Longfellow
Well-Known Member
Bishop Marcus of Bithynia had been awake since dawn, and already he regretted not bringing a cushion. The imperial hall was grand, but the stone benches were not designed for men who had spent their lives sitting on woven mats in small churches.
He whispered to the bishop beside him, “Mama told me to bring some popcorn.”
The other bishop blinked, unsure whether Marcus was joking or simply exhausted.
At the front of the hall, Alexander of Alexandria was already on his feet, voice rising like a storm. He spoke of the Son as the Father’s own eternal radiance, the very essence of the Father Himself. Marcus tried to follow, but Alexander’s Greek was too quick, too philosophical, too… Alexandrian.
Then Eusebius of Nicomedia stood, calm and sharp as a knife. He spoke of real distinctions, of the reality and importance of the personal relationship between the Father and the Son. Marcus caught only fragments: “begotten before all ages,” “never unbegotten,” “not a part or piece of the Father.”It sounded like a lecture from a school he had never attended.
Marcus leaned back. “I should’ve listened to mama,” he muttered. “She said there’d be shouting.”
The shouting came.
Alexander accused Eusebius of dividing God.
Eusebius accused Alexander of collapsing the Father and Son into one person.
Hosius spoke quietly to Constantine, who nodded and said something about an essence.
Some bishops nodded gravely, pretending they understood.
Others stared at the floor, praying no one asked them to define ousia.
Marcus watched the two polarities argue on for a while. He wondered whether anyone had considered simply writing, “We believe in Jesus,” and going home.
By midday, the debate had become a blur of Greek terms Marcus had never heard in seminary. He whispered again, “If mama were here, she’d say, ‘Marcus, sit still and let the smart men fight.’”
He did exactly that.
When the creed was finally presented, Marcus signed it. He didn’t understand every clause, but he understood Constantine’s expression. And he understood that unity was better than another hour of metaphysics.
As he left the hall, he sighed with relief.
“Next council,” he said to himself, “I’m bringing popcorn.”
He whispered to the bishop beside him, “Mama told me to bring some popcorn.”
The other bishop blinked, unsure whether Marcus was joking or simply exhausted.
At the front of the hall, Alexander of Alexandria was already on his feet, voice rising like a storm. He spoke of the Son as the Father’s own eternal radiance, the very essence of the Father Himself. Marcus tried to follow, but Alexander’s Greek was too quick, too philosophical, too… Alexandrian.
Then Eusebius of Nicomedia stood, calm and sharp as a knife. He spoke of real distinctions, of the reality and importance of the personal relationship between the Father and the Son. Marcus caught only fragments: “begotten before all ages,” “never unbegotten,” “not a part or piece of the Father.”It sounded like a lecture from a school he had never attended.
Marcus leaned back. “I should’ve listened to mama,” he muttered. “She said there’d be shouting.”
The shouting came.
Alexander accused Eusebius of dividing God.
Eusebius accused Alexander of collapsing the Father and Son into one person.
Hosius spoke quietly to Constantine, who nodded and said something about an essence.
Some bishops nodded gravely, pretending they understood.
Others stared at the floor, praying no one asked them to define ousia.
Marcus watched the two polarities argue on for a while. He wondered whether anyone had considered simply writing, “We believe in Jesus,” and going home.
By midday, the debate had become a blur of Greek terms Marcus had never heard in seminary. He whispered again, “If mama were here, she’d say, ‘Marcus, sit still and let the smart men fight.’”
He did exactly that.
When the creed was finally presented, Marcus signed it. He didn’t understand every clause, but he understood Constantine’s expression. And he understood that unity was better than another hour of metaphysics.
As he left the hall, he sighed with relief.
“Next council,” he said to himself, “I’m bringing popcorn.”
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