Having just named the “holy Roman catholic and
apostolic church“ as one of his two overbearing
masters, Stephen thinks of the source of these "proud
potent titles" in the Nicene Creed of 325 AD: “et
unam sanctam catholicam et apostolicam ecclesiam,”
one holy catholic and apostolic church.
Creeds are formal statements of religious faith, beginning
with the word Credo, "I believe." They were designed
to distinguish orthodoxy (correct belief) from heresy (false
teaching). As Stephen acknowledges when he thinks of "the
slow growth and change of rite and dogma," orthodox
doctrine develops gradually over the course of time, choosing
between competing visions of the truth. This was especially
true in the first few centuries of the Christian tradition.
One particular kind of “growth and change” lay behind the
Nicene Creed; it was formulated to counter the teachings of
Arius, by articulating a particular conception of the
relation between Father and Son. The creed's proud potent
titles soon send Stephen’s thoughts into a triumphal fantasy
of the archangel Michael casting out a flock of heretics,
Arius among them. He associates the evolution of orthodoxy in
Church teaching with the artistic development of his own
intensely serious and “rare thoughts,” and
links Mulligan’s unserious mockery with heresy. Stephen
thinks particularly of heretical offenses against the Nicene
Creed's account of Father and Son. His reasons for doing so
become clear in Scylla and Charybdis, where he
articulates an aesthetic theory built on the idea of
Father-Son unity.
This strong imaginative identification with the Catholic
Church may seem strange, since Stephen has just identified
that church as an overbearing master that he
wants to throw off. But he has his own, purely artistic
reasons for the loyalty. Ellmann says of Joyce in his young
adult years, "Christianity had subtly evolved in his mind from
a religion into a system of metaphors, which as metaphors
could claim his fierce allegiance. His brother Stanislaus's
outward rebellion, which took the form of rudeness to his
masters at Belvedere and defiance at home—his atheism worn
like a crusader's cross—did not enlist James's sympathy. He
preferred disdain to combat. He was no longer a Christian
himself; but he converted the temple to new uses instead of
trying to knock it down, regading it as a superior kind of
human folly" (66).
J. S. Bach’s musical setting of the Nicene Creed in the Mass
in B minor can be heard in the clip at right.
