The Saint Who Would Be Santa Claus: The True Life and Trials of Nicholas of Myra

4. The Work of Victory

  97 4 The Work of Victory Within months of liberating the eastern provinces from Licinius and outlawing the persecution of Christians, Constantine, who now bore the title of maximus Augustus and ruled everything from the sun-baked borders of Persia to the ocean’s edge of Portugal, sent out a sealed notice to every known bishop. Nicholas broke open his letter, prepared for anything. To his surprise, it was a request that all bishops assemble at the emperor’s personal residence in Nicaea in order to convene a council. The letter read as follows: I announce to you, my beloved brothers, that all of you promptly assemble at the said city, that is at Nicaea. Let every one of you therefore, as I said before, keep the greater good in mind and be diligent, without delay in anything, to come speedily, that each may be physically present as a spectator of those things which will be done.1 Nicholas might have looked at the piles of brick and stone of his new church and sighed. Everything would have to wait. In May of 325, he obeyed the emperor’s summons, packed his bags, and headed north toward the small town of Nicaea, presentday Iznik, Turkey, more than 400 miles away. He might have proceeded with trepidation, thinking of the uncertainty that The Saint Who Would Be Santa Claus  98 must accompany any audience with the emperor. He certainly would have wondered if the new emperor would allow the bishops to conduct their business freely or try to seize control of church affairs. The Christian religion, as anyone could observe, was porous and diffuse. It had no centralized structure, universally recognized chain of command, or agreed-upon standard of belief, making its operations vulnerable to manipulation. There were many good reasons for Nicholas’ anxiety, but his thoughts were most likely interrupted by the abrupt chill of a spring rainstorm. The storm proved to be more than a passing shower; it was the onset of heavy rains which prevented a number of bishops from attending. Only one bishop from Italy was present at the council; the bishop of Rome refrained from coming but sent two deacons in his stead. Even so, the number and variety of bishops who were able to attend inspired awe and delight. According to Eusebius of Caesarea, it was a miracle that Nicaea’s single house of prayer could contain nationalities as diverse and incompatible as the Syrians and Cilicians, the Phœnicians and Arabians, the Palestinians and Egyptians, the Thebans and Libyans.2 The council even attracted one prelate from Spain in the far west and one from Persia in the far east. After many days of soggy travel, Nicholas arrived in the small town of Nicaea, where the emperor had taken up residence while his capital, the New Rome, was being raised on top of a much older city, Byzantium. The site of the new capital was perfectly located to unite the eastern and western halves of his realm and stood within striking distance of the river Danube . It also had the advantage of being situated on a peninsula of land that connected the Sea of Marmara to the Bosphorus, and thus the Mediterranean to the Black Sea. This new seat of power, which took six years to complete, would eventually take the name Constantinople from its patron, Constantine. Despite modest accommodations at Nicaea, Nicholas must have been overwhelmed by the experience. It was, after all, the first ecumenical or “worldwide” council of the church ever convened. With representatives from Egypt and Gaul, Greece 99 The Work of Victory and Palestine, Syria and North Africa, this was truly the church katholikos, “catholic,” a Greek term well in use by this time. At Nicaea, the Church universal was drawn together in one place. Eusebius of Caesarea has left us a description of the June 1 majestic opening ceremonies. According to his account, the bishops arranged themselves before long benches. They sat down and waited. At a sign they all rose as the Emperor Constantine himself, decked out in purple robes and wearing a crown of gold studded with jewels, entered the room. In deference to the bishops, he waited for their gesture before taking his seat on a gilded stool. He then received speeches of praise and commendation from the most prominent bishops. But he also gave his own speech exhorting the bishops to unity...