice. The Trinity wasn’t to be trifled with and Arianism was heretical.
But that wasn’t the end of Arius or his beliefs. His views caught on in church circles, and by the time Athanasius was elected bishop of Alexandria in May of 328 A.D., the debate still raged.
Athanasius would spend the rest of his days defending Christ’s divine nature and dodging the law. He wrote, “Those who maintain ‘There was a time when the Son was not’ rob God of his Word, like plunderers.”
Church politics swarmed thick and fast. Arian disciples got together and cooked up a plot. First, Arsenius, bishop of Hypsele, “retired” and went into hiding. The purpose? Arians soon spread word Athanasius had murdered Arsenius. Not only that, they claimed Athanasius severed off the dead bishop’s hand and cast spells with it.
Naturally, the courts in Alexandria wanted to hear more, so Athanasius went to trial. His Arian opponents whipped out a human hand during the testimony. Could this man of God be ruthless murderer, a serial killer in sheep’s clothing?
Athanasius asked his accusers if they counted Arsenius, the departed bishop, as a personal friend. They answered yes, of course.
Athanasius brought in a figure wrapped in a cloak. Arsenius was alive! Athanasius peeled back part of the cloak, revealing one hand. The court went into a tizzy. But what about the other hand? Athanasius ripped the cloak off, exposing a perfectly good hand, with no digits missing.
Athanasius couldn’t resist, asking the Arians if Arsenius had three hands. The case collapsed, and it was later revealed Arsenius had been hidden in a monastery.
Johnny Depp and Amber Heard have nothing on that trial.
The Arians said it was nothing but more witchcraft from the Bishop. Despite proving his innocence, Athanasius was forced to turn tail and flee to the emperor in Constantinople. The Arians followed and sowed another rumor. Alexandria was considered the breadbasket of the Roman empire, and the Arians accused Athanasius of delaying grain shipments, which caused food shortages.
That did the trick, and Athanasius was sent to Germany. The cycle would repeat itself over the next few decades. Athanasius would spend a period in exile, then a new Roman emperor would assume the throne. Depending on the Emperor’s view of church politics, Athanasius would be permitted to return to Alexandria and resume his duties. Inevitably, the Arians would stir up enough controversy and get the noble bishop in a heap of trouble.
One such time happened the night of February 7th, 356 A.D. Athanasius preached before a packed congregation. Their numbers would soon grow. Marching footsteps and clanking metal filled the air. Roman general Syrianus accompanied 5,000 infantrymen to take the cagey Bishop prisoner.
The service halted. Instead of fleeing, Athanasius directed a deacon to recite Psalm 136 as the soldiers surrounded and entered the sanctuary. He then coolly asked his congregation to leave the service in an orderly fashion.
But what would become of the Bishop himself? Would he come face-to-face with Syrianus?
A seasoned fugitive, Athansius was able to slip away with the crowd as the soldiers were still securing the premises. Roman legions annihilated many a foreign kingdom, but that evening, they couldn’t nab a notorious churchman.
Far from an isolated instance, Athanasius held himself up with quite the spine. On another occasion, he and a few of his followers hunched in a boat, escaping from the authorities on the Nile River.
Roman soldiers glided toward their boat, unaware that Athanasius, disguised in a monk’s cloak, was on board. They stopped alongside and asked if they’d seen Athanasius.
Now this is where gig should have been up. What can you say in such a moment?
Athanasius spoke for himself, legend has it.
“Have you seen Athansius?” said an unsuspecting Roman soldier.
“He can’t be far off,” said the culprit himself.
The bishop would continue to go in and out of exile, even escaping into the desert. Some of his most productive work sprung from those unstable years. He even penned a biography of Saint Anthony. Later, Augustine of Hippo credited the biography for leading him to Christ.
Toward his life’s end, Athanasius found some semblance of peace, resuming his post in Alexandria in 366 A.D. He died of natural causes in 373 A.D.
Biographer. Bishop. Fugitive. It was a life lived well. And for defending Jesus’ Godhood, his enemies labeled him a murderer, sorcerer, and traitor.
While on this earth, his chief problem was that someone was always hot on his trail. Now in death, the trail has gone cold. Today, few believers know much about him at all. I certainly didn’t.
His name may tangle the tongue. But now you know one Athanasius of Alexandria spoke out for the core of what you believe today. There’s a Latin saying that’s stuck to him.
Athanasius contra mundum. Athanasius against the world.
Well-earned, I’d say.
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Kevin Cochrane is the creator of Replenish, the site to resupply your faith with overlooked insights from Scripture-based stories. Share your thoughts by commenting below or dropping a line to kevin@replenishstories.com.
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