CHAPTER I.Vide Preface.
THE DOCTRINE OF THE HOMOUSIA OF THE SON OF GOD WITH GOD HIMSELF.See the Opp. Athanas., and in addition the works of the other Church Fathers
of the fourth century, above all, those of Hilary, the Cappadocians and Jerome;
the Church Histories of Sulpicius, Rufinus, Socrates, Sozomen, Theodoret,
Gelasius, the Vita Constantini of Eusebius, the Panarion of Epiphanius, and the
Codex Theodosianus ed. Hænel; on the other side, the fragments of the Church
History of Philostorgius; of the secular historians, Ammian in particular. For
the proceedings of the Councils see Mansi Collect. Conc. v. II. and III.;
Hefele, Conciliengesch. 2nd ed. v. I. and II.; Walch, Historie der Ketzereien v.
II. and III.; Munscher, Ueber den Sinn der nicän. Glaubensformel, in Henke’s Neues Magazin, VI., p. 334 f.; Caspari, Quellen zur Gesch. des Taufsymbols, 4
vols., 1866 ff.; Hahn, Bibliothek der Symbole, 2nd ed. 1877; Hort, On the
Constantinop. Creed and other Eastern Creeds of the fourth century, 1876;
Swainson, The Nicene and Apostles’ Creeds, 1875; Bright, Notes on the Canons of
the first four General Councils, 1882; my art. “Konstantinop. Symbol” in
Herzog’s R.-Encykl., 2nd ed. Besides the historical works of Baronius,
Tillemont, Basnage, Gibbon, Schröckh, de Broglie, Wietersheim, Richter,
Kaufmann, Hertzberg, Chastel, Schiller, Victor Schultze, and Boissier, above
all, Ranke, (also Löning, Gesch. d. deutschen Kirchenrechts, vol. I.) and
others, the references in Fabricius-Harless, the careful biographies of the
Fathers of the fourth century by Böhringer, and the Histories of Dogma by
Petavius, Schwane, Baur, Dorner (Entw. Gesch. d. L. v. d. Person Christi),
Newman (Arians of the fourth century), Nitzsch, Schultz, and Thomasius may be
consulted. On Lucian: see my article in Herzog’s R.-Encyklop. v. VIII. 2, and in
my Altchristl. Lit. Gesch. vol. I. On Arius: Maimbourg, Hist. de l’Arianisme,
1673, Travasa, Storia della vita di Ario, 1746; Hassenkamp, Hist. Ariana
controversiæ, 1845; Revillout, De l'Arianisme des peuples germaniques, 1850;
Stark, Versuch einer Gesch. des Arianism, 2 vols., 1783 f.; Kölling, Gesch. der arianischen Häresie,
2 vols., 1874, 1883; Gwatkin, Studies of Arianism, 1882. On Athanasius:
Möhler, Athan. d. Gr., 1827; Voigt, Die Lehre d. Athan., 1861; Cureton, The
Festal Letters of Athan., 1848; Larsow, Die Festbriefe des hl. Athan., 1852;
Sievers, Ztschr. f. d. hist. Theol., 1868, I.; Fialon, St. Athanase, 1877;
Atzberger, Die Logoslehre d. hl. Athan., 1880 (on this ThLZ., 1880, No. 8)
Eichhorn, Athan. de vita ascetica, 1886. On Marcellus: Zahn, M. von Ancyra,
1867; Klose, Gesch. d. L. des Marcel and Photin, 1837. Reinkens, Hilarius, 1864;
Krüger, Lucifer, 1886, and in the Ztschr. f. wiss. Theol., 1888, p. 434 ff.;
Klose, Gesch. and Lehre des Eunomius, 1833; Rode, Gesell. der Reaction des
Kaiser Julian, 1877 (also the works of Naville, Rendall and Mücke); Ullmann,
Gregor v. Naz., 2nd ed. 1867; Dräseke, Quæst. Nazianz. Specimen, 1876; Rupp,
Gregor v. Nyssa, 1834; Klose, Basilius, 1835; Fialon, St. Basile, 2nd edit.
1869; Rade, Damasus, 1882; Förster, Ambrosius, 1884; Zöckler, Hieronymus, 1875; Güldenpenning and Ifland, Theodosius d. Gr., 1878; Langen, Gesch. d. röm. Kirche, I. 1881. In addition the articles on the subject in Herzog’s R.-Encykl.
(particularly those by Möller) and in the Dict. of Christ. Biography, and very
specially the article Eusebius by Lightfoot. The most thorough recent
investigation of the subject is that by Gwatkin above mentioned. The accounts of
the doctrines of Arius and Athanasius in Böhringer are thoroughly good and
well-nigh exhaustive. The literary and critical studies of the Benedictines, in
their editions, and those of Tillemont form the basis of the more recent works
also, and so far they have not been surpassed.
Is the Divine which appeared on the earth and has made its presence actively
felt, identical with the supremely Divine that rules heaven and earth? Did the
Divine which appeared on the earth enter into a close and permanent union with
human nature, so that it has actually transfigured it and raised
it to the plane of the eternal? These two questions necessarily arose out of the
combination of the incarnation of the Logos and the deification of the human
nature (See Vol. III., p. 289 ff.) Along with the questions, however, the
answers too were given. But it was only after severe conflicts that these
answers were able to establish themselves in the Church as dogmas. The reasons
of the delay in their acceptance have been partly already indicated in Vol.
III., pp. 167 ff. and will further appear in what follows. In the fourth century
the first question was the dominant one in the Church, and in the succeeding
centuries the second. We have to do with the first to begin with. It was finally
answered at the so-called Second Œcumenical Council, 381, more properly in the
year 383. The Council of Nicæa (325) and the death of Constantine (361) mark off
the main stages in the controversy.
1. FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE CONTROVERSY TO THE COUNCIL OF NICÆA.
At the great Oriental Council which met at Antioch about the year 268, the Logos
doctrine was definitely accepted,
while the “Homoousios” on the other hand was rejected.See Vol. iii., pp. 40, 45. The most learned man
whom the East at that time possessed, Lucian (of Samosata) took up the work of
the excommunicated metropolitan, Paul of Samosata. First educated at the school
of Edessa, where since the days of Bardesanes a free and original spirit had
prevailed, then a follower of Paul, he got from the latter his dislike to the
theology of “the ancient teachers”, and with this he united the critical study
of the Bible, a subject in which he became a master. He founded in Antioch an
exegetical-theological school which, during the time of the three episcopates of Domnus, Timäus and Cyril, was not in communion with the Church there, but which
afterwards, shortly before the martyrdom of Lucian, made its peace with the
Church.
This school is the nursery of the Arian doctrine, and Lucian, its head, is the
Arius before Arius. Lucian started from the Christology of Paul, but, following
the tendency of the time, and perhaps also because he was convinced on
exegetical grounds, he united it with the Logos Christology, and so created a
fixed form of doctrine.It is extremely probable that Lucian’s study of Origen too had convinced him of
the correctness of the Logos doctrine. We have to regard his doctrine as a
combination of the doctrines of Paul and Origen. Lucian and Origen are classed
together by Epiph., H. 76, 3, as teachers of the Arians. It is probable that it was only gradually he allowed
the Logos doctrine to have stronger influence on the Adoptian form. This
explains why it was not till towards the end of his life that he was able to
bridge over his differences with the Church. He was revered by his pupils both
as the teacher par excellence, and in his character as ascetic; his martyrdom,
which occurred in the year 311 or 312, increased his reputation. The remembrance
of having sat at the feet of Lucian was a firm bond of union amongst his pupils.
After the time of persecution they received influential ecclesiastical posts.Amongst Lucian’s pupils were Arius, Eusebius of Nicomedia, Menophantus of
Ephesus, Theognis of Nicæa, Maris of Chalcedon, Athanasius of Anazarbus (?),
the sophist Asterius, and Leontius, afterwards bishop of Antioch, and others. In
Syria the pupils of Dorotheus—namely, Eusebius of Cæsarea and Paulinus of Tyre
were supporters of Arius, as were also many of Origen’s admirers. As regards the
other partisans of Arius who are known to us by name, we do not know whether
they were pupils of Lucian or not. Egypt and Libya are represented by Theonas of
Marmarica, Secundus of Ptolemais and the presbyter Georgius of Alexandria, and
further, according to Philostorgius, by Daches of Berenice, Secundus of
Tauchira, Sentianus of Boraum, Zopyrus of Barka and Meletius of Lykopolis. In
other provinces we have Petrophilus of Scythopolis, Narcissus of Neronias,
Theodotus of Laodicea, Gregorius of Berytus and Aëtius of Lydda. Philostorgius
further mentions others, but he also reckons as belonging to his party those old
bishops who did not live to see the outbreak of the controversy and who
accordingly have been claimed by the orthodox side as well; see Gwatkin l.c.,
p. 31. For other names of presbyters and deacons at Alexandria who held Arian
views, see the letters of Alexander in Theodoret, I. 4, and Socrates, I. 6.
There was no longer anything to recall
the fact that their master had formerly been outside of the Church. These pupils
as a body afterwards came into conflict more or less strongly with the
Alexandrian theology. So far as we know, no single one of them was distinguished
as a religious character; but they knew what they wanted; they were absolutely
convinced of the truth of their school-doctrine, which had reason and Scripture
on its side. This is what characterises the school. At a time when the Church
doctrine was in the direst confusion, and was threatening to disappear, and when
the union of tradition, Scripture, and philosophical speculation in the form of
dogma had been already called for, but had not yet been accomplished, this
school was conscious of possessing an established system of doctrine which at
the same time permitted freedom. This was its strength.These pupils of Lucian must have displayed all the self-consciousness, the
assurance, and the arrogance of a youthful exclusive school (ἐκ τῆς αὐτῆς δηλητηρίου φρατρίας,
says Epiphanius in one place, H. 69, 5), haughtily
setting themselves far above the “ancients” and pitying their want of
intelligence. Highly characteristic in this respect is the account of Alexander,
their opponent, after making all allowance for the malevolent element in it;
see very specially the following passage, Theodoret, H. E. I. 4):
οἵ οὐδὲ τῶν ἀρχαίων τινὰς
συγκρίνειν ἑαυτοῖς ἀξιοῦσιν,
οὐδὲ οἷς ἡμεῖς ἐκ παίδων ὡμιλήσαμεν διδασκάλοις ἐξισοῦσθαι ἀνέχονται· ἀλλ᾽ οὐδὲ
τῶν νῦν πανταχοῦ συλλειτουργῶν τινὰ εἰς μέτρον σοφίας ἡγοῦνται· μόνοι σοφοὶ καὶ
ἀκτήμονες καὶ δογμάτων εὑρεταὶ λέγοντες εἶναι, καὶ αὐτοῖς ἀποκεκαλύφθαι μόνοις,
ἄπερ οὐδενὶ τῶν ὑπὸ τὸν ἥλιον ἑτέρῳ πέφυκεν ἐλθεῖν εἰς ἔννοιαν. One may further compare the
introduction to the Thalia.
The accounts of Lucian’s Christology which have been handed down are meagre
enough, still they give us a sufficiently clear picture of his views. God is
One; there is nothing equal to Him; for everything besides Him is created. He has created
the Logos or Wisdom—who is to be distinguished from the inner divine Logos—out
of the things that are not (ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων),
and sent him into the world.He is thus a created “God.” This
Logos has taken a human body though not a human soul, and accordingly all the
feelings and spiritual struggles of Christ are to be attributed to the Logos.
Christ has made known the Father to us, and by being man and by his death has
given us an example of patience. This exhausts his work, by means of which—for
so we may complete the thought—he, constantly progressing, has entered into
perfect glory. It is the doctrine of Paul of Samosata, but instead of man it is
a created heavenly being who here becomes “Lord”. Lucian must have put all the
emphasis on the “out of the things that are not” (ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων) and on the
“progress” (προκοπή). The creaturehood of the Son, the denial of his
co-eternity with the Father, and the unchangeableness of the Son achieved by
constant progress and constancy, constitute the main articles in the doctrine of
Lucian and his school. Just because of this he refuses to recognise in the Son
the perfectly equal image of the ousia or substance of the Father (Philost. II.
15).For the proofs of what is here said regarding Lucian see my article “Lucian”
in Herzog’s R.-Encykl., 2nd ed. Vol. VIII. Here I give merely the following. For
the close connection between Arius and Lucian we possess a series of witnesses.
Alexander of Alex. says expressly in his letter to Alexander (Theodoret H.E. I.
4) that Arius started from Lucian. Arius himself in his letter to Eusebius of
Nicomedia describes himself and his friend as Συλλουκιανιστής; Philostorgius
enumerates the pupils of Lucian, whom he regards as the friends of Arius (II.
14), and lets us see (II. 3, 13-15 and III. 15) that at the beginning of the
fifth century Lucian was still regarded as the patriarch and teacher of the
Arians. Epiphanius (Hær. 43. 1) and Philostorgius (l.c.) inform us that Lucian
was revered by the Arians as a martyr. Epiphanius and Marius Victorinus call the
Arians “Lucianists” (see also Epiph. H. 76. 3). Sozomen relates that the Fathers
of Arian or semi-Arian views assembled in Antioch in the year 341 accepted a
confession of faith of Lucian’s (III. 5). This confession is, it is true, given
by Athanasius (de synodis 23), Socrates (II. 10) and Hilary (de synod. 29)
without any statement as to its having originated with Lucian; but Sozomen
informs us that a semi-Arian synod which met in Caria in 367 also recognised it
as Lucianist (VI. 12). According to the author of the seven dialogues on the
Trinity, who was probably Maximus Confessor, the Macedonians did the same (Dial.
III. in Theodoreti Opp. V. 2, p. 991 sq., ed. Schultze and Nöss). The
semi-Arians also at the synod of Seleucia in 359 seem to have ascribed the
Confession to Lucian (see Caspari, Alte and neue Quellen zur
Gesch. d. Taufsymbols, p. 42 f., n. 18). Since Sozomen himself, however,
questions the correctness of the view which attributes it to Lucian, and since,
moreover, other reasons may be alleged against it, we ought with Caspari to
regard the creed as a redaction of a confession of Lucian’s. This fact too shews
what a high reputation the martyr had in those circles. That Lucian’s school was
pre-eminently an exegetical one is evident amongst other things from Lucian’s
well-known activity in textual criticism, as well as from Philostorg. (III. 15). There can be no doubt as to the
philosophy to which Lucian adhered. He worked with the means supplied by the
critical and dialectic philosophy of Aristotle, although indeed his conception
of God was Platonic, and though his Logos doctrine had nothing in common with
the teaching of Aristotle. His opponents have expressly informed us that his
pupils turned to account the Aristotelian philosophy.See on Arius, e.g., Epiphan. H. 69 c. 69, on Aëtius, who was indirectly a pupil
of Lucian (Philostorg. III. 15), the numerous passages in the Cappadocians and
Epiphanius H. 76 T. III., p. 251, ed. Oehler. Besides, in almost every sentence
of what is left us of the writings of Aëtius we see the Aristotelian.
Philostorgius testifies to the fact that he specially occupied himself with
Logic and Grammar; see above all, the little work of Aëtius in 74 theses, which
Epiphanius (H. 76) has preserved for us. In his application of Aristotelianism Aëtius, however, went further than Arius, as is peculiarly evident from the
thesis of the knowableness of God.
If one recollects that in the third century the Theodotian-Adoptian Christology
was founded by the help of what was supplied by Aristotelianism, and that the
Theodotians were also given to the critical study of the Bible,See Vol. III., p. 24. the connection
between Arianism and Adoptianism thus becomes clear. It is incorrect to trace
the entire opposition between the Orthodox and the Arians to the opposition
between Platonism and Aristotelianism, incorrect if for no other reason because
a strong Platonic element is contained in what they possess in common—namely,
the doctrine of God and of the Logos; but it is correct to say that the
opposition cannot be understood if regard is not had to the different
philosophical methods employed.Correctly given in Baur, L. v. d. Dreieinigkeit I., p. 387 ff.—not at all clear
in Dorner op. cit. I., p. 859. In Lucian’s teaching Adoptianism is combinedIt is self-evident that this combination deprived Paul’s system of doctrine of
all the merit which it contained.
with the doctrine of the Logos as a creature (κτίσμα), and this form of
doctrine is developed by the aid of the Aristotelian philosophy and based on the
critical exegesis of the Bible. Aristotelian Rationalism dominated the school.
The thought of an actual redemption was put in the background. The Christian
interest in monotheism is exhausted by the statement that the predicate “underived” attaches to one single being only. This interest in the “unbegotten
begetter”, and also, what is closely connected with it, the ranging of all
theological thoughts under the antithesis of first cause or God, and creation,
are also Aristotelian. Theology here became a “Technology”, that is, a
doctrine of the unbegotten and the begottenAccording to Theodoret (Hær. fab. IV. 3) it was Aëtius himself who called
theology “technology.” Perhaps the most characteristic example of how this
technology treated purely religious language is to be found in the benediction
with which Aëtius concluded one of his works (Epiphan. H. 76. T. III., p. 222, ed. Oehler).
Ἐρρωμένους καὶ ἐρρωμένας ὑμᾶς ὁ ὤν αὐτογένντος Θεός, ὁ καὶ μόνος ἀληθινὸς Θεὸς
προσαγορευθεὶς ὑπὸ τοῦ ἀποσταλέντος Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, ὑποστάντος τε ἀληθῶς πρὸ
αἰώνων καὶ ὄντος ἀληθῶς γεννητῆς ὑποστάσεως, διατηρήσει ἀπὸ τῆς ἀσεβείας, ἐν
Χριστῷ Ἰησοῦ τῷ κυρίῳ ἡμῶν, δι᾽ οὗ πᾶσα δόξα τῷ πατρὶ καὶ νῦν καὶ ἀεὶ καὶ
εἰς τοὺς αἰῶνας τῶν αἰώνων. Ἀμήν. This reminds us mutatis mutandis of the benediction of the modern rationalistic
preacher, “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the great teacher and friend of
men, be with you all.” I am glad further to see that Rupp too (Gregor von Nyssa,
p. 139) has connected the conception of ἀγεννησία, as being a central one in
Eunomius, with the πρῶτον κινοῦν
ἀκίνητον of Aristotle. which was worked out in syllogisms
and based on the sacred codex.
A pupil of Lucian named Arius, perhaps a Lybian by birth, became when already
well up in years, first deacon in Alexandria, and afterwards presbyter in the
church of Baukalis. The presbyters there at that period still possessed a more
independent position than anywhere else.Spite, however, of what we know of the Meletian schism in Alexandria and of
the temporary connection of Arius with it, (cf. also the schism of Colluthus) it
is not very clear if the outbreak of the Arian controversy, is connected with
the opposition between episcopate and presbyterate (against Böhringer). The
Alexandrian Presbyters were at that time actual Parochi. There are some obscure
references in the letter of Alexander (Theodoret I. 4), see Gwatkin, p. 29. Owing, however, to the influence of
the martyr bishop Peter (+ 311) a tendency had gained ascendency in the
episcopate in Alexandria, which led to Christian doctrine being sharply marked
off from the teachings of Greek philosophy (μαθήματα τῆς Ἑλληνικῆς
φιλοσοφίας) the presence of which had been observed in Origen, and in general
shewed itself in a distrust of
“scientific” theology, while at the same time the thought of the distinction
between the Logos and the Father was given a secondary place.See Vol. III., p. 99 ff. Arius
nevertheless fearlessly advanced the views he had learned from Lucian. The
description we get of him is that of a man of grave appearance and a strict
ascetic, but at the same time affable and of a prepossessing character, though
vain. He was highly respected in the city; the ascetics and the virgins were
specially attached to him. His activity had been recognised also by the new
bishop Alexander who began his episcopate in 313. The outbreak of the
controversy is wrapped in obscurity, owing to the fact that the accounts are
mutually contradictory. According to the oldest testimony it was an opinion
expressed by Arius when questioned by the bishop on a certain passage of
Scripture, and to which he obstinately adhered, which really began the
controversy,See Constantine’s letter in Euseb., Vita Constant. II. 69; the notices in the
Church historians and in Epiphanius (H. 69. 4) can hardly be reconciled with it.
Along with Constantine’s statements the account of Socrates is specially worthy
of consideration (I. 5). possibly in the year 318. Since the persecution had ceased, the
Christological question was the dominant one in the Alexandrian Church. Arius
was not the first to raise it. On the contrary he was able later on to remind
the bishop how the latter had often both in the Church and in the Council of Presbyters
(ἐν μέσῃ τῇ ἐκκλησίᾳ
καὶ συνεδρίῳ πλειστάκις) refuted the Valentinian Christology, according to which the Son is an emanation,—the
Manichæan, according to which the Son is a consubstantial part of the Father
(μέρος ὁμοούσιον τοῦ πατρός),—the Sabellian, according to which the Godhead
involves the identity of the Son and Father (ὑιοπάτωρ),—that of Hieracas.
according to which the Son is a torch lighted at the torch of the Father, that
Son and Father are a bipartite light and so on,—and how he, Arius, had agreed
with him.Ep. Arii ad Alex. in Athanas. de synod. 16 and Epiphan. H. 69. 7. According to
Philostorg. I. 3, the exertions of Arius had very specially contributed to bring
about the election of Alexander as bishop, although he could then have become
bishop himself. It was only after considerable hesitation and perhaps vacillation too, that
Alexander resolved on the excommunication of Arius. It took place at a Synod
held in 321 or 320 in presence of about one hundred Egyptian and Lybian bishops.
Along with Arius some presbyters and deacons of Alexandria, as well as the
Lybian bishops Theonas and Secundus, were deposed. This did not quieten Arius.
He sought and forthwith found support amongst his old friends, and above all,
got the help of Eusebius of Nicomedia. This student-friend had an old cause of
quarrel with Alexander,Ep. Alexandri in Socr. I. 6 on Eusebius.
Τὴν πάλαι γὰρ αὐτοῦ κακόνοιαν τὴν
χρόνῳ σιωπηθεῖσαν νῦν διὰ τούτων (by letters) ἀνανεῶσαι βουλόμενος, σχηματίζεται
μὲν ὡς ὑπὲρ τούτων γράφων· ἔργῳ δὲ δείκνυσιν, ὡς ὅτι ὑπὲρ ἑαυτοῦ σπουδάζων
τοῦτο ποιεῖ. His lust of power is characterised by
Alexander in the words (l. c.) νομίσας ἐπ᾽ αὐτῷ
κεῖσθαι τὰ τῆς ἐκκλησίας. and, contrary to ecclesiastical law, had been
transferred to Nicomedia by Berytus, the most influential bishopHe is supposed to have been related to the Emperor. According to a letter of
Constantine’s of a later date (in Theodoret. H. E. I. 19) he remained faithful
to Licinius and had before the catastrophe worked against Constantine. at the court
of the Empress, a sister of Constantine. Arius, driven out of Alexandria “as an
atheist”, had written to him from Palestine.Theodoret H. E. I. 5, Epiph. H. 69 6. He was able to appeal to a
number of eastern bishops, and above all, to Eusebius of Cæsarea; in fact he
asserted that all the eastern bishops agreed with him and had on this account
been put under the ban by Alexander (?). Eusebius of Nicomedia espoused the
cause of Arius in the most energetic fashion in a large number of letters.See the letter to Paulinus of Tyre—which is put later by some—in Theodoret, H.
E. I. 6. In this letter Eusebius praises the zeal of the Church historian
Eusebius in the matter and blames Paulinus for his silence. He too ought to come
to the help of Arius by giving a written opinion based on the theology of the
Bible. There is a fragment of a letter of Eusebius to Arius in Athanasius, de
synod. 17, where there are also other letters of the friends of Arius.
Alexander on his part also looked about for allies. He wrote numerous letters to
the bishops, two of which have been preserved—namely, the Encyclica, i.e., the
official report of what had occurred,See Socrat. H. E. I. 6 and Athanas., Opp. I., p. 313 sq. (ed. Paris, 1689, p. 397 sq.). and
the epistle to Alexander, Bishop of Constantinople. (?)Theodoret, H. E. I. 4. The address is probably incorrect; the letter is
written to several persons. In the
latter letter, which is written in a very hostile tone, Alexander sought to
check the powerful propaganda of Arianism. He appealed to the bishops of the
whole of Egypt and the Thebaid and further to the Lybian, Pentapolitan, Syrian,
Lycio-Pamphylian, Asiatic, Cappadocian, and other bishops. Arius betook himself
to Nicomedia and from there addressed a conciliatory epistle to the Alexandrian
bishop which we still possess.See note 3, p. 8. He also composed at that time his “Thalia,” of
whose contents which were partly in prose and partly in verse, we cannot form
any very correct idea from the few fragments handed down to us by Athanasius.
His supporters thought a great deal of this. work while his opponents condemned
it as profane, feeble, and affected.On the Thalia see Athan., Orat. c. Arian I. 2-10 de synod. 15. Philostorgius
II. 2 tells us that Arius put his doctrine also into songs for sailors, millers,
and travellers etc., in order thus to bring it to the notice of the lower
classes. Athanasius also mentions songs. We can see from this that Arius made no
distinction between faith and philosophical theology. He followed the tendency
of the time. His opponents are for him “heretics.” A Bithynian Synod under the leadership of
Eusebius decided for Arius,Sozom. I. 15. and Eusebius of Cæsarea entered into communication
with Alexander of Alexandria in the character of mediator, in order to induce
him to take a more favourable view of the doctrine of the excommunicated
presbyter.The letter is in the Acts of the Second Nicene Council, Mansi
XIII., p. 315. It may have been, more than anything else, the political state of
things which allowed Arius to find his way back once more to Alexandria. Under
the patronage of some distinguishes bishops with whom he had entered into
correspondence, but who were not able to bring about any amicable arrangement
with Alexander, Arius resumed his work in the city.Sozom. I. 15. In the autumn of 323
Constantine, after his victory over Licinius, became sole ruler in the Roman
Empire. The controversy had already begun to rage in all the coast-provinces of
the East. Not only did the bishops contend with each other, but the common
people too began to take sides, and the dispute was carried on in such a base
manner that the Jews scoffed at the
thing in the theatres, and turned the most sacred parts of the doctrine of the
Church into ridicule.Euseb., Vita Const. II. 61; Socrates I. 7; Theodoret I. 6; the discord
extended even into families. Constantine forthwith interfered. The very full letter
which he sent to Alexander and Arius,Vita Const. II. 64-70. in 323-24, is one of the most important
monuments of his religious policy. The controversy is described as an idle
wrangle over incomprehensible things, since the opponents are, he says, at one
as regards the main point.Constantine wrote the letter not as a theologian, but as Emperor, which ought
in fairness to be reckoned to his credit. The introduction is very skilfully
worded: the Emperor trusted that he would he able with the help of the Eastern
bishops to compose the Donatist schism, and now he sees the East torn by a far
more destructive schism. He offers his services as mediator and accordingly
takes up an absolutely impartial position. “Alexander should not have asked the
questions and Arius should not have answered them; for such questions lie
outside the “Law”; and above all, care ought to have been taken not to bring
them to the notice of the people. The opponents, who at bottom presumably had
the same convictions, ought to come to an agreement and compose their
differences; this is what is done in the schools of philosophy; those who attend
them dispute, but they afterwards formulate terms of agreement upon a common
basis. It is only the common people and ignorant boys who quarrel about
trifles.” The close of the letter expresses the very great anxiety felt by the
Emperor lest the grand work of restoring peace and unity entrusted to him by
Providence should be hindered. He accordingly most earnestly urges peace, even
if they cannot actually agree. In necessariis unitas, in dubiis libertas
and—reserve, is thus the watchword of the Emperor; in faith in Providence and in
the conception of the Supreme Being they are certainly one: for the upholder of
all has given to all a common light; differences of opinion on separate points
are unavoidable and are perfectly legitimate when there is radical unity in
dogma. “Restore to me my peaceful days and my undisturbed nights and do not
allow me to spend what remains of my life in joylessness.” The close is once
more very effective: he had already started, he says, for Alexandria, but had
turned back when he heard of the split; the combatants may make it possible for
him to come by becoming reconciled. This letter can hardly have been written
under the influence of Eusebius of Nicomedia; still Nicomedia had already before
this been the starting-point of a movement for bringing about union, as the
conciliatory epistle of Arius and the pacific letter of his friends prove. But the letter had no effect, nor was the
court-bishop, Hosius of Cordova, who brought it, and who as an Occidental
appeared to be committed to neither side, able to effect a reconciliation
between the parties. In all probability, however, Hosius had already come to an
understandingIf according to Socrat. III. 7, he at this time agitated in Alexandria the
question about οὑσία and ὑπόστασις, it must have been in the western-orthodox
sense. On the other hand, it is said (l. c.) that Hosius when in Alexandria
endeavoured to refute the doctrine of Sabellius. He might thus, as a matter of
fact, regard himself as a mediator, namely, between the Arian and Sabellian
doctrinal propositions; see on this below. It is probable that a Synod was held
in Alexandria during his stay there. in Alexandria with Alexander, and the latter shortly
after took a journey to Nicomedia, thoroughly completed the understanding,
talked over some other bishops there, and so prepared the way for the decision
of the Council of Nicæa.This, it is true, is the account only of Philostorgius (I. 7), but there is no
reason fur mistrusting him. The Emperor was won over by Hosius after he perceived
the fruitlessness of his union-policy.In Egypt the tumults were so serious that even the image of the Emperor was
attacked (Vita Const. III. 4). He now summoned a General Council to
meet at Nicæa, apparently on the advice of Hosius,This is the account given by Sulpicius Severus, Chron. II. 40; “Nicæna synodus
auctore Hosio confecta habebatur.” and the latter had the main
share also in determining the choice of the formula proposed.Athan. hist. Arian. 42; οὗτος ἐν Νικαίᾳ πίστιν ἐξέθετο. On Hosius see the
lengthy article in the Dict. of Christ. Biogr. The life of this important and
influential bishop covers the century between the death of Origen and the birth of Augustine.
But before we take up the Council of Nicæa, we must get some idea of the
doctrines of the contending parties.
We still know what were the Christological formulæ of Bishop Alexander which
were attacked by Arius.From the letter of Arius to Eusebius of Nicomedia. They were the words:
Ἀεὶ θέος, ἀεὶ υἱός, ἅμα πατήρ, ἅμα υἱός, συνυπάρχει ὁ
υἱὸς ἀγεννήτωςLightfoot (S. Ignatius Vol. II., p. 90 ff.) has published a learned discussion
on ἀγένητος (underived) and ἀγέννητος (unbegotten) in the Fathers up till
Athanasius. Ignatius (Eph. 7) called the Son as to His Godhead “ἀγέννητος.” In
the first decades of the Arian controversy no distinction was made between the
words, i.e., the difference in the writing of them was not taken account of, and
this produced frightful confusion. Still Athanasius saw clearly from the first
that though the conception of generation might hold good of the Son, that of
becoming or derivation did not; s. de synod 3:
τὸν πατέρα μόνον ἄναρχον ὄντα καὶ ἀγέννητον
γεγεννηκέναι ἀνεφίκτως καὶ πᾶσιν ἀκαταλήπτως οἴδαμεν· τὸν δὲ ὑιὸν γεγεννῆσθαι
πρὸ αἰῶνων καὶκ μηκέτι ὁμοίως τῷ πατρὶ ἀγέννητον εἶναι καὶ αὐτὸν, ἀλλ᾽ ἀρχὴν
ἔχειν τὸν γεννήσαντα πατέρα. Spite of this he could say (l. c. c. 46):
τοῦτο τὸ ὄνομα—scil. ἀγέννητος,
as if it were identical in form with
ἀγένητος—διάφορα ἔχει
τὰ σημαινόμενα. καὶ οἱ μέν, τὸ ὄν μὲν μήτε δὲ γεννηθέν, μήτε ὅλως ἔχον τὸν αἴτιον, λέγουσιν ἀγέννητον, οἱ δε τὸ ἄκτιστον; see also the tiresome distinctions in
the work “de decret. synod. Nic.” 28 sq. The distinction in fact between
γεννᾶν, γίγνεσθαι, κτίζειν was not yet itself a definite one. At a later period there
was no hesitation in asserting that the Son both as God and as Man is γεννητός; s. Joh. Damasc. I. 8:
χρῆ γὰρ εἰδέναι, ὅτι τὸ ἀγένητον, διὰ τοῦ ἑνὸς ν γραφόμενον, τὸ
ἄκτιστον ἤ τὸ μὴ γενόμενον σημαίνει, τὸ δὲ ἀγέννητον, διὰ τῶν δύο ν γραφόμενον,
δηλοῖ τὸ μὴ γεννηθέν. From this he infers that the
Father only is ἀγέννητος, while the Son as God is γεννητός and indeed
μόνος γεννητός. One can see from the wonderful word of Alexander’s, ἀγενητογενής,
what difficulties were created at first for the orthodox by the ἀγέν[ν]ητος.
Athanasius would have preferred to banish entirely the fatal word and not to
have used it even for the Father. That it, as is the case with ὁμοούσιος also,
was first used by the Gnostics and in fact by the Valentinians is evident from
the striking passage in the letter of Ptolemaus to Flora c. 5, which has
hitherto escaped the notice of those who have investigated the subject.
Ptolemaus is there dealing with the only good primal God, the primal ground of
all Being and all things, with the true demiurge and Satan. He writes amongst other things:
καὶ ἔσται (ὁ δημιουργὸς) μὲν καταδεέστερος τοῦ τελείου Θεοῦ, ἅτε δὴ καὶ
γεννητὸς ὢν καὶ οὐκ ἀγέννητος—εἷς γὰρ ἐστιν ἀγέννητος ὁ πατήρ, ἐξ οὗ τὰ πάντα . . .
μείζων δὲ καὶ κυριώτερος τοῦ ἀντικειμένου γενήσεται καὶ ἐτέρας οὐσιας τε καὶ
φύσεως πεφυκὼς παρὰ τὴν ἑκατέρων τούτων οὐσίαν . . . τοῦ δὲ πατρὸς τῶν ὅλων τοῦ
ἀγεννήτου—that is thus the
characteristic!—ἡ οὐσία ἐστὶν ἀφθαρσία τε καὶ φῶς
αὐτοόν, ἁπλοῦν τε καὶ μονοειδὲς, ἡ δὲ τούτου
(scil. τοῦ δημιουργοῦ) οὐσία διττὴν μέν
τινα δύναμιν προήγαγεν, αὐτὸς δε τοῦ κρείττονός ἐστιν εἰκῶν. μηδέ σε τὰ νῦν τοῦτο
θορυβείτω, θέλουσαν μαθεῖν, πῶς ἀπὸ μιᾶς ἀρχῆς τῶν ὅλων οὔσης τε καὶ ὁμολογουμένης
ἡμῖν καὶ πεπιστευμένης, τῆς ἀγεννήτου καὶ ἀφθάρτου καὶ ἀγαθῆς, συνέστησαν
καὶ αὗται αἱ φύσεις, ἥ τε τῆς φθορᾶς καὶ ἡ τῆς μεσότητος, ἀνομοούσιοι αὗται καθεστῶσαι,
τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ φύσἰν ἔχοντος τὰ ὅμοια ἑαυτῷ καὶ ὁμοούσια γεννᾶν τε γαὶ προφέρειν·
μαθήσῃ γὰρ ἑξῆς καὶ τὴν τούτου ἀρχήν τε καὶ γέννησιν.
This is how Ptolemaus wrote c. 160. His words already
contain the ecclesiastical terminology of the future! We also already meet with
the term “σοφία ἀνυπόστατος” in a passage of his l. c. c. 1. Many passages
prove, moreover, that not only the words employed later on, but also the ideas
from which sprang the Church doctrine of the immanent Trinity in its subsequent
form, were present in the writings of the Valentinians, as, e.g., the following from Hipp. Philos. VI. 29 (Heracleon):
ἦν ὅλως γεννητὸν
οὐδέν, πατὴρ δὲ ἦν μόνος ἀγέννητος . . . ἐπεὶ δὲ ἦν γόνιμος, ἔδοξεν αὐτῷ ποτὲ τὸ
κάλλιστον καὶ τελεώτατον, ὃ εἷχεν ἐν αὐτῷ, γεννῆσαι καὶ προαγαγεῖν· φιλέρημος
γὰρ οὐκ ἦν· Ἀγάπη γάρ, φησίν, ἦν ὅλος, ἡ δὲ ἀγάπη οὐκ ἔστιν ἀγάπη, ἐὰν μὴ ᾖ τὸ
ἀγπαώμενον . . . τελειότερος δὲ ὁ πατήρ, ὅτι ἀγέννητος ὢν μόνος.
In what follows the whole discussion is conditioned by the
problem that the begotten Æons are in their nature indeed ὁμοούσιοι with the
Father, but that they are imperfect as γεννητοί and are inferior to the
μόνος ἀγέννητος. Here therefore the field for the
Arian-Athanasian controversy is already marked out. But it is to be noticed
further that the three terms, μονογενής, πρωτότοκος, and εἰκών contain and
define the entire Valentinian Christology, which is of an extremely complicated
character. (See Heinrici, die Valentin. Gnosis. p. 120). In the fourth century,
however, they became the catchwords of the different Christologies. τῷ θεῷ, ἀειγενής, ἀγενητογενής, οὔτ᾽ ἐπινοία, οὔτ᾽
ἀτόμῳ τινὶ προάγει ὁ θεὸς τοῦ ὑιοῦ, ἀεὶ θεός, ἀὲι υἱός, εξ αὐτοῦ τοὺ
θεοῦ ὁ υἱός; always God, always Son, at the same time Father, at the same time
Son, the Son exists unbegotten with the Father, everlasting, uncreated, neither
in conception nor in any smallest point does God excel the Son, always God,
always Son, from God Himself the Son.
Alexander thus maintains the beginningless, eternal co-existence of Father and
Son: the Father is never to be thought of without the Son who springs from the
Father. It is not improbable that Alexander was led thus to give prominence to
the one side of the Logos doctrine of Origen, owing to the influence of the
theology of Irenæus or Melito.It is impossible to come to any certain decision on this point, so long as it
is not proved that the pieces which are ascribed to Alexander are really his,
and at the same time so long as it is uncertain if the sentences from them which
also bear the names of Irenæus and Melito really belong to these writers and
have been made use of by Alexander. See on this question Cotterill, Modern
Criticism and Clement’s Epp. to the Virgins, 1884, on this ThLZ., 1884, p. 267
f; Pitra, Analecta Sacra T. IV. pp. 196 sq., 430 sq. On this Loofs, ThLZ. 1884,
Col. 572 f., and very specially Krüger, Ztschr. f. wiss. Theol. 1888, p. 434
ff.; Melito of Sardes and Alex. of Alexandria. Socrates asserts (I. 5) that
Arius believed that Alexander wished to introduce the doctrinal system of
Sabellius. But the Christology of Irenæus has also been understood in a “Sabellian” sense. The important address of Alexander on soul and body, in which
he also treats of the Incarnation, is to be found in Migne T. 18. The doctrine which Arius opposed to this is
above all dominated by the thought that God, the Only One, is alone eternal, and
that besides Him there exists only what is created, and that this originates in
His will, that accordingly the Son also is not eternal, but a creation of God
out of the non-existent.This was the original point of dispute. Διωκόμεθα, writes Arius to Eusebius,
ὅτι εἴπομεν, Ἀρχὴν ἔχει ὁ υὑός, ὁ δὲ Θεὸς ἄναρχός ἐστι. Διὰ τοῦτο διωκόμεθα, καὶ
ὅτι εἴπομεν, Ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων
ἐστίν. From this thesis there necessarily follows the
rejection of the predicate ὁμοούσιος for the Son. Arius and his friends
already before the Council of Nicæa give expression to it, incidentally indeed,
but without ambiguity.See the fragment from the Thalia in Athan. de synod. 15, the letter of
Eusebius of Nicomedia to Paulinus, also that of Arius to Alexander.
The doctrine of Arius is as follows:The fragments of the Thalia and the two letters of Arius which have been
preserved are amongst the most important sources: cf. also the confession of
faith of Arius in Socr. I. 26 (Sozom. II. 27). Then we have the statements of
his earliest opponents, very specially the two letters of Alexander and the verbal quotations
of the propositions of Arius in Athanasius; see especially ep. ad episc. “Ægypt
12 and de sentent. Dionys. 23, also the Orat. c. Arian. In the third place, we
can adduce the propositions laid down by the earliest Arians, or by the patrons
of Arius. Opponents made little difference between them and Arius himself, and
the actual facts shew that they were justified in so doing; see the letter of
Eusebius of Nicomedia to Paulinus and the fragments of Arian letters in Athanas.
de synod. 17, also the fragments from Asterius. Finally, we have to consider
what the Church historians and Epiphanius have to tell us regarding the
doctrinal propositions of Arius. There was no “evolution” of Arianism, we can
only distinguish different varieties of it. Even Eunomius and Aëtius did not
“develop” the doctrinal system, but only gave it a logically perfect form.
Lucian had already completed the entire system, as is specially evident from the
letter of Eusebius of Nicomedia to Paulinus; see also the introduction to the
Thalia in Athan., Orat. c. Arian. I. 5, which, moreover, presents the character
of Arius in an unfavourable light:
κατὰ πίστιν ἐκλεκτῶν
Θεοῦ, συνετῶν Θεοῦ, παίδων ἁγίωνμ ὀρθοτόμων, ἅγιον Θεοῦ πνεῦμα λαβόντων, τάδε
ἔμαθον ἔγωγε ὑπὸ τῶν σοφίης μετε χόντων, ἀστείων, θεοδιδάκτων, κατὰ πάντα σοφῶν
τε· τούτων κατ᾽ ἴχνος ἦλθον ἐγὼ βαίνων ὁμοδόξως ὁ περικλυτός, ὁ πολλὰ παθὼν
διὰ τὴν Θεοῦ δόξαν, ὑπό τε Θεοῦ
μαθὼν σοφίαν καὶ γνῶσιν ἐγὼ
ἔγνων.
(a) God, the Only One, besides whom there is no other, is alone unbegotten,
without beginning and eternal; He is inexpressible, incomprehensible, and has
absolutely no equal. These are the notes which express His peculiar nature. He
has created all things out of His free will, and there exists nothing beside Him
which He has not created. The expression “to beget” is simply a synonym for “to
create”. If it were not, the pure simplicity and spirituality of God’s nature
would be destroyed. God can put forth nothing out of His own essence; nor can He
communicate His essence to what is created, for this essence is essentially
uncreated. He has accordingly not been Father always; for otherwise what is
created would not be created, but eternal.In the doctrine of God as held by Arius and his friends two main ideas appear
all through as those upon which everything depends: (1) that God alone is
ἀγέννητος; (2) that all else has been created out of nothing by God’s free
will. In accordance with this they get rid of everything designated as
προβολὴ ἀγέννητος,
ἐρυγή, γέννημα, μέρος ὁμοούσιον, ἐξ ἀπορροῖας τῆς οὐσίας, μονὰς πλατυνθεῖσα, ἕν εἰς
δύο διῃρημένον, etc.; even the old pictorial expressions
“Light of Light”, “Torch of Torch” are rejected, and they will have nothing to
do with the transformation of an originally impersonal eternal essence or
substance in God into a personally subsisting essentiality; see the epp. Arii ad Euseb. et Alexand.
Εἰ τό; Ἑκ γαστρός, καὶ τό· Ἐκ πατρὸς ἐξῆλθον καὶ ἥκω, ὡς μέρος τοῦ ὁμοουσίου καὶ ὡς
προβολὴ ὑπὸ τινων νοεῖται, σύνθετος ἔσται ὁ πατὴρ καὶ διαιρετὸς καὶ τρεπτὸς
καὶ σῶμα . . . καὶ τὰ ἀκόλουθα σώματι πάσχων ὁ ἀσώματος Θεός.; It was
Eusebius Nic. specially in his letter to Paulinus, who developed the thought
that “to beget” is equal to “to create” and he, for the rest, allows that if
the Son were begotten out of the substance of the Father the predicate ἀγέννητος
would attach to Him, and He would possess the ταυτότις τῆς φύσεως
with the Father. In laying down their doctrine of God, Arius and his friends
express themselves with a certain amount of fervour. One can see that they have
a genuine concern to defend monotheism. At the same time they are as much
interested in the negative predicates of the Godhead as the most convinced Neo-platonists. On πατήρ see the Thalia in Athan., Orat. I. c. Arian c. 5:
οὐκ ἀεί ὁ Θεὸς πατὴρ ἦν,
ἀλλ᾽ ἦν ὅτε ὁ Θεὸς μόνος ἦν καὶ
οὔπω πατὴρ ἦν, ὕστερον δὲ
ἐπιγέγονε πατήρ.
(b) Wisdom and Logos dwell within this God as the powers (not persons) which are
coincident with His substance, and are by their very nature inseparable from it;
there are besides many created powers.Thalia l.c.:
δύο σοφίας εἶναι. μίαν μὲν τὴν ἰδίαν καὶ συνυπάρχουσαν τῷ Θεῷ,
τὸν δὲ υἱὸν ἐν ταύτῃ τῇ σοφίᾳ γεγενῆσθαι καὶ ταύτης μετέχοντα ὡνομάσθαι μόνον
σοφίαν καὶ λόγον· ἡ σοφία γὰρ τῇ σοφίᾳ ὑπῆρξε σοφοῦ Θεοῦ θελῆσει. Οὓτω καὶ λόγον
ἕτερον εἶναι λέγει παρὰ τὸν υἱὸν ἐν τῷ Θεῷ καὶ τούτον μετέχοντα τὸν υἱὸν ὡνομάσθαι
πάλιν κατὰ χάριν λόγον καὶ υἱόν . . . Πολλαὶ δυνάμεις εἰσί, καὶ ἡ μὲν μία τοῦ Θεοῦ
ἐστιν ἰδία φύσει καὶ αῒδιος, ὁ δε Χριστὸς πάλιν οὐκ ἔστιν ἀληθονὴ δύναμις τοῦ Θεοῦ,
ἀλλὰ μία τῶν λεγομένων δυνάμεων ἐστι καὶ αὐτός, ὧν μία καὶ ἡ ἀκρὶς καὶ ἡ
κάμπη κ.τ.λ.
(c) Before the world existed, God of His free will created an independent
substance or hypostasis (οὐσία, ὑπόστασις) as the instrument by means of which
all other creatures were to be created, since without it the creatures would not
have been able to endure the contact of the Godhead. This Being is termed in
Scripture Wisdom, also Son, Image, Word; this Wisdom, which, compared with the
inner divine Wisdom, is called Wisdom only in a loose sense, has like all
creatures been created out of nothing. It originates in God only in so far as it
has been created by God; it is in no sense of the substance or essence of God.
It has had a beginning; it accordingly did not always exist, there was a time in
which it was not. That the Scriptures use the word “begotten” of this Substance
does not imply that this is peculiar to it any more than is the predicate “Son”; for the other creatures are likewise described here and there as
“begotten,” and men are called “sons of God”.See the foregoing note and Thalia l.c.:
οὐκ ἀεὶ ἦν ὁ υἱός, πάντων γὰρ γενομένων
ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων καὶ πάντων ὄντων κτισμάτων καὶ ποιημάτων γενομένων, καὶ
αὐτὸς ὁ τοῦ Θεοῦ λόγος ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων γέγονε, καὶ ἠν ποτε ὅτε οὐκ ἦν, καὶ οὐκ ἦν
πρὶν γένηται, ἀλλ᾽ ἀρχὴν τοῦ κτίζεσθαι ἔσχε καὶ αὐτὸς . . . Ἦν μόνος ὁ Θεὸς καὶ
οὔπω ἦν ὁ λόγος καὶ ἡ σοφία, εἶτα θέλησις ἡμᾶς δημιουργῆσαι, τότε δὴ πεποίηκεν
ἕνα τινὰ καὶ ὡνόμασεν αὐτὸν λόγον καὶ σοφίαν καὶ υἱόν, ἵνα ἡμᾶς δι᾽ αὐτοῦ δημιουργήσῃ.
Ep. Arii ad Euseb.:
Πρὶν γενηθῇ ἤτοι κτισθῇ ἤτοι ὁρισθῇ ἤ θεμελιωθῇ, οὐκ
ἦν, ἀγένητος γὰρ οὐκ ἦν.
Since the Son is neither a part of the Father nor ἐξ ὑποκειμένου τινός,
he must be ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων; θελήματι καὶ βουλῇ ὑπέστη πρὸ χρόνων
καὶ πρὸ αἰώνων ὁ υἱός. Ep. Arii ad Alex:
. . . γεννήσαντα υἱὸν μονογενῆ πρὸ χρόνων
αἰωνών, δι᾽ οὗ καὶ τοὺς αἰῶνας καὶ τὰ ὅλα πεποίηκε . . . κτίσμα τοῦ Θεοῦ τέλειον . . .
θελήματι τοῦ Θεοῦ πρὸ χρόνων καὶ πρὸ αἰώνων κτίσθέντα, καὶ τὸ ζῆν καὶ τὸ εἶναι
παρὰ τοῦ πατρὸς εἰληφότα καὶ τὰς δόξας συνυποστήσαντος αὐτῷ τοῦ πατρὸς. Οὐ
γὰρ ὁ πατὴρ δοὺς αὐτῳ πάντων τὴν κληρονομίαν ἐστέρησεν ἑαυτὸν ὧν ἀγεννήτως
ἔχει ἐν ἑαυτῷ. πηγὴ γὰρ ἐστι πάντων, ὥστε τρεῖς εἰσιν ὑποστάσεις . . . Ὁ υἱὸς
ἀχρόνως γεννηθεὶς οὐκ ἦν πρὸ τοῦ γεννηθῆναι οὐδὲ γὰρ ἐστιν ἀΐδιος ἤ συναΐδιος ἤ
συναγένητος τῷ πατρὶ οὐδὲ ἅμα τῷ πατρὶ τὸ εἶναι ἔχει . . . Ἀρχὴ αὐτοῦ ἐστιν ὁ
Θεός, ἀρχεῖ γὰρ αὐτοῦ ὡς Θεὸς αὐτοῦ καὶ πρὸ αὐτοῦ ὥν.
Ep. Euseb. ad Paulin.:
κτιστὸν εἶναι καὶ θεμελιωτὸν καὶ γενητὸν τῇ οὐσίᾳ, according to Proverbs 8: . . .
Οὐδέν ἐστιν ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ Θεοῦ, πάντα δὲ βουλήματι αὐτοῦ γενόμενα. Ep.
Euseb. Nic. ad Arium.:
τὸ πεποιγμένον οὐκ ἦν πρὶν γενέσθαι, τὸ γενόμενον δε ἀρχὴν
ἔχει τοῦ εἶναι. Athan. Nazarb., ep. ad. Alex.: “Why do you blame the Arians because they say that the Son
κτίσμα πεποιήται ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων καὶ ἕν τῶν πάντων
ἐστίν? We are to understand by the hundred sheep of the parable
all created beings, and thus the Son too is included.” Georg. Laod. ep. ad.
Alex.: “Don't blame the Arians because they say
ἦν ποτε ὅτε οὐκ ἦν ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ Θεοῦ, Isaiah too came later than his father.” Georg. Laod. ep. ad. Arianos.
“Don't be afraid to allow that the Son is from the Father; for the Apostle says
that all things are from God, although it is certain that all things are
ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων.” Thalia (de synod. 15):
ἡ μόνας ἦν, ἡ δυὰς δὲ οὐκ ἦν
πρὶν ὑπάρξει. Arius for the rest seems to have
considered the creation of this “Son” as simply a necessity, because God could
not create directly, but required an intermediate power.
(d) As regards his Substance, the “Son” is consequently an unrelated and
independent being totally separated from, and different from, the substance or
nature of the Father. He has neither one and the same substance together with
the Father, nor a nature and constitution similar to that of the Father. If he
had, then there would be two Gods. On the contrary, like all rational creatures
he has a free will and is capable of change. He might consequently have been
good or bad; but he made up his mind to follow the good, and continued in the
good without vacillation. Thus he has by means of his own will come to be
unchangeable.Ep. Euseb. ad Paulin.:
Ἕν τὸ ἀγένητον, ἓν δὲ τὸ ὑπ᾽ αὐτοῦ ἀληθῶς καὶ οὐκ
ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας αὐτοῦ γεγονός, καθόλου τῆς φύσεως τῆς ἀγενήτου μὴ μετέχον, ἀλλὰ
γεγονὸς ὁλοχερῶς ἕτερον τῇ φύσει κ. τῇ δυνάμει.. The
ταυτότης τῆς φύσεως is rejected. Ep. Arii ad Alex.:
υἱὸν ὑποστήσαντα ἰδίῳ θελήματι ἄτρεπτον καὶ ἀναλλοίωτον. Who says, therefore, that the Son is in everything
like the Father introduces two “αγέννητοι.” Thalia:
τῇ μὲν φύσει ὥσπερ πάντες οὕτω δὲ αὐτὸς ὁ λόγος
ἐστὶ τρεπτός, τῷ δὲ ἰδίῳ αὐτεξουσίῳ, ἕως βούλεται, μένει καλός· ὅτε μέν τοι θέλει
δύναται τρέπεσθαι καὶ αὐτὸς ὥσπερ καὶ ἥμεῖς, τρεπτῆς ὤν φύσεως . . . As
all things so far as their substance is concerned are unrelated to God and unlike Him, so too is the Logos
ἀλλότριος καὶ ἀνόμοιος κατὰ πάντα τῆς τοῦ πατρὸς οὐσίας καὶ ἰδιότητος. Μεμερισμέναι
τῇ φύσει καὶ ἀπεξενωμέναι καὶ ἀπεσχοινισμέναι καὶ ἀλλότριοι καὶ ἀμέτοχοί εἰσιν
ἀλλήλων αἱ οὐσίαι τοῦ πατρὸς καὶ τοῦ υἱοῦ καὶ τοῦ ἁγίου πνεύματος; they are even
ἀνόμοιοι πάμπαν ἀλλήλων ταῖς τε οὐσίαις καὶ δόξαις ἐπ᾽ ἄπειρον. τὸν γοῦν λόγον
φησὶν εἰς ὁμοιότητα δόξης καὶ οὐσίας ἀλλότριον εἶναι πολυτελῶς ἑκατέρων τοῦ τε
πατρὸς καὶ τοῦ ἁγίου πνεύματος. ὁ υἱὸς διῃρημένος ἐστὶν καθ᾽ ἑαυτὸν καὶ ἀμέτοχος
κατὰ πάντα τοῦ πατρὸς. Thalia (de Synod. 15):
Ἄρρητος Θεὸς ἶσον οὐδὲ ὅμοιον οὐχ
ὁμόδοξον ἔχει. ὁ υἱὸς ἴδιον οὐδεν ἔχει τοῦ Θεοῦ καθ᾽ ὑπόστασιν ἰδιότητος οὐδὲ γὰρ
ἐστιν ἶσος ἀλλ᾽ οὐδε ὁμοούσιος αυτῷ. The Triad is not of
ὁμοίαις δόξαις: ἀνεπίμικτα
ἑαυταῖς εἰσιν αἱ ὑποστάσεις αὐτῶν, μία τῆς μιᾶς ἐνδοξότερα δόξαις ἐπ᾽ ἄπειρον. Ξένος
τοῦ υἱοῦ κατ᾽ οὐσίαν ὁ πατήρ, ὅτι ἄναρχος ὑπάρχει. According to the letter of Eusebius to Paulinus it
looks as if Eusebius held the unchangeableness of the Son to belong to his substance; he probably, however, only means that it had come to be his
substance. At a later date many Arians must have attributed to the Son an
original unchangeableness as a gift of the Father, for Philostorgius mentions as
a peculiarity of the Arian bishop Theodosius that he taught (VIII. 3):
ὁ Χριστὸς τρεπτὸς μὲν τῇ
γε φύσει τῇ οἰκείᾳ.
(e) Since the Son is, as regards his substance, unrelated to the Godhead,Because of this sundering of the Father and the Son the Arians at a later date
are also called “Diatomites” (Joh. Damasc. in Cotellier, Eccl. Gr. monum. I., p. 298). he
is not truly God, and accordingly has not by nature the divine attributes; he
is only the so-called Logos and Wisdom. As he is not eternal, neither is his
knowledge in any sense perfect; he has no absolute knowledge of God, but only a
relative knowledge, in fact he does not even know his own substance perfectly,
accordingly he cannot claim equal honour with the Father.Thalia (Orat. c. Arian I. 6):
οὐδὲ Θεὸς ἀληθινός ἐστιν ὁ λόγος. He is
only called God, but he is not truly God,
καὶ τῷ υἱῷ ὁ πατὴρ ἀόρατος ὑπάρχει καὶ οὔτε
ὁρᾶν οὔτε γιγνώσκειν τελείως καὶ ἀκριβῶς δύναται ὁ λόγος τὸν ἑαυτοῦ πατέρα, ἀλλὰ
καὶ ὃ γιγνώσκει καὶ ὃ βλέπει ἀναλόγως τοῖς ἰδίοις μέτροις οἶδε καὶ βλέπει, ὥσπερ καὶ
ἡμεῖς γιγνώσκομεν κατὰ τὴν ἰδίαν δύναμιν. Ὁ υἱὸς τὴν ἑαυτοῦ οὐσίαν οὐκ οἶδε.
Euseb. Cæs. ep. ad Euphrat.:
Χριστὸς οὐκ ἔστιν
ἀληθινὸς Θεός.
The conviction that the Son is not truly God, and that all lofty predicates attach to him only in a nuncupative sense, that he does not
know the Father, is very strongly expressed in the fragment of the Thalia de synod. 15.
(f) Still the Son is not a creature and a product like other creatures; he is
the perfect creature, κτίσμα τέλειον; by him everything has been created; he
stands in a special relation to God, but this is solely conditioned by grace and
adoption; the bestowal of grace on the other hand, is based on the steadfast
inclination of this free being to the good which was foreseen
by God. Through God’s bestowal of grace and by his own steady progress he
has become God, so that we may now call him “only-begotten God”, “strong God”
and so on.Arii Ep. ad Euseb.:
πλήρης Θεὸς μονογενῆς, ἀναλλοίωτος
(in virtue of his will). Arii ep. ad Alex.:
υἱὸν μονογενῆ . . . κτίσμα τοῦ Θεοῦ τέλειον, ἀλλ᾽ οὐχ ὡς ἕν τῶν
κτισμάτων, γέννημα, ἀλλ᾽ οὐχ ὡς ἕν τῶν γεννημάτων . . . Πατὴρ δοὺς αὐτῷ πάντων
τὴν κληρονομίαν . . . Ὁ υἱὸς μόνος ὑπὸ μόνου τοῦ πατρὸς ὑπέστη.
Thalia: τὸν υἱὸν
ἐν ταύτῇ τῇ σοφίᾳ γεγενῆσθαι ναὶ ταύτης μετέχοντα ὡνομάσθαι μόνον σοφίαν καὶ
λόγον . . . Διὰ τοῦτο καὶ προγιγνώσκων ὁ Θεὸς ἔσεσθαι καλὸν αὐτόν, προλαβὼν αὐτῷ
ταύτην τὴν δόξαν δέδωκεν, ἣν ἄνθρωπος καὶ ἐκ τῆς ἀρετῆς ἔσχε μετὰ ταῦτα· ὥστε
ἐξ ἔργων αὐτοῦ, ὧν προέγνω ὁ Θεός, τοιοῦτον αὐτὸν νῦν γεγονέναι πεποίνκε . . . Μετοχῇ
χάριτος ὥσπερ καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι πάντες οὕτω καὶ αὐτὸς λέγεται ὀνόματι μόνον
Θεός . . . Θεὸς ἔνεγκεν εἰς υἱὸν ἑαυτῷ τόνδε τεκνοποιήσας· ἴδιον οὐδὲν ἔχει τοῦ Θεοῦ
καθ᾽ ὑπόστασιν ἰδιότητος . . .
The Son is Wisdom, Image, Reflection, Word; God cannot produce a greater than He;
Θεοῦ θελήσει ὁ υἱὸς ἡλίκος καὶ ὅσος ἐστίν, ἐξ
ὅτε καὶ ἀφ᾽ οὗ καὶ ἀπὸ τότε ἐκ τοῦ Θεοῦ ὑπέστη, ἰσχυρός Θεὸς ὤν,
but he extols the greater Father. Arius ap. Athan. Orat. I. c. Arian. 9:
μετοχῇ καὶ αὐτὸς εθεοποιήθη.
It is evident from Alexander’s letter to Alexander that Arius strongly emphasised the
προκοπή, the moral progress of the Son.
(g) All that Scripture and tradition assert in reference to the incarnation and
the humanity of this being holds good; he truly took a human body (σῶμα ἄψυχον);
the feelings shewn by the historical Christ teach us that the Logos
to whom they attach—for Christ had not a human soul—is a being capable of
suffering, not an absolutely perfect being, but one who attains by effort
absolute perfection.Owing to the general uncertainty regarding the extent of the “humanity”
which prevailed at the beginning of the controversy, the latter assertion of the
Arians was not so energetically combatted as the rest. That the limitation of
the humanity of Christ to a body originated with Lucian, is asserted by Epiph. Ancorat. 33.
(h) Amongst the number of created powers (δυνάμεις) the Holy Ghost is to be
placed beside the Son as a second, independent Substance or Hypostasis,
(οὐσία, ὑπόστασις); for the Christian believes in three separate and different
substances or persons, (οὐσίαι, ὑποστάσεις); Father, Son and Spirit. Arius
apparently, like his followers, considered the Spirit as a being created by the
Son and subordinate to him.In the writings of Arius οὐσία and ὑπόστασις are used as synonymous terms.
The impersonal Spirit (Logos, Wisdom) indwelling in God the Father as Power, was
naturally considered by the Arians to be higher than the Son. On this point they
appeal like the old Roman Adoptianists to Matt. XII. 31 (see Vol. III., p. 20
ff.). It is indeed not even certain whether Arius and the older Arians when they
speak of a Trinity, always included the Holy Spirit. According to Athanasius de synod.
15, we may conclude that their Trinity consisted of the following hypostases:
(1) God as primordial without the Son; (2) God as Father; (3) the Son. Still this is not certain.
Alexander expressly notes that the Arians appeal to Scripture in support of
their doctrine, and Athanasius says that the Thalia contained passages of
Scripture.Orat. I. c. Arian. 8. The passages so frequently cited later on by the Arians; Deut. VI.
4, XXXII. 39; Prov. VIII. 22;
Ps. XLV. 8; Mt. XII. 28;
Mk. XIII. 32; Mt. XXVI. 41,
XXVIII. 18; Lk. II. 52, XVIII. 19;
John XI. 34, XIV. 28, XVII. 3;
Acts II. 36; 1 Cor. I. 24,
XV. 28; Col. I. 15;
Philipp. II. 6 f.; Hebr. I. 4,
III. 2; John XII. 27, XIII. 21;
Mt. XXVI. 39, XXVII. 46, etc., will thus
already have been used by Arius himself. Arius was not a systematiser, nor were
his friends systematisers either. In this respect their literary activity was
limited to letters in which they stirred each other up, and which were soon put
together in a collected form. The only one amongst them before Eunomius and
Aëtius who undertook to give a systematic defence of the doctrinal system, was
the Sophist Asterius, called by Athanasius the advocate (συνήγορος) of the
sects. He was a clever, clear-headed man, but he was quite unable to wipe out
what was in everybody’s eyes the blot on his character, his denial of the Faith
during the time of persecution.On Asterius see Athan., Orat. c. Arian. I. 30-33; II. 37; III. 2, 60; de
decret. syn. Nic. 8, 28-31; de synod. 18, 19, 47. Epiphan. H. 76, 3; Socrat.
I. 36; Philostorg. II. 14, 15; Hieron. de vir. inl. 94. Marcellus of Ancyra
wrote against the principal work of Asterius, see Zahn, p. 41 ff. Athanasius
attacked a συνταγμάτιον of his. One of the main theses of this book was that
there are two ἀγένητα. Asterius also discussed 1 Cor. I. 24, and indeed he took
the correct view. His explanation too of the passage John XIV. 10, is worthy of note:
εὔδηλον ὅτι διὰ
τοῦτο εἴρηκεν ἑαυτὸν μὲν ἐν τῷ πατρὶ, ἐν ἑαυτῷ δὲ πάλιν τὸν πατέρα, ἐπεὶ μήτε
τὸν λόγου, ὅν διεξήρχετο, ἑαυτοῦ φησιν εἶναι, ἀλλὰ τοῦ πατρὸς δεδωκότος τὴν δύναμιν.
Upon this passage Athanasius remarks (Orat. III. 2) that only a child could be pardoned such an explanation.
It is a point of great importance that Asterius, like Paul of Samosata, reckoned
the will as the highest thing. Accordingly, to create of His free will is more
worthy of God too than to beget (l. c. III. 60). Athanasius says that Arius
himself made use of the work of Asterius, and in this connection he gives us the
important statement of Asterius (de decret. 8) that created things are not able
τῆς ἀκράτου χειρὸς τοῦ ἀγεννήτου ἐργασίαν βαστάξαι,
and that on account of this the creation of the Son as an intermediary was necessary. (See Orat. c. Arian II. 24.) There were various shades of
opinion amongst the followers and supporters of Arius. In Arianism in its more
rigid form the tradition of Paul of Samosata and Lucian predominated, in its
milder form the subordination doctrine of Origen. Both types were indeed at one
as regards the form of doctrine, and the elements traceable to Origen won over
all enlightened “Conservatives”. We may count Asterius too amongst. the latter,
at all events the unbending Philostorgius was not at all pleased with him, and
Asterius subsequently approached near to the Semiarians.
Previous to the Council of Nicæa, the letters of the bishop Alexander are, for
us at all events, the sole literary manifestos of the opposite party. The
Encyklica already shews that the writer is fully conscious he has got to do with
a heresy of the very worst type. The earlier heresies all pale before it; no
other heretic has approached so near to being Antichrist. Arius and his friends
are the enemies of God, murderers of the divinity of Christ, people like Judas.
Alexander did not enter into theoretical and theological explanations. After
giving a brief but complete and excellent account of the Logos doctrine of
Arius, he sets in contrast with the statements contained in it, numerous
passages from the Gospel of John and other quotations from Scripture.John I. 1, 13, 18, X. 15, 30,
XIV. 9, 10; Hebr. I. 3, II. 10,
X1II. 8; Ps.
XLV. 2; CX. 3; Mal. III. 6. The passages continued to be regarded by the
orthodox as the most important. The sole
remarks of a positive kind he makes are that it belongs to the substance or
essence of the Logos, that he perfectly knows the Father, and that the
supposition of a time in which the Logos was not, makes the Father ἄλογος καὶ ἄσοφος.
The latter remark, which for that matter of it does not touch Arius,
shews that Alexander included the Logos or Son in the substance of the Father as
a necessary element. The second epistle goes much more into details,Theodoret I. 4. Exaggerations and calumnies of the worst kind are not wanting
in this writing. The reproach, too, that the Arians acted like the Jews is
already found here. Of more importance, however, is the assertion that the Arian
christology gave countenance to the heathen ideas of Christ and that the Arians
had also in view the approval of the heathen. Ebion, Artemas (see Athanas., de
synod. 20) and Paul are designated their Fathers. but it
shews at the same time how little Alexander, in solving the
problem, was able definitely to oppose fixed and finished formulæ to those of the
Arians. The main positions of Arius are once more pertinently characterised and
refuted.
Alexander is conscious that he is contending for nothing less than the divinity
of Christ, the universal Faith of the Church, when he refutes the statements
that the Son is not eternal, that He was created out of the non-existent, that
He is not by nature (φύσει) God, that He is capable of change, that He went
through a moral development (προκοπή), that He is only Son by adoption, like
the sons of God in general, and so on.The two last theses are rejected in a specially emphatic manner. Alexander
repeatedly complains in this connection of the procedure of Arius in taking from
the Holy Scriptures only such passages as have reference to the humiliation of
the Logos for our sakes, and then referring them to the substance of the Logos.
“They omit the passages which treat of the divinity of the Son. Thus they
arrive at the impious supposition that Paul and Peter would have been like
Christ if they had always persisted in the good.” He not only adduces proofs from the
Bible in large numbers,John I. 1-3, I. 18,
X. 30, XIV. 8, 9, 28;
Matt. III. 17, XI. 27;
1 John V. 1; Coloss. I. 15, 16;
Rom. VIII. 32; Heb. I. 2 f.;
Prov. VIII. 30; Ps. II. 7,
CX. 3, XXXV. 10; Is. LIII. 8. he has unmistakably in his mind what is for him a
central, religious thought. Christ must belong to God and not to the world,
because all other creatures require such a being in order to attain to God and
become the adopted sons of God. In order to make clear the possibility of such a
being, Alexander uses by preference for the Son the expression which had been
already preferred by Origen—“the perfect image,” “the perfect reflection.” But
even this expression does not suffice him; it gains deeper meaning by the
thought that the Son as the image of the Father at the same time first clearly
expresses the peculiar character of the Father. In the Wisdom, the Logos, the
Power, the “Son is made known and the Father is characterised. To say that the
reflection of the divine glory does not exist is to do away also with the
archetypal light of which it is the reflection; if there exists no impress or
pattern of the substance of God, then he too is done
away with who is wholly characterised by this pattern or express
image:”—γνωρίζεται ὁ υἱὸς καὶ ὁ πατὴρ χαρακτηρίζεται. Τὸ γὰρ
ἀπαυγάσμα τῆς δόξης μὴ εἶναι λέγειν συναναιρεῖ καὶ τὸ πρωτότυπον
φῶς, οὗ ἐστιν ἀπαύγασμα . . . τῷ μὴ εἶναι τὸν τῆς ὑποστάσεως τοῦ
Θεοῦ χαρακτῆρα συναναιρεῖται κᾳκεῖνος, ὁ πάντως παῤ αὐτοῦ χαρακτηριζόμενος. While in laying down this thesis and others of a similar kind, e.g.,
that the Son is the inner reason and power of the Father Himself, he approaches
“Sabellianism,” the latter doctrine is repudiated in the most decided and
emphatic way. But on the other hand again, not only is the supposition of two unbegottens (αγεν[ν]ητα) rejected as a calumny, but he repeatedly emphasises in
a striking fashion the fact that the begetting of the Son is not excluded by the
application to Him of the predicate always (ἀεὶ), that the Father alone is
unbegotten, and that He is greater than the Son.From this it is plainly evident that the real point in dispute was not as to
subordination and coordination, but as to unity of substance and difference of
substance. That the archetype is greater than the type is for Alexander a truth
that is beyond doubt. He goes still farther and says:
οὐκοῦν τῷ ἀγεννήτῳ πατρὶ
οἰκεῖον ἀξίωμα φυλακτέον, μηδένα τοῦ εἶναι αὐτῷ τὸν αἴτιον λέγοντας, τῷ δὲ υἱῷ τὴν
ἁρμόζουσαν τιμὴν ἀπονεμητέον,
τὴν ἄναρχον αὐτῷ παρὰ τοῦ
πατρὸς γέννησιν ἀνατιθέντας. Alexander thus asserts both
things—namely, the inseparable unity of the substance of the Son with that of
the FatherThe expression “ὁμοούσιος”
does not occur in Alexander. and their difference, and yet the one is held to be unbegotten and
the other to be not unbegotten. In order to be able to maintain these
contradictory theses he takes up the standpoint of Irenæus, that the mystery of
the existence and coming forth of the Son is an inexpressible one even for
Evangelists and angels, and is no proper object of human reflection and human
statement. Even John did not venture to make any pronouncement regarding the
ἀνεκδιήγητος ὑπόστασις τοῦ μονογενοῦς
Θεοῦ,On this expression, which was used by Arius, see Hort, Two Dissertations, 1876.—the ineffable substance of the
only begotten God. “How could anyone waste his labour on the substance of the
Logos of God, unless indeed he were afflicted with melancholy?”
Πῶς ἄν περιεργάσαιτό τις τὴν τοῦ Θεοῦ λόγου
ὑπόστασιν, ἐκτὸς εἰ μὴ
μελαγχολικῇ διαθέσει
ληφθεὶ τυγχάνοι.The respective passages in the letter have so many points of contact with
expressions of Irenæus (see Vol. II., pp. 230 f., 276 f.) as to make the
supposition, which also commends itself for other reasons, very probable (see
above, p. 54, note 1), that Alexander had read Irenæus and had been strongly
influenced by him. That Irenæus was known in Alexandria, at least at the
beginning of the third century, follows from Euseb., H. E. VI. 14. (Strange to
say it has undoubtedly not been proved that Athanasius ever quotes from
Irenæus.) Alexander shews that he is not throughout dependent on Origen.
Alexander’s actual standpoint is undoubtedly plainly expressed here. He does not
wish to speculate; for the complete divinity of Christ is for him not a
speculation at all, but a judgment of faith, and the distinction between Father
and Son is for him something beyond doubt. But he sees that he is under the
necessity of opposing certain formula to the doctrine of Arius. These are partly
vague and partly contradictory:Alexander made no distinction between οὐσία,
ὑπόστασις, φύσις. “The Son is the inner reason and power of
God,” “Father and Son are two inseparable things” (δύο ἀχώριστα πράγματα),
“Between Father and Son there is not the slightest difference” (διάστημα), “not
even in any thought” (οὐδ᾽ ἄχρι τινὸς ἐννοίας), “There is only one unbegotten,”
“The Son has come into being in consequence of a γένεσις καὶ ποίησις” (an
act of generation and production), “The Son has, compared with the world, an
ineffable substance peculiarly his own” (ἰδιότροπος ἀνεκδιήγητος ὑπόστασις),
“He is μονογενὴς Θεὸς” (only begotten God), “His Sonship is by its nature in
possession of the deity of the Father” (κατὰ φύσιν τυγχάνουσα
τῆς πατρικὴς θεότητος),Ὅν τρόπον γὰρ ἡ ἄρρητος αὐτοῦ ὑπόστασις ἀσυγκρίτῳ ὑπεροχῇ ἐδείχθη ὑπερκειμένη
πάντων οἷς αὐτὸς τὸ εἶναι ἐχαρίσατο, οὕτως καὶ ἡ υἱότης αὐτοῦ κατὰ φύσιν
τυγχάνουσα τῆς πατρικῆς θεότητος ἀλέκτῳ ὑπεροχῇ διαφέρει τῶν δι᾽ αὐτοῦ θέσει
υἱοτεθέντων. “Father and Son are two natures in the hypostasis”
(τῃ ὑποστάσει δύο
φύσειςOn John X. 30:
ὅπερ φησὶν ὁ κύριος οὐ πατέρα ἑαυτὸν ἀναγορεύων οὐδὲ τὰς τῇ
ὑποστάσει δύο φύσεις μίαν εἶναι σαφηνιζων, ἀλλ᾽ ὅτι τὴν πατρικὴν ἐμφέρειαν ἀκριβῶς
πέφυκεν σώζειν ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ πατρός, τὴν κατὰ πάντα ὁμοιότητα αὐτοῦ ἐκ φύσεως
ἀπομαξάμενος καὶ ἀπαράλλακτος εἰκὼν τοῦ πατρὸς τυγχάνων καὶ τοῦ πρωτοτύτου
ἔκτυπος χαρακτήρ.), between the Underived and he who has come into being out of the
non-existent there is a μεσιτεύουσα φύσις μονογενής
(the Son)
δι᾽ ἦς τὰ ὅλα ἐξ οὐκ ὄντων ἐποίησεν ὁ πατὴρ τοῦ Θεοῦ λόγου,
ἢ ἐξ αὐτοῦ τοῦ ὄντος πατρὸς γεγέννηται,” (a mediating only begotten nature by
which the Father of the God-Logos has made all things out of the non-existent,
and which has been begotten out of the existent Father), “The Son has not proceeded out of the Father
κατὰ τὰς τῶν σωμάτων ὁμοιότητας, ταῖς τομαῖς ἤ ταῖς
ἐκδιαιρέσεων ἀπορροίαις
(in the manner in which bodies are formed, by separation or by the emanation of parts divided off);”
still we may speak of a fatherly generation! (πατρικὴ θεογονία) which certainly
is beyond the power of human reason to grasp.” “The expressions ἦν, ἀεὶ, etc.,
(was, always), used of the Son, are undoubtedly too weak, but on the other hand,
they are not to be conceived so as to suggest that the Son is unbegotten (ἀγέννητος);
the unbeginning genesis from the Father (ἄναρχος γέννησις παρὰ τοῦ πατρὸς)
is his,—“the Father is greater than the Son, to Him honour in the
strict sense (οἰκεῖον ἀξίωμα) is due, to the Son the dignity that is fitting
(τιμὴ ἁρμόζουσα).”In the Confession of Faith which Alexander had put at the close of his letter,
the Spirit, the Church, and so on, are mentioned. According to Alexander, too,
the Logos got only a body from Mary, who, for the rest, is called θεοτόκος (see
Athan. Orat. III. 29, 33). Möhler and Newman (Hist. Treatises, p. 297) consider
Athanasius as the real author of Alexander’s encyclical epistle. Their
arguments, however, are not convincing.
These confused thoughts and formulæ contrast unfavourably with the clear and
definitely expressed statements of Arius. Alexander’s opponents had a better
right to complain of the chameleon-like form of this teaching than he had of
that of theirs. When they maintained that it offered no security against dualism
(two unbegotten, [ἀγένητα]),Hence the reproach so frequently brought against this doctrine, that according
to it Father and Son are “brothers”; see, e.g., Orat. c. Arian I. 14. Paul of
Samosata had already brought this reproach against all the adherents of the
Logos doctrine. The Arians sought to make a reductio ad absurdum of the doctrine
that the Son is the perfect image of the Father, by pointing out that in this
case the Son too must beget as well as the Father (Or. c. Arian. I. 21). or against Gnostic emanationism
(προβολή, ἀπόρροια), or against Sabellianism (ὑιοπάτωρ), or against the idea of the
corporeality of God, and that it contained flagrant contradictions,See some of those adduced by them in Orat. c. Arian. I. 22: they are said to
have pointed them out to children and women. they were
not far wrong. But they cannot have been in the dark as to what their opponents
meant to assert, which was nothing else than the inseparable, essential unity of
Father and Son, the complete divinity of Christ who has redeemed us and whom
every creature must necessarily have as redeemer. Along with this they taught a
real distinction between Father and Son, though they could assert this
distinction only as a mystery, and when they were driven to describe it, had
recourse to formulæ which were easily refuted.
We may at this point give an account of the doctrine of Athanasius; for
although it was not till after the Nicene Council that he took part in the
controversy as an author,That he took an active interest in the Nicene Council is undoubted; see
Theodoret I. 26, Sozom, I. 17 fin., but, above all, Apol. Athan. c. Arian. 6 and
the work “de decretis.” The Arians drew special attention to the influence
exercised by Athanasius, when deacon, on his bishop Alexander, and Athanasius
did not contradict their statements; see also Gregor Naz. Orat. 21, 14. still his point of view coincides essentially with
that of Bishop Alexander. It underwent no development, and considered from the
stand-point of technical theology it partly labours under the same difficulties
as that of Alexander. Its significance does not lie in the nature of his
scientific defence of the faith, but solely in the triumphant tenacity of the
faith itself. His character and his life are accordingly the main thing. The
works he composed, like all the theological formulae he uses, were wrung out of
him. The entire Faith, everything in defence of which Athanasius staked his
life, is described in the one sentence: God Himself has entered into humanity.His chief works against the Arians are the four Orationes c. Arian—his most
comprehensive work, containing mainly his refutation of the Arian Bible
exegesis; the fourth Oration is, however, either merely a sketch, or else it is
not in its proper place along with the others; further, the treatises de
decret. Nic. synodi, de sentent. Dionys. Alex., historia Arian. ad monachos,
apologia c. Arian., apologia ad imp. Constantium, de synodis Arimini et Seleuciæ
habitis, the Tomus ad Antioch., and in addition the festival-orations and some
lengthy letters, e.g., that ad Afros episcopos.
The theology and christology of Athanasius are rooted in the thought of
Redemption, and his views were not influenced by any subordinate considerations.To prove this it would be necessary to quote hundreds of passages. In none of
his larger works has Athanasius omitted to base his anti-Arian christology on
the thought of redemption, and wherever he gives this as the basis one feels
that he is adducing what is his most telling argument. The manner too in which
he was able, starting from this as the central point of his whole view of the
subject, to justify what were purely derivative formulæ by referring them back
to it, is well worthy of notice; cf. the Orat. c. Arian., espec. II. 67-70. The
fact that his knowledge of scientific theology was slender is hinted at by Gregor Naz., Orat. 21. 6.
Neither heathenism nor Judaism has brought men into fellowship with God, the
point on which everything turns. It is through Christ that we are transported
into this fellowship; He has come in order to make
us divine, i e., to make us by adoption the sons of God and gods. But Christ
would not have been able to bring us this blessing if He Himself had possessed
it merely as a gift secundum participationem, for in this case He only had just
as much as He needed Himself and so could not proceed to give away what was not
His own.Specially striking is what he says de synod. 51: Christ could not make others
gods if He himself had, to begin with, been made God; if He possessed His
god-head merely as something bestowed upon Him, He could not bestow it, for it
would not be in His own power, and He would not have more than He needed
Himself. Similarly Orat. I. 39, I. 30:
Οὐκ ἄρα καταβὰς ἐβελτιώθη ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον
ἐβελτίωσεν αὐτὸς τὰ δεόμενα βελτιώσεως· καὶ εἰ τοῦ βελτιῶσαι χάριν καταβέβηκεν,
οὐκ ἄρα μισθὸν ἔσχε τὸ λέγεσθαι, υἱὸς καὶ Θεός, ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον αὐτὸς υἱοποίησεν ἡμᾶς
τῷ πατρὶ καὶ ἐθεοποίησε τοὺς ἀνθρώπους γενόμενος αὐτὸς ἄνθρωπος. Οὐκ ἄρα ἄνθρωπος
ὢν ὕστερον γέγονε Θεός, ἀλλὰ Θεὸς ὢν ὕστερον γέγονεν ἄνθρωπος, ἵνα μᾶλλον ἡμᾶς
θεοποιήσῃ. II. 69, I. 16:
αὐτοῦ τοῦ υἱοῦ μετέχοντες τοῦ Θεοῦ μετέχειν λεγόμεθα,
καὶ τοῦτό ἐστιν ὃ ἔλεγεν ὁ Πέτρος ἵνα γένησθε θείας
κοινωνοὶ φύσεως. Therefore Christ must be of the substance of the Godhead and be one
with it. Whoever denies that is not a Christian, but is either a heathen or a
Jew.The frequent designation of the Arians as Jews and heathen, and together with
this the designation “Ariomanites,” were employed by Athanasius in a really
serious sense; see de decret. 1-4, 27; Encycl. ad. ep. “Ægypt. et Lib. 13, 14;
Orat. I. 38, II. 16, 17, III, 16, 27 sq. “Abomination of the impious” XI. Festbrief, p. 122 (Larsow). This is the fundamental thought which Athanasius constantly repeats.
Everything else is secondary, is of the nature of necessary controversy. In the
Son we have the Father; whoever knows the Son knows the Father.Orat. I. 12: To the demand of Philip, “Shew us the Father,” Christ did not
reply: (βλέπε τὴν κτίσιν, but “He who sees me, sees the Father.” Orat. I. 16:
τοῦ υἱοῦ μετέχοντες τοῦ Θεοῦ μετέχειν λεγόμεθα . . . ἡ τοῦ υἱοῦ ἔννοια καὶ κατάληψις
γνῶσίς ἐστι περὶ τοῦ πατρός, διὰ τὸ ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας αὐτοῦ ἰδίον
εἶναι γέννημα. I. 21. This confession
is at bottom the entire Christian confession. The adoration of Christ, which
according to tradition, has been practised from the first, and which has not been objected to by their opponents, already, he says, decides the whole
question. God alone is to be adored; it is heathenish to worship creatures.This is a point which is very frequently emphasised; see Orat. I. 10, II. 20, 24, but chiefly III. 16:
Διατί οὖν οἱ Ἀρειανοὶ τοιαῦτα λογιζόμενοι καὶ νοοῦντες οὐ
συναριθμοῦσιν ἑαυτοὺς μετὰ τῶν Ἑλλήνων; καὶ γὰρ κᾳκεῖνοι, ὥσπερ καὶ οὖτοι, τῇ
κτίσει λατρεύουσι παρὰ τὸν κτίσαντα τὰ πάντα Θεόν· ἀλλὰ τὸ μὲν ὄνομα τὸ Ἑλληνικὸν
φεύγουσι, διὰ τὴν τῶν ἀνοήτων ἀπάτην, τὴν δὲ ὁμοίαν ἐκείνοις διάνοιαν ὑποκρίνονται.
καὶ γὰρ καὶ τὸ σοφὸν αὐτῶν, ὅπερ εἰώθασιν λέγειν, οὐ λέγομεν δύο ἀγέννητα,
φαίνονται πρὸς ἀπάτην τῶν ἀκεραίων λέγοντες· φάσκοντες γὰρ· “οὐ λέγομεν δύο
ἀγέννητα,” λέγουσι δύο Θεοὺς καὶ τούτους διαφόρους ἔχοντας τὰς φύσεις, τὸ μὲν
γενητήν, τὸ δὲ ἀγένητοι. Εἰ δὲ οἱ μὲν Ἕλληνες ἑνὶ ἀγενήτῳ καὶ πολλοῖς γενητοῖς
λατρεύουσιν. οὗτοι δὲ ἑνὶ ἀγενήτῳ καὶ ἑνὶ γενητῷ, οὐδ᾽ οὕτω διαφέρουσιν Ἑλλήνων.
This was the view of it which was still held at a later period also. The expression in the Vita Euthymii (Cotel. Monum. II., p. 201) C. 2, is full of meaning:
Τοῦ Ἑλληνισμοῦ λήξαντος ὁ τοῦ Ἀρειανισμοῦ πόλεμος
ἰσχυρῶς ἐκράτει.
Christ therefore shares in the divine
substance. Athanasius did not draft any system of theology or christology. The
real point at issue appeared to him to be quite simple and certain. We have to
put together his doctrinal system for ourselves, and the attempts to construct
such a system for him is not something to be entered upon lightly. A body of
theoretical propositions resulted solely from the polemic in which he was
engaged and also from his defence of the “Ὁμοούσιος.” Throughout, however,
his thought in the final resort centres not in the Logos as such,It is very characteristic of Athanasius’ way of looking at
things that with him the Logos in general retires into the background, and
further that he expressly declines to recognise or to define the divine in
Christ from the point of view of his relation to the world or in terms of the
predicate of the eternal. Image, Reflection and Son are the designations which
he regards as most appropriate. See, e.g., Orat. III. 28:
οὐ τοσοῦτον ἐκ τοῦ ἀϊδίου γνωρίζεται κύριος, ὅσον ὅτι υἱός ἐστι τοῦ
Θεοῦ· υἱὸς γὰρ ὤν ἀχώριστός ἐστι τοῦ πατρός . . . καὶ εἰκὼν καὶ ἀπαύγασμα ὢν τοῦ
πατρὸς ἔχει καὶ τὴν
ἀϊδιότητα τοῦ πατρός. but in the
Divine, which had appeared in Jesus Christ. He has no longer any independent
Logos doctrine, on the contrary he is a Christologist. We accordingly give
merely some of the main lines of his teaching.
1. To acknowledge that the substantial or essential element in Christ is “God,”
is to assert that there is nothing of the creature in this, that it does not
therefore belong in any sense to what has been created. Athanasius insisted as
confidently as Arius on the gulf which exists between created and uncreated.
This constitutes the advance made by both in clearness.Beyond Origen and the Origenists, who, though they too certainly make a sharp
distinction between the Godhead and the creation, attribute with Philo an
intermediate position to the Logos. The Eusebians held fast to this, and that is
why Athanasius always treats them as Arians; for in connection with this main
point the maxim in his opinion held good “Whosover is not with us is against
us.” See Orat. IV. 6, 7; Encycl. ad ep. Ægypt, et Lib. 20; de decret. 6, 19,
20; ad Afros 5, 6, and the parallel section in the work “de synodis.” Arius, however, drew
the dividing line in such a way that with him
the Son belongs to the world side, while with Athanasius He, as belonging to
God, stands over against the world.
2. Since the Divine, which has appeared in Christ, is not anything created, and
since there can be no “middle” substance,Orat. I. 15: If the Son is Son then that wherein He shares is not outside of the substance of the Father:
τοῦτο δὲ πάλιν ἐὰν ἕτερον ᾖ παρὰ τὴν οὐσίαν τοῦ υἱοῦ
τὸ ἶσον ἄτοπον ἀπαντήσει, μέσου πάλιν εὑρισκομένου τούτου ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς καὶ τῆς
οὐσίας τοῦ υἱοῦ, ἥτις ποτέ ἐστι.
In putting it thus Athanasius corrected not only an incautious expression of Bishop Alexander
(see above p. 24 f.), but very specially the thesis of the Origenists of “The
image and reflection which sprang from and was created out of the will” (see
e.g., Euseb. Demonstr. IV. 3). But Arius himself, spite of all his efforts to
avoid it, also arrived at the idea of a “middle substance” between the Godhead
and the creature, because according to him God had necessarily to make use of such a being in order to be able to create at all. it follows, according to the
reasoning of Athanasius, that this Divine cannot in any sense be postulated as
resulting from the idea of the creation of the world. God did not require any
agent for the creation of the world; He creates direct. If He had required any
such intervening agent in order to effect a connection with the creature that
was to come into existence, this Divine could not have supplied Him with it, for
it itself really belongs to His substance. In this way the idea of the Divine,
which in Christ redeemed men, is severed from the world idea;In contrast to this it holds good of the Arians that
τὸν δημιουργὸν τῶν ὅλων
τοῖς ποιήμασι συναριθμήσωσι
(Orat. I. c. Arian. T. I., p. 342). the old Logos
doctrine is discarded; Nature and Revelation no longer continue to be regarded
as identical. The Logos-Son-Christ is at bottom no longer a world principle,
but, on the contrary, a salvation principle.It is this which constitutes the most significant advance made by Athanasius,
the real fruit of his speculation which took its start from the thought of
redemption. The Logos of the philosophers was no longer the logos whom he knew
and adored. The existence of the Logos who appeared in Christ is independent of
the idea of the world. The creation of the world—abstractly speaking—might even
have taken place without the Logos. This is the point in which he is most
strongly opposed to the Apologists and Origen. No traces of this advance are to
be found as yet in the works “c. Gent” and “de incarnat.” See, on the other hand, Orat. II. 24, 25:
οὐ κάμνει ὁ Θεὸς προστάττων, οὐδε ἀσθενεῖ πρὸς τὴν τῶν πάντων ἐργασίαν,
ἵνα τὸν μὲν υἱὸν μόνος μόνον κτίσῃ, εἰς δὲ τὴν τῶν ἄλλων δημιουργίαν ὑπουργοῦ καὶ
βοηθοῦ χρείαν ἔχῃ τοῦ υἱοῦ. οὐδὲ γὰρ οὐδὲ ὑπέρθεσιν ἔχει, ὅπερ ἄν ἐθελήσῃ γενέσθαι,
ἀλλὰ μόνον ἡθέλησε καὶ ὑπέστη τὰ πάντα, καὶ τῷ βουλήματι αὐτοῦ οὐδεὶς ἀνθέστηκε.
Τίνος οὖν ἕνεκα οὐ γέγονε τὰ πάντα παρὰ μόνου τοῦ Θεοῦ τῷ προστάγματι, ᾧ γέγονε
καὶ ὁ υἱός . . . ἀλογία μέν οὖν πᾶσα παρ᾽ αὐτοἱς· φασὶ δὲ ὅμως περὶ τούτου, ὡς ἄρα
θέλων ὁ Θεὸς τὴν γενητὴν κτίσαι φύσιν, ἐπειδὴ ἑώρα μὴ δυναμένην αὐτὴν μετασχεῖν
τῆς τοῦ πατρὸς ἀκράρου χειρὸς καὶ τῆς παρ᾽ αὐτοῦ δημιουργίας, ποῖει καὶ κτίζει
πρώτως μόνον ἕνα καὶ καλεῖ τοῦτον υἱὸν καὶ λόγον, ἵνα τούτου μέσου γενομένου
οὕτως λοιπὸν καὶ τὰ πάντα δὶ αὐτοῦ γενέσθαι δυνηθῆ· ταῦτα οὐ μόνον εἰρήκασιν, ἀλλὰ
καὶ γράψαι τετολμήκασιν Εὐσέβιός τε καὶ Ἀρεῖος καὶ ὁ θύσας Ἀστέριος.
As against this view Athanasius shews that God is neither so powerless as not to be able to create the creatures nor so proud as not to be willing to create them
(εἰ δὲ ὡς ἀπαξιῶν ὁ
Θεὸς τὰ ἄλλα ἐργάσασθαι, τὸν μὲν υἱὸν μόνον εἰργάσατο, τὰ δὰ ἄλλα τῷ υἱῷ ἀνεχειρίσεν
ὡς βοηθῷ· καὶ τοῦτο μὲν ἀνάξιον Θεοῦ· οὐκ ἔστι γὰρ ἐν θεῷ τύφος); he shews further from Matt. X. 29,
VI. 25 f. that God cares for all things in the most direct way, and therefore has
also brought them into existence. The same proof is given in de decret. 8.
Athanasius thus did away with the latent dualism between the godhead and the
creature which had existed in Christian theology since the time of Philo. God is
creator in the directest way. This, however, implies that the Logos is
discarded. If spite of this Athanasius not only retained the name, but also
recognised the function of a mediator of creation and type of all rational
beings, the reason was that he understood Scripture as implying this, and
because he was not able wholly to free himself from the influence of tradition.
But the Divine in Christ is no longer for him the world-reason, on the contrary
it is the substance of the Father which—accidentally, as it were—has also the
attributes of creative power and of the reason that embraces and holds ideas
together. For Athanasius, in fact, the Son is the substance of the Father as the
principle of redemption and sanctification. The most pregnant of his formulæ is
in Orat. III. 6. in support of which he appeals to 2 Cor. V. 19:
τὸ ἴδιον τῆς τοῦ πατρὸς οὐσίας ἐστὶν ὁ υἱός,
ἐν ᾧ ἡ κτίσις πρὸς τὸν Θεὸν
κατηλλάσσετο.
3. Scripture and tradition know of only one Godhead; they, however, at the same
time pronounce Christ to be God: they call the Divine which has appeared in
Christ, Logos, Wisdom and Son; they thus distinguish it from God, the Father.
Faith has to hold fast to this. But in accordance with this we get the following
propositions:
(a) The Godhead is a unity (μονάς). Therefore the Divine which appeared in
Christ, must form part of this unity. There is only one underived or unbegotten
principle; this is the Father.That the Godhead is a unity, is a thought which Athanasius emphasised in the
strongest way over and over again (μονὰς τῆς θεότητος), (2) also that there
are not two underived or unbegotten principles (ἀρχαί), and finally (3) that
the Father is the ἀρχή, which because of this may be identified with the μονάς
also. He retorts the charge of Polytheism brought against him by the Arians;
they, he says, adore two gods (see above, note 4, p. 27). The best summary of his view is in Orat. IV. I:
μονάδα τῆς θεότητος ἀδιαίρετον καὶ ἄσχιστον· λεχθείη μία ἀρχὴ θεότητος καὶ
οὐ δύο ἀρχαί ὅθεν κυρίως καὶ
μοναρχία ἐστιν.
(b) The very name Father implies, moreover, that a second exists in the Godhead.
God has always been Father, and whoever
calls Him Father posits at the same time the Son; for the Father is the
Father of the Son, and only in a loose sense the Father of the world and of men; for these are created, but the divine Trinity is uncreated, for otherwise it
might either decrease again, or further increase in the future.Orat. III. 6:
πατέρα οὐκ ἄν τις εἴποι, μὴ ὑπάρχοντος υἱοῦ· ὁ μὲν τοι ποιητὴν
λέγων τὸν Θεὸν οὐ πάντως καὶ τὰ γενόμενα δηλοϊ· ἔστι γὰρ καὶ πρὸ τῶν ποιημάτων
ποιητής· ὁ δὲ πατέρα λέγων εὐθὺς μετὰ τοῦ πατρὸς σημαίνει καὶ τὴν τοῦ υἱοῦ ὕπαρξιν.
διὰ τοῦτο καὶ ὁ πιστεύων εἰς τὸν υἱὸν εἰς τὸν πατέρα πιστεύει· εἰς γὰρ τὸ ἴδιον τῆς
τοῦ πατρὸς οὐσίας πιστεύει, καὶ οὕτως μία ἐστιν ἡ πίστις εἰς ἕνα Θεόν.
II. 41. De decret. 30 fin.:
λέγοντες μὲν γὰρ ἐκεῖνοι τὸν Θεὸν ἀγένητον ἐκ τῶν γενομένων αὐτὸν
ποιητὴν μόνον λέγουσιν, ἵνα καὶ τὸν λόγον ποίημα σημάνωσι κατὰ τὴν ἰδίαν ἡδονήν· ὁ
δὲ τὸν Θεὸν πατέρα λέγων εὑθὺς ἐν αὐτῷ καὶ τὸν υἱὸν σημαίνει.
The Son is a second in the Godhead, see Orat. III. 4:
δύο μὲν εἰσιν, ὅτι ὁ πατὴρ παρήρ ἐστι καὶ οὐχ ὁ
αὐτὸς υἱός ἐστι· καὶ ὁ υἱὸς ἐστι καὶ οὐχ ὁ αὐτὸς πατήρ ἐστι· μία δὲ ἡ φύσις.
IV. I: ὥστε δύο μὲν εἶναι πατέρα καὶ υἱόν, μονάδα δὲ θεότητος ἀδιαίρετον..
The idea that the Triad must be from all eternity and be independent of the world, if it is not to be increased or
diminished, is developed in Orat. I. 17. There is a strong polemic against the Sabellians in Orat. IV.
(c) This Son, the offspring of the Father (γέννημα τοῦ
πατρὸς),In the theoretical expositions of his teaching Athanasius uses the expression
γέννημα in preference to
υἱὸς, in order to exclude the idea of human generation. was not,
however, begotten in a human fashion as if God were corporeal. On the contrary,
He has been begotten as the sun begets light and the spring the brook; He is
called Son, because He is the eternal, perfect reflection of the Father, the
image“Reflection”, “Image”, “God of God”, are the expressions which always appeared
to Athanasius to be the most appropriate. He preferred the first of these in
order to exclude the thought that the Son proceeded from the will of the
Creator. The light cannot do otherwise than lighten, and it always shines or
lightens, otherwise it would not be light. The archetype projects its type
necessarily. Following Origen he puts the whole emphasis on the eternal (Orat. I. 14:
ἀίδίος ἐστιν ὁ υἱὸς καὶ συνυπάρχει τῷ πατρί) and necessary. If the
Son were begotten by the will of the Father, He would be something contingent, a
creation, and would have a beginning: though certainly He was not, on the other
hand, begotten contrary to this will, as the Arians charge their opponents with
believing (Orat. III. 62, 66), nor from some necessity superior to God, nor does
the blessed Godhead undergo any kind of suffering (Orat. I. 16), on the contrary
He proceeded from the substance of God οὐ παρὰ γνώμην. Only the expression
ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας suffices, as Athanasius over and over again makes plain; any
intervention of the will here degrades the Son; for “the substance is higher
than the will.” See the characteristic passage Orat. III. 62:
ὥσπερ ἀντίκειται τῇ βουλήσει τὸ παρὰ γνώμην, οὕτως ὑπέρκειται καὶ προηγεῖται
τοῦ βουλεύεσθαι τὸ κατὰ φύσιν. οἰκίαν μὲν οὖν τις βουλευόμενος κατασκευάζει,
υἱὸν δὲ γεννᾷ κατὰ φύσιν. καὶ τὸ μὲν βουλήσει κατασκευαζόμενον ᾔρξατο γίνεσθαι
καὶ ἔξωθέν ἐστι τοῦ ποιοῦντος· ὁ δὲ υἱὸς ἲδιόν ἐστι τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ πατρὸς γέννημα
καὶ οὐκ ἔστιν ἔξωθεν αὐτοῦ· διὸ οὐδε βουλεύεται περὶ αὐτοῦ, ἵνα μὴ καὶ περὶ ἑαυτοῦ
δοκῇ βουλεύεσθαι· ὅσῳ οὖν τοῦ κτίσματος ὁ υἱὸς ὑπέρκειται, τοσούτῳ καὶ τῆς βουλήσεως
τὸ τὸ κατὰ φύσιν. The Father wills the Son in so far as He loves Him and wills and loves Himself (Orat. III.
66), but in so far as “willing” involves
τὴν ἐπ᾽ ἄμφω ῥοπήν, i.e., includes the ability not to will, the Son is not from the
will of the Father. proceeding from the substance of the Father;
He is called Wisdom and Logos not as if the Father were imperfect without Him,Athanasius rarely repeats the unguarded utterances of Bishop Alexander and
others belonging to the orthodox party. The Father is for him, on the contrary,
in and for Himself—if one may so put it—personal; He is νοῦς and He is
τῆς ἰδίας ὑποστάσεως θελητής. In one passage in his later writings (de decret.
15) he has. however, curiously enough, argued that the Father would be ἄλογος
and ἄσοφος, if the Logos were not from all eternity.
but as the creative power of the Father.In order to give meaning to the expressions “Logos”, “Wisdom”, Athanasius
could not avoid describing the divine in Christ as the wisdom, prudence,
strength, might, creative power in God, see Orat. I. 17, III. 65. Still he
rarely has recourse to these terms. “To be begotten” simply means
completely to share by nature in the entire nature of the Father, implying at
the same time that the Father does not therefore suffer or undergo anything.After the beginning of the Arian controversy, though not before it (see c.
Gent. 2), Athanasius made a thorough distinction between “to beget” and “to
create.” “Begetting” held good of the Father only in reference to the Son. It
means the production of a perfect image of Himself which, while originating in
His substance, has by nature a share in the entire substance. That the Son
shares in the entire substance of the Father is a thought which was constantly
repeated by Athanasius, Orat. I. 16:
τὸ ὅλως μετέχεσθαι τὸν Θεὸν ἶσόν ἐστι λέγειν ὅτι καὶ
γεννᾶ. The begotten is thus
ἴδιον τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ Θεοῦ γέννημα
(Orat. II. 24), which
φύσει ἔχει τὴν πατρικὴν οὐσίαν and in fact τελείαν.
That God does not in consequence of this suffer or undergo anything, and that
there is here no question of an emanation, are points which he urges as against the Valentinians.
(d) Consequently the assertions of the Arians that the Son is God, Logos, and
Wisdom in a nominal sense only, that there was a time in which the Son was not,
that He has sprung from the will of the Father, that He was created out of the
non-existent or out of some other substance, that He is subject to change, are
false.The refutation of these propositions given by Athanasius takes a great number
of forms; we may distinguish the religious-dogmatic, the dialectic-philosophic,
the patristic and the biblical refutations (see Böhringer, Athanasius, pp. 210-240).
For Athanasius himself the religious and biblical argument is the chief thing.
Besides numerous passages from the Gospel of John, Athanasius quotes specially
1 John V. 20; Rev. I. 4;
Matt. III. 17, XVII. 5;
Rom. I. 20, VIII. 32,
IX. 5; Hebr. I. 3, XIII. 8;
Ps. II. 7; XLV. 2,
CII. 28, CXLV. 13; Is. XL. 28.
Matt. XXVIII. 19 had for him supreme importance. Amongst the theses laid down by the
Arians he had a special objection to that of the προκοπή of the Logos. Hence
the strong emphasis he lays on the ἄτρεπτος. On the contrary He is (1) co-eternal with the
Father and (2) He is of the substance of the Father,“From the Father,” as Athanasius says in several passages, would be sufficient
if it were not possible to say, using the words in an improper sense, that
everything is from God because it has been created by God. It is because the Eusebians make capital out of this that we must avow:
ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ πατρός;
see de decret. 19; de synod. 33 sq.: ad Afros 5. He entirely rejects the
idea of a mere unity of feeling or doctrine between the Father and the Son
(e.g., Orat. III. ii) for this would mean the disappearance of the Godhead of the Son. for otherwise He would
not be God at all, (3) He is by His own nature in all points similarlyThe word “ὅμοιος” means something more than our word “resembling” and
something less than our word “similar”; our “similarly constituted” comes
nearest it. The “ὅμοιος” alone did not satisfy Athanasius, because it
implicitly involves a difference and, above all, a distinction, and he says,
moreover, that even dog and wolf, tin and silver are ὅμοια. He, however,
certainly applied the word in connection with substance (φύσις οὐσία) or
with “κατὰ πάντα” (e.g., de decret. 20) to the relation between Father and Son
(ὁμοίωσις τοῦ υἱοῦ πρὸς τὸν πατέρα κατὰ τὴν
οὐσίαν καὶ κατὰ τὴν φύσιν,
de synod. 45). But still he found it necessary
as a rule, at least at a later date, expressly to emphasise the ἑνότης—where he
expresses himself in a less strict way we also find ὁμοιότης alone—and in
opposition to the Homoiousians was driven to add “ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας” to
“ὁμοιούσιος” in order to banish any idea of separateness. (de synod. 41). Yet
he recognised at the same time (l.c. c. 53 sq.) that ὅμοιος is really an
unsuitable word; for it cannot be used of substances, but only of
σχήματα καὶ ποιότητες. In connection with substances we say
ταυτότης. Men resemble each
other in general outline and character, but in substance they are ὁμοφυεῖς;
vice versa, man and dog are not unlike, but yet they are ἑτεροφυεῖς. Thus
ὁμοφυές and ὁμοούσιον match each other, and in the same way
ἑτεροφυές and ἑτεροούσιον.
The phrase ὅμοιος κατ᾽ οὐσίαν always suggests a μετουσία;
το γὰρ ὅμοιον ποιότης ἐστίν, ἥτις τῇ οὐσίᾳ προσγενοιτ᾽ ἄν. Thus it is correct to
say of created spiritual beings that they resemble God, not however in
substance, but only in virtue of sonship. Ὁμοιούσιος is in fact nothing, and
when used of the real Son is consequently either nonsense or false.
constituted as the Father, and finally He is all this, because He has one and
the same substance in common with the Father and together with Him constitutes
a unity,This is the key to the whole mode of conception: Son and Father are not a
duality, but a duality in unity, i.e., the Son possesses entirely the substance
which the Father is; He is a unity with the unity which the Father is.
Athanasius did not defend the idea of the co-ordination of the two as opposed to
a subordination view, but the unity and inseparability as opposed to the theory
of difference and separateness. He, however,
expresses this as follows: in substance Father and Son are one; or, the Son has
one and the same substance with the Father. Thus the expression “μία φύσις”
is often used for both; and so we have:
οὐσίᾳ ἕν ἐστιν αὐτὸς γεννήσας αὐτὸν πατήρ
(de synod. 48). The Son has the
ἑνότης πρὸς τὸν πατέρα
(de decret. 23); He constitutes with Him a
ἀδιαίρετος ἑνότης; there subsists between both
ἑνότης ὁμοιώσεως κατὰ τὴν οὐσίαν καὶ κατὰ τὴν φύσιν.
He expresses his meaning most plainly in those passages in which he
attaches the ταυτότης to Father and Son without prejudice to the fact that the
Father is the Father and not the Son. Identity of substance, as Athanasius (de
synod. 53) explains, is ταυτότης. Thus he says (Orat. I. 22):
ὁ υἱὸς ἔχει ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς τὴν ταυτότητα.
In a passage of earlier date he had already said (c. Gent. 2):
δοὺς τῷ υἱῷ καὶ τῆς ἰδίας ἀϊδιότητος ἔννοιαν καὶ γνῶσιν, ἵνα τὴν ταυτότητα σώζων κ.τ.λ.
Later on, (de decret. 23):
ἀνάγκη καὶ ἐν τούτῳ τὴν ταυτότητα πρὸς τὸν ἑαυτοῦ
πατέρα σώζειν, 20: μὴ μόνον ὅμοιον τὸν υἱὸν ἀλλὰ ταὐτὸν τῇ ὁμοιώσει ἐκ τοῦ
πατρὸς εἶναι . . . οὐ μόνον ὅμοιος ἀλλὰ καὶ ἀδιαίρετος ἐστι τῆς τοῦ πατρὸς οὐσίας,
καὶ ἕν μέν εἰσιν αὐτὸς καὶ ὁ πατήρ. 24: ἑνότης καὶ φυσικὴ ἰδιότης . . . τὴν ἑνότητα
τῆς φύσεως καὶ τὴν ταυτότητα τοῦ φωτὸς μὴ διαιρῶμεν.
Orat. IV. 5 (and elsewhere):
πατὴρ ἐν τῷ υἱῷ, υἱὸς ἐν τῷ παρτί . . . ἡ τοῦ υἱοῦ θεότης τοῦ πατρός ἐστι . . .
ἡ θεότης καὶ ἡ ἰδιότης τοῦ πατρὸς τὸ εἶναι τοῦ υἱοῦ ἐστί
Thus ὁμοιος is unsatisfactory not
only because it does not express complete likeness, but, above all, because it does not express the unity upon which everything depends. The Son cannot, like
human sons, go away from the Father, (de decret. 20) for He is in a more
intimate relation to Him that a human son is to his father; He is connected with the Father not as an accident of which we might make abstraction (l. c. 12), but as
τὸ ἴδιον τῆς πατρικῆς ὑποστάσεως
(Orat. III. 65) or as
τὸ ἴδιον τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ πατρός
(frequently in de decret. Orat. I. 22), or as
ἴδιον τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ Θεοῦ γέννημα.
Athanasius uses the words “ἴδιος”, “γνήσιος”
frequently; they give the conception of Son a more extended meaning than it
naturally has, so that the Son may not appear as ἔξωθεν ἁπλῶς ὅμοιος and
consequently as ἑτεροούσιος (de decret. 23). The substantial unity of Father and
Son is the fundamental thought of Athanasius. Atzberger therefore correctly says (op. cit. p. 117) “There can be no doubt but that Athanasius conceived of the
unity of the Father and the Son as a numerical unity of substance.” In Orat. III. 3 ff. where he puts himself to great trouble to state the problem that two
are equal to one, he says:
Εἱ καὶ ἕτερόν ἐστιν
ὡς γέννημα ὁ υἱός, ἀλλὰ ταὐτόν ἐστιν ὡς Θέος· καὶ ἕν εἰσιν αὐτὸς καὶ ὁ πατὴρ τῇ
ἰδιότητι καὶ οἰκειότητι τῆς φύσεως καὶ τῇ ταυτότητι τῆς μιᾶς θεότητος.
We cannot therefore help being astonished (with Zahn p. 20) to find that Athanasius declines to use the
word μονοούσιος of the Son (see Expos. fidei 2:
οὔτὲ υἱοπάτορα φρονοῦμεν ὡς οἱ Σαβέλλιοι, λέγοντες μονοούσιον καὶ οὐχ ὁμοούσιον καὶ ἐν τούτῳ ἀναιροῦντες
τό εἶναι υἱὸν); still he always says:
μίαν οἴδαμεν καὶ μόνην θεότητα τοῦ πατρός.
If the question is raised as to whether Athanasius thought of the Godhead as a numerical unity or as a numerical duality, the answer is: as a
numerical unity. The duality is only a relative one—if we may write such an
absurdity—the duality of archetype and type. That the Arians called the
Catholics “Sabellians” is expressly stated by Julian of Eclan. (August., op. imperf. V. 25).
but “substance” in reference to God means nothing else than “Being.”Θεότης, οὐσία, ὑπόστασις, ἰδίοτης τῆς οὐσίας, οἰκειότης τῆς οὐσίας (ὑποστάσεως)
are all used by Athanasius in reference to the Godhead as perfectly synonymous.
He had no word by which to describe Father and Son as different subjects, and
indeed he never felt it necessary to seek for any such word. We cannot call
ἰδιότης τῆς οὐσίας anything special; for Athanasius by the very use of the word
ἰδιότης asserted the unity of the Father and Son.
Ὑπόστασις and οὐσία
are repeatedly described by him as identical; see de decret. 27; de synod. 41; ad Afros 4;
ἡ δὲ ὑπόστασις οὐσία ἐστί, καὶ οὐδὲν ἄλλο σημαινόμενον ἔχει ἢ αὐτὸ τὸ
ὄν, ὅπερ Ἰερεμίας ὕπαρξιν ὀνομάζει λέγων . . . ἡ γαρ ὐπόστασις καὶ ἡ οὐσία ὑπαρξίς ἐστιν
(so still in the year 370). Tom. ad Antioch. 6:
ὑπόστασιν μὲν λέγομεν ἡγούμενοι ταὐτὸν εἶναι εἰπεῖν ὑπόστασιν καὶ οὐσίᾳν.
The divine substance is,
however, nothing other than τὸ ὄν (pure Being); see ad Afr. l.c. and the decret. 22; Godhead is the
οὐσία ἀκατάληπτος . . . τὸ· Θεὸς, οὐδὲν ἕτερον ἢ τὴν οὐσίαν αὐτοῦ
τοῦ ὄντος σημαίνει.
As opposed to this φύσις is the nature
which attaches to the substance as the complex of its attributes; Athanasius
distinguishes it from ὸὐσία; hence the formula often used:
κατὰ τὴν οὐσίαν καὶ κατὰ τὴν φύσιν (e.g., de synod. 45) see also Tom. ad Antioch 6, where
Athanasius after the words above quoted, continues:
μίαν δὲ φρονοῦμεν διὰ τὸ ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ πατρὸς εἶναι τὸν υἱὸν καὶ
διὰ τὴν ταυτότητα τῆς φύσεως· μίαν γὰρ θεότητα καὶ μίαν εἶναι τὴν ταύτης φύσιν πιστεύομεν.
Orat. I. 39: The Son is φύσει κατ᾽ οὐσίαν ταῦτα. When,
however, Athanasius asserts the numerical unity of the Ousia of Father, Son,
(and Spirit) he is thinking of it both as being that which we call “substance”
and also as what we call “subject”, so that here again, too, what is obscure is
not the unity, but the duality (triad) as in Irenæus. In de synod. 51 the
conception of the Ousia as involving three substances, i.e., a common genus and
two co-ordinate “brothers” ranged under it, is expressly rejected as Ἑλλήνων ἑρμηνεῖαι.
It is only the one passage: Expos. fid. 2, (see above) where
Athanasius rejects μονοούσιος, that betrays any uncertainty on his part. It
stands quite by itself. Otherwise by οὐσία he understands the individual or
single substance which, however, as applied to God, is the fulness of all Being,
a view which allows him to think of this substance as existing in wonderful conditions and taking on wonderful shapes. It is not
the case that the Father is one substance
by itself and the Son another substance by itself and that these two are
similarly constituted. This would do away with the unity of the Godhead. On the
contrary, the Father is the Godhead; this Godhead, however, contains in it a
mystery which can only be approximately conceived of by men. It conceals within
itself in the form of an independent and self-acting product something which
issues from it and which also possesses this Godhead and possesses it from all
eternity in virtue, not of any communication, but of nature and origin,—the true
and real Son, the image which proceeds from the substance. There are not two
divine ousias, not two divine hypostases or the like, but one ousia and
hypostasis, which the Father and the Son possess. Thus the Son is true God,
inseparable from the Father and reposing in the unity of the Godhead, not a
second alongside of God, but simply reflection, express image, Son within the
one Godhead which cannot
and ought not to be thought of apart from reflection, express image, and Son. He
has everything that the Father has, for He actually possesses the ousia of the
Father; He is ὁμοούσιος,The meaning of this word will be clear from what was said in the preceding
discussion. It signified oneness of substance, not likeness of substance, “unius substantiæ.” Father and Son possess in common one and the same substance,
substance in the sense of the totality of all that which they are. This is how
Athanasius always understood the word, as Zahn (op. cit., pp. 10-32) was the
first to point out in opposition to the long current erroneous interpretations
of it. It is in fact equal to ταυτούσιος, the meaning which the Semiarians also
attached to it (Ephiph. H. 73. 11). Athanasius neither discovered the word, nor
had he any special preference for it; but he always recognised in it the most
fitting expression wherewith to repel Arians and Eusebians; see on the adoption
of the word into the Nicene Creed and the history of its interpretation, the
discussions which follow. of the same substance. Only He is not actually the
Father, for the latter is also His source and root, the Almighty Father, the
only unbegotten principle.This is an important point in the Athanasian doctrine and balances in some
degree the thoughts comprised in the word “ὁμοούσιος.” From some passages it
certainly appears as if the statement that the Son has everything in common with
the Father (according to Holy Scripture) except the name of Father (see Orat.
III. 4 fin; III. 6; de synod. 48, 49; frequently as in Orat. I. 61, the
language is paradoxical to the verge of absurdity) expressed a merely nominal
distinction between Father and Son. According to this, He is either identical
with the Father, or a part of the Father’s substance, or an attribute of God, or
a kind of pendicle which has emanated from the Father; but all these modes of
conception were considered at the, time to be “Sabellian”: they were condemned
already. In order to escape them or rather because he himself considered them to
be false, Athanasius in the proper place strongly emphasised the idea that the
Father is the entire monad, that He is the ἀρχή for the Son too, that it is in
fact the ousia of the Father which the Son has received, that thus the
conception of the Father as the sole Θεὸς παντοκράτωρ maintains the unity of
the Godhead. The Father is the μία ἀρχή (Orat. IV. 1); there are not two or
three Fathers (III. 15); there is ἕν εἶδος θεότητος, which is the Father, but
τὸ εἶδος τοῦτό ἐστι καὶ ἐν τῷ υἱῷ (l.c.); the Father is ὁ Θεός. He alone is
αὐτὸς ὁ Θεός, He alone is the unbegotten God (Expos. fid. I); the Son is a
γέννημα, even though He has not come into being. Accordingly the Father is
sufficient for Himself (Orat. II. 41), and
ἡ οὐσία τοῦ
πατρός ἐστιν ἀρχὴ καὶ ῥίζα καὶ πηγὴ τοῦ υἱοῦ. The “ὁμοούσιος” does not thus include any absolute
co-ordination. According to Athanasius all men are ὁμοούσιοι relatively to
each other, because they are ὁμογενεῖς and ὁμοφυεῖς (de synod. 52 sq.) and yet
spite of this we find amongst them superiority and subordination. The same is
the case here. Athanasius maintains the inseparable unity of substance of Father
and Son, the unity of the Godhead; but this idea is for him applicable only in
virtue of another, according to which the Father has everything of Himself
while the Son has everything from the Father. Father and Son, according to
Athanasius, are not co-ordinate equal substances, but rather one single substance,
which involves the distinction of ἀρχή and γέννημα, and thus of principle and
what is deduced, and in this sense involves a subordination, which, however, is
not analogous to the subordination in which the creature stands to God.
(4) The language used of Christ in Scripture to express what is human and
belonging to the creature, has, always and only, reference to the human nature
which He took upon Him in order to redeem men. Since He who is by nature God
took upon Him a body in order to unite with Himself what is by nature man in
order that the salvation and deification of man might be surely accomplished, He
also along with the body took to Himself human feelings. So complete, however,
is the identity of the humanity of Christ with the nature of humanity as a whole
that we may, according to Athanasius, refer the statements of Scripture as to a
special endowment and exaltation of Christ, to the whole humanity.See Orat. I. 41: Τῆς ἀνθρωπότητός ἐστιν ἡ ὕψωσις, i.e., not of the
humanity of Christ, but of humanity as a whole: c. 42: When Scripture uses the
word “ἐχαρίσατο·” in reference to what God does to Christ, this is not said of
the Logos, but on our account:
δι᾽ ἡμᾶς καὶ ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν τοῦτο πάλιν περὶ αὐτοῦ γέγραπται.
ὥσπερ γὰρ ὡς ἄνθρωπος ὁ Χριστὸς ἀπέθανε καὶ ὑψώθη, οὕτως ὡς ἄνθρωπος
λέγται λαμβάνειν ὅπερ εἶχεν ἀεὶ ὡς Θεός, ἵνα εἰς ἡμᾶς φθάσῃ καὶ ἡ τοιαύτη
δοθεῖσα χάρις. The human race is thereby enriched. c. 43: By our
kinship with the body of Christ we too have become a temple of God and are
henceforth made sons of God, so that already in us the Lord is adored.
“Therefore hath God also exalted Him”—this signifies our exaltation. Complete
too, however, was the union of the Son of God with humanity, which Athanasius,
like Arius up to the time of the Apollinarian controversy, usually thought of as
“Flesh,” “vesture of the Flesh.”So correctly Baur. I have not found Dorner’s statement that the presupposition
of a human soul occupies the background of the whole view of Athanasius “of the
incarnation and redemption as affecting the totality of man” (op. cit. I. p.
957) to be supported by evidence. From what is alleged by Dorner it merely
follows that Athanasius did not reflect on the subject. Baur, however, meanwhile
goes too far when he expresses the opinion that Athanasius designedly left the
human soul of Christ out of account; on the contrary, by the term “Flesh” he
understood the whole substance of man, (see Orat. III. 30) and did not feel
there was any necessity for studying the question as to the position occupied by
the soul. Because the body of the Logos was really
His own body—although we must discard the thought of variation, of changeOrat. IV. 31.—and
because this union had become already perfect in Mary’s body,Orat. IV. 32-34. everything that holds good of the flesh holds
good of the Logos also, and this is true of all sufferings even,—although He was
not affected by them so far as His Godhead is concerned,Orat. I. 45, III. 30-33.—and Mary is the
mother of God. Athanasius also refers to the incarnate Logos the locus classicus
of the Arians, Prov. VIII. 22, 23,Almost the whole second oration against the Arians is devoted to the task of
refuting the use made by them of this passage. with which Eustathius of Antioch likewise
occupied himself.Theodoret, H. E. I. 8. Finally, Athanasius spoke also of a προκοπή or progress in
reference to the incarnate Logos, of an increase in the manifestation of God in
the body of Christ, by which he means that the flesh was more and more
completely irradiated by the Godhead: τὸ ἀνθρώπινον ἐν τῇ
σοφίᾳ προέκοπτεν,Orat. III. 53:
Λὐξάνοντος ἐν ἡλικίᾳ τοῦ σώματος, συνεπεδίδοτο ἐν αὐτῷ καὶ η
τῷς θεότητος φανέρωσις . . . τὸ ἄνθρώπινον προέκοπτεν, ὑπεραναβαῖνον κατ᾽ ὀλίγον τὴν
ἀνθρωπίνην φύσιν καὶ θεοποιούμενον καὶ ὄργανον τῆς σοφίας πρὸς τὴν ἐνέργειαν τῆς
θεότητος καὶ τὴν
ἔκλαμψιν αὐτῆς γενόμενον. (the human advanced in wisdom).
How are the two mutually opposed doctrines to be judged from the standpoint of
history, of reason, and of the Gospel? Each party charged the other with holding
doctrines which involved contradictions, and, what is of more consequence, they
mutually accused each other of apostasy from Christianity, although the Arians
never advanced this charge with such energy as the opposite party. We have first
of all to ascertain definitely how much they had in common. Religion and
doctrine are with both thoroughly fused together,Both thus occupy the stage of development which was described in Vol. III.,
pp, 113-118. We may say meanwhile, and what follows will prove it, that the
fusion of a theoretical doctrine with religion was more thorough in the case of
Arianism than with Athanasius. and, indeed, formally
considered, the doctrine is the same in both cases, i.e., the fundamental
conceptions are the same. The doctrine of the pre-existent Christ, who as the
pre-existent Son of God is Logos, Wisdom, and world-creating Power of God, seems
to constitute the common basis. Together with this both have a common interest in maintaining the unity of God and in
making a sharp distinction between Creator and creature. Finally, both endeavour
to base their doctrines on Scripture and at the same time claim to have
tradition on their side, as is evident in the case of Arius from the
introduction to the Thalia. Both are, however, convinced that the final word
lies with Scripture and not with tradition.
I. We cannot understand Arianism unless we consider that it consists of two
entirely disparate parts. It has, first of all, a Christ who gradually becomes
God, who therefore develops more and more in moral unity of feeling with God,
progresses and attains his perfection by the divine grace. This Christ is the
Saviour, in so far as he has conveyed to us the divine doctrine and has given us
an example of goodness perfectly realised in the exercise of freedom. When Arius
calls this Christ Logos it appears as if he did this by way of accommodation.
The conception of Arius here is purely Adoptian. But, secondly, with this is
united a metaphysic which has its basis solely in a cosmology and has absolutely
no connection with soteriology. This metaphysic is dominated by the thought of
the antithesis of the one, inexpressible God, a God remote from the world, and
the creature. The working-out of this thought accordingly perfectly corresponds
with the philosophical ideas of the time and with the one half of the line of
thought pursued by Origen. In order that a creation may become possible at all,
a spiritual being must first be created which can be the means whereby a
spiritual-material world can be created. This cannot be the divine reason
itself, but only the most complete image of the divine reason stamped on a
created, freely acting, independent being. With this we have arrived at the
Neo-platonic origination. Whether in order to find a means of transition to the
world we are to speak of “God, the essential νοῦς of God, the created Logos,” or
“God, the created Logos, the world-spirit,” or are to arrange the terms in some
other way, is pretty much a matter of indifference, and to all appearance Arius
laid little stress on this. It is the philosophical triad, or duad, such as we
meet with in Philo, Numenius, Plotinus etc. These created beings which mediate
between God and the creature are, however, according to Arius,
to be adored, i.e., it is only as a cosmologist that he is a strict monotheist,
while as a theologian he is a polytheist. This again perfectly corresponds to
the dominant Hellenic view. Arius in fact occupies a place, so to speak, on the
extreme left, for the energetic way in which he emphasises the thought that the
second ousia has been created out of the free will of God, that it is foreign to
the substance of God, that as a creaturely substance it is capable of change and
definable, and, above all, the express assertion that this “Logos” and “Son” is “Logos” and “Son” merely nominally, that in no sense whatever is an
emanation or anything of that kind to be thought of here, but simply a creation,
is surprising even in the sphere of Hellenic philosophy. That this created Logos
which made possible the further creation has appeared in Jesus Christ and has in
human vesture developed into God and has therefore not been lowered, but on the
contrary has been exalted by His being man, is accordingly what constitutes the
uniting thought between the two parts of the system.
In the other case, as here, the expressions “pre-existent Son of God,” “Logos,”
“Wisdom” are plainly only an accommodation. They are unavoidable, but not
necessary, in fact they create difficulties. It clearly follows from this,
however, that the doctrine of Origen does not constitute the basis of the
system—in so far as its Christology is concerned—and that what it has in common
with the orthodox system is not what is really characteristic of it, but is on
the contrary what is secondary. The Arian doctrine has its root in Adoptianism,
in the doctrine of Lucian of Samosata,See above p. 3, and in addition Athan. Orat. III. 51: The view of Lucian of
Samosata is the idea of the pure creaturehood and humanity of the Redeemer
ὅ τῇ μὲν δυνάμει καὶ ὐμεῖς φρονεῖτε, τῷ δε ὀνόματι μόνον
ἀρνεῖσθε διὰ τοὺς ἀνθρώπους.
This is no mere trick of logic, although the alleged motive of the correction of the Adoptianist doctrine is assuredly incorrectly described. as is proved, above all, by the strong
emphasis laid on the creaturehood of the Redeemer and by the elimination of a
human soul. We know what signification this had for Origen. Where it is wanting
we can no longer speak of Origenism in the full meaning of the word. But it is
correct that the cosmological-causal point of view of Origen, this one side of his complicated system, was appropriated
by Arius, that is by Lucian. Meanwhile it has to be added that it was not
peculiar to Origen. He made an effort to get beyond it; he balanced the
causal-cosmological point of view, according to which the Logos is a heavenly
κτίσμα, by the soteriological, according to which He is the essential and
recognisable image of the Father, which constitutes an essential unity with the
Father. Of this there is nothing in Arius.We do not know whether or not Arius appealed to Origen. The later Arians
undoubtedly quoted him in support of their views; they seem, however, to have
appealed most readily to Dionysius of Alex. See Athan. de sentent. Dionysii.
Arianism is a new doctrine in the Church; it labours under quite as many
difficulties as any other earlier Christological doctrine; it is, finally, in
one important respect, really Hellenism which is simply tempered by the constant
use of Holy Scripture. It is a new doctrine; for not only is the frank
assertion of the creaturehood and changeableness of the Logos in this sharply
defined form, new, spite of Origen, Dionysius Alex., Pierius and so on, but,
above all, the emphatic rejection of any essential connection of the Logos with
the Father. The images of the source and the brook, the sun and the light, the
archetype and the type, which are almost of as old standing in the Church as the
Logos-doctrine itself, are here discarded. This, however, simply means that the
Christian Logos- and Son-of-God-doctrine has itself been discarded. Only the old
names remain. But new too, further, is the combination of Adoptianism with the
Logos-cosmology, and if the idea of two distinct Logoi and two Wisdoms is not
exactly new, it is a distinction which had never before this been permitted.
Athanasius exposed the inner difficulties and contradictions, and in almost
every case we may allow that he has right on his side. A son who is no son, a
Logos who is no Logos, a monotheism which nevertheless does not exclude
polytheism, two or three ousias which are to be revered, while yet only one of
them is really distinct from the creatures, an indefinable being who first
becomes God by becoming man and who is yet neither God nor man, and so on. In
every single point we have apparent clearness while all is hollow and formal, a
boyish enthusiasm for playing with husks and shells, and a
childish self-satisfaction in the working out of empty syllogisms.See the tractate of Aëtius preserved in Epiphanius; but the older Arians had
already acted in the same way. This had not
been learned from Origen, who always had facts and definite ends in view when he speculated.
But all this might be put up with if only this doctrine were in any way designed
to shew how communion with God is arrived at through Christ. This is what we
must necessarily demand; for what the ancient Church understood by “redemption” was in part a physical redemption of a very questionable kind, and it would
not necessarily have been anything to be regretted if anyone had emancipated
himself from this “redemption.” But one has absolutely nowhere the impression
that Arius and his friends are in their theology concerned with communion with
God. Their doctrina de Christo has nothing whatever to do with this question.
The divine which appeared on earth is not the Godhead, but one of its creations.
God Himself remains unknown. Whoever expresses adherence to the above
propositions and does this with unmistakable satisfaction, stands up for the
unique nature of God, but does this, however, only that he may not endanger the
uniformity of the basis of the world, and otherwise is prepared to worship
besides this God other “Gods” too, creatures that is; whoever allows religion
to disappear in a cosmological doctrine and in veneration for a heroic teacher,
even though he may call him “perfect creature,” κτίσμα τέλειον, and revere in
him the being through whom this world has come to be what it is, is, so far as
his religious way of thinking is concerned, a Hellenist, and has every claim to
be highly valued by Hellenists.There are some good remarks on Arianism in Kaufmann, Deutsche Geschichte I.,
pp. 232, 234; also in Richter, Weström. Reich, p. 537.
The admission that the Arians succeeded in getting a grasp of certain features
in the historical Christ presented to us by the New Testament, cannot in any way
alter this judgment. In this matter they were far superior to their opponents;
but they were absolutely unable to make any religious use of what they
perceived. They speak of Christ as Paul of Samosata does, but by foisting in
behind the Christ who was exalted to be Lord, the half divine being,
logos-creature, λόγος-κτίσμα,
they deprived the most valuable knowledge they had of all practical value. Paul
could say in a general way:
τὰ κρατούμενα τῷ
λόγῳ τῆς φύσεως, οὐκ ἔχει ἔπαινον· τὰ δὲ σχέσει φιλίας
κρατούμενα ὑπεραινεῖται
(what was accomplished by the Logos of nature deserves
no praise, but what was accomplished in the state of love is to be praised
exceedingly). Such a statement was made impossible for the Arians by the
introduction of cosmological speculation. What dominates Paul’s whole view of
the question—namely, the thought that the unity of love and feeling is the most
abiding unity, scarcely ever finds an echo amongst the Arians, for it is
swallowed up by that philosophy which measures worth by duration in time and
thinks of a half-eternal being as being nearer God than a temporal being who is
filled with the love of God. We cannot therefore finally rate very high the
results of the rational exegesis of christological passages as given by the
Arians; they do not use them to shew that Jesus was a man whom God chose for
Himself or that God was in the man Jesus, but, on the contrary, in order to
prove that this Jesus was no complete God. Nor can we put a high value on their
defence of monotheism either, for they adored creatures. What is alone really
valuable, is the energetic emphasis they lay on freedom, and which they adopted
from Origen, but even it has no religious significance.
Had the Arian doctrine gained the victory in the Greek-speaking world, it would
in all probability have completely ruined Christianity, that is, it would have
made it disappear in cosmology and morality and would have annihilated religion
in the religion. “The Arian Christology is inwardly the most unstable, and
dogmatically the most worthless, of all the Christologies to be met with in the
history of dogma.”Schultz, Gottheit Christi, p. 65. Still it had its mission. The Arians made the transition
from heathenism to Christianity easier for the large numbers of the cultured and
half-cultured whom the policy of Constantine brought into the Church. They
imparted to them a view of the Holy Scriptures and of Christianity which could
present no difficulty to any one at that period. The Arian monotheism was the
best transition from polytheism to monotheism. It asserted the truth that there is
one supreme God with whom nothing can be compared, and thus rooted out the crude
worship of many gods. It constructed a descending divine triad in which the
cultured were able to recognise again the highest wisdom of their philosophers.
It permitted men to worship a demiurge together with the primal substance,
πρώτη οὐσία; it taught an incarnation of this demiurge and, on the other hand
again, a theopoiesis. and was able skilfully to unite this with the worship of
Christ in the Church. It afforded, in the numerous formulæ which it coined,
interesting material for rhetorical and dialectic exercises. It quickened the
feeling of freedom and responsibility and led to discipline, and even to
asceticism. And finally, it handed on the picture of a divine hero who was
obedient even to death and gained the victory by suffering and patience, and who
has become a pattern for us. When transmitted along with the Holy Scriptures, it
even produced a living pietyThe figure of Ulfilas vouches for this; his confession of faith (Halm, § 126)
is the only Arian one which is not polemical. amongst Germanic Christians, if it also awakened
in them the very idea to which it had originally been specially opposed, the
idea of a theogony. What was shewn above—namely, that the doctrine was new, is
to be taken cum grano salis; elements which were present in the teaching of the
Church from the very beginning got here vigorous outward expression and became
supreme. The approval the doctrine met with shews how deeply rooted they were in
the Church. We cannot but be astonished at the first glance to find that those
who sought to defend the whole system of Origen partly sided with Arius and
partly gave him their patronage. But this fact ceases to be striking so soon as
we consider that the controversy very quickly became so acute as to necessitate
a decision for or against Arius. But the Origenists, moreover, had a very strong
antipathy to everything that in any way suggested “Sabellianism”; for
Sabellianism had no place for the pursuit of Hellenic cosmological speculation,
i.e., of scientific theology. Their position with regard to the doctrine of
Athanasius was thereby determined. They would rather have kept to their rich
supply of musty formulæ, but they were forced to decide for Arius.
II. Nothing can more clearly illustrate the perverse state of the problem in the
Arian-Athanasian controversy than the notorious fact that the man who saved the
character of Christianity as a religion of living fellowship with God, was the
man from whose Christology almost every trait which recalls the historical Jesus
of Nazareth was erased. Athanasius undoubtedly retained the most important
feature—namely, that Christ promised to bring men into fellowship with God. But
while he subordinated everything to this thought and recognised in redemption a
communication of the divine nature, he reduced the entire historical account
given of Christ to the belief that the Redeemer shared in the nature and unity
of the Godhead itself, and he explained everything in the Biblical documents in
accordance with this idea.Anyone, on the other hand, who, like Arius, held to the idea of a developing and
struggling Christ was not able to conceive of Him as Redeemer, but only as
teacher and example. This was the situation: the Bible accounts of Christ did
not favour and establish the sole idea which was held at the time regarding
fellowship with God and redemption, but, on the contrary, they interfered with it. That which Christ is and is for us, is the Godhead;
in the Son we have the Father, and in what the Son has brought, the divine is
communicated to us. This fundamental thought is not new, and it corresponds with
a very old conception of the Gospel. It is not new, for it was never wanting in
the Church before the time of Athanasius. The Fourth Gospel, Ignatius, Irenæus,
Methodius, the so-called Modalism and even the Apologists and Origen—not to
mention the Westerns—prove this; for the Apologists, and Origen too, in what
they say of the Logos, emphasised not only His distinction from the Father, but
also His unity with the Father. The Samosatene had also laid the whole emphasis
on the unity, although indeed he was not understood.Athanasius always appealed to the collective testimony of the Church in support
of the doctrine which he defended. In the work, de decret, 25 sq., he shews that
the words ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας and ὁμοούσιος were not discovered by the Nicene
Fathers, but, on the contrary, had been handed down to them. He appeals to
Theognostus, to the two Dionysii and Origen, to the latter with the reservation
that in his case it is necessary to distinguish between what he wrote
γυμναστικῶς and what he wrote of a positive character. It is one of the few
passages in which he has thought of Origen. But not since the days in which the Fourth Gospel was written do we meet with anyone
with whom the conviction is so definite, thought out with such an assurance
of victory, expressed so strongly and so simply, and of such an absolute kind,
as it is with Athanasius. All the rest by introducing qualifying thoughts in
some way or other, brought an element of uncertainty into their feeling of its
truth, and impaired its strength. That in the age of Constantine during the
greatest revolution which the Church has experienced and which was so fraught
with consequences, the faith represented by Athanasius was confessed with such
vigour, is what saved the Christian Church. Its faith would probably have got
entirely into the hands of the philosophers, its confession would have become
degraded or would have been turned into an imperial official decree enjoining
the worship of the “clear-shining Godhead”, if Athanasius had not been there
and had not helped those who shared his views to make a stand and inspired them
with courage.
But at the beginning of the Fourth Century the form of expression for the belief
in the unity of the eternal Godhead and its appearance in Jesus Christ was
already sketched out. It was as little allowable to think of a unity of living
feeling, of will and aim alone, as of the perfect identification of the persons.
The doctrines of the pre-existing Son of God, of the eternal Logos, but, above
all, the view that everything valuable is accomplished in the nature only, of
which feeling and will are an annex, were firmly established. Athanasius in
making use of these presuppositions in order to express his faith in the Godhead
of Christ, i.e., in the essential unity of the Godhead in itself with the
Godhead manifested in Christ, fell into an abyss of contradictions.
Unquestionably the old Logos doctrine too, and also Arianism, strike us to-day
as being full of contradictions, but it was Athanasius who first arrived at the
contradictio in adjecto in the full sense of the phrase. That the Godhead is a
numerical unity, but that nevertheless Son and Father are to be distinguished
within this unity as two—this is his view. He teaches that there is only one
unbegotten principle, but that nevertheless the Son has not come into being. He
maintains that the Divine in Christ is the eternal “Son”, but that the Son
is as old as the Father. This Son is not to be thought of either as created, or
as an attribute of God, or as an emanation or a part of God, and is therefore
something wholly indefinable. The thought of a theogony is rejected as
emphatically as that of a creation, and yet the thought of an active attribute
is not in any sense to be entertained. The Father is perfect for Himself and is
sufficient for Himself; indeed, although Father and Son have one substance, in
the sense of a single nature, in common, still the Father alone is “the God”,
and is the principle and root of the Son also. Quot verba, tot scandala!
Whatever involves a complete contradiction cannot be correct, and everyone is
justified in unsparingly describing the contradiction as such. This the Arians
sufficiently did, and in so far as they assumed that a contradiction cannot be
seriously accepted by anyone, and that therefore the view of Athanasius must at
bottom be Sabellian, they were right. Two generations and more had to pass
before the Church could accustom itself to recognise in the complete
contradiction the sacred privilege of revelation. There was, in fact, no
philosophy in existence possessed of formulæ which could present in an
intelligible shape the propositions of Athanasius. What he called at one time Ousia and at another Hypostasis, was not an individual substance in the full
sense of the word, but still less was it a generic conception.
If anything is clear, it is the fact that the thought of Athanasius—namely, the
unity of the Godhead which rested in and appeared in Christ, could not be
expressed under the traditional presuppositions of the pre-existing Son of God
and the personal Logos existing from all eternity. We have here to do with the
most important point in the whole question. The very same series of ideas which
created the most serious difficulties for the Arians and which have been shewn
to occupy a secondary place in their system, seriously hamper the doctrinal
utterances of Athanasius; namely, the Logos doctrine of Origen and the
cosmological-metaphysical conceptions which form the background of statements
regarding an historical person. The Arians required to have a created being,
created before the
world, changeable, of the same nature as men, for their Christ, and had to
banish all other determinations from their conception, and so they could not
make use of the Logos of Philo and the Apologists; Athanasius required a being
who was absolutely nothing else than the Godhead, and so the Logos referred to
did not in any sense fit in with his doctrine. In both cases the combined Logos
doctrine of Philo and Origen was the disturbing element. And at bottom,—though
unfortunately not actually,They were not able, and did not dare, to discard it actually, because of John
I. 1 f., on account of the Church tradition, and because of the scientific views
of the time. As regards Athanasius, we have to keep in mind his idea of the
Father as the ῥίζα of the Son, and his other idea, according to which the world
was actually made by the Son.—they both discarded it; Arius when he
distinguishes between the Logos nuncupativus which Christ is, and the actual
Logos of God; Athanasius when he banishes the world-idea from the content of the
substance which he adores in Christ. In the view of Arius, Christ belongs in
every sense to the world, i.e., to the sphere of created things; in that of
Athanasius he belongs in every sense to God, whose substance He shares.
Arius and Athanasius both indeed occupy the standpoint of the theology of Origen
which no one could now abandon; but their religious and theological interests
do not originate in it. In the gnosis of Origen everything spiritual stands to
God in a two-fold relation; it is His created work and yet it is at the same
time His nature. This holds good in a pre-eminent sense of the Logos, which
comprises all that is spiritual in itself and connects the graduated spheres of
the spiritual substances, which, like it, have an eternal duration, with the
supreme God-head. To this idea corresponds the thought that the creatures are
free and that they must return from their state of estrangement and their Fall
to their original source. Of this we find nothing either in Arius or in
Athanasius. In the case of the former, the sober Aristotelian philosophy on the
one hand reacts against this fundamental thought, and on the other, the
tradition of the Christ who is engaged in a conflict, who increases and progresses towards perfection. In the case of
Athanasius what reacts against it is the ancient belief of the Church in the
Father, the Almighty Creator of all things, and in the Son in whom the Father
reveals Himself and has stooped to hold fellowship with man.
It is thus not the case that the gnosis of Origen was simply halved between
Arius and Athanasius; on the contrary, it underwent a fundamental correction
in the teaching of both. But it was no longer possible to avoid the “vis
inertiæ.” of the gnosis of Origen, the contrary formulae which were held
together by the idea of the Logos-cosmology as the basis for Christology.Dionysius of Alexandria was a genuine pupil of Origen, for he was equally
prepared to maintain the other side of the system of Origen, when his namesake
pointed out to him that by his one-sided emphasising of the one side, he had
lost himself in highly questionable statements. Eusebius of Cæsarea took up the
same position. And
now the question was which of the two was to be adopted, the Logos-κτίσμα or the
Logos-ὁμοούσιος formula. The former freed from the latter was indeed deprived
of all soteriological content, but was capable of intelligent and philosophical
treatment—namely, rational-logical treatment; the latter taken exclusively, even
supposing that the distinction between the Son and the Father and the
superiority of the Father were maintained in connection with it, simply led to an absurdity.
Athanasius put up with this absurdity;The Nicene Creed sanctioned it. One of its most serious consequences was that
from this time onward Dogmatics were for ever separated from clear thinking and
defensible conceptions, and got accustomed to what was anti-rational. The
anti-rational—not indeed at once, but soon enough—came to be considered as the
characteristic of the sacred. As there was everywhere a desire for mysteries,
the doctrine seemed to be the true mystery just because it was the opposite of
the clear in the sphere of the profane. Even clear-headed men like the later
members of the school of Antioch were no longer able to escape from absurdity.
The complete contradiction involved in the Ὁμοούσιος drew a whole host of
contradictions after it, the further thought advanced. without knowing it he made a still
greater sacrifice to his faith—the historical Christ. It was at such a price
that he saved the religious conviction that Christianity is the religion of
perfect fellowship with God, from being displaced by a doctrine which possessed
many lofty qualities, but which had no understanding of the inner essence of
religion, which sought in religion nothing but “instruction,” and finally found satisfaction in an empty dialectic.
It was intended that the General Church-Council which was summoned by the
Emperor to meet at Nicæa should, besides settling some other important
questions, compose the controversy which already threatened to produce division
amongst the Eastern bishops.For the sources and the literature referring to the Council of Nice see
Herzog’s R-Encykl., Vol. X. 2, p. 530 ff. The accounts are meagre and frequently
self-contradictory. We do not yet possess an exhaustive study of the subject. In
what follows the main points only can be dealt with. I must renounce the idea of
giving here the detailed reasons in support of the views I hold. See Gwatkin, p. 36 ff. It met in the year 325, in summer apparently.
There were present about 300 (250, 270) bishops, hardly so many as 318 as
asserted by Athanasius at a later time; the correctness of this latter number is
open to suspicion. The West was very poorly represented;No one was present from Britain; though there were probably bishops from
Illyria, Dacia, Italy, Gaul, Spain, Africa and also a Persian bishop. Eusebius
(Vita III. 8) compares the meeting with that described in Acts II. the Roman bishop was
not there, but he had sent two presbyters. The most important of the Eastern
bishops were present. It is not clear how the business was arranged and
conducted. We do not know who presided, whether Eustathius, Eusebius of
Cæsarea, or Hosius, It is undoubted, however, that Hosius exercised a very
important influence in the Council. The Emperor at first gave the Council a free
hand,Sozom. I. 18; we certainly cannot form any clear picture of what took place
from the account given in this passage. though he at once put a stop to private wrangling, and he energetically
interfered at the most decisive moment, and in the character of a theologian
interpreted himself the formula to be adopted.This follows from the letter of Eusebius of Cæsarea to his Church (Theodoret,
H. E. I. 11), which we may regard as trustworthy in connection with this matter.
Eusebius there distinguishes quite plainly two parties; (1) the party to which
he himself belongs and (2) the party which he introduces with “οἱ δὲ”
(οἱ δὲ προφάσει
τῆς τοῦ ὁμοουσίου προσθήκης τήνδε τὴν γραφὴν πεποιήκασιν,
the Nicene Creed follows) and which he does not describe in more definite terms than
by “αὐτοι” (καὶ δὴ ταύτης τῆς γραφ͂ς
ὑπ᾽ αὐτῶν ὑπαγορευθείσης). We may assume that at first he
reckoned on the possibility that the Council would itself find some formula of
agreement. He had, however, resolved, under the influence of Hosius, that in the
case of this not being successfully carried out, he would enforce the formula which Hosius had agreed upon with Alexander. As
regards the composition of the Council, the view expressed by the Macedonian
Sabinus of Heraclea (Socr. I. 8), that the majority of the bishops were
uneducated, is confirmed by the astonishing results. The general acceptance of
the resolution come to by the Council is intelligible only if we presuppose that
the question in dispute was above most of the bishops.With the exception of the bishops whom their contemporaries and our earliest
informants have mentioned by name, there do not seem to have been any capable
men at the Council. Of the “cultured” we
have to distinguish three parties—namely, Arius and the Lucianists, who had
Eusebius of Nicomedia for their leader; the Origenists, the most important man
amongst whom was Eusebius of Cæsarea, who was already highly celebrated;It is worthy of note that Eusebius in the letter just cited does not introduce
the Arians as a special party, but merely hints at their existence. The middle
party stood, in fact, very near to them. and
Alexander of Alexandria with his following, to which the few Westerns also
belonged.Athanasius (de decret. 19 sq. ad Afros 5, 6, de synod. 33-41) mixes up the two
opposition-parties together. The Arians came to the Council confident of victory; as yet nothing
was pre-judged; the Bishop of Nicæa himself was on their side and they had
relations with the Court.
All were apparently at one in thinking that the Council could not break up
without establishing a standard of doctrine, (πίστις, μάθημα) Those in the
East possessed neither a uniform nor a sufficiently authoritative symbol by
which the controversy could be settled. The Lucianists accordingly—who may have
been about twenty in number, not more at any rate—produced, after deliberation,
a confession of faith which was communicated by Eusebius of Nicomedia and
embodied their doctrine in unambiguous terms. They did this without having
previously come to an understanding with the Origenists. This was a tactical
blunder. The great majority of the bishops rejected this rule of faith which was
decisively in favour of Arianism.See Theodoret I. 6: fin.; he relies upon the account of Eustathius. In
addition Athanas., Encycl. ad epp. Ægypt 13, de decret. 3. Even the “Conservatives” must have been
unpleasantly affected by the naked statement of the Arian doctrinal system. The supporters
of Arius were now in the greatest perplexity owing to the unforeseen
turn which events had taken. In order to be able to keep their position at the
Council at all, they, with the exception of two who remained firm, withdrew this
sketch of their doctrine, and now made up their minds to follow the lead of the
Origenists in order to secure at least something. Eusebius of Cæsarea now came
to the front. No one was more learned than he; no one was more intimately
acquainted with the teaching of the Fathers. He had good reason to hope that he
would be able to speak the decisive word. If there was a general conviction that
in everything it was necessary to abide by the ancient doctrine of the Church,
then there seemed to be no one more fitted to define that ancient doctrine than
the great scholar who was also, moreover, in the highest favour with the
Emperor. His formulæ were, “the created image”, “the reflection originating in
the will”, “the second God” etc.See the characteristic passage Demon str. IV. 3:
ἡ μὴν αὐγὴ οὐ κατὰ προαίρεσιν
τοῦ φωτὸς ἐκλάμπει. κατά τι δὲ τῆς οὐσίας συμβεβηκὸς ἀχώριστον. ὁ δὲ υἱὸς κατὰ
γνώμην καὶ προαίρεσιν εἰκών ὑπέστη τοῦ πατρός. βουληθεὶς γὰρ ὁ Θεὸς γέγονεν υἱοῦ
πατὴρ καὶ φῶς δεύτερον κατὰ
πάντα ἑαυτῷ ἀφωμοιωμένον
ὑπεστήσατο. He could, if needful, have accepted the Arian
formula; those of Alexander he could not adopt, for he saw in them the dreaded
Sabellianism which meant the death of theological science. Eusebius accordingly
laid a creed before the Council.According to Eustathius (in Theodoret I. 7) the creed of the strict Arians was
composed by Eusebius of Nicomedia; at least I think that it must be the latter
who is referred to in what is said in that passage:
ὡς δὲ ἐζητεῖτο τῆς πίστεως ὁ
τρόπος, ἐναργὴς μὲν ἔλεγχος τὸ γράμμα τῆς Εὐσεβίου προὐβάλλετο βλασφημίας. ἐπι
πάντων δὲ ἀναγνωσθὲν αὐτίκα συμφορὰν μὲν ἀστάθμητον τῆς ἐκτροπῆς ἕνεκα τοῖς
αὐτηκόοις προὐξένει, αἰσχύνην δ᾽ἀνήκεστον τῷ γράψαντι παρεῖχεν.
It is impossible that it can be the creed of Eusebius of
Cæsarea which is referred to here, for the latter (1.c. I. 11) expressly notes
that his creed after having been communicated to the Council was substantially
accepted. Whether we have a right to call the creed which he produced simply
“Baptismal Creed of the Church of Cæsarea,” is to me questionable, judging from
the introduction to it given in the letter to his Church.
He was convinced that all could and must unite on the basis supplied by it, and
as a matter of fact no better conciliatory formula could be imagined.The creed is contained in the letter of Eusebius to his Church. See Theodoret I. 1:
Πιστεύομεν εἰς ἕνα Θεὸν πατέρα παντοκράτορα, τὸν τῶν ἁπάντων ὁρατῶν τε καὶ
ἀοράτων ποιητήν, καὶ εἰς ἕνα κύριον Ἰησοῦν Χριστόν, τὸν τοῦ Θεοῦ λόγον, Θεὸν ἐκ
Θεοῦ, φῶς ἐκ φωτός, ζωὴν ἐκ ζωῆς, υἱὸν μονογενῆ, πρωτότοκον πάσης κτίσεως, πρὸ
πάντων τῶν αἰώνων ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς γεγεννημένον, δι᾽ οὗ καὶ ἐγένετο τὰ πάντα, τὸν
διὰ τὴν ἡμετέραν σωτηρίαν σαρκωθέντα καὶ ἐν ἀνθρώποις πολιτευσάμενόν καὶ παθόντα
καὶ ἀναστάντα τῇ τρίτῃ ἡμερᾳ καὶ ἀνελθόντα πρὸς τὸν πατέρα καὶ ἥξοντα πάλιν ἐν
δόξῃ κρῖναι ζῶντας καὶ νεκρούς, καὶ
εἰ ἔν πνεῦμα ἅγιον. Still Eusebius considered it necessary
to tack on to it an anti-Sabellian addition.Τούτων ἕκαστον εἶναι καὶ ὑπάρχειν πιστεύοντες, πατέρα ἀληθινῶς πατέρα, καὶ
υἱὸν ἀληθινῶς υἱόν, πνεῦμά τε ἅγιον ἀληθινῶς πνεῦμα ἅγιον, καθὰ καὶ ὁ κύριος ἡμῶν
ἀποστέλλων εἰς τὸ κήρυγμα τοὺς ἑαυτοῦ μαθητὰς εἶπε·
Matt. XXVIII. 19 follows. According to Eusebius the
Creed was unanimously pronounced orthodox,Ταύτης ὑφ᾽ ἡμῶν ἐκτεθείσης τῆς πίστεως οὐδείς παρῆν ἀντιλογίας τόπος, ἀλλ᾽
αὐτός τε πρῶτος ὁ θεοφιλέστατος ἡμῶν βασιλεὺς ὀρθότατα περιέχειν αὐτὴν ἐμαρτύρησεν.
οὕτω τε καὶ ἑαυτὸν φρονεῖν συνωμολόγησε· καὶ ταύτῃ τοὺς πάντας συγκατατίθεσθαι,
ὑπογράφειν τε τοῖς δόγμασι καὶ συμφωνεῖν τούτοις αὐτοῖς
παρεκελεύετο (I. 11). still the imperial will already made
its influence felt here. The Arians were doubtless well pleased to get off on
these terms. But Alexander and his following demanded a perfectly plain
rejection of Arianism. They went about it in an extremely adroit fashion
inasmuch as they accepted the basis of the Creed of Cæsarea, but demanded that
its terms should be made more precise. We know from Eusebius himself that the
Emperor sided with them, and so far as he was concerned resolved to incorporate
in the Creed the word “ὁμοούσιος”,
which was suggested to him by Hosius.According to Eusebius, however, the Emperor himself added an interpretation of
the Ὁμοούσιος. We read in the letter of Eusebius, immediately after the words
cited in the foregoing note: ἑνὸς μόνου προσεγγραφέντος ῥήματος τοῦ Ὁμοουσίου,
ὃ καὶ αὐτὸς ἡρμήνευσε λέγων ὅτι μὴ κατὰ σωμάτων πάθε λέγοιτο Ὁμοούσιος, οὔτε
κατὰ διαίρεσιν, οὔτε κατὰ τινα ἀποτομὴν ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς ὑποστῆναι . . . θείοις δὲ καὶ
ἀπορρήτοις λόγοις προσήκει τὰ τοιαῦτα νοεῖν.
The word is thus only intended to express the mystery! But
the matter was not settled by the mere insertion of a word. It was pointed out
that the Creed of Cæsarea contained formulæ which might favour the Arian view.
Its supporters were already put in the position of defendants. Accordingly, the
Alexandrian party presented a very carefully constructed doctrinal formula which
was represented as being a revised form of the Creed of CæsareaEusebius in an ill-concealed tone of reproach says οἱ δὲ (i.e., the
Alexandrians) προφάσει τῆς τοῦ Ὁμοουσίου προσθήκης τήνδε τὴν γραφὴν,
(i.e., the Nicene Creed) πεποιήκασι, that is, they have corrected my
proposed creed not only here but in other passages also. and
in which some think they can recognise, in addition to the contributions of the
Alexandrians, the hand of Eustathius of Antioch and of Makarius of Jerusalem.See Hort., l.c., p. 59 and my article in Herzog, R.-Encyklop., Vol. VIII., p.
214 ff. (1) In place of ἀπάντων ὁρατῶν etc., (“of all seen things whatsoever”),
there was put by preference πάντων ὁρατῶν (“of all seen things”), in order
to exclude the creation of the Son and Spirit;See Gwatkin, p. 41. (2) in place of the Logos at
the beginning of the second article, the “Son” was put, so that all that follows
refers to the Son;The “Logos” is wholly absent from the Nicene Creed; after what has been
adduced above this will cause as little astonishment as the fact that neither
Athanasians nor Arians took any offence at its exclusion. (3) the words Θεὸν ἐκ Θεοῦ (“God of God”) were extended
to γεννηθέντα ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς μονογενῆ Θεὸν ἐκ Θεοῦ (“begotten of the Father
only begotten God of God”), but in the final discussion, however, between μονογενῆ and
Θεόν the words τοῦτ᾽ ἐστὶν ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ πατρός (“that is of
the substance of the Father”) were further inserted, because it was observed
that otherwise the opposition party might be able to put their doctrine into the
proposition;See on this what is told us by Athanasius, l.c. The clumsy position of the
words which mutilate the conception μονογενῆ Θεὸν, further proves that they
are an insertion made at the very last. (4) the unsatisfactory descriptions ζωὴν ἐκ ζωῆς
(“life of life”), πρωτότοκον πάσης κτίσεως (“the first-born of every
creature”), πρὸ πάντων αἰώνων ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς γεγεννημένον (“begotten of
the Father before all ages”), before δι᾽ οὗ, etc., were deleted, and in their
place the following was put:
Θεὸν ἀληθινὸν ἐκ
Θεοῦ ἀληθινοῦ, γεννηθέντα, οὐ ποιηθέντα, δι᾽ οὗ τὰ πάντα ἐγένετο
(“true God of true God, begotten, not made, by whom all things were”). At this point, however, a further insertion
was made, and this once more in the course of the discussion itself,See Athanasius, l.c. at what
too was not at all a suitable place—namely, after “ποιηθέντα” (“made”), the
words ὁμοούσιον τῷ πατρί (“of the same substance with the Father”), because it
was observed that none of the other terms excluded the Arian evasions; (5) the
indefinite ἐν ἀνθρώποις πολιτευσάμενον (“having lived amongst men”) was
replaced by the definite ἐνανθρωπήσαντα (“having
become incarnate”); and (6) finally, in order to exclude all ambiguity, the
condemnation of the Arian catchwords was added on to this.The doctrinal formula in accordance with this was worded as follows. (The
differences above discussed between it and the Creed of Cæsarea are to he
explained as the result of the influence exercised by the Jerusalem and
Antiochian Creed). The textual proofs are enumerated in Walch, Bib]. symb., p.
75 sq., Hahn, § 73, 74, and Hort. l.c.;—slight variations occur—:
Πιστεύομεν εἰς ἕνα Θεὸν πατέρα
παντοκράτορα, πάντων ὁρατῶν τε καὶ ἀοράτων ποιητήν, καὶ εἰς ἕνα κύριον Ἰησοῦν
Χριστόν, τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ Θεοῦ, γεννηθέντα ἐκ τοῦ πατρός μονογενῆ—τοῦτ᾽ ἐστὶν ἐκ τῆς
οὐσίας τοῦ πατρός—Θεὸν ἐκ Θεοῦ, φῶς ἐκ φωτός, Θεὸν ἀληθινὸν ἐκ Θεοῦ ἀληθινοῦ,
γεννηθέντα οὐ ποιηθέντα—ὁμοούσιον τῷ πατρί—δι᾽ οὗ τὰ πάντα ἐγένετο, τὰ δε ἐν
τῷ οὐρανῷ καὶ τὰ ἐν τῇ γῇ, τὸν δι᾽ ἡμᾶς τοὺς ἀνθρώπους καὶ διὰ τὴν ἡμετέραν
σωτηρίαν κατελθόντα καὶ σαρκωθέντα, ἐνανθρωπήσαντα, παθόντα, καὶ ἀναστάντα τῇ
τρίτῃ ἡμέρᾳ, ἀνελθόντα εἰς [τοὺς]οὐρανούς, ἐρχόμενον κρῖναι ζῶντας καὶ νεκρούς, καὶ
εἰς τὸ ἅγιον πνεῦμα.
Τοὺς δὲ λέγοντας· Ἦν ποτὲ ὅτε ἦν καὶ πρὶν γεννηθῆναι οὐκ ἦν, καὶ ὅτι ἐξ οὐκ
ὄντων ἐγένετο, ἢ ἐξ ἑτέρας ὑποστάσεως ἢ οὐσίας φάσκοντας εἶναι
[ἢ κτιστὸν] ἢ
τρεπτὸν ἢ ἀλλοιωτὸν τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ Θεοῦ [τούτους] ἀναθεματίζει ἡ καθολικὴ [καὶ
αποστολικὴ] ἐκκλησία.
The opposition parties did not yield without debates, in which the Emperor
himself took part.Eusebius in Theoderet, H. E. I. 11:
ἐρωτήσεις τοιγαροῦν καὶ
ἀποκρίσεις ἐντεῦθεν ἀνεκινοῦντο, ἐβασανίζετο ὁ λόγος τῆς
διανοίας τῶν εἰρημένων. We do not know the details of the discussions, but we gather
from the accounts of Athanasius that the Eusebians made still further proposals
of a conciliatory kind and attempted to produce new catchwords.See Athan. de decret. 19, 20; ad Afros 5, 6. The nature of
their objections to the Alexandrian outline of doctrine may be gathered from the
irenic explanation which Eusebius gave to his Church in Cæsarea as well as from
the objections which later on were brought against the Nicene Creed. They fought
against ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας (“of the substance”) and ὁμοούσιος because (1) they
believed they saw in these words a materialising of the Godhead, which made it a
composite substance comprising emanations or parts; because (2) they could not
help seeing in the ὁμοούσιος a Sabellian definition too, and because (3) the
words did not occur in Holy Scripture. This last reason was specially decisive.
In many parts of the Church there was still a shrinking from the definite
adoption of unbiblical terms for the expression of the Faith.Still Gwatkin, p. 43, goes too far when he asserts that “the use of ἄγραφα in
a creed was a positive revolution in the Church.” It is quite impossible to
maintain this in view, for example, of the Creed of Gregorius Thaumaturgus. In addition to
this there was the fact that the ὁμοούσιος had before this been rejected at
Antioch.See on μοούσιος, which the Gnostics were the first to use, and on its
meaning and history Vol. III. 141 f., 221; above pp. 15 f., 32-35; I. 257; II.
259, 352, 354; iii. 45. On the older ecclesiastical use of οὐσία, ὑπόστασις, ὑποκείμενον,
above all in Origen, see the scholarly discussions by Bigg (the
Christian Platonists, p. 164 ff.). “Ousia is properly Platonic, while
hypostasis, a comparatively modern and rare word, is properly Stoic” . . .
Hypokeimenon already in Aristotle means the substantia materialis, ὕλη quæ
determinatur per formam or οὐσία cui inhærent πάθη συμβεβηκότα
. . . the
theological distinction between the terms οὐσία and ὑπόστασις is purely
arbitrary.” On the conception of hypostasis see Stentrup, Innsbrucker Zeitschr.
f. Kath. Theologie. 1877, p. 59 ff. The question as to who brought forward the
ὁμοούσιος again after it had been condemned at Antioch, is an important one. It
does not occur in the letters of Bishop Alexander. Athanasius had never any
special preference for the word. It is found only once in the Orat. c. Arian
(Orat. I. 9), and in the undoubtedly conciliatory work, de synod., 41, he admits
that importance does not attach so much to the word as to the thing. The
conceptions “ἑνότης” and “ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας” would have served the purpose so far
as he himself was concerned. Such being the state of the case one may reasonably
assume that the word was not revived by any one belonging to the Eastern Church,
since its rejection at Antioch must have stood in the way of this, but rather
that some one in the West went back upon it, and Hosius is the only one we can
think of as the likely person. This hypothesis is strengthened by the following
considerations: (1) According to the testimony of Eusebius of Cæsarea there can
be no doubt that the Emperor himself energetically defended the word
ὁμοούσιος, but the Emperor was dependent on Hosius; (2) Athanasius (hist.
Arian. 42) says of Hosius: οὗτος ἐν Νικαίᾳ πίστιν ἐξὲθετο; (3) the
Western-Roman doctrine was the substantial unity of Father and Son; the
Alexandrian bishop was accused before the Roman bishop Dionysius on the ground
that he was unwilling to use “ὁμοούσιος᾽” and in Rome the accused excuses himself
for not using it, and it is the Roman bishop who in his letter stated in
energetic language the κήρυγμα τῆς μοναρχίας, the
ἡνῶσθαι τῷ Θεῷ τὸν λόγον,
and the οὐ καταμερίζειν τὴν μονάδα. I therefore conjecture that the word had been
retained in Rome, i.e., in the West, since the time of the controversy of the
Dionysii, that when the occasion offered it was once more produced in the East,
and that the Alexandrians then accepted the word because they themselves had no
better short catchword at their command. This explains why Athanasius always
treats the expression as one which was suitable so far as the actual fact to be
expressed was concerned, but which as regards its form was for him a foreign
term. He could not, it is true, go quite so far as Luther (Opp. reform. V., p.
506): “Quod si odit anima mea vocem homousion et nolim ea uti, non ero
hæreticus. Quis enim me coget uti, modo rem teneam, quæ in concilio per
scripturas definita est? Etsi Ariani male senserunt in fide, hoc
tamon optime, sive malo sive bono animo, exegerunt, ne vocem profanam et novam
in regulis fidei statui liceret.” Finally, the statement of Socrates (III. 7)
which indeed has been rejected by most, is decisive. According to this Hosius
during his stay in Alexandria—before the Nicene Council—had discussed οὐσία and
ὑπόστασις. At the first glance that undoubtedly seems unworthy of belief,
because it is a ὕστερον-πρότερον but as soon as we remember the work of
Tertullian, adv. Prax., which is the most important dogmatic treatise which the
West produced previous to Augustine and which cannot have been unknown to
Hosius, everything becomes clear. In this work in which Tertullian bears witness
to the strong influence exercised upon him by Monarchianism spite of the fact
that he is opposing it, no thought is so plainly expressed as this, that Father,
Son, and Spirit are unius substantiæ, i.e., ὁμοούσιοι (Vol. II., p. 259
ff.). Along with this, however, we have the idea clearly developed, that Father,
Son, and Spirit are different a personæ” (see e.g., c. 3: “proximæ personæ,
consortes substantiæ patris”, 15; “visibilem et invisibilem deum deprehendo
sub manifesta et personali distinctione condicionis utriusque”; see also the
conception of “personales substantiæ” in adv. Valent. 4). These personæ are also
called by Tertullian “formæ cohærentes”, “species indivisæ”, “gradus” (c. 2,
8), and in fact even simply “nomina” (c. 30), and this gives his representation
as much a Monarchian appearance as the appearance of an immanent Trinity (for a
more detailed examination, see the appendix to this chapter). It is from this
source, and also from Novatian who in his work, de trinitate, adopted the
thoughts of Tertullian, that the theology of Hosius is derived. He may very
probably, along with Tertullian, have already spoken of “personæ”, side by side
with the “unius substantiæ” which the entire West possessed belief in, in
accordance with the baptismal formula, for this is what it was understood to be.
(See Hilar., de trinit. II. I. 3: Ambros. de myster. 5 fin). That his formula
was: “unius substantiæ tres personæ” where persona is certainly to be conceived
of rather as species or forma—not as “substance”—is very probable. The Western
Hippolytus, moreover, (c. Noët. 14) also spoke of one God and several prosopeia,
and so too did the Western Sabellius, and Tert. (l.c. c. 26) says bluntly: “ad
singula nomina in personas singulas tinguimur.” Only this point must remain
undecided—namely, whether Hosius already actually translated “persona” by
“ὑπόστασις.” It is not probable, since in the so-called Creed of Sardica he
used ὑπόστασις as = οὐσία (substantia). That his main catchword was
μία οὐσία follows from what he says in his letter to
Narcissus of Neronias (Euseb. c. Marcell., p. 25). But the will of the Emperor decided the matter. Respect for the
Emperor, his express declaration that there was a desire not to endanger the
absolute spirituality of the Godhead, the wish to conclude a grand
work of peace—this
doctrinal declarationThis is what the Nicene Creed was primarily intended to be, and not a baptismal
creed, as the anathemas prove. of the entire Church was, moreover, something new
and imposing—induced the Conservatives, i.e., the Origenists and those who did
not think for themselves, to fall in with what was proposed. They all subscribed
with the exception of two, and at the same time salved their consciences in
different ways by mental reservations.Theouas of Marmarika and Secundus of Ptolemais refused and were deposed and
banished, and the same thing happened in the case of Arius and some presbyters.
Arius was specially forbidden by the Council to enter Alexandria, Sozom I. 20.
The evasions to which the Lucianists and Origenists had recourse in order to
justify their conduct to themselves, can be studied in the letter of Eusebius to
his Church. Eusebius interprets “ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ πατρὸς” as equal to “He has
His existence from the Father” (!), “γεννηθέντα οὐ ποιηζέντα” as equivalent
to “the Son is not a creature like the rest of the creatures”, ὁμοούσιος as
ὁμοιούσιος, meaning
μόνῳ τῷ πατρὶ τῷ γεγεννηκότι κατὰ πάντα τρόπον ὄμοιος
and not out of a foreign substance. The worst shift of all is undoubtedly when
Eusebius writes to his Church that he has (now) rejected the formula
ἦν ποτὲ ὅτε οὐκ ἦν, because we ought not to use any unbiblical expressions whatsoever
(but Ὁμοούσιος!) and because the Son did indeed exist already before His
incarnation. But that was not the point at all! Πέπονθέ τι δεινόν, says
Athanasius (de decret. 3), with justice, of this passage in the letter. The Lucianists
who up till now had to all appearance been united together in an indissoluble
friendship, were unprincipled enough to sacrifice their old comrade Arius.They afterwards asserted no doubt that they had not subscribed the anathemas,
but only the positive doctrine of the Nicene Creed (Socr. I. 14). However,
Eusebius of Nicomedia and Theognis of Nicæa a were, notwithstanding this,
banished soon after; they were suspected by the Emperor of being Arians and
intriguers; see the strongly hostile letter of Constantine in Theodoret I. 19. He
was condemned as the scapegoat, and the Emperor, anxious to protect with the
strong hand the unity which had been won, gave orders that the books of Arius
should be burned and that his adherents should henceforth be called “Porphyrians”, i.e., should be placed on a level with the worst enemies of
Christ.Socr. I. 9; those with Arian books in their possession were even to be
punished with death. To the Alexandrian Church he wrote:
ὅ τοῖς τριακοσίοις ἤρεσεν ἐπισκόποις ὀυδὲν ἔστιν ἔτερον ἤ
τοῦ Θεοῦ γνώμη, μάλιστά γε ὅπου τὸ ἅγιον πνεῦμα τοιούτων καὶ
τηλικούτων ἀνδρῶν ταῖς διανοίαις ἐγκείμενον τὴν θείαν βούλησιν
ἐξεφώτισενL.c. Other writings of Constantine in the same place. The synodal-epistle in
Theodoret I. 9, Gwatkin, p. 50, has proved that in the respect shewn by
Athanasius for the Nicene Council there is no trace “of the mechanical theory of
conciliar infallibility.” It is necessary to guard against exaggerated ideas of
the extent to which the decree of the Nicene Council was accepted. It can be
proved that in the East (see e.g., Aphraates’ Homilies) and still more in the
West, there were numerous bishops who did not trouble themselves about the
decree and for whom it had no existence. It was not till after the year 350 that
men began to think over the Nicene Creed in the West, and to perceive that it
contained more than a mere confirmation of the ancient Western belief in the doctrine of monarchy.
(“what satisfied the three hundred bishops is nothing else than the
judgment of God, but most of all where the Holy Spirit being present in the thoughts of men such as
these and so ripe in years, made known the Divine will”). He persecuted the
Arians, and the orthodox approved of what he did. They are thus responsible
along with him for the persecution. The Arians at a later date only carried on
what the orthodox had begun.
The correct faith had triumphed and—the Bishop of Alexandria.The victory of the Bishop of Alexandria may be studied above all in the Canons of Nicæa.
They have not so far been treated of from this point of view. The Council of
Nicæa is the first step taken by the Bishop of Alexandria in aspiring to the
primacy of the East.
2. TO THE DEATH OF CONSTANTIUS.In what follows I give merely a sketch; the details belong to Church history.
Never again in the history of the Church has there been a victory so complete
and so quickly secured as that at Nicæa, and no other decision of the Church
approaches it in importance. The victors had the feeling that they had set up
for all agesAthanas. ad Afros II. and elsewhere. a “warning notice against all heresies”
(στηλογραφία κατὰ πασῶν αἱρέσεων), and this estimate of the victory has continued to be the
prevailing one in the Church.Up to time of the Chalcedonian Creed the conceptions Homoousia and Orthodoxy
were quite identical; the latter involved no more than the former. Thus the
orthodoxy of Origen is for Socrates (VI. 13) undoubted, just because none of his
four chief opponents (Methodius, Eustathius, Apollinaris, and Theophilus) charge
him with heresy in reference to his doctrine of the Trinity. The grand innovation, the elevation of two
unbiblical expressions to the rank of catchwords of the Catholic Faith, insured
the unique nature of this Faith. At bottom not only was Arianism rejected, but
also Origenism; for the exclusive Ὁμοούσιος separated the Logos from all
spiritual creatures and seemed thus to do away with scientific cosmology in every form.
But it was just because of this that the strife now began. The Nicene Creed
effected in the East a hitherto unprecedented concord, but this was amongst its
opponents, while its friends, on the other hand, felt no genuine enthusiasm for
its subtle formulae. The schismatic Meletians of Egypt made common cause with the Arians and Origenists; those of the bishops
who were indifferent or stupid were induced to oppose it by the bugbear of
Sabellianism and by the unbiblical shape in which the new faith was formulated.
Society was still for the most part heathen, and this heathen society openly
sided with the anti-Nicenes; the Jews too, who were still influential, ranged
themselves on this side. The clever sophist Asterius was able, as “travelling
professor”, to interest large numbers in “the one Unbegotten”. But, above all,
the two Eusebiuses sought again to be masters of the situation. The one
necessarily strove in the first instance to regain his seat, the other to make
the weight of his untouched personal authority once more felt in theology also.
What their mutual relationship was is not clear; in any case they marched
separately and struck unitedly.The best investigation regarding Eusebius of Nicomedia is contained in the
article in the Dict. of Chr. Biogr. We know Eusebius, it is true, almost
exclusively from the picture which his opponents have drawn of him. But in his
actions he has portrayed himself as an imperious prince of the Church of a
secular type, for whom all means were justifiable. The Nicomedian always thought first of himself
and then of his cause; the Bishop of Cæsarea saw science and theology disappear
in the movement which received its impulse from Alexandria. Both, however, had
made up their minds not to part company with the Emperor if they could not
otherwise succeed in managing him. The great mass of the bishops always were, in
accordance with this policy, purely “imperial”. With regard to the strict
Arians, however, it must be admitted to their credit that during the whole
controversy they were as little willing to accept as authoritative the decisions
of the Emperors in matters of faith as were Athanasius, Hilary, and Lucifer.
When Constantine interfered in the great controversy, he had only just come to
the East. He was under the guidance of Western bishops, and it was Western
Christianity alone with which he had hitherto been acquainted. And so after an
abortive attempt to compose the controversy, he had accomplished the “work of
peace” at Nicæa in accordance with Western views. But already during the years
which immediately followed he must have learned that the basis upon which he had
reared it was too narrow, that, above all, it did not meet the requirements of
the “common sense” of the East. As a politician he was prudent enough not to
take any step backward, but, on the other hand, as a politician he knew that
every law gets its meaning quite as much from the method in which it is carried
out as from the letter of it. Feeling this—to which has to be added the presence
of Arian influences at the Court—he had since about the year 328 resolved, under
cover of the Nicene Creed, to reinstate the broader doctrinal system of older
days whose power he had first got to know in Asia, in order to preserve the
unity of the Church which was endangered.If Eusebius is right the Emperor had already at Nice also advocated a broad
application of the orthodox formula. But Constantine did not get the
length of doing anything definite and conclusive. He merely favoured the
anti-Nicene coalition to such an extent that he left to his sons a ruptured
Church in place of a united one. The anti-Nicene coalition, however, had already
become during the last years of Constantine’s life an anti-Athanasian one. On
the eighth of June, 328, Athanasius, not without opposition on the part of the
Egyptian bishops,The matter, so far as the particulars are concerned, is quite obscure. had mounted the Episcopal throne in Alexandria.
The tactics of the coalition were directed first of all towards the removal of
the main defenders of the Nicene faith, and it was soon recognised that the youthful
bishop of Alexandria was the most dangerous of these. Intrigues and slanders of
the lowest kind now began to come into play, and the conflict was carried on
sometimes by means of moral charges of the worst kind, and sometimes by means of
political calumnies. The easily excited masses were made fanatical by the coarse
abuse and execrations of the opponents, and the language of hate which hitherto
had been bestowed on heathen, Jews, and heretics, filled the churches. The
catchwords of the doctrinal formula, which were unintelligible to the laity and
indeed even to most of the bishops themselves, were set up as standards, and the
more successful they were in keeping up the agitation the more surely did the
pious-minded turn away from them and sought satisfaction in asceticism and
polytheism in a Christian garb. In every diocese, however, personal interests, struggles about
sees and influence, were mixed up with the controversy, and this was the case in
the West too, especially in Rome, as we may gather from the events of the year
366. Thus a series of bloody town-revolutions accompanied the movement.
In the midst of all this Athanasius alone in the East stood like a rock in the
sea. If we measure him by the standard of his time we can discover nothing
ignoble or mean about him. The favourite charge of hierarchical imperiousness
has something naïve about it. His stern procedure in reference to the Meletians
was a necessity, and an energetic bishop who had to represent a great cause
could not be anything else but imperious. It is certainly undeniable that for
years he was formally in the wrong, inasmuch as he would not admit the validity
of his deposition. He regarded it as the task committed to him, to rule Egypt,
to regulate the Church of the East in accordance with the standard of the true
faith, and to ward off any interference on the part of the State. He was a Pope,
as great and as powerful a one as there ever has been.
When the sons of Constantine entered upon the inheritance of their father, the
heads of the Nicene party in the East had been deposed or exiled; Arius,
however, was dead.The dates put shortly are as follows. Some three years after the Nicene Council,
years which for us are absolutely dark (the letter of Constantine in Gelas.,
Hist. Conc. Nic. III. I is probably not genuine), Constantine begins to turn
round. (Was this owing to the influence of Constantia and her court-clergyman?)
The recall of Arius, Eusebius of Nicom. and Theognis (the latter’s letter in
Socrat. I. 14, is perhaps not genuine). Eusebius gains a decisive influence over
the Emperor. At an Antioch synod 330. Eustathius of Antioch, one of the chief
champions of the Nicene Creed is deposed (for adultery) at the instigation of
the two Eusebiuses. Arius presents to the Emperor a diplomatically composed
confession of faith which satisfies him, (Socr. I. 26) is completely
rehabilitated, and demands of Athanasius that he be allowed to resume his
position in Alexandria. Athanasius refuses, and succeeds in making good his
refusal and in clearing himself from the personal charges brought against him on
the part of the Eusebians. At the Synod of Tyre 335 (not 336) held under the
presidency of the Church historian Eusebius, the coalition nevertheless succeeds
in passing a resolution for the deposition of Athanasius on account of certain
alleged gross excesses, and in persuading the Emperor to proceed against him as
a disturber of the peace, and this spite of the fact that in the year 334
Athanasius, in opposition to the Synod of Cæsarea, had convinced the Emperor of
his perfect innocence and of the base intrigues of the Meletian bishops.
Athanasius notwithstanding this succeeded a second time in inducing the Emperor
to give his case an impartial trial, by hastening to Constantinople and making a
personal statement to the Emperor, who was taken by surprise. His
opponents, who had meanwhile been commanded to go from Tyre to Jerusalem, now
expressly declared that the doctrinal explanations given by Arius and his
friends were sufficient, and already made preparations for burying the Nicene
Creed in their pretentious assembly, and also for bringing to trial Marcellus,
the friend of Athanasius. They were, however, summoned by the Emperor to come to
Constantinople and to carry on their deliberations. Only the worst of
Athanasius’ opponents complied with this demand, and they succeeded by bringing
forward new accusations (at the beginning of the year 336), in inducing the
Emperor to banish Athanasius (to Trier). Still it is at least doubtful if the
Emperor did not wish him to escape for a while from his enemies. His chair in
any case was not filled. Marcellus, who had also appealed to the Emperor, was
deposed and condemned on account of erroneous doctrine. The solemn induction of
Arius into his Church—against the wish of the bishop, Alexander of
Constantinople—was immediately robbed of its significance by his sudden death.
The Emperor sought to carry on his energetic peace-policy by the banishment of
other “disturbers of the peace,” such as the Meletian leading spirit, and
Paulus, the newly elected bishop of Constantinople. He died, however, in May
337, in his own opinion in the undoubted Nicene faith. His son maintained that
he had himself further resolved on the restitution of Athanasius. Sources:
besides the Church historians and Epiphanius, chiefly Athan. Apolog. c. Arian.;
in addition, the Festival letters, the Hist. Arian. ad monach. de morte Arii ad
Serapionem, Ep. ad epp. Æg. 19, and Euseb., Vita Constant. IV. The exiled
bishops in accordance with a resolutionOn this resolution see Schiller II., p. 277 f. come to in common by the Emperors,
were free to return as a body. This was the case in the latter part of the
autumn of 337. But as soon as Constantius became master in his own domain he
continued the policy of his father. He wished to rule the Church as the latter
had done; he perceived that this was possible in the East only if the Nicene
innovation, or at least the exclusive application of it, were got rid of, and he
did not feel himself bound to the Nicene Creed as his father had done. One
cannot but admit that the youthful monarch shewed statesmanlike insight and
acted with energy, and with all his devotion to the Church he never allowed
churchmen to rule as his brother did. He had not, however, the patience and
moderation of his father, and though he had indeed inherited from the latter the
gift of ruling, he had not got from him the art of managing men by gentle force.
The brutal trait which Constantine knew how to keep in check in himself,
appeared in an undisguised fashion in his son, and the development of the
Emperor into an Oriental despot advanced a stage further in Constantius.The best characterisation is in Ranke IV., p. 35 ff.; see also Krüger,
Lucifer, p. 4 ff., Gwatkin, p. 109 sq., Schiller II., p. 245 ff. First of
all, Paul of Constantinople was deposed for the second time; Eusebius of
Nicomedia at last secured the seat he had so long striven after. Eusebius of
Cæsarea died, and his place was taken by a man deserving of little respect, Acacius, a friend of the Arians. The tumults which took place in Egypt after the
return of Athanasius made it easier for his enemies, who regarded him as deposed
and once more pronounced the sentence of deposition at a Synod in Antioch, to
move the Emperor to proceed against him. His energetic conduct in his diocese
and the violence of his Egyptian friends (Apol. c. Arian. 3-19) aggravated the
situation. Constantius listened to the Eusebians, but did not sanction the
choice of Bishop Pistus whom they had set apart for Alexandria. He decreed the
deposition of Athanasius, and sent as bishop to Alexandria, a certain Gregory, a
Cappadocian who had nothing to commend him save the imperial favour. Athanasius
anticipated a violent expulsion by leaving Alexandria—in the spring of 339. He
betook himself to Rome, leaving his diocese behind him in a state of wild
uproar.
The Eusebians were now masters of the situation, but just because of this they
had a difficult task to perform. What had now to be done was to get the Nicene
Creed actually out of the way, or to render it ineffective by means of a new
formula. This could only be done in conjunction with the West, and it would have
to be done in such a way that they should neither seem to be giving the lie to
their own vote in Nicæa—and therefore they would have to make it appear that
they were attacking only the form and not the contents of the confession—nor
seem to the Church in the West to be proclaiming a new faith. It is in the light
of these facts that we are to regard the symbols of Antioch and the negotiations
with Julius of Rome. They found themselves shut up in a position from which they
could not escape without a certain amount of evasion. The faith of Athanasius
must not be attacked any more than that of the Westerns.This explains why the canons of the Synod of Antioch came to enjoy a high
reputation and why Hilary (de synod. 32) designated the assembly a ‘synodus
sanctorum.’ All the same such a description is not quite intelligible; we know
too little both of the character and of the proceedings of the Synod. The condemnation of the great bishop
had thus always throughout to be based on personal accusations. As regards the
doctrinal question, the whole stress had to be laid on getting the Homousios put
quietly aside, on the ground that it was unbiblical and gave an inlet to
Sabellianism. In this respect the doctrine of Marcellus of Ancyra was very
welcome to the Eusebians, for they sought, not without justice, to shew from it
to what destructive results a theology which based itself on the Homousios must
lead.Marcellus is an extremely interesting phenomenon in the history of theology;
he did not, however, succeed in effecting any change in the history of dogma or
in creating any noteworthy number of followers. At the Council of Nicæa he
belonged to the few who zealously championed the Homousios (Apol. c. Arian. 23,
32). After the Council he was, besides Eustathius, at first the sole literary
representative of orthodoxy, since he wrote a comprehensive treatise
περὶ ὑποταγῆς by way of reply to the work of the Arian Asterius. This work, in
which he defends the unity of substance of the Logos, drew upon him from the
dominant party the accusation of Sabellianism and Samosatenism. His case was
dealt with at the Councils of Tyre, Jerusalem, and Constantinople, since he also
personally defended Athanasius and opposed the restoration of Arius. Spite of
his appeal to the Emperor he was at Constantinople deprived of his office as a
teacher of erroneous doctrine, another bishop was sent to Ancyra, and Eusebius
of Cæsarea endeavoured in two works (c. Marcell., de ecclesiast. theolog.) to
refute him. These works are for us the source for the teaching of Marcellus.
Marcellus did not recognise the common doctrinal basis of Arianism and
orthodoxy; he went back behind the traditional teaching of Origen, like Paui of
Samosata, and consequently got rid of the element which caused the trouble to
Arianism and, in a higher degree, to orthodoxy. His doctrinal system presents,
on the one hand, certain points of agreement with that of the old Apologists,
though these are more apparent than real, and on the other with that of Irenmus;
still it cannot be proved that there is any literary dependence. Marcellus was
at one with Arius in holding that the conceptions “Son”, “begotten” etc.,
involve the subordination of the being thus designated. But just because of this
he rejected these conceptions as being inapplicable to the divine in Christ. He
clearly perceived that the prevalent theology was on a wrong track owing to its
implication with philosophy; he wished to establish a purely biblical system of
doctrine and sought to shew that these conceptions are all used in the
Scriptures in reference to the incarnate one, the view of most in the older
days, e.g., Ignatius. The Scripture supplies only one conception to express the
eternal-divine in Christ, that of the Logos (the Logos is image or type only in
connection with man created in his image): the Logos is the indwelling power in
God, which has manifested itself in the creation of the world as
δύναμις δραστική, in order then for the first time to become
personal with the view of
saving and perfecting the human race. Thus the Logos is in and for itself, in
its essential nature, the unbegotten reason of God indwelling in God from all
eternity and absolutely inseparable from him; it begins its actuality in the
creation of the world, but it first becomes a personal manifestation distinct
from God in the incarnation, through which the Logos as the image of the
invisible God becomes visible. In Christ consequently the Logos has
become a person and son of God—a person who is as surely ὁμοούσιος τῷ Θεῷ as
he is the active working of God Himself. After the work has been completed,
however, the Son subordinates Himself to the Father in such a way that God is
again all in all, since the hypostatic form of the Logos now ceases (hence the
title of M.’s work: περὶ ὑποταγῆς; the idea is an old one, see Vol. II.). M.
confessed that he did not know what became of the humanity of Christ. The
stumbling-blocks which this system presented to that age were (1) that M. called
only the incarnate one Son of God, (2) that he taught no real pre-existence, (3)
that he assumed the Kingdom of Christ would have an end, and (4) that he spoke
of an extension of the indivisible monad. Marcellus having been recalled (337)
and then expelled again from his diocese (338), like Athanasius, betook himself
to Rome, and by means of a confession in which he disguised his doctrine,
induced Bishop Julius to recognise his orthodoxy. (The confession is in the
letter to Julius in Epiph. H. 72. 2: Zahn, Marcell. p. 70 f., vainly attempts to
dispute the fact of a “disguising.” In the letter he avows his belief in the
Roman Creed also.) The Roman synod of the year 340 declared him to be sound in
the faith. It scarcely fully understood the case; what is of much more
importance is that Athanasius and consequently also the Council of Sardica did
not abandon Marcellus, and the Council indeed remarked that the Eusebians had
taken as a positve statement what he had uttered only tentatively (ζητῶν). That
Athanasius spite of all remonstrances should have pronounced Marcellus orthodox,
is a proof that his interest in the matter was confined to one point, and
centred in the godhead of the historical Jesus Christ as resting upon the unity
of substance with God. Where he saw that this was recognised, he allowed freedom
of thought on other points. At a later period, it is true, when it became
possible still more to discredit Marcellus through his pupil Photinus, there was
a disagreement of a temporary kind between him and Athanasius. Athanasius is
said to have refused to have intercourse with him and Marcellus is said to have
dropped him. Athanasius also combatted the theology of M. (Orat. c. Arian. IV),
though he afterwards again recognised the truth of his faith. Epiphanius informs
us (72. 4) that he once put some questions to the aged Athanasius regarding M.:
Ὁ δὲ οὔτε ὑπεραπελογήσατο, οὔτε πάλιν πρὸς αὐτὸν ἀπεχθῶς ἡνέχθη,
μόνον δὲ διὰ τοῦ προσώπου μειδίασας ὑπέφηνε , μοχθηρίας μὴ μακρὰν αὐτὸν εἶναι, καὶ
ὡς ἀπολογησάμενον εἶχε.
Marcellus’ followers in Ancyra also possessed at
a later date an epistle of Athanasius (Epiph. 72. 11) which was favourable to
them. The East, however, stuck firmly to the condemnation of Marcellus, and so
too did the Cappadocians at a later period—a proof this also of a radical
difference between them and Athanasius The further history of this matter has no
place here (see Zahn op. cit. and Möller, R.-Encykl., 2nd Ed., p. 281 f.).
Marcellus died in the year 373, close on a hundred years old, after that his
theology had repeatedly done good service to the opponents of orthodoxy, without, however, helping them to discredit Athanasius. But the
Roman bishop was not to be corrupted, he did not even sacrifice Marcellus; and
the creeds of Antioch which were not actually heterodox, but which were not
sincere, did not at all meet with his approval. He did not concern himself with
the attempt, justifiable from the point of view of the Orientals and
of Constantius, to create for the East a doctrinal form of expression which was
more in accordance with the convictions of the majority. The most important
result of the operations of the Eusebians at Antioch, and the one which was of
the greatest consequence, was that they had to bring themselves to renounce
Arianism in order to gain over the West. Arianism was now condemned on all
sides in the Church; nevertheless the Eusebians did not attain their aim.The negotiations between Bishop Julius and the Eusebians assembled at Antioch
(Rom. Council, autumn 340 Council at Antioch, summer and autumn 341) are from
the point of view of Church politics of great significance, and more
particularly the letter of Bishop Julius to the Eusebians after the Roman
Council (Apol. c. Arian. 21) is a masterpiece. But we cannot enter on this
matter here. The four formula of Antioch (it is to them that the reproach
brought by Athanasius against his opponents chiefly refers—namely, that they
betrayed their uncertainty by the new forms of faith they were constantly
publishing see de decret. 1: de synod. 22—23: Encycl. ad epp. Ægypt. 7 sq.:
Ep. ad. Afros 23) are in Athan., de synod. 22 sq. (Hahn § 84, 115, 85, 86).
There are some good remarks in Gwatkin, p. 114 sq. The zealous efforts made by
the Eusebians to arrive at a harmonious agreement with the West were probably
closely connected also with the general political situation. After the fall of
Constantine II. (spring 340) Constans had promptly made himself master of the
whole of his brother’s domain Constantius, whose attention was claimed by severe
and incessant wars on the eastern boundary, was unable to hinder this. From the
year 340 Constans thus had the decisive preponderance in the Empire. The first
Antiochian formula still supports Arius, though with the odd qualification that
those who were in favour of him had not followed him
(πῶς γὰρ ἐπίσκοποι ὄντες ἀκολουθήσαν πρεσβυτέρῳ),
but had tested his teaching: it limits itself to describing the Son as
μονογενῆ, πρὸ πάντων τῶν αἰώνων ὑπάρχοντα καὶ συνόντα τῷ γεγεννηκότι αὐτὸν πατρί,
but it already contains the anti-Marcellian proposition descriptive of the Son:
διαμένοντα βασιλέα καὶ Θεὸν εἰς τοὺς αἰῶνας. The second, so-called Lucian, formula already gathers together all
designations for the Son which could possibly be used of His Godhead from an
Origenistic standpoint (above all,
μονογενῆ Θεὸν, Θεὸν ἐκ Θεοῦ,
ἄτρεπτον τε καὶ ἀναλλοίωτον, τῆς θεότηρος οὐσίας τε καὶ βουλῆς καὶ δυνάμεως καὶ
δόξης τοῦ πατρὸς ἀπαράλλακτον εἰκόνα, Θεὸν λόγον);
it then adopts once more the addition
which Eusebius had appended to the outline of his belief presented at Nicæa (see
p. 52), and formulates the following proposition against Marcellus;
τῶν ὀνομάτων οὐχ ἁπλῶς οὐδὲ ἀργῶς κειμένων σημαινόντων ἀκριβῶς τὴν οἰκείαν ἑκάστου
τῶν ὀνομαζομένων ὑπόστασιν (N.B. = οὐσίαν) καὶ τάξιν καὶ δόξαν, ὡς εἶναι τῇ μὲν
ὑποστάσει τρία, τῇ δὲ συμφωνίᾳ ἕν; but on the other hand,
without mentioning Arius, it expressly rejects the Arian catchwords objected to
at Nicæa. The third, submitted by the Bishop of Tyana, has a still stronger anti-Marcellan colouring
(Ἰ. Χρ. ὄντα πρὸς τὸν Θεὸν ἐν ὑποστάσει . . . μένοντα εἰς τοὺς αἰῶνας),
repudiates Marcellus, Sabellius, and Paul of Samosata by name, but otherwise in place of all other possible designations it has the
Nicene sounding:
Θεὸν τέλειον ἐκ Θεοῦ τελείου. At length the fourth formula,
drawn up some months later, became the final one. It is constructed as far as possible on the model of the Nicene
Creed; at the end too some Arian catchwords are expressly condemned. The most important propositions run thus:
καὶ εἰς τὸν μονογενῆ αὐτοῦ υἱόν, τὸν κύριον ἡμῶν Ἰ.
Χρ., τὸν πρὸ πάντων τῶν αἰώνων ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς γεννηθέντα, Θεὸν ἐκ Θεοῦ, φῶς ἐκ
φωτός . . . λόγον ὄντα καὶ σοφίαν καὶ δύναμιν καὶ ζωὴν καὶ φῶς ἀληθινόν,
at the close of this section (against Marcellus):
οὗ βασιλεια ἀκατάλυτος οὖσα διαμενεῖ εἰς
τοὺς ἀπείρους αἰῶνας· ἔσται γὰρ καθεζόμενος ἐν δεξιᾷ τοῦ πατρὸς οὐ μὸνον ἐν τῷ
αἰῶνι τούτῳ, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐν τῷ μέλλοντι.
All four formulæ have this in common, that they are compatible with the
theology of Origen; the three last, that Arianism in the strict sense is
repudiated. The fourth was communicated to the Emperor Constans by a deputation
in Gaul. For the rest it ought not to be forgotten that the Eusebians formally
adhered to the basis of the Nicene Creed; see Hefele I., p. 502 ff.
During the following years Constantius’ hands were tied by the Persian war, and
he was forced to keep on good terms with his brother so as to avoid having
trouble on the western boundary of his kingdom also. At the same time, just
after the death of Eusebius of Nicomedia, which took place in the autumn of 342,
the party amongst the conservatives of the East who, partly no doubt for
political reasons, were actually set on coming to an agreement with the West,
gained the lead. A general Council which was summoned by Constans to meet at
Sardica in the summer of 343 and was approved of by Constantius, was to restore
the unity of the Church. But the Western bishops, about a hundred in number,
rejected the preliminary demand of the Eastern bishops for the deposition of
Athanasius and Marcellus, both of whom were present in Sardica; pronounced
sentence of deposition upon the leaders of the Orientals after the exodus of the
latter; after an investigation declared the bishops attacked to be innocent,
that is to say, orthodox; avowed their belief in the Nicene Creed, and under
the guidance of Hosius took up the most rigid attitude possible on the doctrinal
question.Sardica was situated in the territory of Constans. The most influential of the
Eastern bishops were present. Hosius took the lead. (Histor. Arian 15.) The
formal restatement of the Nicene Creed desired by some of them was not proceeded
with. (Athan. Tom. ad Antioch. 5 against Socrates II., 20); but the description
of the Faith which will be found at the close of the encyclical letter, although
it is not to be regarded as an official declaration, is a document whose
importance has hitherto not been sufficiently recognised. It originated with Hosius and Protogenes of Sardica, and
is the most unambiguous expression of the
Western view in the matter, so unambiguous that for the moment it seemed even to
the orthodox Orientals themselves to be questionable (the formula is in
Theodoret II. 8, lat. translation discovered by Maffei). It is here first of all that the proposition is found:
μίαν ὑπόστασιν, ἣν αὐτοὶ οἱ αἱρετικοὶ οὐσίαν προσαγορεύουσι (for ὑπόστασιν
we have in the Latin “substantiam” ),
τοῦ πατρὸς καὶ τοῦ υἱοῦ καὶ τοῦ ἁγίου πνεύματος. Καὶ εἰ ζητοῖεν, τίς τοῦ υἱοῦ ἡ ὑπόστασις ἐστιν, ὁμολογοῦμεν ὡς αὕτη ἦν ἡ
μόνη τοῦ πατρὸς ὁμολογουμένη. In the second
place the doctrine of the Son is put in such a way that one can very easily
understand how the Westerns refused to condemn Marcellus; there are turns of
expression which approach the doctrine of Marcellus. (A comparison with the
Christology of Prudentius is instructive in this connection.) Ursacius and
Valens amongst others were declared deposed. Their bishoprics were situated in
the territory of Constans, but they were of an Arian way of thinking. Ηefele,
op. cit. p. 533 ff., treats in great detail the canons and acts of the Council. In opposition to this the bishops,
who met together in the neighbouring Philippopolis, framed a circular letter,
dated from Sardica, in which they set forth the illegality of the procedure of
their opponents, and confessed the faith in terms essentially identical with
those of the fourth formula of Antioch.Above all, the Eusebians repeated their old statement that the decrees of
deposition pronounced by Councils in reference to bishops are irrevocable. So
too they held to the charges against Marcellus (of erroneous doctrine) and
against Athanasius (of flagrant abuse of his power). There is a wish to
introduce something entirely new, “ut orientales episcopi ab occidentalibus
judicarentur”; but whoever holds by Marcellus and Athanasius let him be
Anathema. The doctrinal formula (Hilarius Fragm. III. and de synod, 34) differs
little from the fourth formula of Antioch and thus condemns Arianism. Formally
the Easterns were in the right as regards Athanasius.
The endeavours of Constantius to give efficacyHistor. Arian. 18, 19. to the resolutions of his bishops
fell through; in fact, the shameless attempt to set a trap for the two Western
bishops sent as a deputation from Sardica to Constantius and provided with a
letter of introduction from Constans, and who were to try and effect the recall
of the banished bishops, turned out to their advantage.Histor. Arian. 20; Theodoret II. 9, 10. Bishop Stephanus of Antioch, who had
tried the trick, was deposed. Constantius, so at
least it seems, had not for a while any real confidence in his own party; or
was it that he was afraid to rouse his brother? In a long-winded formula drawn
up at Antioch in the summer of 344 they once more sought to hint to the West
their orthodoxy and to suggest the minimum of their demands.Their motive in bringing forward the new formula was by almost completely
meeting the demands of the Westerns in reference to the doctrinal question, to
induce them to give way on the personal question. (Ekthesis macrostichos, see
Athan., de synod. 26: Socrat II. 19). It begins with the fourth formula of
Antioch, then follow detailed explanations of the faith as against the Arians,
Sabellians, Marcellus, and Photinus who is mentioned here for the first time.
Spite of the polemic against the proposition of Athanasius—who is, however, not
mentioned by name—that the Son is begotten οὐ βουλήσει οὐδὲ θελήσει, this
formula indicates the greatest approach conceivable on the part of the Eusebians
towards meeting the views of their opponents. They emphasise in the strongest
way the unity of the one Godhead (c. 4):
οὔτε μήν, τρία ὁμολογοῦντες πράγματα καὶ τρία πρόσωπα (it has to be noticed that the bishops avoid the
expression three “substances or hypostases” and use the Western πρόσωπον
which had been brought into discredit by Sabellius)
τοῦ πατρὸς καὶ τοῦ υἱοῦ καὶ ά. πνεύματος κατὰ τὰς γραφάς, τρεῖς
διὰ τοῦτο Θεοὺς ποιοῦμεν, and
they expressed themselves in such a way in c. 9, that the words must pass for an
unobjectionable paraphrase of the Homousios. They are practically the very same
expressions as those used by Athanasius to describe the relation of Father and
Son. “Homousios” is, however, wanting: but, on the other hand, we find here, so
far as I know, for the first time: κατὰ πάντα ὅμοιον. Socrates, II. 20, has
candidly remarked on the formula macrostichos:
ταῦτα οἱ κατὰ τὰ ἑσπέρια μέρη ἐπίσκοποι διὰ τὸ ἀλλογλώσσους εἶναι καὶ διὰ τὸ μὴ
συνιέναι οὐ προσεδέχοντο, ἀρκεῖν τὴν ἐν Νικαίᾳ πίστιν λέγοντες. On the Acts of a Synod
at Köln, from which we gather that Bishop Euphrates of Köln who was sent to
Antioch from Sardica, had afterwards fallen away to Arianism, see Rettberg
(K.-G. Deutschlands, I., p. 123 ff.) and Hauck (K.-G. Deutschlands, I., p. 47
f.), who are opposed to their genuineness; Friedrich (K.-G. Deutschland, I., p.
277 f.) and Söder (Stud. u. Mitth. ans. d. Benedict. Orden, fourth year’s issue,
I., p. 295 f., II., p. 344 f., fifth year, I., p. 83 f.) who are in favour of it. The Church in the West, it is true, rejected at
both the Councils held at Milan in the years 345 and 347, the teaching of
Photinus of Sirmium, who, in a surprising fashion, had developed an Adoptian
doctrinal system out of the doctrine of Marcellus,Photinus of Sirmium, a fellow-countryman and pupil of Marcellus, developed the
doctrinal system of the master in such a way as to represent even the ἐνέργεια δραστική
of God as not assuming a concrete hypostatic form in Jesus Christ, (or
if it did take a concrete form as a hypostasis, then this was a purely human
one—the matter is not quite clear). He thus rigidly held fast the single
personality of God, and accordingly, like Paul of Samosata, saw in Jesus a man
miraculously born (Zahn, op. cit., p. 192 combats this; but neither is the
evidence that Photinus denied the birth from the Virgin Mary certain enough, nor
is it in itself credible that a catholic bishop in the fourth century should
have departed so far from the tradition), predestined to his office by God, and
who in virtue of his moral development has attained to divine honour. We thus
have here the last inherently logical attempt to guard Christian monotheism,
entirely to discard the philosophical Logos-doctrine, and to conceive of the
Divine in Christ as a divine effect. But this attempt was no longer in harmony
with the spirit of the age; Photinus was charged on all sides with teaching
erroneous doctrine. His writings have disappeared: compare the scattered statements regarding him in Athanasius, Hilary,
the Church historians, Epiph. H. 72 and the anathemas of various Councils, see
also Vigilius Taps. adv. Arian., Sabell. et Photin.). The two Milan Councils,
the date of which is not quite certain, condemned him, so too did a Sirmian
Council of Eusebians which was perhaps held as early as 347. Still he remained
in office till 351, held in high respect by his congregation. That the macrostic
Confession of the Orientals ought not all the same to be accepted as so orthodox
as it from its wording appears to be, is evident from the fact that the Eastern
bishops who were deputed to take it to the West declined at Milan to condemn
Arianism too. (Hilarius, Fragm. V.) but otherwise remained firm;
and the ship of the Eusebians already appeared to be in so great danger that its
two chief pilots, Ursacius and Valens, preferred to go over to
the opposite party and to make their peace with Athanasius.For the documents relating to their conversion, which was hypocritical and
dictated entirely by policy, and to their complete recognition of Athanasius,
see Athanas. Apol. c. Arian. 58, Hilar., Fragm. II. Constantius, very
sorely pressed by the Persians, sought to have peace in the Church at any price
and even granted the prayer of his brother’s protégé, Athanasius, and allowed
him to return to Alexandria (in October 346), where Gregory meanwhile had died
(in June 345Schiller (op. cit. p. 282). “As a matter of fact Constans wished to establish a
kind of supremacy in relation to his brother, which in spiritual matters was to
be exercised through the Bishop of Rome. Trusting to his support, deposed
bishops on their own authority returned to their dioceses, without having
received the sanction of the Emperor. The restoration of Athanasius resolved on
by the Council was a direct interference with the sovereignty of Constantius . . .
But Constans was able once more to make such a skilful use of the existing
Persian difficulty that his brother yielded.” The fact is that the recall of
Athanasius was altogether forced upon Constantius; the relation of the great
bishop to his Emperor at this time was not that of a subject, but that of a
hostile power with which he had to treat. This is naturally glossed over in the
papers issued by Constantius referring to the recall. It is specially
characteristic that Athanasius did not personally present himself before
Constantius till after repeated invitations; see, above all, Apol. c. Arian.
51-56, Hist. Arian. 21-23.). The bishop got an enthusiastic welcome in his city. The protest
of the Eastern Council at Sirmium—the first Council of Sirmium—had no effect. A
large number of the Eastern bishops were themselves tired of the controversy,
and it almost looked as if the refusal of the West to condemn Marcellus together
with the word ὁμοούσιος,
now virtually constituted the only stone of offence.A Council of Jerusalem held in 346 under Maximus actually recognised Athanasius
as a member of the Church. (Apol. c. Arian. 57). Cyril’s Catecheses shew the
standpoint of the Oriental extreme Right; they are undoubtedly based on Orig. de
princip.; but they faithfully express the Christological standpoint of the
formula macrostichos; the ὁμοούσιος only is wanting; as regards the matter of
the Faith, Cyril is orthodox. The polemic directed against Sabellius and
Marcellus (Catech. 15, 27) is severe and very bitter; Arianism is also refuted, but without
any mention of names. Jews, Samaritans, and Manicheans are the chief opponents
referred to, and Cyril is at great pains everywhere to adduce the biblical
grounds for the formulæ which he uses. The Catecheses of Cyril are a valuable
document in illustration of the fact that amongst the Eastern opponents of the
Nicene formula there were bishops who, while fully recognising that Arianism was
in the wrong, could not bring themselves to use a doctrinal formula which seemed
to them a source of ceaseless strife and to be unbiblical besides.
But the death of Constans in 350 and the overthrow of the usurper Magnentius in
353 changed everything. If in these last years Constantius had been compelled by
the necessities of the situation to submit to the bishops, his own subjects, who
had ruled his deceased brother, now that he was sole sovereign he was more than
ever resolved to govern the Church and to pay back the humiliations which he had
undergone.Schiller (p. 283 f.) supposes that Constantius was apprehensive before this
that Athanasius would declare for Magnentius. Hence his friendly letter to
Athanasius after the death of Constans, Hist. Arian. 24. Already in the year 351 the Easterns had at Sirmium—the second
Council—again agreed upon taking common action, and Ursacius and Valens promptly
rejoined them.Photinus was deposed here. The Creed of this Council, the first formula of
Sirmium (in Athanas., de synod. 27, Hilar. de synod. 38 and Socr. II., 30), is
identical with the Fourth Formula of Antioch, but numerous anathemas are added
to it in which formulæ such as “two gods”, (2),
“πλατυσμὸς τῆς οὐσίας ἐστὶν ὁ υἱός”
(7), “λογος ἐνδιάθετος ἤ προφορικός” (8) are condemned, and already
several explanations of Bible passages are branded as heretical (11, 12, 14-18).
The subordination of the Son is expressly (18) avowed in this Creed, which
otherwise strongly resembles the Nicene Creed. The anathemas 20-23 have to do
with the Holy Ghost. In No. 19 the formula ἕν πρόσωπον is rejected. Nos. 12,
13, deny that the divine element in Christ is capable of suffering. One can see
that new questions have emerged. The great thing now was to humiliate the stubborn West.
Constantius set about the task with wisdom, but what he wanted done he carried
out by the sheer force of terror. He demanded only the condemnation of
Athanasius, his mortal enemy, as a rebel, and purposely put the doctrinal
question in the background. He forced the Western bishops, at Arles in 353 and
at Milan in 355, to agree to this, by terrorising the Councils. The moral
overthrow of the Westerns was scarcely less complete than that of the Easterns
at Nicæa. Though the great majority were unaware of the struggle and were not forced to adopt a new confessional
formula, still the fact could not be concealed from those who better understood
the state of things, that the projected condemnation of Athanasius meant
something more than a personal question. The few bishops who refused were
deposed and exiled.Of the Western bishops—leaving out Pannonia—almost all were orthodox. The
Councils—that of Arles was a provincial Council, that of Milan a General
Council, but apparently badly attended—were also managed by the new Pope
Liberius (since 352), but ended quite contrary to his will. The best description
is in Krüger Lucifer, pp. 11-20. At Arles Paulinus of Trier was the only one who
remained firm, and he was exiled to Phrygia; even the Papal legates yielded. At
Milan Lucifer and Eusebius. of Vercelli were exiled, and also Dionysius of
Milan, although he had agreed to the condemnation of Athanasius. Soon after
Hosius, Liberius, and Hilary had to follow them into exile. In Milan Constantius
actually ruled the Church, but with a brutal terrorism. There are characteristic
utterances of his in Lucifer’s works and in Athanasius. The order for his deposition was communicated to Athanasius
in February 356. Yielding only to force, he made his escape into the desert
where the Emperor could not reach him. Egypt was in a state of rebellion, but
the revolt was put down by the Emperor with blood.Already in the years immediately preceding, an incessant agitation had again
been kept up against Athanasius; see Socr. II., 26, Sozom. IV., 9, Athan. Apol.
ad Const. 2 sq., 14 sq., 19 sq. He betook himself to the desert, but later on he
seems to have remained in hiding in Alexandria. No one, it would appear, cared
to secure the price set upon his head. We have several writings of his belonging
to this period. His successor, George, was pretty much isolated in Alexandria. The unity of the Church was
restored; above all, it was once more brought under the imperial sway. And now,
forsooth, the orthodox bishops who had formerly secured so much by the help of
Constans began to recollect that the Emperor and the State ought not to meddle
with religion. Constantius became “Antichrist” for those who would have lauded
him as they had his father and his brother, if he had given them the help of his
arm.The watchword of the “independence” of the Church of the State was now issued
by Athanasius, Hilary, and above all by the hot-blooded Lucifer. Hilary, who
first emerges into notice in 355, speedily gained a high reputation. He was the
first theologian of the West to penetrate into the secrets of the Nicene Creed,
and with all his dependence on Athanasius was an original thinker, who, as a
theologian, far surpassed the Alexandrian Bishop. On his theology see the
monograph by Reinkens, also Möhler, op. cit. 449 ff., and Dorner.
But the political victory of the Eastern bishops directly led to their disunion;
for it was only under the tyranny of the West and in the fight against Athanasius and the word
“ὁμοούσιος” that they had become united. Above all, Arianism in its rigid,
aggressive form again made its appearance. Aëtius and Eunomius, two theologians
of spirit who had been trained in the Aristotelian dialectic, and were opponents
of Platonic speculation, expressed its tenets in the plainest possible way,
would have nothing to do with any mediation, and had no scruple in openly
proclaiming the conversion of religion into morality and syllogistic reasoning.
The formula which they and their followers, Aëtians, Eunomians, Exukontians,
Heterousiasts, Anomœans, defended, ran thus: “ἑτερότης κατ᾽ οὐσίαν”,
“ἀνόμοιος καὶ κατὰ πάντα καὶ κατ᾽ οὐσίαν” (“different in substance”, “unlike in everything and also in substance”). If they allowed that the Son
perfectly knows the Father, this was not in any way a concession, but an
expression of the thought that there is no kind of mystery about the Godhead,
which on the contrary can be perfectly known by every rightly instructed man.
And so too the statement that the Logos had his superior dignity from the date
of his creation, and did not first get it by being tested, was not intended at
all as a weakening of the Arian dogma, but as an expression of the fact that God
the Creator has assigned its limit to every being.After the full account given of the theology of Arius there was no need for
any detailed description of the theology of Aëtius and Eunomius; for it is
nothing but logical Arianism; see on the Ἒκθεσις πίστεως and the
Ἀπολογητικός of Eunomius Fabricius-Harless T. IX. The rejection of all conciliatory
formulæ is characteristic. The great majority of the
Eastern bishops, for whom the Origenistic formula in very varied combinations
were authoritative, were opposed to this party. The old watchword, however, “the unchangeable image”, which was capable of different interpretations, now
received in opposition to Arianism, in its strict form, and on the basis of the
formula of Antioch, more and more a precise signification as implying that the
Son is of like nature with the Father in respect of substance also, and not only
in respect of will (ὅμοιος κατὰ πὰντα καὶ κατὰ τὴν οὐσίαν), and that his
begetting is not an act at all identical with creation. The likeness of the
qualities of Son and Father was more and more recognised here; on the other
hand, the substantial unity was disallowed, so as to avoid getting on the track of Marcellus;
i.e., these theologians did not, like Athanasius, advance from the unity to
the mystery of the duality, but, on the contrary, still started from the duality
and sought to reach the unity by making Father and Son perfectly co-ordinate.
They therefore still had a Θεὸς δεύτερος, and in accordance with this excluded
the idea of full community of substance. The leaders of these Homoiousians, also
called semi-Arians, were George of Laodicea,Dräseke (Ges. patristische Unters., 1889, p. 1 ff.) wishes to credit him with
the anonymous work against the Manicheans, which Lagarde discovered (1859) in a
MS. of Titus of Bostra. Eustathius of Sebaste, Eusebius
of Emesa, Basilius of Ancyra, and others.
The point of supreme importance with the Emperor necessarily was to maintain
intact the unity between those who up till now had been united, but this was all
the more difficult as the Homoiousians more and more developed their doctrinal
system in such a way that their ideas came to have weight even with those
Westerns who lingered in exile in the East and whose theology was on Nicene
lines.With Hilary, for example, as his work “de synodis” proves. It is very
characteristic that Lucifer, the strictest of the Nicenes, never came to have a
clear idea of the meaning of the formulæ, ὁμοούσιος and
ὁμοιούσιος; see
Krüger, p. 37 f. Some bishops who were devoted to Constantius and who represented simply
and solely the interests of the Emperor and of the Empire, now sought by means
of a formula of the most indefinite possible character to unite Arians and
semi-Arians. These were Ursacius, Valens, Acacius of Cæsarea, and Eudoxius of
Antioch. If up till 356 the Nicene Creed had, strictly speaking, been merely
evaded, now at last a Confession was to be openly brought forward in direct
opposition to the Nicene Creed. Simple likeness of nature was to be the dogmatic
catchword, all more definite characterisations being omitted, and in support of
this, appeal was made to the insoluble mystery presented by the Holy Scriptures
(ὅμοιος κατὰ τὰς γραφάς—like according to the Scriptures). This ingenious
formula, along with which, it is true, was a statement expressly emphasising the
subordination, left it free to every one to have what ideas he chose regarding
the extent of the qualities of Father and Son, which were thus declared to be of
like kind. The relative ὅμοιος did not necessarily
exclude the relative ἀνόμοιος, but neither did it exclude the
ὁμοιούσιος. Already at the third Council of Sirmium (357), after Constantius,
on a visit to Rome, had overthrown his enemies, a formula was set forth by the
Western bishops of as conciliatory a character so far as Arianism was concerned
as could possibly be conceived. It was proclaimed in presence of the Emperor,
who under the influence of his consort came more and more to have Arian
sympathies. This is the second Sirmian formula.The Confession is in Hilary, de Synod. 11, Athan. de synod. 28, Socrat. II.
30. Valens, Ursacius and Germinius of Sirmium took the lead. The words
ὁμοούσιος and ὁμοιούσιος were forbidden as being unbiblical and because no
one could express the generation of the Son. It is settled that the Father is
greater, that the Son is subordinate. Here too the Christological problem of the
future is already touched upon. Hilary pronounces the formula blasphemous. It
marks the turning-point in the long controversy to this extent that it is the
first public attempt to controvert the Nicene Creed. Against it Phobadius wrote
the tractate “de filii divinitate”, which is severely Western-Nicene in tone,
and in this respect is markedly different from the conciliatory work of Hilary
“de synodis”; see on it Gwatkin, p. 159 sq. The Eastern bishops Acacius and
Uranius of Tyre, who shared the sentiments of the court-bishops, accorded a vote
of thanks to the latter at a Council at Antioch, held in 358. Hosius subscribed
the second Sirmian formula (Socr. II. 31). But the bishops assembled at
Ancyra did not acquiesce in the move towards the Left (358).Aëtius was in high favour with Eudoxius of Antioch, and his pupils occupied
the Eastern bishoprics. The manifesto of Sirmium appeared like an edict of
toleration for strict Arianism. At the instigation of George of Laodicea some
Semi-Arians joined together to oppose it at the Council of Ancyra. The
comprehensive synodal-letter of Ancyra (Epiph. p. 73, 2-11, see Hilar. de synod)
indicates the transition on the part of the Semi-Arians to the point of view at
which the Nicæans were able to meet them. It was re-echoed in the writings of
Hilary and Athanasius de synodis (358-359). The Semi-Arians at Ancyra took up a
position based on the fourth Antiochian formula, which was also that of
Philippopolis and of the First Sirmian Council, but they explained that the new
Arianism made it necessary to have precise statements. The following are the
most important explanations given; (1) the name Father by its very form points
to the fact that God must be the author of a substance of like quality with Him
(αἴτιος ὁμοίας αὐτοῦ οὐσίας): πᾶς πατὴρ ὁμοίας αὐτοῦ οὐσίας νοεῖται πατήρ—this does away with the relation of Logos-Son and world-idea—(2) the
designation “Son” excludes everything of a created kind and involves the full
ὁμοιότης, (3) “the Son” is consequently Son in the peculiar and unique sense,
and the analogy with men as sons of God is thus done away with. The likeness in
substance is further based on Bible statements, and in the 19 anathemas together
with Sabellianism all formulæ are rejected which express less than likeness in
substance. Finally, however, “ὁμοούσιος” too, together with the characteristic
addition “ἤ ταυτοούσιος” has an anathema attached to it, i.e., the substantial
unity of essence is rejected as Sabellian.
The Conservatives of the East have undoubtedly here quite changed their ground.
A definitely defined doctrine has taken the place of prolix formulæ, at once
cosmological and soteriological in drift, and derived from Origen, Lucian, and Eusebius. What a
change! Easterns now defended purity of doctrine against Arianising Westerns! A
deputation from this Council succeeded in paralysing the influence of the Arians
with Constantius, and in asserting at the Fourth Council of Sirmium, in 358,
their fundamental principles to which the Emperor lent the weight of his
authority.The victory of the Semi-Arians at the court is a turn of affairs which we
cannot clearly explain. The fact is incontestable. The third formula of Sirmium,
drawn up at the Fourth Council of Sirmium, is identical with the fourth
Antiochian formula. That Constantius should have fallen back on this is perhaps
to be explained from the fact that the disturbances at Rome made it necessary
for him to send Liberius back there, though the most he could hope for was to
get him to subscribe that formula, but not the manifesto of the year 357. He
actually got him to do this, i.e., Liberius subscribed several older
confessional formularies which originated at a time when the Nicene Creed had
been only indirectly attacked. It was not only, however, that Liberius bought
his freedom at that time, but it was actually for the time being a question of a
general victory of the Homoiousians, which they used too entirely in their own
interest, after all the bishops present at Sirmium, including Ursacius and
Valens, had had to make up their minds to subscribe the synodal decrees.
Eudoxius of Antioch and Aëtius and in addition 70 Anomœans were banished at the
instigation of Basil of Ancyra and there were many instances of the violent use
of power. One cannot be certain if these same violent proceedings did not bring
about once more a quick change of feeling on the part of the Emperor. But the triumph of the Homoiousians led by Basilius Ancyranus was of
short duration. The Emperor saw that the Church could not be delivered up either
to Nicæans, to semi-Arians, or to Arians. The alliance between the two first
mentioned, which was so zealously pushed on by Hilary, was not yet perfect. A
grand Council was to declare the imperial will, and Homoiousians and Arians vied
with each other in their efforts to get influencing it. The Homœans alone,
however, both in their character as leaders and as led, concurred with the
Emperor’s views. They were represented by Ursacius, Valens, Marcus of Arethusa,
Auxentius of Milan, and Germinius of Sirmium. The fourth Sirmian formula (359),
an imperial cabinet-edict and a political masterpiece, was intended to embody
what was to be laid before the Council.The Council was intended to bring about at last a general peace; at first the
Emperor evidently intended to summon it to meet at Nicæa (Soz. IV. 16), then
Nicomedia was next considered as a likely place, but it was destroyed by an
earthquake. Then it was that Nicæa was again thought of; Basil of Ancyra had
still a great influence at the time. Finally, the party opposed to this was
victorious, and the plan of a division of the Councils was carried through. But
it was just this opposition-party which now wished to unite all parties in a
Homœan Confession and gained over the Emperor to assent to this. The actual
result, however, was that Homœans and Anomœans on the one hand, Homoiousians
and Homousians on the other, more and more drew together. Hilary, who was
staying in the East, had indeed already explained to his Gallic compatriots that
it was possible to attach an “unpious” meaning to ὁμοούσιος quite as readily as
to ὁμοιούσιος. The bishops assembled in presence of the Emperor now composed in
advance for the Council a Confession which, since Semi-Arians were also present,
might serve as a means of reconciling Homœan and Homoiousian conceptions. It
was already evident at the time of signing it that it was differently
interpreted. The catchwords ran thus: ὅμοιον πατρὶ κατὰ τὰς γραφάς—ὅμοιον κατὰ πάντα ὡς οἱ ἅγιαι γραφαὶ λέγουσιν.
Valens signed it and at the same time
simply repeated the word ὅμοιον without the κατὰ πάντα; Basil in signing it
expressly remarked that πάντα included being also. The formula is in Athan. de
synd. 8, Socrat. II. 37; see Sozom. IV. 17. The dogmatic treatise of Basil in
Epiph. H. 73, 12-22, has reference to this formula, which Athanasius (de synodis) had already scoffed at because of its being dated, i.e., because it
bore the signs of its newness on its front. The latter
was summoned to meet at Rimini and Seleucia because the circumstances in the
East and West respectively differed so very much. In May 359 more than four
hundred Western bishops assembled at Rimini. They were instructed to treat only
of matters relating to the Faith and not to leave the Council till the unity
aimed at had been attained. But the Emperor’s confidants failed to induce the
great majority of the members to accept the Sirmian formula. The bishops, on the
contrary, took their stand on the basis of the Nicene Creed which had been
abandoned during these last years, rejected Arianism and declared its friends
deposed. But when they sought by means of a Deputation to get the Emperor to
give his sanction to their decisions, they did not get a hearing. The Deputation
was not admitted to the Emperor’s presence, was at first detained and then
conducted to Nice in Thrace, where the members at last shewed themselves docile
enough to sign a formula—the formula of Nice—which was undoubtedly essentially
identical with the Confession which the Westerns had themselves drawn up two
years earlier at Sirmium, at the third Synod in 357—(“the Son is like the
Father [κατὰ πάντα is omitted] according to the Scriptures”). Armed with this document
Ursacius and Valens made their way to Rimini, taking the deputies with
them, and by means of threats and persuasions finally induced the Assembly there
to accept the formula into which one could indeed read the Homoiousia, but not
the Homousia. In the autumn of 359 the Eastern Synod met at Seleucia. The
Homoiousians, with whom some Niceans already made common cause, had the main
say. Still the minority led by Acacius and Eudoxius, which defended the Sirmian
formula and clung to the likeness while limiting it, however, to the will, was
not an insignificant one. There was an open rupture in the Synod. The majority
finally deposed the heads of the opposition-party.Socr. II. 37 explains that Nice was chosen with the view of giving to the new
formula a name which sounded the same as that of the Nicene Creed. The formula is in Athan. de synod. 30, and Theodoret II. 21:
ὁμοιον κατὰ τὰς γραφάς, οὗ τὴν γέννησιν οὐδεὶς οἶδεν.
In addition:
τὸ δὲ ὄνομα τῆς οὐσίας ὅπερ ἁπλούστερον
ἐνετέθη ὑπὸ τῶν πατέρων, ἀγνοούμενον δὲ τοἶς λαοῖς σκάνδαλον ἔφερε, διὰ τὸ ἐν
ταῖς γραφαὶς τοῦτο μὴ ἐκφέρεσθαι, ἤρεσε περιαιρεθῆναι καὶ παντελῶς μηδεμίαν μνήμην
οὐσίας τοῦ λοιποῦ γίνεσθαι . . . μήτε μὴ δεῖν ἐπὶ προσώπου πατρὸς καὶ υἱοῦ καὶ ἁγίου
πνεύματος μίαν ὑπόστασιν ὀνομάζεσθαι.
One might be pleased with this rational explanation if polytheism did not in fact lurk behind it. But as regards the East as
well, the decision lay with the court.Hilary was present in Seleucia and made common cause with the Homoiousians
against the others. Acacius in face of the superior numbers of the Homoiousians
sought to save his party by drawing up a creed in which he expressly repudiated
the Anomœans and proclaimed the likeness in will, (see the creed in Athanas. de
synod. 29, Epiph. H. 73, c. 25, Socr. II. 40). But this did not protect him and his party. The Emperor, importuned on all sides,
had resolved to abandon the strict Arians, and accordingly Aëtius was banished
and his Homœan friends had to leave him, but he was also determined to dictate
the formula of Nice to the Easterns too.It was on the night of the last day of the year 359 that the Emperor achieved
the triumph of the ὅμοιος in his empire. Their representatives finally
condescended to recognise the formula, and this event was announced at the
Council of Constantinople in 360, and the Homœan Confession was once more
formulated.The Confession is in Athanas. de synod. 30 and Socr. II. 41. Although the new Imperial Confession involved the exclusion of the
extreme Left, this did not constitute its peculiar significance. Had it actually
been what it appeared to be, a formula of union for all who rejected the
unlikeness, it would not have been something to be condemned, from the
standpoint of the State at all events. But in the following year it was
recklessly used as a weapon against the Homoiousians.People like Eudoxius and Acacius were real victors; they got a perfectly free
hand for themselves against the Homoiousians at the cost of the condemnation of
Aëtius, and made common cause with Valens and Ursinus. The Creed of Nice was
sent all over the Empire for signature under threat of penalty. They had to vacate all
positions of influence, and by way of making up for what had been done to the
one Aëtius, who had been sacrificed, his numerous friends were installed as
bishops.Eunomius became bishop of Cyzikus; Eudoxius of Antioch received the chair of
Constantinople. Under cover of the “likeness in nature” a mild form of Arianism was
actually established in the Church, modified chiefly only by the absence of
principle. In Gaul alone did the orthodox bishops once more bestir themselves
after Julian had in January 360 been proclaimed Augustus at Paris.See the epistle of the Synod of Paris (360 or 361) in Hilar. Fragm. XI. It did
not at that time require any courage to declare against Constantius. Constantius
died in November 361, during the campaign against the rebels.
3. TO THE COUNCILS OF CONSTANTINOPLE 381. 383.
The three possible standpoints—the Athanasian, the Lucianist-Arian, and the
Origenist, which in opposition to the Arian had gradually narrowed itself down
to the Homoiousian—had been set aside by Constantius in the interest of the
unity of the Church. But the Homœan formula, which had no firm theological
conviction behind it, meant the domination of a party which gravitated towards
Arianism, i.e., which resolved faith in Jesus Christ into a dialectical
discussion about unbegotten and begotten and into the conviction of the moral
unity of Father and Son. It was for twenty years, with the exception of a brief
interval, the dominant creed in the East. This fact finds its explanation only
in the change, or narrowing, which came over what was at an earlier date the
middle party. The Arianising Homœans were now conservative and in their way
even conciliatory. They disposed of the ancient tradition of the East as
the Eusebians had done before them; for their formula “of like nature according
to Holy Scripture” contained that latitude which corresponded to the old
traditional doctrine. With this we may compare the standpoint of Eusebius of
Cæsarea. The old middle party had, however, in the ὁμοιούσιος made for
themselves a fixed doctrinal formula.The dogmatic dissertation of the Homoiousians in Epiphan. 73, 12-22, is of the
highest importance; for it shews in more than one respect a dogmatic advance:
(1) the differentiation of the conceptions οὐσία, ὑπόστασις, πρόσωπον begins
here. The first of these is used in order to express the idea of the essence or
substance which imprints itself in the form of a definite quality; accordingly
the action of the Fathers who in protesting against Paul of Samosata attributed
a special οὐσία to the Son, is by an explanation excused. They did this in order
to do away with the idea that the Logos is a mere ῥῆμα, a λεκτικὴ ἐνέργεια.
The proper expression, however, is ὑπόστασις. It is because the Logos is an
ὑπόστασις, i.e., because he does not, like the other words of God, lack being,
that the Fathers called τὴν ὑπόστασιν οὐσίαν (c. 12). The
ἀκρίβεια τῆς τῶν προσώπων ἐπιγνώσεως must be strictly maintained as against Sabellius (c. 14);
but no one is to be led astray by the word ὑποστάσεις (Pl.); it does not mean
that there are two or three Gods: διὰ
τοῦτο γὰρ ὑποστάσεις οἱ ἀνατολικοὶ λέγουσιν, ἵνα τὰς ἰδιότητας τῶν προσώπων ὑφεστώσας
καὶ ὑπαρχούσας γνωρίσωσιν. The word “Hypostasis” is thus merely meant to give the word πρόσωπον a definite
meaning, implying that it is to be taken as signifying independently existing
manifestations (c. 16), while οὐσία is in the tractate interchangeable with
φύσις or πνεῦμα, and is thus still used only in the singular;
(2) quite as much attention is already given to the Holy Ghost as to the Son,
and the τρόποι ὑπάρξεως are developed, i.e., an actual doctrine of the Trinity
independent of any ideas about the world, is constructed (c. 16):
Εἰ γὰρ πνεῦμα ὁ πατήρ,
πνεῦμα καὶ ὁ υἱός, πνεῦμα καὶ τὸ ἅγιον πνεῦμα, οὐ νοεῖται πατὴρ ὁ υἱός· ὑφέστηκε
δὲ καὶ τὸ πνεῦμα, ὅ οὐ νοεῖται υἱός, ὅ καὶ οὐκ ἔστι . . . Τὰς ἰδιότητας προσώπων
ὑφεστώτων ὑποστάσεις ὀνομάζουσιν οἱ ἀνατολικοί, οὐχὶ τὰς τρεῖς ὑποστάσεις τρεῖς
ἀρχὰς ἢ τρεῖς θεοὺς λέγοντες . . . Ὁμολογοῦσι γὰρ μίαν εἶναι θεότητα . . . ὅμως τὰ
πρόσωπα ἐν ταῖς ἰδιότησι τῶν ὑποστάσεων εὐσεβῶς γνωρίζουσι, τὸν πατέρα ἐν τῇ
πατρικῇ αὐθεντίᾳ ὑφεστῶτα νοοῦντες, καὶ τὸν υἱὸὐ μέρος ὄντα τοῦ πατρός, ἀλλὰ
καθαρῶς ἐκ πατρὸς τέλειον ἐκ τελείου γεγεννημένον καὶ ὑφεστῶτα ὁμολογοῦντες, καὶ
τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον, ὅ ἡ θεία γραφὴ παράκλητον ὀνομάζει, ἐκ πατρὸς δι᾽ υἱοῦ ὑφεστῶτα
γνωρίζοντες . . . Οὐκοῦν ἐν πνεύματι ἁγίῳ υἱὸν ἀξίως νοοῦμεν, ἐν υἱῷ δὲ μονογενεῖ
πατέρα εὐσεβῶς καὶ ἀξίως δοξάζομεν,
(3) the Christological
problem based on Philipp. II. 6 and Rom. VIII. 3
(ὁμοίωμα) is already
introduced for the elucidation of the Trinitarian:
ἀπὸ τοῦ σωματικοῦ εὐσεβῶς καὶ τὴν περὶ τοῦ ὁμοίου ἔννοιαν
ἡμᾶς καὶ ἐπὶ τοῦ ἀσωμάτου πατρός τε καὶ υἱοῦ διδαχθῆναι
(c. 17, 18). As Christ’s flesh is identical with human flesh,
but is, on the other hand, on account of its wonderful origin only
ὅμοιος, κατὰ τὸν ὅμοιον τρόπον καὶ ὁ υἱὸς πνεῦμα ὢν καὶ ἐκ
τοῦ τατρὸς πνεῦμα γεννηθείς, κατὰ μὲν τὸ πνεῦμα ἐκ πνεύματος εἶναι τὸ αὐτό ἐστιν,
κατὰ δὲ τὸ ἄνευ ἀπορροίας καὶ πάθους καὶ μερισμοῦ ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς γεννηθῆναι ὅμοιός
ἐστι τῷ πατρί. Accordingly we have now the decisive statement:
Οὐκοῦν διὰ τῆς πρὸς φιλιππησίους ἐπιστολῆς ἐδίδαξεν ἡμᾶς πῶς ἡ ὑπόστασις τοῦ υἱοῦ ὁμοία ἐστὶ
τῇ ὑποστάσει τοῦ πατρός· πνεῦμα γὰρ ἐκ πατρός. Καὶ κατὰ μὲν τὴν τοῦ πνεύματος
ἔννοιαν (and therefore thought of in essence as a generic conception)
ταὐτόν, ὡς κατὰ τὴν
τῆς σαρκὸς ἔννοιαν ταὐτὸν. Οὐ ταὐτὸν δὲ ἀλλὰ ὅμοιον, διότι τὸ πνεῦμα, ὅ ἐστιν
ὁ υἱός, οὐκ ἔστιν ὁ πατήρ, καὶ ἡ σάρξ, ἣν ὁ λόγος ἀνέβαλεν, οὐκ ἔστιν ἐκ σπέρματος
καὶ ἡδονῆς, ἀλλ᾽ οὕτως ὡς τὸ εὐαγγέλιον ἡμᾶς ἐδίδαξεν . . . ὁ πατὴρ πνεῦμα ὤν αὐθεντικῶς ποιεῖ, ὁ δὲ υἱὸς πνεῦμα ὢν οὐκ αὐθεντικῶς ποιεῖ ὡς ὁ πατὴρ ἀλλ᾽ ὁμοίως.
Οὐκοῦν καθὰ μὲν σὰρξ καὶ σὰρξ ταὐτὸν, ὥσπερ καθὸ πνεῦμα καὶ πνεῦμα ταὐτόν.
καθὸ δὲ ἄνευ σπορᾶς οὐ ταὐτὸν ἀλλ᾽ ὅμοιον, ὥσπερ καθὸ ἄνευ ἀπορροίας καὶ πάθους ὁ
υἱὸς οὐ ταὐτὸν ἀλλ᾽ ὅμοιον.
Thus these Homoiousians already admit the ταὐτόν if they
also reject the ταὐτοούσιος (= ὁμοούσιος, i.e., Father and Son are
ταὐτόν as
regards substance, in so far as they are both πνεῦμα, but in so far as they
are different Hypostases they are not identical, but of like nature. (4) These
Homoiousians have expressly rejected the designations ἀγέννητος for God and
γεννητός for the Son, and indeed not only because they are unbiblical, but
because “Father” includes much more than “Unbegotten”, and because “γεννητός”
includes much less than “Son”, and further because the conjunction
“unbegotten—begotten” does not express the relation of reciprocity between
Father and Son (the γνησίως γεγεννημένῳ), which is emphasised as being the most important (c. 14, 19):
διὸ κἂν
πατέρα μόνον ὀνομάζωμεν, ἔχομεν τῷ ὀνόματι τοῦ πατρὸς συνυπακουομένην τὴν ἔννοιαν
τοῦ υἱοῦ, πατὴρ γὰρ υἱοῦ πατὴρ λέγεται· κἂν υἱὸν μόνον ὀνομάσωμεν, ἔχομεν τὴν
ἔννοιαν τοῦ πατρός, ὅτι υἱὸς πατρὸς λέγεται. Whoever names the one names the
other at the same time, and yet does not posit him merely in accordance with his
name, but with his name καὶ τῆς φύσεως οἰκειότητα; on the other hand,
ἀγέννητον οὐ λέγεται γεννητοῦ ἀγέννητον, οὐδὲ γεννητὸν ἀγεννήτου γεννητόν.
Athanasius could scarcely wish more than this, or rather: we have already here
the main outlines of the theology of the three Cappadocians, and it is not
accidental that Basil of Ancyra is himself a Cappadocian. This was a change of the
most decisive kind. We may still further say it was not the “Homousios” which
finally triumphed, but on the contrary the Homoiousian doctrine, which fixed on
the terms of agreement with tale “Homousios.” The doctrine which Hosius,
Athanasius, Eustathius, and Marcellus had championed at Nicæa, was over-thrown.
The new Origenism which was based on the “Homousios” succeeded in establishing
itself. A form of doctrine triumphed which did not exclude scientific theology,
a subject in which Athanasius and the Westerns of the older days never shewed
any interest. But Athanasius himself contributed to the revolution thus
accomplished,The work of Athanasius, de synodis, written in the year 359, is of the highest
importance for the history of the Arian controversy. It is distinguished as much
by the firmness with which his position is maintained—for Athanasius did not
yield in any point—as by its moderation and wisdom. The great bishop succeeded
in combining these qualities in his book, because he was not concerned with the
formula itself, but solely with the thought which in his view the formula
attacked best expressed. We must, he said, speak like brethren to brethren to
the Ηomoiousians who hold almost the same view as the Nicæans and are merely
suspicious about a word. Whoever grants that the Son is in nature of like
quality with the Father and springs from the substance of the Father is not far
from the ὁμοούσιος; for this is a combination of ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας and ὁμοιούσιος
(c. 41 ff.). While expressly making an apology to Basil of Ancyra, he
endeavours to remove the stumbling-blocks presented by ὁμοούσιος, but seeks
at the same time to shew that ὁμοιούσιος either involves an absurdity or is
dogmatically incorrect (c. 53 f.). though it is very doubtful if he ever came to see the full extent of it.
Julian granted liberty to all the bishops to return, and in so doing did away
with the artificial state of things created by Constantius. The Nicæans were
once more a power, and Athanasius who returned to Alexandria in February 362, at
once re-assumed the leadership of the party. A Synod was held at Alexandria in
summer, and this prepared the way for the triumph of orthodoxy in the year 381.The most important source of information for the Synod of Alexandria is the
Tomus of Athanas. ad Antioch., and in addition Rufin. X. 27-29, Socr. III. 7,
Athan. ep. ad Rufinian. I need not here (after the work published by Revillout)
enter upon any discussion of the σύνταγμα διδασκαλίας of the Synod, which is
identical with Opp. Athanas. ed. Migne XXVIII., p. 836 sq.; cf. Eichhorn,
Athan., de vita ascet. testim., 1886, p. 15 sq. On the Synod cf. also Gregor.
Naz. Orat. 21, 35.
It was here resolved that the Nicene Creed was to be accepted sans phrase.
i.e., that those were to be recognised as Christian brethren who now acknowledge
the ὁμοούσιος, and condemn the Arian heresy together with its chief supporters,
irrespective of any former departure on their part from the faith. But still
further, the question as to whether it was necessary to believe in one
hypostasis or in three was left an open one. (At Alexandria the Holy Spirit had
already been the subject of discussion as well as the Son.) Both statements were
disapproved of since the ὁμοούσιος was considered to be sufficient, but it was
explained that both might be understood in a pious sense.Tom. ad Antioch. 5. 6. This was probably the largest concession which
Athanasius ever made. When Socrates affirms that at the Synod the employment of
“Ousia” and “Hypostasis” in reference to the Godhead was forbidden, his
statement is not entirely incorrect; for it is evident from the Tomus that the
Synod did actually disapprove of the use of the terms in this way. These resolutions
were not passed without strong opposition.This is sufficiently shewn in the Tomus; the Lucifer schism has its root here;
see Krüger, op. cit., pp. 43-54. Lucifer was, moreover, not a man of sufficient
education to appreciate the real question at issue. He did not wish to have
the venia ex pœnitentia accorded to the Semi-Arians who were passing over to
orthodoxy. It was thus a Novatian-Donatist element which determined his position. Not only did some bishops demand that
those who had subscribed the Fourth Sirmian Formula should be denied the
communion of the Church, but, what was of much greater importance, there was a
party which insisted on the interpretation of the Nicene Creed which had been
settled by some of the Western bishops at Sardica, and which as a matter of fact
was the original one.See above, p. 68, and the Tom. c. 5. init. These bishops thus demanded the
acknowledgment of the μία ὑπύστασις. The West never at bottom abandoned this
demand, but in the Meletian-Antiochian schism it, however, finally got the worst
of it and had to acquiesce in the Eastern doctrinal innovation. That at the
Synod of Alexandria, however, the Homoiousians also attempted to get their
catchword, or, their interpretation of the ὁμοούσιος, adopted, is evident
from the letter of Apollinaris to Basil; see Dräseke Ztschr. f. K.G., VIII., p. 118 f. But they did not press their views, and they seem to
have acquiesced in the decision of the Synod. This marked a complete change.Just as it is to Zahn that, speaking generally, we primarily owe the
understanding of the original meaning of Ὁμοουσιος, so it is he too who, so
far as I know, first plainly noticed this complete change. (Marcell, p. 87 f., also Gwatkin, p. 242 sq.)
If up till now orthodox faith had meant the recognition of a mysterious
plurality in the substantial unity of the Godhead, it was now made permissible
to turn the unity into a mystery, i.e., to reduce it to equality and to make the
threefoldness the starting-point; but this simply means that that
Homoiousianism was recognised which resolved to accept the word ὁμοούσιος. And
to this theology, which changed the substantial unity of substance expressed in
the ὁμοούσιος into a mere likeness or equality of substance, so that there was
no longer a threefold unity, but a trinity, the future belonged, in the East,
though not to the same extent in the West. The theologians who had studied
Origen regarded it with favour. The Cappadocians started from the ὁμοούσιος,This is specially evident from the letter of Basil to Apollinaris (in Dräseke,
op. cit. 96 ff.) of the year 361. Basil communicates to the great teacher (of
whom later) his doubts as to whether it is justifiable to use the word
ὁμοούσιος. For biblical and philosophical dogmatic reasons he is inclined to
prefer the formula ἀπαραλλάκτως ὅμοιος κατ᾽ οὐσίαν. Apollinaris accordingly
explains to him (p. 112 ff.) that the ὁμοούσιος is more correct, but his own
explanation of the word is no longer identical with that of Athanasius. He finds
both expressed in it, the ταυτότης as well as the ἑτερότης, and according to
his idea the Son is related to the Father as men are to Adam. Just as it may be
said of all men, they are Adam, they were in Adam, and just as there is only one
Adam, so too is it with the Godhead. Basil
at any rate started from Homoiousianism, and it is because this has not been
taken into consideration that the letter in question has been pronounced not
genuine. For the rest, the efforts of the Benedictines in the third volume of
their edition of the Opp. Basil. (Præf.) to vindicate Basil’s orthodoxy shew
that, leaving this letter out of account, his perfect soundness in the faith is
not—in all his utterances—beyond doubt. Later on Basil understood the ὁμοούσιος
exactly in the sense given to it by him in the letter to Apollinaris and which
at that time made him hesitate to use it; see Krüger, p. 42 f. See further the
characteristic statements made at an earlier date in ep. 8. 9: ὁ κατ᾽ οὐσίαν
Θεὸς τῷ κατ᾽ οὐσίαν Θεῷ
ὁμοούσιος!
though this is certainly true of Gregory of Nyssa only indirectly. They
acknowledged the ὁμοούσιος and accordingly set up a system of doctrine which
neither disavowed the theology of Origen, that is, science in general, nor yet
remained in the terminologically helpless condition of Athanasius. But they
succeeded in attaining terminological clearness—they could not improve on the
matter of the doctrine—only because they modified the original thought of
Athanasius and developed the theology which Basil of Ancyra had first propounded
in his tractate. Οὐσία now got a meaning which was half way between the
abstract “substance” and the concrete “individual substance”, still it
inclined very strongly in the direction of the former.Basil has frequently so expressed himself as to suggest that he regarded the
idea of the generic unity of Father and Son as sufficient (see, e.g., ep. 38,
2). Zahn (p. 87): “the οὐσία with Basil designates the κοινόν, the ὑπόστασις
the ἴδιον (ep. 114, 4). He is never tired of holding forth on the difference
between the two expressions, and goes so far as to assert that the Nicene
Fathers were well aware of this difference, since they would surely not have put
the two words side by side without some purpose (ep. 125).” It is interesting to
note that already at the Council of Antioch in 363 it had been explained that
οὐ κατά τινα χρῆσιν Ἑλληνικὴν λαμβάνεται
τοῖς πατράσι τὸ ὄνομα τῆς οὐσίας.
Assuredly not! It was a terminology which was expressly invented.
Ὑπόστασις got a
meaning half way between “Person” and “Attribute”, (Accident, Modality), still
the conception of Person entered more largely into it.And yet in Gregory of Nyssa the persons appear also as συμβεβηκότα
(accidents). Πρόσωπον was avoided
because it had a Sabellian sound, but it was not rejected. The unity of the
Godhead, as the Cappadocians conceived of it, was not the same as the unity
which Athanasius had in his mind. Basil the Great was never tired of emphasising
the new distinction implied in οὐσία, and ὑπόστασις. For the central doctrine
of the incarnation of God they required a conception of God of boundless
fulness. Μία οὐσία (μία θεότης)
ἐν τρισὶν ὑποστάσεσιν, (one
divine substance (one divine nature) in three subjects,) was the formula. In
order to give clear expression to the actual distinction of the Persons within
the Godhead, Gregory of Nyssa attached to them τρόποι ὑπάρξεως, (modes of
existence,) ἰδιότητες
χαρακτηρίζουσαι, ἐξαίρετα ἰδιώματα, (characteristic
peculiarities, special characters). To the Father he attributed ἀγεννησία, the
quality of being unbegotten, and in consequence of this the word which had
formerly been forbidden by the Niceans was once more restored to a place of
honour, no longer, however, as referring to substance, but as expressing a mode
of being (σχέσις) of God the Father. To the Son he attributed γεννησία, the
quality of being begotten, and even the older Homoiousians shewed more reserve
on this point than Gregory did. To the Spirit he attributed
ἐκπόρευσις—procession.See the treatises of Gregor. Nyss.
περὶ διαφορᾶς οὐσίας καὶ ὑποστάσεως—περὶ τοῦ οἴεσθαι λέγειν Θεούς—πρὸς Ἕλληνας ἐκ τῶν κοινῶν ἐννοιῶν.
“Prosopon” is no longer for Gregory a technical term in the strict
sense of the word, but on the other hand he also avoids the expression “three
ἄτομα”. The word φύσις maintained itself alongside of
οὐσία, and in the
same way ἰδιότης was used along with ὑπόστασις. The God who was common to the
Three was supposed to be a real substance, not, however, a fourth alongside of
the Three, but on the contrary the unity itself! On the characteristics of the
Hypostases, see Gregor. Naz. Orat. 25. 16:
Κοινὸν τὸ μὴ γεγονέναι καὶ ἡ θεότης. Ἴδιον δὲ πατρὸς μὲν ἡ ἀγεννησία, υἱοῦ δὲ ἡ γέννησις, πνεύματος δὲ ἡ ἔκπεμψις. The two others expressed their views in almost similar terms in
their works against Eunomius, unless that Gregory of Nyssa alone put the
doctrine of the Holy Ghost in a logically developed form (see below), while as
regards it, Basil (see de spir. s. ad Amphiloch.) advanced least of them all.
The pronounced attitude taken up by them all, especially by Basil, against
Marcellus, is characteristic. The theological orations of Gregory of Nazianzus
(Orat. 27-31) may, more than anything else, have spread the doctrinal system far
and wide. (It is important to note that in opposition to it Athanasius in his
letter ad Afros. [c. 369] expressly said that ὑπόστασις and οὐσία were to be
used as identical in meaning.) It follows from Orat. 31 (33) that Gregory did
not wish to apply the number one to the Godhead; a unity was for him only the κίνησις
and φύσις (μίαν φύσιν ἐν τρισὶν ἰδιότησι, νοεραῖς τελείαις, καθ᾽ ἑαυτὰς ὑφεστώσαις,
ἀριθμῷ διαιρεταῖς καὶ οὐ διαιρεταῖς θεότητι). So too he was
doubtful about, the suitability of the old image, “source, stream”, for the
Trinity, not only because it represents the Godhead as something changeable,
something flowing, but also because it gave the appearance of a numerical unity
to the Godhead. He is equally unwilling, and in fact for the same reasons, to
sanction the use of the old comparison of sun, beam, and brightness. He is
always in a fighting attitude towards “Sabellianism”. The doctrine of the
one God is to him Jewish—that is the new discovery. “We do not acknowledge a Jewish,
narrow, jealous, weak Godhead” (Orat. 25. 16). Gregory had, moreover, already
begun those odd speculations about the immanent substance of God which, though they are mere bubble-blowing, are still
highly thought of. The divine loftiness, according to him, shews itself in this,
that in His immanent life also God is a fruitful principle; the life of the
creature has its vital manifestation in the tension of dualities, but it is in
this opposition that its imperfection also consists; the Trinity is the “sublation”, or abrogation of the duality, living movement and at the same time
rest, and not in any way a sublimation into multiplicity. The Orat. 23 in
particular is full of thoughts of this sort, see c. 8:
τριάδα τελείαν ἐκ τελειῶν τριῶν, μονάδος μὲν κινηθείσης διὰ τὸ πλούσιον,
δυάδος δὲ ὑπερβαθείσης, ὑπὲρ γὰρ τὴν ὕλην καὶ τὸ εἶδος, ἐξ ὧν τὰ σώματα, τριάδος
δὲ ὁρισθείσης διὰ τὸ τέλειον, πρώτη γὰρ ὑπερβαίνει δυάδος σύνθεσιν, ἵνα μήτε στενὴ
μένῇ ἡ θεότης μήτε εἰς ἄπειρον χέηται· τὸ μὲν γὰρ ἀφιλότιμον, τὸ δὲ ἄτακτον, καὶ
τὸ μὲν Ἰουδαϊκὸν παντελῶς, τὸ δὲ
Ἑλληνικὸν καὶ πολύθεον. But what is more,
the entire Origenistic speculation regarding the Trinity, with which Athanasius
would have nothing to do, that is, of which he knew nothing, was rehabilitated.
The moment or element of finitude within the Trinitarian evolution was no doubt
struck out, still the Absolute has nevertheless not only modi in itself, but
also in some degree, stages. The (eternal) generation or begetting, in the sense
of a Godhead extending itself to the limits of the creaturely, was again put in
the foreground. In this way the subordination-conception, which was an
irreducible remainder in Athanasius’ whole way of looking at the question, again
acquired a peculiar significance. The idea that the Father in Himself is to be
identified with the entire Godhead again became one of the ground-principles of
speculation. He is the starting-point of the Trinity, just as He is the Creator
of the world. The idea that He is source, beginning, cause of the Godhead
(πηγή, αρχή, αἰτία τῆς θεότητος), the cause (τὸ αἴτιον) and consequently God
in the proper sense (κυρίως Θεός), while the other Hypostases again are
effects (αἰτιατά),Gregor. Nyss., ἐκ τῶν κοινῶν ἐννοιῶν T. II. p. 85;
ἕν καὶ τὸ αὐτὸ προσωπον
τοῦ πατρός, ἐξ οὗ ὁ υἱὸς γεννᾶται καὶ τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον ἐκπορεύεται, διὸ καὶ
κυρίως τὸν ἕνα αἴτιον ὄντα τῶν αὐτοῦ
αἰτιατῶν ἕνα Θεόν φαμεν.. meant something different to the Cappadocians from what it
did to Athanasius. For the Logos-conception, which Athanasius had discarded as
theistic-cosmical, again came to the front, and in their view Logos and Cosmos
are more closely related than in that of Athanasius. The unity of the Godhead
does not rest here on the Homousia, but in the last resort, as with Arius, on
the “monarchy” of God the Father; and the Spiritual on earth is, in fine, not a mere creature of God, but—at any rate
with Gregory of Nyssa—as in the view of Origen, is a being with a nature akin to
His.It is here that we have the root of the difference between Athanasius and
Gregory. “Science” concluded an alliance with the Nicene Creed; that was a
condition of the triumph of orthodoxy. If at the beginning of the controversy
the scientific thinkers—including those amongst the heathen—had sympathised with
Arianism, men were now to be found as the defenders of the Nicene Creed to whom
even a Libanius yielded the palm. These men took their stand on the general
theory of the universe which was accepted by the science of the time; they were
Platonists, and they once more naïvely appealed to Plato in support even of
their doctrine of the Trinity.From this time this once more became the fashion amongst the scientific
orthodox. The confession of Socrates (VII. 6) is very characteristic. He cannot
understand how the two Arian Presbyters, Timotheus and Georgius can remain
Arians and yet study Plato and Origen so industriously and esteem them so highly
οὐδὲ γὰρ Πλάτων τὸ δεύτερον καὶ τὸ τρίτον αἴτιον, ὡς αὐτὸς ὀνομάζειν εἴωθεν, ἀρχὴν
ὑπάρξεως εἰλιφέναι φησί, καὶ Ὠριγένης συναΐδιον πανταχοῦ ὁμολογεῖ τὸν υἱὸν τῷ
πατρί. It is instructive further to note how
Philostorgius too (in Suidas) asserts that in the matter of the vindication of
the ὁμοούσιος Athanasius was deemed a boy in comparison with the Cappadocians
and Apollinaris. Those who were on the side of Plato, Origen,See the Philocalia.
and Libanius—Basil indeed had recommended the latter to his pupils as one who
could help them in advanced culture,—those who were on a footing of equality
with the scholars, the statesmen, and highest officials, could not fail to get
sympathy. The literary triumphs of the Cappadocians who knew how to unite
devotion to the Faith and to the practical ideals of the Church with their
scientific interests, the victories over Eunomius and his following were at the
same time the triumphs of Neo-platonism over an Aristotelianism which had become
thoroughly arid and formal.This is one of the strongest impressions we carry away from a reading of the
works against Eunomius. Orthodoxy in alliance with science had a spring
which lasted from two to three decades, a short spring which was not followed by
any summer, but by destructive storms. Spite of all the persecutions, the years between 370 and 394 were
very happy ones for the orthodox Church of the East. It was engaged on a great
task, and this was to restore the true faith to the Churches of the East, and to
introduce into them the asceticism which was closely allied with science.This aspect of the activity of the Cappadocians cannot be too highly valued.
But in this respect too, though in quite a new fashion, they took up the work of
Athanasius. The dominant party on the contrary were supported by an Emperor
(Valens) who no doubt for good reasons persecuted monarchism. (See the law in
the Cod. Theodos. XII. 1, 63 of the year 365.) The aversion of the Homœans to
monasticism is evident from the App. Const. Basil’s journey to Egypt was
epoch-making. The relation in which he stood to Eustathius of Sebaste, the
ascetic and Semi-Arian, is also of great importance. It
was in the midst of a struggle which was more honourable than the struggles of
the last decades had been. Men dreamt the dream of an eternal league between
Faith and Science. Athanasius did not share this dream, but neither did he
disturb it. He did not go in for the new theology, and there is much to shew
that it did not quite satisfy him.For the sake of peace and in order to secure the main thing, Athanasius at the
Synod of Alexandria, which may be called a continuation of the Synod of Ancyra,
himself concluded the alliance with the new Oriental orthodoxy and acknowledged
Meletius. But his procedure later on in the Antiochian schism (see Basil., ep.
89, 2), the close relation in which he stood throughout to Rome as contrasted
with the East, the signal reserve he exhibited towards Basil (Basil. ep. 66,
69), and finally the view he took of the Marcellian Controversy which was still
going on—Basil saw in Marcellus a declared Sabellian heretic, while the judgment
passed on him and his following by Athanasius was essentially different—prove
that he never came to have a satisfying confidence in the neo-orthodox Niceans
who were associated with Meletius; see on this Zahn, pp. 83 ff., 88 ff., Rade;
Damasus, p. 81 ff. But he saw the aim of his life, the
recognition of the complete Godhead of Christ, brought nearer accomplishment,
and he continued to be the patriarch and the recognised head of orthodoxy, as
the letters of Basil in particular shew. When, however, orthodoxy had attained
its victory, there arose after a few years within its own camp an opponent more
dangerous to its scientific representatives than Eunomius and Valens—the
traditionalism which condemned all science.
Nothing more than an outline can here be given of the development of events in
particular instances. The Synod of Alexandria was not able by means of its
resolution to unite the parties which had separated at Antioch: the party of the
orthodox who clung to the old faith and that of the Homoiousians who under the
leadership of Meletius acknowledged the Homousios. This Antiochian split
remained an open wound, and the history of the attempts to get it healed makes
it abundantly evident that different doctrines were really in question, that
Alexandria and the East had not lost their feeling of distrust of Meletius, and
that the Cappadocians who were at the head of the new orthodoxy in the East were
not able to suppress the suspicion of Sabellianism in the light of the old
orthodoxy.See the art. “Meletius” in Herzog’s R.-Encykl. IX., p. 530 f. and the
discussion by Rade, op. cit., p. 74 ff. The Westerns had the same kind of
feeling in reference to the opponent of Meletius in Antioch, Paulinus, as they
formerly had in reference to Athanasius; he alone was for them orthodox; but
they did not succeed in getting their view adopted. Heron. ep. 15. 16 shews
what scruples the formula, τρεῖς ὑποστάσεις, gave rise to in the minds of the
Westerns.
Jovian, who was inclined to orthodoxy, once more recalled Athanasius who had
been banished for the last time by Julian.Julian, spite of his aversion to all Christians, seems nevertheless to have
been somewhat more favourably disposed towards Arianism than towards orthodoxy,
i.e., than to Athanasius, who, moreover, incurred his suspicions on political
grounds. Athanasius somewhat prematurely
announced the triumph of the true faith in the East.See his letter to Jovian in the Opp. and in Theodoret. IV. 3. Here the matter
is so represented as to suggest that there were now only a few Arian Churches in
the East. The attack on those who do indeed accept the ὁμοούσιος, but give it a
false interpretation, is worthy of note. Under the new ruler,
Acacius, at a Synod held in Antioch in 363, found himself obliged to agree with
Meletius and to join with him in declaring his adherence to the ὁμοούσιος,
explaining at the same time that it expressed as much as the ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας
(of the substance) and the ὁμοιούσιος togetherSee the Synodical epistle in Socrat. III. 25, Mansi III., p. 369. (see Athan., de Synod.) But the
accession of Valens in the following year changed everything. An attempt on the
part of the semi-Arians at the Synod at Lampsacus in 364 to get the upper hand,
miscarried.Socrat. IV. 2 sq. 12, Sozom. VI, 7 sq. In the following decade the view of
Eudoxius of Constantinople was the authoritative one. Eudoxius of Constantinople and the adroit Acacius who again made a
change of front, became masters of the situation, and Valens resolved
to adopt once more the policy of Constantius, to maintain the Arian Homœism in
its old position, and to make all bishops who thought differentlyThe Altercatio Heracliani et Germinii is instructive see Caspari, Kirchenhist.
Anecdota, 1883. suffer.
Orthodox and Homoiousians had again to go into banishment. From this time
onwards many Homoiousians turned to the West, having made up their minds to
accept the ὁμοούσιος in order to get support. The West after the brief
episode of the period of oppression (353-360) was once more Nicene. There were
but few Arians, although they were influential. After various Councils had met,
the Homoiousians sent deputies from Pontus, Cappadocia, and AsiaCappadocia was the native land of the new orthodoxy; see the Cappadocian
self-consciousness of Gregor. Naz.; up till this time, however, it had been the
principal seat of Arianism. to Liberius
to get the doctrinal union brought about. Liberius, whose sentiments were the
same as those of Hilary, did not refuse their request. The announcement of this
happy event was made at Tyana in 367;Socrat. IV. 12. but at a Carian Council a Homoiousian
minority persisted in rejecting the ὁμοούσιος.Sozom. VI. 12. From this time Basil, who
became bishop in 370,He was at the same time the patriarch of the diocese of Pontus. took an active part in affairs and he was soon after
followed by the other Cappadocians, and they threw not only the weight of
science, but also that of asceticism, into the scale in favour of orthodoxy. The
new bishop of Rome, Damasus, took a decided stand against Arianism at the Roman
Synods held in 369 (370) and 377, then against the Pneumatomachians (see below)
and the Apollinarian heresy, while Marcellus and Photinus were also condemned.
The rigid standpoint of the bishops Julius and Athanasius again became the
dominant one in the West, and it was only after some hesitation that the Western
bishops resolved to offer the hand of friendship to the new-fashioned orthodoxy
of the East. The representatives of the latter did not indeed settle the
Antiochian schism at the well-attended Council at Antioch in September 379, but they subscribed the
Roman pronouncements of the last years, and thus placed themselves at the
standpoint of Damasus.It was Athanasius who roused Damasus to take up an attitude of energetic
opposition to the Arian Bishop Auxentius of Milan, and thus, speaking generally,
led him to follow in the track of Bishop Julius; see Athan. ep. ad Afros. It was
at the Roman Council of 369 that the Western episcopate first formally and
solemnly renounced the resolution of Rimini. On the text of the epistle of this
Council, see Rade, p. 52 ff. Auxentius of Milan was condemned; but this sentence
was a futile one since the Court protected him. No mention was yet made at this
Council of the difficulties of the East. The years from 371 to 380 are the
epochs during which the new-fashioned orthodoxy of the East, under the
leadership of Basil and Meletius, attempted to induce the West to bring its
influence to bear on Valens and the Homœan-Arian party, by means of an imposing
manifesto, and thus to strengthen orthodoxy in the East, but at the same time to
pronounce in favour of the Homoiousian-Homoousian doctrine and to put the
orthodox Niceans in the wrong. These attempts were not successful; for Damasus
in close league, first with Athanasius, then after his death (373), with his
successor Peter, was extremely reserved, and in the first instance either did
not interfere at all or interfered in favour of the old Niceans, of Paulinus
that is, at Antioch. (This Peter, like Athanasius before him, had fled to Rome,
and the alliance of Rome with Alexandria was part of the traditional policy of
the Roman bishop from the clays of Fabian to the middle of the fifth century.)
The numerous letters and embassies which came from the East of which Basil was
throughout the soul, shew what trouble was taken about the matter there. But the
letters of Basil did not please the “ἀκριβέστεροι” in Rome; at first, indeed,
intercourse with the East was carried on only through the medium of Alexandria,
and on one occasion Basil had his letter simply returned to him. He complained
that at Rome they were friendly with everybody who brought an orthodox
confession and did not mind anything else. He referred to the friendship shewn
towards those who were inclined to the views of Marcellus, further to the
friendly intercourse of the Roman bishop with Paulinus, who was always suspected
of Sabellianism by Basil, and to the occasional recognition of an Apollinarian.
In letter 214 Basil brought the charge of Sabellianism against the entire
Homoousian doctrine in its older form. It was in the year 376 that the West
first promised help to the East. (The decretals of Damasus = 1 Fragment
of the letter of Damasus designated by Constant as ep. 4.) Basil now
(ep. 263) pleads for active interference—where possible an imposing
Council—against the heretics who are heretics under cover of the Nicene Creed,
and he designates as such the Macedonian Eustathius of Sebaste, Apollinaris and
Paulinus, i.e., the man who taught pretty much the same doctrine as Athanasius;
according to Basil, however, he is a Marcellian. The accusations against
Paulinus were naturally received with anything but favour in the West. Peter of
Alexandria who was still in Rome at the time, called Meletius, Basil’s honoured
friend, simply an Arian. A Synod was nevertheless held in Rome at which
Apollinarianism was for the first time rejected (377); to it we owe the pieces 2
and 3 in the ep. Damasi, 4 ed. Constant. Basil died in January 379. He did not attain the aim of all his work, which was
to unite the orthodoxy of the East and the West on the basis of the Homoiousian
interpretation of the Homousios. But soon after his death, in September 379,
Meletius held a synod in Antioch, and this synod subscribed all the manifestoes
of the Romans, i.e., of the West, issued during the previous years 369, 376,
377, and thus simply submitted to the will of the West in dogmaticis, and
despatched to Rome the Acts which contained the concessions. The triumph of the
old-orthodox interpretation of the Nicene Creed thus seemed perfect. The West,
under the guidance of Ambrose, from this time forth recognised the Meletians
also as orthodox. It was from there (see the Synod of Aquileia 380, under
Ambrosius) that the proposal emanated that if one of the two anti-bishops in
Antioch should die, no successor should be chosen, and thus the schism would be
healed. The fact that the Meletians thus came round to the orthodox standpoint
is explicable only when we consider the complete changes which had taken place
in the political situation since the death of Valens. On the involved state of
things in the years from 369 to 378 see the letters of Basil, 70, 89-92, 129,
138, 214, 215, 239, 242, 243, 253-256, 263, 265, 266. It was the investigation
of the matter by Rade, op. cit. pp. 70-121, which first threw light on this. On
Damasus and Peter of Alex. see Socrat. IV. 37, Sozom. VI. 39, Theod. IV. 22. All
were agreed in holding Athanasius in high respect. It was this that kept the
combatants together. Gregory begins his panegyric (Orat. 21) with the words:
Ἀθανάσιον ἐπαινῶν
ἀρετὴν ἐπαινέσομαι, and in saying this he said what
everybody thought.
But meanwhile very great changes had taken place in the State. In November 375
Valentinian died. He had not taken any part in Church politics, and had in fact protected the Arian
bishops as he did the orthodox bishops, and had never had any difference with
his brother regarding their religious policy. His successor, the youthful
Gratian,See on Gratian’s religious policy my art. in Herzog’s R.-Encykl. s. h. v. yielded himself wholly to the guidance of the masterful Ambrose. He
firmly established the State Church as against the heterodox parties, by passing
some severe laws, and in doing this he followed Ambrose “whom the Lord had
taken from amongst the judges of the earth and placed in the Apostolic chair.”
(Basil ep. 197, 1.) In August 378 Valens fell at the battle of Adrianople,
fighting with the Goths; and on the 19th of January, 379, the Western
Theodosius was made Emperor of the East by Gratian. The death of Valens was
quite as much a determining cause of the final triumph of orthodoxy as its
alliance with science; for the inner force of a religious idea can never secure
for it the dominion of the world. Theodosius was a convinced Western Christian
who took up the policy of Gratian, but carried it out in a perfectly independent
fashion.Valentinian was the last representative of the principle of freedom in religion,
in the sense in which Constantine had sought to carry it out in the first and
larger half of his reign, and also Julian. He was determined to rule
the Church as Constantius had done, but to rule it in the spirit of rigid
orthodoxy. He had himself been baptisedDuring a severe illness, by the orthodox bishop of Thessalonica. in the year 380, and immediately after
appeared the famous edict which enjoined the orthodox faith on all nations. It
is, however, in the highest degree characteristic of his whole policy that this
faith is more definitely described as the Roman and Alexandrian faith, i.e., the
new doctrinal orthodoxy of Cappadocia and Asia is passed over in silence.Impp. Gratianus Valentinianus et Theodosius AAA. ad populuin urbis
Constantinop.: “Cunctos populos, quos clementiæ nostræ regit temperamentum in
tali volumus religione versari, quam divinum Petrum apostolum tradidisse Romanis
religio usque ad nunc ab ipso insinuata declarat quamque pontificem Damasum
sequi claret et Petrum Alexandriæ episcopum virum apostolicæ sanctitatis, hoc
est, ut secundum apostolicam disciplinam evangelicamque doctrinam patris et
filii et spiritus sancti unam deitatem sub pari majestate et sub pia trinitate
credamus (this is the Western-Alexandrian way of formulating the problem). Hanc
legem sequentes Christianorum catholicorum nomen jubemus amplecti, reliquos vere
dementes vesanosque judicantes hæretici dogmatis infamiam sustinere, divina
primum vindicta, post etiam motus nostri, quem ex cælesti arbitrio sumpserimus,
ultione plectendos” (Cod. Theod. XVI. s, 2; Cod. Justin I. 1. After
his entry into Constantinople Theodosius took all their churches from the Arians
and handed them over to the orthodox.With the exception of Egypt most of the Churches in the East were at this time
in the hands of the Arians. In the year 381 he issued a regulation in
which he prohibited all heretics from holding divine service in the towns. In
the same year, however, the Emperor summoned a large Eastern Council to meet at
Constantinople, and its resolutions were afterwards regarded as ecumenical and
strictly binding, though not till the middle of the fifth century, and in the
West not till a still later date. This Council denotes a complete change in the
policy of Theodosius. His stay in the East had taught him that it was necessary
for him to recognise as orthodox all who acknowledged the Nicene Creed however
they might interpret it, and at the same time to make an attempt to gain over
the Macedonians. He had come to see that in the East he must rely upon the
Eastern form of orthodoxy, the new orthodoxy, that he would have to suppress the
aspirations of the Alexandrian bishops, and that he must do nothing which would
have the appearance of anything like tutelage of the East by the West.
This reversal of his policy is shewn most strikingly by the fact that Meletius
of Antioch was called upon to preside at the Council, the very man who was
specially suspected by the orthodox of the West.The relations which existed in the years 378-381 between the East and the West
(Alexander was closely allied with the latter) are complicated and obscure.
Their nature was still in all essential respects determined by the continuance
of the schism in Antioch. The following is certain (1) Theodosius, as soon as he
came to perceive the true state of things in the East, had ranged himself on the
side of the orthodox there; he wished to suppress Arianism not by the aid of the
West and of the Alexandrian bishop Peter who was closely allied with Rome and
who had already acted as if he were the supreme Patriarch of the Greek Church,
but by the orthodox powers of the East itself. The proof of this is (1) that he
transferred in a body to Meletius the Arian Churches in Antioch Paulinus was
shelved; (2) that in the Edict (Cod. Theodos. XVI. 1, 3) he does not mention Damasus, but
on the contrary enumerates the orthodox of the East as authorities (July 30th,
381) and this Gwatkin, p. 262, rightly terms an “amended definition of
orthodoxy”; (3) that he refused to accede to the repeated and urgent demands of the Westerns
who wished him to settle impartially the dispute at Antioch with due respect to
the superior claims of Paulinus, and also refused their request for the
summoning of an Ecumenical Council at Alexandria; (4) that he summoned an
Eastern Council to meet at Constantinople without troubling himself in the
slightest about the West, Rome and Alexandria, made Meletius president of it,
heaped honours upon him, and sanctioned the choice of a successor after his
death, and this in spite of the advice of the Westerns that the whole Antiochian
Church should now be handed over to Paulinus, an advice which had the support of
Gregory of Nazianzus himself. Nor can there be any doubt in view of the manner
in which the Council was summoned to meet, that its original intention was to
draw up a formula of agreement with the Macedonians. It is certain (II.) that
the orthodox Fathers who assembled at Constantinople gladly recognised and
availed themselves of the opportunity thus presented of freeing themselves from
the tutelage of Alexandria and the West, and of recalling by a distinct act the
concessions which they had made under compulsion two years previously at
Antioch. “It is in the East that the sun first rises, it was starting from the
East that the God who came in the flesh flashed upon the world.” By their united
attitude, their choice of Flavian as the successor of Meletius, who had died
during the Council, by passing the third Canon—on the importance of the chair of
Constantinople—and by their rejection of Maximus who was proposed for the chair
of Constantinople by Alexandria and patronised by Rome and the West, they
inflicted the severest possible defeat on Alexandria and the West, and specially
on the policy of Peter and Damasus. It is certain (III.) finally, that shortly
before the Council of Constantinople, during the Council, and immediately after
it rose, the relations between the Egyptians and Westerns and the East were of
the most strained character, and that a breach was imminent. (See the letter in
Mansi III., p. 631.) He died shortly after the
Council met, and first Gregory of Nazianzus,The choice of him as president (on this and on the general procedure of the
Council see his Carmen de vita sua) was not any more than that of Meletius
approved of by Alexandria and Rome. His support of Paulinus may find its
explanation in the fact that he aimed at getting into the good graces of Rome
after he had himself attained the Patriarchate. Gregory had a Tasso-like nature.
Quite incapable of effecting anything in the sphere of Church government or
politics, he did not really desire office; but he wished to have the honour and
distinction which are connected with office. So long as he did not have office
he was ambitious, when he had it he threw it away. and then Nectarius of Constantinople
presided over its deliberations. The opposition at the Council
between the old orthodox party, orthodox in the Alexandrian and Western sense,
who were few in numbers, and the new orthodox party composed of Antiochians,
Cappadocians and Asiatics, was of the most pronounced character, though we are
only partially acquainted with it.The Egyptians even went the length of separating themselves from the majority
at the Council; they did not approve of the decisions come to by the
neo-orthodox; see Theodoret V. 8. The confusion was so great that Gregory of
Nazianzus resigned and left the Council with the most bitter feelings.The Egyptian bishops felt it to be intolerable that the Cappadocian and not
their man, Maximus, should get the position of Patriarch in Constantinople The
resignation of Gregory of Nazianzus was the price demanded by the Egyptians for
yielding; see Gregory’s farewell address to the Council, Orat. 42. The Canons
1-4 of the Council—for these only are in all probability genuine, while those
which follow belong to the Council of 382—are strongly anti-Alexandrian and are
intended to bring down the claims of the Alexandrian which were already pitched
high Canon 3 is directed not so much against Rome as against Alexandria
(Τὸν μέντοι Κωνσταντινουπόλεως ἐπίσκοπον ἔχειν τὰ πρεσβεῖα τῆς τιμῆς μετὰ τὸν τῆς
Ῥώμης ἐπίσκοπον, διὰ τὸ εἶναι αὐτὴν νέαν Ῥώμην). Canon 2 is
intended to put a stop to the attempt of the Bishop of Alexandria to rule other
Eastern Churches. But this very Canon plainly proves (cf. the sixth Canon of
Nice) that as a matter of fact the Bishop of Alexandria had a position in the
East which was wholly different from that of the other bishops. He only is
mentioned in the singular number—τὸν μὲν Ἀλεξανδρείας ἐπίσκοπον . . . τοὺς δὲ τὴς Ἀνατολῆς ἐπισκόπους . . ,
φυλαττομένων τῶν πρεσβείων τῇ Ἀντιοχέων ἐκκλησίᾳ . . , τοὺς τῆς Ἀσιανῆς διοικήσεως
ἐπισκόπους . . . τοὺς τῆς Ποντικῆς . . . τοὺς τῆς Θρᾳκικῆς. The peculiar position of the Alexandrian
bishop which the latter wished to develop into a position of primacy, was
chiefly due to three causes. (It is quite clear that Athanasius and Peter wished
so to develop it, and perhaps even Dionysius the Great; the intention of the
Alexandrian scheme to place Maximus on the episcopal seat of Constantinople,
was to secure a preponderating influence upon the capital and the imperial
Church by the aid of this creature of Alexandria.) These three causes were as
follows; (1) Alexandria was the second city of the Empire and was recognised as
such in the Church also at least as early as the middle of the third century;
see, e.g., the conciliar epistle of the great Council of Antioch of the year
268, addressed “to the bishops of Rome and Alexandria and to all Catholic
churches.” (Alexandria ranks as the second, Antioch as the third city of the Empire in Josephus, de
Bello Jud. 4, 11, 5, cf. the chronograph of the year 354, Stryzygowski, Jahrb.
d. k. deutschen archäol. Instituts. Supplementary vol., 1888, I., die
Kalenderbilder des Chronographen v. j. 354, p. 24 f. The chronograph gives the
series thus, Rome, Alexandria, Constantinople, Trèves. Lumbroso, L’Egitto dei
Greci e dei Romani, 1882, p. 86, proves that all the authors of the first to the
third centuries agree in giving the first place after Rome to Alexandria, see,
e.g., Dio Chrysostomus, Orat. 32, I, p. 412:
ἡ γὰρ πόλις ὑμῶν τῷ μεγέθει καὶ τῷ τόπῳ πλεῖστον ὅσον διαφέρει
καὶ περιφανῶς ἀποδέδεικται δευτέρα τῶν ὑπὸ τὸν ἥλιον. In the “ordo
urbium nobilium” of Ausonius we have for the first time the cities given in the
following order: Rome, Constantinople, Carthage, Antioch, Alexandria, Trèves. So
long as Alexandria was the second city in the Empire, it was the first city in
the East. (2) Alexandria had this in common with Rome, that it had no cities in
its diocese which were of importance in any way. The bishop of Alexandria was
always the bishop of Egypt (Libya and Pentapolis), as the bishop of Rome was
always the bishop of Italy. The case was quite otherwise with Antioch and
Ephesus; they always had important episcopates alongside of them. (3) The lead
in the great Arian controversy had fallen to the Bishop of Alexandria; he had
shewn himself equal to this task and in this way had come to be the most
powerful ecclesiastic in the East. The hints which I have given as to the policy
of the Alexandrian Patriarch here and in Chap. III. 2, have been further
developed in an instructive fashion by Rohrbach (die Patriarchen von
Alexandrien) in the Preuss. Jahrb. Vol. 69, Parts I and 2. Still union was finally
secured, although the attempt to win over the Macedonians failed. The “150
bishops” unitedly avowed their adherence to the Nicene faith, and, as we are
told, accepted in addition to this a special explanation of the doctrine of the
Trinity in which the complete Homousia of the Spirit also was expressed. In
the first canon containing the decisions, after the ratification of the Nicene
Creed, Eunomians (Anomeans) Arians (Eudoxians) Semi-Arians (Pneumatomachians)
Sabellians, Marcellians, Photinians and Apollinarians were expressly
anathematised. The Nicene Creed thus gained an unqualified victory so far as its
actual terms were concerned, but understood according to the interpretation of
Meletius, the Cappadocians, and Cyril of Jerusalem. The community of substance
in the sense of equality or likeness of substance, not in that of unity of
substance, was from this time the orthodox doctrine in the East. But the Creed
which since the middle of the fifth century in the East, and since about 530 in
the West, has passed for the ecumenical-Constantinopolitan Creed, is neither
ecumenical nor Constantinopolitan; for the Council was not an ecumenical one,
but an Eastern one, and it did not in fact set up any new
Creed. This Creed, on the contrary, is the Baptismal Creed of the Jerusalem
Church which was issued in a revised form soon after 362 and furnished with some
Nicene formulæ and with a regula fidei in reference to the Holy Spirit, and
which was perhaps brought forward at the Council of 381 and approved of, but
which cannot pass for its creed. How it subsequently came to rank as a decision
of the Council is a matter regarding which we are completely in the dark. This
much, however, is clear, that if this Creed had any connection at all with the
Council of 381, the neo-orthodox character of the latter is thereby brought out
in a specially striking way; for the so-called Creed of Constantinople can in
fact be taken simply as a formula of union between orthodox, Semi-Arians, and Pneumatomachians. The most contested phrase of the Nicene Creed
“ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ πατρός” is wanting in it, and it presents the doctrine of the Holy Spirit
in a form which could not have appeared wholly unacceptable even to the
Pneumatomachians.On the Creed of Constantinople see my article in Herzog’s R.-Encyklop. VIII.,
pp. 212-230, which summarises the works of Caspari and particularly of Hort, and
carries the argument further. The following facts are certain. (1) The Council
of 381 did not set up any new creed, but simply avowed anew its adherence to the
Nicene Creed (Socrat. V. 8, Sozom. VII. 7, 9, Theodoret V. 8, Greg. Naz. ep. 102
[Orat. 52] the testimony of the Latin and Constantinople Councils of 382). (2)
If we take the years from 381 to 450, we do not find in any Synodal Act, Church
Father, or heterodox theologians during that period any certain trace whatsoever
of the existence of the Creed of Constantinople, much less any proof that it was
used then as the Creed of Constantinople or as the official Baptismal Creed; it
is simultaneously with the recognition of the Council of 381 as an ecumenical
Council—about 451 in the East, in the West fifty years later—that the Creed in
question, which now emerges, is first described as the Creed of Constantinople.
(3) It did not, however, then first come into existence, but is on the contrary
much older; it is found already in the Ancoratus of Epiphanius which belongs to
the year 374, and there is no reason for holding that it is an interpolation
here; on the contrary (4) the internal evidence goes to shew that it is a Nicene
redaction of the Baptismal Creed of Jerusalem composed soon after 362. The Creed
is thus not any extension of the Nicene Creed, but rather belongs to that great
series of Creeds which sprang up after the Council of Alexandria (362) in the
second creed-making epoch of the Eastern Churches. At that time the opponents of
Arianism in the East, now grown stronger, resolved to give expression to the
Nicene doctrine in connection with the solemn rite of baptism. It was possible
to do this in three different ways, that is to say either by embodying the
Nicene catchwords in the old provincial church creeds, by enlarging the Nicene
Creed for the special purpose of using it as a baptismal Creed, or, finally, by
adopting it itself, without alteration, for church use as a baptismal Creed, in
spite of its incompleteness and its polemical character. These three plans were
actually followed. In the first half of the fifth century the third was the one
most widely adopted, but previously to this the two first were the favourites.
To this series belong the revised Antiochian Confession, the later Nestorian
Creed, the Philadelphian, the Creed in the pseudo-Athanasian
ἑρμηνεία εἰς τὸ σύμβολον, the second, longer, Creed in the Ancoratus of Epiphanius, the
Cappadocian-Armenian, the exposition of the Nicene Creed ascribed to Basil, a
Creed which was read at Chalcedon and which is described as “Nicene.” To this
class our Creed also belongs. If it be compared with the Nicene Creed it will be
easily seen that it cannot be based on the latter; if, on the other hand, it be
compared with the old Creed of Jerusalem (in Cyril of Jerusalem) it becomes
plain that it is nothing but a Nicene redaction of this Creed. But this is as
much as to say that it was probably composed by Cyril of Jerusalem. Moreover,
its general character also perfectly corresponds with what we know of Cyril’s
theology and of his gradual approximation to orthodoxy. (Socrat. V. 8, Sozom.
VII. 7) “Cyril’s personal history presents in various respects a parallel to the
transition of the Jerusalem Creed into the form of the so-called Creed of
Constantinople.” That is to say, in the Creed which afterwards became ecumenical
the words of the Nicene Creed “τοῦτ᾽ ἐστὶν ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ πατρός” and the
Nicene anathemas are omitted. The christological section accordingly runs thus:
“καὶ εἰς ἕνα κύριον Ἰησοῦν Χριστόν, τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ Θεοῦ τὸν μονογενῆ, τὸν ἐκ
τοῦ πατρὸς γεννηθέντα πρὸ πάντων τῶν αἰώνων, φῶς ἐκ φωτός, Θεὸν ἀληθινὸν ἐκ Θεοῦ
ἀληθινοῦ, γεννηθέντα οὐ ποιηθέντα, ὁμοούσιον τῷ πατρί, δι᾽ οὗ τὰ πάντα ἐγένετο.” From the writings of the
Ηomoiousians and the Cappadocians we
can accordingly easily gather that the “ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ πατρός” presented a
far greater difficulty to the half-friends of the Nicene Creed than the
ὁμοούσιος; for ὁμοούσιος not without some show of fairness might be
interpreted as ὅμοιος κατ᾽ οὐσίαν, while on the contrary the
“ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας”, both in what it said and in what it excluded—the will, namely—seemed
to leave the door open to Sabellianism. It follows also from Athan. de Synodis
that he considered the “ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας” as of supreme importance; for in a way
that is very characteristic of him he observes that ὁμοούσιος is equal to
ὁμοιούσιος ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας, that is, whoever intentionally avows his belief in
the ὁμοούσιος without the “ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας” avows his belief in it as a
Homoiousian. The Christological formula in the Creed of Jerusalem, i.e., what
was later on the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, is thus almost homoiousian,
even although it retains the ὁμοούσιος. It corresponds exactly to the
standpoint which Cyril must have taken up soon after 362. The same holds good of
what the Creed says regarding the Holy Spirit. The words: “καὶ εἰς τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον, τὸ κύριον, τὸ
ζωοποιόν, τὸ ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς ἐκπορευόμενον, τὸ σὺν πατρὶ καὶ υἱῷ συνπροσκυνούμενον
καὶ συνδοξαζόμενον, τὸ λαλῆσαν διὰ τῶν προφητῶν” are in entire harmony with the form which the doctrine of the
Holy Spirit had in the sixties. A Pneumatomachian could have subscribed this
formula at a pinch; and just because of this it is certain that the Council of
381 did not accept this Creed. We can only conjecture how it came
to be the Creed of Constantinople (see Hort., pp. 97-106 f. and my article pp.
225 f., 228 f.). It was probably entered in the Acts of the Council as the
Confession by which Cyril had proved to the Council that his faith was orthodox
and which the highly esteemed Epiphanius had also avowed as his. The Bishop of
Constantinople took it from among the Acts shortly before the year 451 and put
it into circulation. The desire to foist into the churches a Constantinopolitan
Creed was stronger in his case than his perception of the defects of this very
Creed. It was about 530 that the Creed of Constantinople first became a
Baptismal Creed in the East and displaced the Nicene Creed. It was about the
same time that it first came into notice in the West, but it, however, very
quickly shoved the old Apostolic Baptismal Creeds into the background, being
used in opposition to Germanic Arianism which was very widely spread there. On
the “filioque” see below. We may merely mention the extreme and wholly
unworkable hypothesis of the Catholic Vincenzi (De process. Spiritus S., Romæ,
1878) that the Creed of Constantinople is a Greek made-up composition belonging
to the beginning of the seventh century, a fabrication the sole aim of which was
to carry back the date of the rise of the heresy of the procession of the Holy
Spirit ex patre solo into the Fourth Century.
For this very reason it is certainly out of the question to regard the Creed as
the Creed of the Council of 381. It did indeed assert the complete Homousia of
the divine Persons. But the legendary process in the Church which attached this
Creed to that Council performed a remarkable act of justice;
for in tracing back to this Council “an enlarged Nicene Creed” without the
“ἐκ τής οὐσίας τοῦ πατρός”, “of the substance of the Father”, without the Nicene
anathemas, and without the avowal of the Homousia of the Spirit, and in
attesting it as orthodox, it, without wishing to do so, preserved the
recollection of the fact that the Eastern orthodoxy of 381 had really been a
neo-orthodoxy, which in its use of the word Ὁμοούσιος did not represent the
dogmatic conviction of Athanasius. In the quid pro quo involved in this
substitution of one Creed for another, we have a judicial sentence which could
not conceivably have been more discriminating; but it involves still more than
that—namely, the most cruel satire. From the fact that in the Church the Creed
of Constantinople gradually came to be accepted as a perfect expression of
orthodoxy, and was spoken of as the Nicene Creed while the latter was forgotten,
it follows that the great difference which existed between the old Faith and the
Cappadocian neo-orthodoxy was no longer understood, and that under cover of the
Ὁμοούσιος a sort of Homoiousianism had in general been reached, the view
which has really been the orthodox one in all Churches until this day. The
father of the official doctrine of the Trinity in the form in which the Churches
have held to it, was not Athanasius, nor Basil of Cæsarea, but Basil of Ancyra.
All the same, the thought of the great Athanasius, though in
a considerably altered form, had triumphed. Science and the revolution which
took place in the political world had paved the way for its victory; suppressed,
it certainly never could have been.
The Westerns were anything but pleased in the first instance with the course
things had taken in the East. At Councils held at the same time in Rome and
Milan, in the latter place under the presidency of Ambrose, they had made
representations to Theodosius and had even threatened him with a withdrawal of
Church privileges.See the letter “Sanctum” in Mansi III., p. 631. But Theodosius answered them in a very ungracious manner,
whereupon they sought to justify their attitude.See the letter “Fidei” in Mansi III., p. 630. The Emperor was prudent enough
not to fall in with the proposal of the Westerns that an ecumenical Council
should be summoned to meet at Rome. He followed the policy of Constantius also
in keeping the Churches of the two halves of the Empire separate, as his choice
of Rimini and Seleucia proves. And by his masterly conduct of affairs he
actually succeeded in introducing a modus vivendi in the year 382, spite of the
attempts made to thwart him by his colleague Gratian who was led by Ambrose.
Gratian summoned a General Council to meet at Rome, to which the Eastern bishops
were also invited. But Theodosius had already got them together in
Constantinople. They accordingly replied in a letter in which they declined the
invitation, and its tone which was as praise-worthy as it was prudent, helped in
all probability to lessen the tension between the East and the West. They
appealed, besides, not only to the decisions of the Council of 381, but also to
their resolution of 378 in which they had made advances to the West,The important letter is in Theodoret V. 9. It contains a description of the
persecutions which had been endured, of the struggles which still continued,
thanks that they ὡς οἰκεῖα μέλη should have received an invitation to the
Council so that they may rule along with the West and that it may not rule
alone, regret that they are prevented from appearing at it; then follows the
exposition of the Faith, after the despatch of the three envoys had been
announced: “What we have suffered we suffered for the Evangelical Faith which was settled at Nicæa,
ταύτην τὴν πίστιν καὶ ὑμῖν καὶ ἡμῖν καὶ πᾶσι τοῖς μὴ
διαστρέθπυσι τὸν λόγον τῆς ἀληθοῦς
πίστεως συναρέσκειν δεῖ· ἥν μόλις ποτὲ [sic] πρεσβυτάτην τε οὖσαν καὶ ἀκόλουθον
τῷ βαπτίσματι καὶ διδάσκουσαν ἡμᾶς πιστεύειν εἰς τὸ ὄνομα τοῦ πατρὸς καὶ τοῦ
υἱοῦ καὶ τοῦ ἁγίου πνεύματος, δηλαδὴ θεότητός τε καὶ δυνάμεως καὶ οὐσίας μιᾶς τοῦ
πατρός καὶ τοῦ υἱοῦ καὶ τοῦ ἁγιου πνεύματος πιστευομένης, ὁμοτίμον τε τῆς ἀξίας
καὶ συναϊδίου τῆς βασιλείας, ἐν τρισὶ τελείαις ὑποστάσεσιν ἤγουν τρισὶ τελείαις ὑποστάσεσιν ἤγουν τρισὶ τελείοις
προσώποις, ὡς μήτε τὴν Σαβελλίου νόσον χώραν λαβεῖν συγχεομένων τῶν ὑποστάσεων,
εἴγουν τῶν ἰδιοτήτων ἀναιρουμένων, μή τε μὴν τὴν τῶν Εὐνομιανῶν καὶ Ἀρειανῶν καὶ
Πνευματομάχων βλάσφημίαν ἰσχύειν, τῆς οὐσίας ἢ τῆς φύσεως ἢ τῆς θεότητος τεμνομένης καὶ τῇ ἀκτίστῳ καὶ ὁμοουσίῳ καὶ συναϊδίῳ
τριάδι μεταγενεστέρας τινὸς ἢ
κτιστῆς ἢ ἑτεροουσίου φύσεως ἐπαγομένης.
The Easterns did not yield anything here and yet they expressed their belief in as conciliatory a
form as possible since they were silent about Marcellus, called Sabellianism a
“disease”, but Arianism a “blasphemy”. Next follows the reference to the acts
of the Councils of 379 and 381, then an explanation regarding the new
appointment to the “as it were newly founded Church of Constantinople” and to
the bishopric of Antioch where—this is directed against Rome and Alexandria—the
name Christian first arose. So too the recognition of Cyril of Jerusalem, who
had suffered so much for the Faith, is justified. Jerusalem is called in this
connection “the mother of all Churches.” The Easterns at the close beseech the Westerns to give their consent to all this,
τῆς πνευματικῆς μεσιτευούσης ἀγάπης καὶ τοῦ κυριακοῦ φόβου, πᾶσαν μὲν καταστέλλοντος
ἀνθρωπίνην προαπάθειαν, τὴν δὲ τῶν ἐκκλησιῶν οἰκοδομὴν προτιμοτέραν ποιοῦντος
τῆς πρὸς τὸν καθ᾽ ἕνα συμπαθείας ἢ χάριτος. Then will we no longer say, what
is condemned by the Apostles: “I am of Paul, and I of Apollos, and I of Cephas”,
but we shall all appear as belonging to Christ, who is not divided in us, and
will with the help of God preserve the body of the Church from division. and they explained finally that they had adopted
a recent detailed dogmatic declaration of the Western bishops, of Damasus that
is, and were ready to recognise the Paulinists in Antioch as orthodox, which
meant that they no longer suspected them of Marcellianism.The so-called fifth Canon of the Council of 381 (see Rade, pp. 107, 116 f.,
133) belongs to the Synod of 382, as also the sixth; the seventh is later. It runs:
περὶ τοῦ τόμου τῶν Δυτικῶν καὶ τοὺς ἐν Ἀντιοχείᾳ ἀπεδεξάμεθα τοὺς μίαν ὁμολογοῦντας
πατρὸς καὶ υἱοῦ καὶ ἁγίου πνεύματος θεότητα. It can only
he the Paulinists in Antioch who are here referred to. But as regards the
Western Tomos we must with Rade, op. cit., apparently take it to be the
twenty-four Anathemas of Damasus (in Theodoret V. II.). This noteworthy
document, which perhaps originated in the year 381, presents in a full and
definite way the standpoint of the Westerns in regard to the different dogmatic
questions. It is specially worthy of notice that the doctrine of Marcellus is
condemned without any mention being made of its author. The ninth anathema is
further of importance and also the eleventh: “If anyone does not confess that
the Son is from the Father, i.e., is born of His Divine substance, let him be
accursed.” Compare with this the so-called Creed of Constantinople in which the
ἐκ τῆς οὐσίας is wanting. The fulness with which the doctrines of the
Incarnation and the Holy Spirit are already treated, is significant. The despatch of
three envoys to Rome where, besides Jerome, the distinguished Epiphanius happened to be just at this time, could not but help towards
the conclusion of a treaty of peace. The opposition to Nectarius of
Constantinople and Cyril of Jerusalem was now allowed to drop in Rome; but the
Western bishops could not yet bring themselves to acknowledge Flavian in
Antioch, and, moreover, Paulinus, his opponent, was himself present at the
Council in Rome. There was once more a strong reaction against Apollinarianism.To this period, according to Rade’s pertinent conjecture, the work of Damasus
given in Theodoret V. to against Apollinarianism, also belongs. It probably
came from the pen of Jerome, soon after 382, and gives expression to the supreme
self-consciousness of the occupant of the chair of Peter. Jerome always
flattered Damasus.
If Arianism, or Homceism, from the time when it ceased to enjoy the imperial
favour tended rapidly to disappear in the Empire, if too it had no fanatic as
Donatism had, it was nevertheless still a power in the East in 383; large
provinces had still Arian tendencies, the common peopleThe Church historians, Philostorgius in particular, give us some information
about this, but they do not enter much into particulars. Eunomius kept his
ground firmly and courageously and declined all compromises. He did not even so
much as recognise the baptism and ordination of the other Church parties
(Philostorg. X. 4). The Conciliar epistle of the Easterns of the year 382 (see
above) further shews what difficulties the attempt to carry through the
Homoousios gave rise to. in them above all;
while in the West it had supportersSee the struggles of Ambrose against Arianism in Upper Italy, which went on
still the year 388. After the death of his mother, Valentinus II. declared for
orthodoxy; see Cod. Theodos. XVI. 5, 15. The knowledge that Maximus the usurper
had owed his large following to the fact of his being strictly orthodox helped
to bring about this decision. The assertion of Libanius that Maximus entered
into an alliance even with the unruly and rebellious Alexandrians is one which
is calculated to make us reflect. The fact that in the days of Theodosius
Ambrose was at the head of the Church in the West, probably contributed largely
to bring about an adjustment of the differences between the Western-Alexandrian
and the Cappadocian-neo-orthodox doctrines of the Son. This bishop had learned
from Philo, Origen, and Basil, and he had friendly intercourse with the last
mentioned; but he never sheaved any interest in or appreciation of the
difference between the form of doctrine in East and West, and he did not go into
the speculations of the theologians of the East. It was thus merely in a
superficial fashion that he accepted the theological science of the East. But
this very fact was of advantage to him so far as his position was concerned; for
it meant that he did not separate himself from the common sense of the West,
while, on the other hand, he had a great respect for the Cappadocian theology
and consequently was admirably suited for being a peace-maker. Ex professo he
did not handle the Trinitarian problem; his formulæ bear what is essentially
the Western stamp, without, however, being pointed against the “Meletians”,
and in fact, he himself accepted the statement: “nulla est discrepantia
divinitatis et operis; non igitur in utroque una persona, sed una substantia
est”; but on the other hand: “non duo domini, sed unus dominus, quia et pater
deus et filius deus, sed unus deus, quia pater in filio et filius in
patre—nevertheless—unus deus, quia una deitas” (see Förster, Ambrosius, p.
130). Ambrose did not engage in any independent speculations regarding the
Trinity, as Hilary did (see Reinkens, op. cit., and Schwane, D G. d. patrist.
Zeit., p. 150 ff.). The fact, however, that in the fourth century the greatest
theologian of the West—namely, Jerome, and the most powerful ecclesiastical
prince of the West, Ambrose, had learned their theology from the Greeks, was the
most important cause of the final union of East and West in the matter of the
doctrine of the Trinity. Hosius, Julius of Rome, Lucifer and Damasus of Rome
would not have been able to accomplish the dogmatic unity of the two halves of
the Empire. As a matter of fact the dogmatic unity did not spring from the
alliance of Athanasius, Julius, Peter, and Damasus, Alexandria and Rome that is,
but from the alliance of Athanasius, Hilary, Basil, Jerome, and Ambrose. in the Empress Justinia
and her son. Theodosius was more concerned to win over the Arians than to
drive them out of the Church. In the first years of his reign while shewing a
firm determination to establish orthodoxy, he had at the same time followed a
sort of conciliatory policy which, however, to the honour of the Arians be it
said, did not succeed. lust as in 381 he invited the Macedonians to the Council,
so in the year 383 he made a further attempt to unite all the opposing parties
at a Constantinopolitan Council and if possible to bring about concord. The
attempt was sincere—even Eunomius was present—but it failed; but it is very
memorable for two reasons: (1) the orthodox bishop of Constantinople made
common cause on this occasion with the Novatian bishop, a proof of how insecure
the position of orthodoxy in the capital itself still was;On the Novatians in the East in the Fourth Century and their relations to the
orthodox, particularly in the city of Constantinople, see my articles s. v.
“Novatian”, “Socrates”, in Herzog’s R: Encykl. The Novatians, strange to say,
always had been and continued to be Nicene. The explanation of this may be found
in the fact that they originated in the West, or in the fact of their connection
with the West. (2) an attempt was
made at the Council to transfer the whole question in dispute between orthodox
and Arians into the region of tradition. The Holy Scriptures were to be
dispensed with, and the proof of the truth of orthodoxy was to be furnished
solely by the testimony of the ante-Nicene Fathers to whose authority the
opposite party must as good Catholics bow. This undertaking was a prophecy of
the ominous future which was before the Church, and proved at the same time that the actual
interest in the controversy in the East had already once more taken a secondary
place compared with the conservative interest. Nothing grows faster than
tradition, and nothing is more convenient when the truth of a proposition has to
be defended than to fall back on the contention that it has always been so.Socr. V. to (Sozom. VII. 12) has given us some information regarding the
proceedings at the Council of Constantinople in 383. Theodosius wished to have
an actual conference between the opposing parties. Sisinius, the reader to the
Novatian bishop Agelius, is then said to have advised that instead of having a
disputation the matter should be settled simply on the basis of passages from
the Fathers; the patristic proof alone was to be authoritative. Socrates tells
us that with the consent of the Emperor this was actually the course followed,
and that on the part of the orthodox only those Fathers were appealed to who had
lived before the Arian controversy. The raising of the question, however, as to
whether the various parties actually recognised these Fathers as authoritative,
produced a Babylonian confusion amongst them, and indeed even amongst the
members of one and the same party, so that the Emperor abandoned this plan of
settling the dispute. He next collected together Confessions composed by the
different parties (the bold one composed by Eunomius is still preserved, see
Mansi III., p. 646 sq.), but rejected them all with the exception of the
orthodox one, and ungraciously sent the parties home. The Arians, it is said,
consoled themselves for the Emperor’s unkind treatment of them, with the saying
that “many are called but few chosen”. This narrative, so far as the
particulars are concerned, is too much a made-up one to be implicitly trusted.
But the attempt to decide the whole question on the authority of tradition was
certainly made. If we consider how at first both parties proceeded almost
exclusively on the basis of the Holy Scriptures we can perceive in the attempt
an extremely significant advance in the work of laying waste the Eastern Churches.
After this Council Theodosius discontinued his efforts in favour of union and
from this time sought to suppress Arianism. Ambrose seconded his plans in Upper
Italy. The orthodox State-Church, which was, however, on the other hand, a
Church-State, was established. Severe laws were now passed against all heretics
with the exception of the Novatians.See Cod. Theodos. XVI. 1, 4 of the year 386 and the other laws of Theodosius and
his sons. Things became particularly bad from about 410 onwards. The State had at last secured that unity
of the Church which Constantine had already striven after. But it was a
two-edged sword. It injured the State and dealt it a most dangerous wound.
Amongst the Greeks Arianism died out more quickly than Hellenism. Violent
schisms amongst the Arians themselves seem to have accelerated its downfall,See Sozom. in Books VII. and VIII., especially in VIII. 1.
but the different stages are unknown
to us. The history of its fortunes amongst the German peoples until the seventh
century does not fall within the scope of this work. The educated laity,
however, in the East regarded the orthodox formula rather as a necessary evil
and as an unexplainable mystery than as an expression of their Faith. The
victory of the Nicene Creed was a victory of the priests over the faith of the
Christian people. The Logos-doctrine had already become unintelligible to those
who were not theologians. The setting up of the Nicene-Cappadocian formula as
the fundamental Confession of the Church made it perfectly impossible for the
Catholic laity to get an inner comprehension of the Christian Faith taking as
their guide the form in which it was presented in the doctrine of the Church.
The thought that Christianity is the revelation of something incomprehensible
became more and more a familiar one to men’s minds. This thought has for its
obverse side the adoration of the mystery,Athanasius had already described the whole substance of the Christian religion
as a “doctrine of the mysteries”—see, e.g., his Festival-letters, p. 68 (ed.
Larsow). and for its reverse side
indifference and subjection to mystagogues.We have here, above all, to remember the attitude taken up by Socrates, which is
typical of that of the ecclesiastically pious laity of the East. His stand-point
is—we ought silently to adore the mystery. Whatever the generation the last but
one before his own has fixed, is for him already holy; but he will have nothing
to do with dogmatic disputes in his own time, and one may even find in what he
says traces of a vague feeling on his part that the laity as regards their Faith
had in fine been duped by the bishops and their controversies. His agreement
with what was said by Euagrius in reference to the Trinity (III. 7) is characteristic of his position in the matter:
πᾶσα πρότασις ἢ γένος ἔχει κατηγορούμενον ἢ εἶδος ἢ
διαφορὰν ἢ συμβεβηκὸς ἢ τὸ ἐκ τούτων συγκείμενον· οὐδὲν δὲ ἐπὶ ἁγίας τριάδος τῶν
εἰρημένων ἐστὶ λαβεῖν. σιωπῇ προσκυνείσθω τὸ ἄρρητον.
He will have nothing to do with οὐσία and ὑπόστασις. The case
too of Procopius of Cæsarea illustrates the attitude of reserve taken up by the
laity in the sixth century to the whole dogmatic system of the Church. The priests and theologians could
certainly not give the people more than they possessed themselves; but it is
alarming to note in the ecclesiastical literature of the Fourth Century and the
period following how little attention is given to the Christian people. The
theologians had always the clergy. the officials, good society in their minds.
The people must simply believe the Faith; they accordingly did not live in this
Faith, but in that Christianity of the second rank which is
represented in the legends of the saints, in apocalypses, in image-worship, in
the veneration of angels and martyrs, in crosses and amulets, in the Mass
regarded as magical worship, and in sacramental observances of all sorts. Christ
as the ὁμοούσιος became a dogmatic form of words; and in place of this the
bones of the martyrs became living saints, and the shades of the old dethroned
gods together with their worship, revived once more.
APPENDIX.
THE DOCTRINE OF THE HOLY GHOST AND OF THE TRINITY.
I. In the baptismal formula, along with the confession of belief in the Father
and Son, there had always been from early times a confession also of belief in
the Holy Spirit. This belief expressed the thought that Christianity has within
it the Spirit of the Father—the Spirit of Christ—the living, illuminating,
divine principle. The Spirit is the gift of God. But after the Montanist
controversies the combination of Spirit and Church, Spirit and individual
Christians came to have a secondary place in regular theological thought. The
World-Church and its theologians busied themselves instead with the Spirit in so
far as it spoke through the prophets, in so far as it had before this brooded “over the waters”, in so far as it descended on Christ at His baptism,
etc.—though this soon became a minor point—or took part in His human origin. But
there was quite an accumulation of difficulties here for rational theology.
These difficulties lay (1) in the notion itself, in so far as πνεῦμα also
described the substance of God and of the Logos; (2) in the impossibility of
recognising any specific activity of the Spirit in the present; (3) in the
desire to ascribe to the Logos rather than to the Spirit the active working in
the universe and in the history of revelation. The form of the Spirit’s
existence, its rank and function were accordingly quite uncertain. By one the
Holy Spirit was considered as a gift and as an impersonal—and therefore also an
unbegotten—power which Christ had promised to send and which consequently became
an actual fact only after Christ’s Ascension; by another as a primitive power
in the history of revelation; by a third as an active
power in the world-process also. Others again attributed to it a personal
existence misled by the expression “the Paraclete”. Of these some regarded it
as a created divine being, others as the highest spiritual creature made by God,
the highest angel; others again as the second προβολή or “derivatio” of the
Father, and thus as a permanently existing Being sharing in the God-head itself;
while once more others identified it with the eternal Son Himself. There were
actually some too who were inclined to regard the Spirit, which is feminine in
Hebrew, and which was identified with the “Wisdom” of God, as a female
principle.The fact that in the original draft of the Apostolical Constitutions (II. 26)
a parallel is drawn between the deaconess and the Holy Spirit is perhaps
connected with this too. The views held regarding its rank and functions also
were accordingly very different. All who regarded the Spirit as personal,
subordinated it to the Father and probably also as a rule to the Son when they
distinguished it from the latter, for the relation of Father and Son did not
seem to permit of the existence of a third being of the same kind, and, besides,
Christ had expressly said that he would send the Spirit, and therefore it looked
as if the latter were His servant or messenger. The other idea that the Logos is
the organ of the Spirit or Wisdom is very rarely met with. This or an idea
similar to it was the one reached by those who distinguished between the
impersonal Logos or Wisdom eternally inherent in God and the created Logos or
Wisdom, and then identified the divine in Christ with the latter. As to its
functions, we meet with no further speculations regarding their peculiar nature
after the attempts of the Montanists to define them, until a very much later
date when at last theologians had learned to commit a special department of the
mysteries to the care of the Spirit. All that was meanwhile said regarding the
activity of the Spirit in the world-process, in the history of revelation, in
regeneration, including illumination and sanctification, was of a wholly vague
kind, and was frequently either the expression of perplexity or of exegetical
learning, but never gave evidence of any special theological interest in the
question. We must not, however, overlook the fact that in Church theology in its oldest form as we see it in Irenæus
and Tertullian, we find an attempt made to give to the Spirit, which had
necessarily to be ranked as a being of special dignity within the Godhead, an
immanent relation to the Father and the. Son. The passages in Irenæus referring
to the Spirit are of special importance, though Tertullian was the first to call
Him “God”. One can trace within theology a well-marked line of development
running from Justin through Tertullian to Origen.But it is only in so far as Origen teaches the pre-temporal “processio” of the
Spirit that his doctrine betokens an advance on that of Tertullian, who still
essentially limits the action of the Spirit to the history of the world and of
revelation. By the “unius substantiæ” which he regards as true of the Spirit
also, Tertullian comes nearer the views which finally prevailed in the Fourth
Century than Origen. For the remarkable formula used by Hippolytus in connection
with the Spirit, see Vol. II., p. 261. After Sabellius, starting
from totally different premises, had by his speculations drawn attention to the
Holy Spirit, Origen here too supplied a definite conception on the subject just
as he had in connection with the doctrine of the Logos. While admitting the want
of any certainty in what was given by tradition, he treated the doctrine of the
Holy Spirit entirely according to the analogy of the doctrine of the Logos, and
even demanded that it should be so treated. The Holy Spirit forms part of the
Godhead, it is a permanently existing divine Being, but it is at the same time a
creature, and a creature, in fact, which occupies a stage lower than the Son,
because it, like everything created, has come into being by the Son or Logos.
The sphere of its activity is correspondingly smaller than that of the Son.
Origen declared that intensively it was more important, but he did not give this
its due value, since for him the categories of magnitude, space, and causality
were in the last resort the highest.On the doctrine of the Holy Spirit before Origen and in Origen see Vol. II.
passim, Kahnis, L. vom. h. Geist, 1847, Bigg, The Christian Platonists, 171 sq.,
Nitzsch, pp. 289-293. The fact that the doctrine of the Holy
Spirit was treated in Tertullian (adv. Prax.) and Origen in a way perfectly
analogous to that followed in the case of the doctrine of the Logos, is the
strongest possible proof that there was no specific theological interest taken
in this point of doctrine.It is in Irenæus alone that we find indications of any specific speculation
regarding the Holy Spirit. Nor was it different in
the period following. The Arian and the Arianising formula of the Fourth Century
still at least embody the attempt to state in reference to the Spirit what,
according to the old Church tradition, describes the character of its active
working, little as that is; the pompous formula of orthodoxy, however, merely
gives expression to the general thought that there is no foreign element in the
Godhead, and shews, moreover, that the doctrine of the hypostasis of the Holy
Spirit was already beginning to be an embarrassing one for the Church.
The doctrine of Origen that the Holy Spirit is an individual hypostasis and that
it is a created being included within the sphere of the Godhead itself, found
only very partial acceptance for more than a century. And even in the cases in
which, under the influence of the baptismal formula, reference was made to a
Trinity in the Godhead—which came to be more and more the practice,—the third
Being was still left in the vague, and, as at an earlier period, we hear of the
promised gift of the Holy Spirit. Nevertheless the philosophical theologians
became more and more convinced that it was necessary to assume the presence not
merely of a threefold economy in the Godhead, but of three divine beings or
substances. In the first thirty years after the commencement of the Arian
controversy, the Holy Spirit is scarcely ever mentioned,See Basil., ep. 125: ὁ δὲ περὶ τοῦ πνεύματος λόγος ἐν παραδρομῇ κεῖται, οὐδεμιᾶς
ἐξεργασίας ἀξιωθείς, διὰ τὸ μηδέπω τότε κεκινῆσθαι τὸ ζήτημα, i.e.,
at the time of the Nicene Council. although the
Lucianists and consequently Arius too regarded it as indeed a divine hypostasis,
but at the same time as the most perfect creature, which the Father had created
through the Son and which therefore was inferior to the Son also in nature,
dignity, and position.See above, p. 19. The view of Eunomius is representative of the whole group;
see the documents which originated with him and Basil c. Eunom. III. 5.
Epiphanius has pithily summarised the Arian doctrine (H. 69 c. 56):
τὸ ἅγιον πνεῦμα
κτίσμα πάλιν κτίσματός φασιν εἶναι διὰ τὸ διὰ τοῦ υἱοῦ τὰ πάντα
γεγενῆσθαι (John I. 3). In their Confessions they kept to the old simple tradition:
πιστεύομεν καὶ εἰς τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον, τὸ εἰς παράκλησιν
καὶ ἁγιασμὸν καὶ τελείωσιν τοῖς πιστεύουσι
διδόμενον,See the so-called Confession of Lucian, i.e., the Second Creed of Antioch.;
cf. besides the third and fourth formulæ of Antioch, the so-called formula of Sardica—a proof that the orthodox theologians of the West had not yet given
attention to the question; their statement: πιστεύομεν τὸν παράκλητον, τὸ ἅγιον
πνεῦμα, ὅπερ ἡμῖν αὐτὸς ὁ κύριος καὶ ἐπηγγείλατο καὶ ἕπεμψεν· καὶ τοῠτο πιστεύομεν
πεμφθέν, καὶ τοῦτο οὐ πέπονθεν, ἀλλ᾽ ὁ ἄνθρωπος, if it has been
correctly handed down, shews, besides, a highly suspicious want of clearness;
further the formula macrostich., the formulæ of Philippopolis and the later
Sirmian and Homœan formula; in the formula of 357 we have “spiritus paracletus
per filium est.” “and we believe
in the Holy Spirit given to believers for consolation, and sanctification, and
perfection.” They recognised three graduated hypostases in the Godhead. The fact
that Athanasius did not in the first instance think of the Spirit at all,
regarding which also nothing was fixed at Nicæa, is simply a proof of his
intense interest in his doctrine of the Son. The first trace of the emergence of
the question as to the Spirit is found, so far as I know, in the Anathemas (20
ff.) of the very conservative Creed of the Eusebian Council of Sirmium (351).
Here the identification of the Holy Spirit with the unbegotten God and with the
Son, as also the designation of it as μέρος τοῦ
πατρὸς ἢ τοῦ υἱοῦ, (part of the
Father and of the Son,) are forbidden.The theology of Marcellus might certainly have drawn the attention of the
theologians to the doctrine of the Spirit; for Marcellus discussed this doctrine
although not with fulness; see Zahn, op. cit., p. 147 ff. According to
Marcellus the Spirit proceeds from the Father and from the Logos, and forms part
of the divine substance; its special work does not, however, begin till after
that of the Son. It was towards the end of the fifties
that Athanasius directed his attention to the doctrine of the Holy Spirit, and
he at once took up a firm position.See Athanas. ad Serap. If the Holy Spirit belongs to the Godhead
it must be worshipped, if it is an independent being then all that holds good of
the Son holds good of it also, for otherwise the Triad would be divided and
blasphemed and the rank of the Son too would again become doubtful—this is for
him a conclusive argument. There can be nothing foreign, nothing created in the Triad which is just the one God
(ὅλη τριὰς εἷς Θεός ἐστιν).
Athanasius was not only able to adduce a number of passages from Scripture in support of this assertion, but he also
endeavoured to verify his view by a consideration of the functions of the Holy
Spirit. The principle of sanctification cannot be of the same nature as the
beings which it sanctifies; the source of life for creatures cannot itself be a creature;
he who is the medium whereby we enter into fellowship with the Divine nature
must himself possess this nature.Passages op. cit., above all, I. 23, 24:
εἰ κτίσμα δὲ ἦν τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον,
οὐκ ἄν τις ἐν αὐτῷ μετουσία τοῦ Θεοῦ γένοιτο ἡμῖν· ἀλλ᾽ ἢ ἄρα κτίσματι μὲν
συνηπτόμεθα, ἀλλότριοι δὲ τῆς θείας φύσεως ἐγινόμεθα, ὡς κατὰ μηδὲν αὐτῆς μετέχοντες
. . . εἰ δὲ τῇ τοῦ πνεύματος μετουσίᾳ γινόμεθα κοινωνοὶ θείας φύσεως, μαίνοιτ᾽
ἄν τις λέγων τὸ πνεῦμα τῆς κτιστῆς φύσεως, καὶ μὴ τῆς τοῦ Θεοῦ· διὰ τοῦτο γὰρ
καὶ ἐν οἷς γίνεται οὗτοι θεοποιοῦνται· εἰ δὲ θεοποιεῖ, οὐκ ἀμφίβολον, ὅτι ἡ τούτου
φύσις Θεοῦ ἐστι. On the other hand, He who works as the Father
and the Son work, or to put it more accurately, He who bestows one and the same
grace—for there is only one grace, namely, that of the Father through the Son in
the Holy Spirit—is part of the Godhead, and whoever rejects Him separates
himself from the Faith generally. Thus everything is really already expressed in
the baptismal formula; for without the Holy Spirit it would be destroyed, since
it is the Spirit who throughout completes or perfects what is done. The
personality of the Spirit is simply presupposed by Athanasius in the indefinite
form in which he also presupposed the personality of the Son. The attempts to
distinguish the peculiar nature of the activity of the Spirit from that of the
Father and the Son did not indeed get beyond empty words such as perfection,
connection, termination of activity, etc. The question as to why the Son could
not do all this Himself, and why, if there was here a third, the existence of a
Fourth was not also possible, was left unanswered. It is necessary to believe in
the Trinity as handed down by tradition: “and it is manifest that the Spirit is
not one being of the many nor an angel [one of many], but one unique being, or
rather, He belongs to the Logos who is one, and to God who is one, and is also
of the same substance” (καὶ οὐκ ἄδηλον,
ὅτι οὐκ ἔστι τῶν πολλῶν τὸ πνεῦμα, ἀλλ᾽ οὐδὲ ἄγγελος, ἀλλ᾽ ἕν ὄν.
μᾶλλον δὲ τοῦ λόγοῦ ἑνὸς ὄντος ἴδιον καὶ τοῦ Θεοῦ ἑνὸς ὄντος ἴδιον
καὶ ὁμοούσιόν ἐστίν).Ad Serap. I. 27. Athanasius also appeals in support of this belief to the
tradition of the Catholic Church (c. 28 sq.), though he is able to construe it
ideally only and does not quote any authorities. The “Tropicists” as he calls those who
teach erroneous doctrine in reference to the Holy Spirit, are in his view no better than the Arians.
The letters of Athanasius to Serapion of Thmuis were called forth by the
complaints of this bishop about the intrigues of those who taught false doctrine
regarding the Holy Spirit. As a matter of fact, amongst the Semi-Arians the
doctrine of the Holy Spirit was now purposely developed in opposition to the
Homousia. It was in particular the highly esteemed chief of the Thracian
Semi-Arians, Macedonius, at a later date the deposed bishop of Constantinople,
who defended the doctrine that the Spirit is a creature similar to the angels, a
being subordinate to the Father and the Son and in their service.On Macedonius see the articles in the Diction. of Chr. Biogr. and in Herzog’s
R.-Encykl, and in addition Gwatkin, pp. 160-181, 208. The doctrine is given in
Athan. ad Serap. I. 1 f. Socrat. II. 45, 38, Sozom. IV. 27, etc., Basil, ep.
251, Theodoret. II. 6. The Macedonians laid stress on the difference between the
particles ἐκ, διά, ἐν, as used of the hypostases, and emphasised the fact that
the Holy Scripture does not describe the Holy Spirit as an object of adoration,
and pointed out that the relation of Father and Son did not admit of a third.
What the τρίτη διαθήκη of the Macedonians was (see Gregor. Naz. Orat. 31.
7), I do not know. It is worth
noting with regard to these Semi-Arians that the more their common opposition to
the Homœans and Anomœans drove them to side with the Nicæans the more firmly
they stuck to their doctrine of the Spirit. It looked as if they wished to
preserve in their doctrine of the Holy Spirit the Conservativism which they had
had to abandon as regards the doctrine of the Son. It was at the Synod of
Alexandria (362) that the orthodox first took up the definite position with
regard to this question that whoever regards the Holy Spirit as a creature and
separates it from the substance of Christ, in so doing divides up the Holy
Trinity, gives a hypocritical adherence to the Nicene Faith, and has merely in
appearance renounced Arianism.See Athan., Tom. ad Antioch. 3, see also 5:
τὸ ἄγιον πνεῦμα οὐ κτίσμα οὐδὲ
ξένον ἀλλ᾽ ἴδιον καὶ ἀδιαίρετον τῆς οὐσίας τοῦ
υἱοῦ καὶ τοῦ πατρός. But what was thus firmly established by the
Alexandrians by no means at once became law for the orthodox in the East. The
statements regarding the SpiritThe formula of the revised Creed of Jerusalem, i.e., the later Creed of
Constantinople, is characteristic. It only demands the complete adoration and
glorifying of the Spirit along with the Father and Son, but otherwise confines
itself to general predicates: “τὸ κύριον, τὸ ζωοποιόν,
τὸ ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς ἐκπορευόμενον, τὸ λαλῆσαν
διὰ τῶν προφητῶν.” These are undoubtedly of a very exalted kind and seem also
to exclude the idea of the dependence of the Spirit on the Son, but nevertheless
they do not get the length of the complete Homousia. were indeed further amplified
in subsequent years in connection with the remodelling of the old Confessions,
but amongst the Homoiousians who were becoming Homousians, the greatest
uncertainty continued to prevail up till 380. The thirty-first oration of
Gregory of Nazianzus which was composed at that time, proves this.He writes, “Of the wise amongst us some consider the Holy Spirit to be an
energy, others a creature, others God, while others again cannot make up their
minds to adopt any definite view out of reverence for Scripture, as they put it,
because it does not make any very definite statement on the point. On this
account they neither accord to Him divine adoration nor do they refuse it to
Him, and thus take a middle road, but which is really a very bad path. Of those
again who hold Him to be God, some keep this pious belief to themselves, while
others state it openly. Others to a certain degree measure the Godhead since
like us they accept the Trinity, but they put a great distance between the three
by maintaining that the first is infinite in substance and power, the second in
power, but not in substance, while the third is infinite in neither of these two
respects.” For the details see Ullmann, p. 264 f.; at pages 269-275 he has set
forth the doctrine of Gregory regarding the Holy Spirit, together with the Scriptural proofs. Meanwhile it
was just the Cappadocians who did most towards getting the orthodox conception
naturalised in the Church, namely, Basil in his work against Eunomius (lib.
III.) and in the tractate “de spiritu sancto,” Gregory of Nazianzus in several
of his orations (31, 37, 44), and Gregory of Nyssa in his amplifications of
Trinitarian doctrine. They had apparently learned something from the letters of
Athanasius ad Serap., for they repeat his arguments and give them more formal
development. But neither in Basil nor in Gregory of Nazianzus is there the
stringency which marks the thought of Athanasius. The absence of any tangible
tradition exercised a strong influenceGregory of Nazianzus has consequently (Orat. 31.2) to begin by remarking that
he had been accused of introducing a Θεὸς ξένος καὶ ἄγραφος. He himself
practically admits the want of any explicit Scriptural proof, and has recourse
to the plea (c. 3) that “love of the letter is a cloak for impiety.” Basil
undoubtedly appealed (de s. s. 29) to Irenæus, Clemens Alex., Origen, and
Dionysius of Rome in defence of his doctrine, but he felt all the same that
there was little evidence in support of it. Gregory made a similar admission. on them, and at bottom they are already
satisfied—Basil at any rate—with the avowal that the Spirit is not in any sense
a creature.Cf. also the remarkable words of Gregory of Naz. Vol. III., p. 230. The striking
utterances of the Cappadocians regarding the letter of Holy Scripture, tradition kerygma, and dogma all owe their origin to the troublesome situation created by
the doctrine of the Holy Spirit. The Greeks of later days no longer found
themselves in such a predicament of this kind, and consequently they did not
require to repeat the bold statements regarding tradition.
Gregory of Nyssa as an Origenist and speculative Trinitarian carried the
doctrine further.See also the work of Didymus, περὶ τριάδος, edid. Mingarelli, particularly
the Second Book, c. 6 sq., written about 380, which contains the fullest Fourth
Century proof of the complete Godhead of the Holy Spirit which we possess.
Previous to this Didymus had already composed a tractate “de spiritu sancto”.
Of special interest further is the “οίκονομία”, that is, the pædagogic or
politic reticence which the Cappadocians permitted themselves and others in
connection with the doctrine of the Holy Spirit. According to Gregory of Naz.
God Himself merely indicated the Godhead of the Holy Spirit in the N. T. and did
not plainly reveal it till later on in order not to lay too great a burden on
men (!)—a theory which over-throws the whole Catholic doctrine of tradition. It
is thus also permitted to the faithful now to imitate this divine “economy” and
to bring forward the doctrine of the Spirit with caution and to introduce it
gradually. “Those who regard the Holy Spirit as God are godly men illuminated
with knowledge, and those who say that He is God, when this is done in presence
of well-disposed hearers, have something heroic about them, but if it be done in
presence of the vulgar-minded it shews that they do not possess the true
teaching wisdom (εἰ δὲ ταπεινοῖς, οὐκ οἰκονομικοι), because they are casting
their pearls into the mud, or are giving strong meat instead of milk,” and so on
(Orat. 41.6). Gregory defends the conduct of Basil also, who, watched by the
Arians in his lofty post in Cæsarea, guarded against openly calling the Holy
Spirit “God” because the γυμνὴ φωνή that the Holy Spirit is God would have
cost him his bishopric. (Orat. 43.68.) He acknowledged the Godhead of the Spirit
“economically” only, i.e., when the time was suitable for so doing. He was
sharply blamed for this conduct by the rigidly orthodox clerics, as Gregory
tells us (Ep. 26, al. 20). They complained that while Basil expressed himself
admirably regarding the Father and the Son, he tore away the Spirit from the
divine fellowship as rivers wash away the sand on their banks and hollow out the
stones; he did not frankly confess the truth, but acted rather from policy than
from truly pious feeling, and concealed the ambiguity of his teaching by the art
of speech. Gregory who was regarded as a suspected person himself, stood up for
his friend; a man, he said, occupying such an important post as Basil did, must
surely proceed with some prudence and circumspection in proclaiming the truth
(βέλτιον οἰκονομηθῆναι τὴν ἀλήθειαν) and make some concession to the
haziness of the spirit of the time so as not to still further damage the good
cause by any public pronouncement. The difference between Athanasius and the
religious-orthodox on the one hand, and the theological-orthodox on the other,
comes out here with special clearness. Athanasius would have indignantly
rejected that “οἰκονομηθῆναι τὴν ἀλήθειαν”, because he did not regard God
Himself as a politician or a pedagogue, who acts κατ᾽ οἰκονομίαν, but as the
Truth. If he had ever acted as the Cappadocians did, the Homœans would have
been the victors. Still, on the other hand, we ought not to judge the
Cappadocians too severely. As followers of Origen they regarded the loftiest
utterances of the Faith as Science; but Science admits, in fact often demands a
pedagogic and economic or accommodating method of procedure. Just as Basil made
a distinction between κηρύγματα and δόγματα, so Gregory (Orat. 40) concluded
his Decalogue of Faith with the words:
ἔχεις τοῦ μυστηρίου τὰ ἔκφορα, καὶ ταῖς τῶν πολλῶν ἀκοαῖς
οὐκ ἀπόρρητα· τὰ δὲ ἄλλα εἴσω μαθήσῃ, τῆς τριάδος χαριζομένης, ἅ καὶ κρύφεις
παρὰ σεαυτῷ σφραγῖδι
κρατούμενα. As the theologians were at a loss how to accord to the Spirit
a peculiar mode of being in relation to the Father, they hit upon the plan of attributing to it, following some passages in St John, eternal sending
forth (ἔκπεμψις) and procession (ἐκπόρευσις). Just as in the second century
the begetting of Christ whereby he came to exist on this earth had been made
into a super-terrestrial begetting then became an eternal begetting, while the “being begotten” next came to be regarded as the supreme characteristic of the
second hypostasis, so in the fourth century an “eternal sending” of the Spirit
was made out of the promised “sending” of the Holy Spirit and was regarded as
descriptive of the essential characteristic of the third hypostasis within the
Holy Trinity. Nowhere can the work of imaginative conception be more plainly
recognised than here. Behind a history already in itself a wonderful one, and
the scene of which is laid partly in the Godhead and partly within humanity,
there was put by a process of abstraction and reduplication a second history the
events of which are supposed to pass entirely within the Godhead itself. The
former history is to get its stability through the latter which comprises “the
entire mystery of our Faith.”
The matter was much more quickly settled in the West. Hilary, it is true, was
anything but clear as regards doctrine, but this was merely because he had eaten
of the tree of Greek theology. The general unreasoned conviction in the West was
that the Holy Spirit, belief in whom was avowed in the Apostles’ Creed, is the
one God likewise.
When the question as to the personality of the Spirit emerged, it was as quickly
settled that it must be a persona, for the nature of God is not so poor that His
Spirit cannot be a person.—(It has to be noted that persona and our “person”
are not the same thing.) The views of Lactantius again on this point were
different. Since the year 362 the orthodox at several Councils in the West and
then in Asia had pronounced in favour of
the complete Godhead of the SpiritTheir leaders, in addition to Macedonius, were Eustathius of Sebaste, Eleusius
of Cyzikus, and probably also Basil of Ancyra. In Marathonius of Nicomedia the
party had a member who was held in high honour both because of his position and
his ascetic life. The Macedonians in general made a deep impression on their
contemporaries by their ascetic practices and by their determined struggle
against the Homœans. In the countries on the Hellespont they were the most
important party. in opposition to the Arians, as we see from
the Confession of Eunomius, and also to the Pneumatomachians.The most important utterances are the Epistle of the Alexandrian Council of
363, the declarations of the Westerns under Damasus in the years 369, 376, 377,
the resolution of an Illyrian Council, (given in Theodoret IV. 9), the Council
at Antioch in 379, which is decisive as regards the East in so far as those
present avowed their belief in the Western doctrine including the doctrine of
the Spirit. Compare, besides, the Confession of Basil (Hahn, § 121): βαπτιζομεν εἰς τριάδα ὁμοούσιον,
that of Epiphanius in the Ancorat. (374):
πνεῦμα ἄκτιστον, and that produced by Charisius (Hahn, § 144):
πνεῦμα
ὁμοούσιον πατρὶ καὶ ὑιῷ. The big Eastern
Council summoned to meet at Constantinople in 381 by Theodosius originally
included thirty-six Macedonians amongst its members. But they could not be got
to assent to the new doctrine of the Holy Spirit, spite of all the imperial
efforts made to win them over. They were accordingly compelled to leave the
Council.See Socr. V. 8; Sozom. VII. 7, 9; Theodoret V. 8. The latter reaffirmed the Nicene Creed, but gave to it a detailed
dogmatic explanation which has not been preserved, in which the complete
homousia of the Spirit was avowed, and in the same way the first canon of the
Council passes condemnation on the Semi-Arians or “Pneumatomachians”.It follows from a communication of the Council held at Constantinople in 382,
that the Council issued a “tomus” on the doctrine of the Trinity. That the
formula in reference to the Holy Spirit which is given in the so-called Creed of
Constantinople, did not proceed from the Council of 381 and cannot have
proceeded from it, since it is not sufficiently different from the view of the
Macedonians, has been shewn above, p. 93. The
pronouncements of the years following confirmed the final result; see the
epistle of the Council of Constantinople of 382,Theodoret V. 9. but above all, the
anathemas of Damasus.C. 16 f., see Theodoret V. 11. The doctrine of the homousia of the Spirit from this time
onward was as much a part of orthodoxy as the doctrine of the homousia of the Son. But since according to
the Greek way of conceiving of the matter, the Father continued to be regarded
as the root of the Godhead, the perfect homousia of the Holy Spirit necessarily
always seemed to the Greeks to be called in question whenever he was derived
from the Son also. He consequently seemed to be inferior to the Son and thus to
be a grandchild of the Father, or else to possess a double root. Then, besides,
the dependence of the Spirit on the Son was obstinately maintained by the Arians
and Semi-Arians on the ground that certain passages in the Bible supported this
view, and in the interest of their conception of a descending Trinity in three
stages. Thus the Greeks had constantly to watch and see that the procession of
the Spirit from the Father alone was taught, and after the revised Creed of
Jerusalem became an ecumenical Creed, they had a sacred text in support of their
doctrine, which came to be as important as the doctrine itself.
II. The CappadociansAthanasius prepared the way in his letters ad Serapionem. and their great teacher, Apollinaris of Laodicea,As is proved by his correspondence with Basil and as his own writings shew,
Apollinaris was the first who completely developed the orthodox doctrine of the
Trinity. He was, however, more strongly influenced by Aristotle than the
Cappadocians were, and accordingly in his case the conception of the one divine
substance was a shade nearer the idea of a mere generic conception than with
them, although he too was in no way satisfied with the genuine conception (see
above p. 84). Apollinaris further retained the old image of αὐγή, ἀκτίς, ἥλιος,
not, however, as it would appear, in order by it to illustrate the unity, but
rather the difference in the greatness of the persons (περὶ τριαδ. 12, 17).
(The Logos had already a side turned in the direction of finitude.) His
followers afterwards directly objected to the doctrine of the Cappadocians and
vice versa. We are now better acquainted with Apollinaris’s doctrine of the
Trinity than formerly, since Dräseke (Ztschr. f. K.-Gesch. VI., p. 503 ff.) has
shewn it to be very probable that the pseudo-Justinian Ἔκθεσις πίστεως
ἤτοι περὶ τριάδος is by him, and that the detailed statements of Gregory of
Nazianzus in the first letter to Kledonius refer to this work (op. cit., p. 515
ff.). From the work, κατὰ μέρος πίστις, which Caspari has rightly claimed for
Apollinaris (Alte and neue Quellen, 1879, p. 65 f.), and which represents a
dogmatic advance as compared with the tractate περὶ τριάδος, it likewise
follows that Apollinaris is to be reckoned amongst the founders of the orthodox
doctrine of the Trinity,—also because of his advanced doctrine of the Holy
Spirit in which he teaches the homousia—and that in fact he ought to be called
the very first of these. before them, reached the doctrine of the Trinity, which remained the dominant one in
the Church, though it always continued to be capable of being differently restated by
theologians. We are to believe in one God, because we are to believe in
one divine substance or essence (οὐσία, φύσις, essentia, substantia, natura) in
three distinct subjects or persons (ὑπόστασις,persona [πρόσωπον]). The
substance is to be thought of neither as a mere generic conception nor, on the
other hand, as a fourth alongside of the three subjects, but as a reality, i.e.,
the unity must coincide with the real substance. The subjects again are not to
be represented as mere attributes nor, on the other hand, as separate persons,
but as independent, though apart from their mutual relationship, unthinkable,
partakers of the divine substance. Their likeness of nature which is involved in
their community of substance finds expression in the identity of their
attributes and activities, their difference in the characteristic note (τρόπος
ὑπάρξεως, ἰδίωμα) of their manner of existence as signified by the ideas,
unbegotten, begotten, proceeding from (ἀγεννησία, γεννησία,
ἐκπόρευσις). The special characteristic attached to the Father implies that He is the source, the
root, the first principle of the Godhead, while the two other persons—within the
divine substance—are “caused”. The Father is greater than the other two in so
far as He is the first principle and the cause (κατὰ τὸν τῆς
ἀρχῆς καὶ αἰτίας λόγον).
The Godhead is consequently in itself and apart from all relation to
the world, an inexhaustible living existence and no rigid and barren unity, “as
the Jews teach.” Yet neither is it a divided multiplicity “as the heathen think”, but, on the contrary, unity in Trinity and Trinity in unity. Because the
Godhead is what is common to the Three, there is only one God. At the same time
the hypostatic difference is not to be regarded as a merely nominal one, but it
has not reference to the substance, the will, the energy, the power, time, and
consequently not to the rank of the persons. From the unity results the unity of
activity. Every divine act is to be understood as a working of the Father
through the Son in the Holy Spirit as is expressed in the terms, primal source,
mediating power, and completion. See, above all, Gregor. Naz. Orat. 27-32.
This doctrinal system shews itself to be a radical modification of the system of
Origen under the influence of the religious thought defended by Athanasius and
the West, that the Godhead which appeared, Jesus Christ, and the Godhead which is
still active in the Church, the Holy Spirit, are the Godhead themselves.Gregory designates as opponents of the correct doctrine of the Trinity (1) the
Sabellians, (2) the Arians, (3)—this is extremely remarkable—the hyper-orthodox
who teach the doctrine of three Gods equal in substance (οἱ ἄγαν παρ᾽ ἡμῖν ὁρθόδοξοι,
Orat. 2, 37). The true orthodoxy is always represented as the middle
path. For details, see Ullmann, pp. 232-275. The
Cappadocians were pupils both of OrigenThe theology of Origen was transplanted into the Pontus country by Gregorius
Thaumaturgus. It is thus that Marcellus also probably became acquainted with it
and combatted it. and of Athanasius. This fact explains their doctrinal system.
Before them, however, there had been a theologian in the ancient Church who had
come under influences wholly similar to those which had affected them, and who
because of this, also anticipated in a striking way their formulae when he saw
that he must amplify the doctrine of God. This was Tertullian. Tertullian’s
theology was dependent on the one hand on Justin and the Apologists, and on the
other on Irenæus, but besides this the modalistic Monarchianism which at that
time held sway in the West and which he combatted, exercised a strong influence
upon him. Consequently the conditions under which Tertullian composed his work “adv. Praxean” were, mutatis mutandis, the same as those by which the
Cappadocians were surrounded, and they accordingly led to a similar result, so
that we may say: the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity already announced its
presence even in its details, in Tertullian—and only in him and in his pupil
Novatian.Owing to the importance of the matter it may be allowable here to go back
again to Tertullian (see Vol. ii., p. 258 f.). The crude part of his doctrine
and the points in which it diverges from Cappadocian orthodoxy are indeed
sufficiently obvious. Son and Spirit proceed from the Father solely in view of
the work of creation and revelation; the Father can send forth as many
“officiales” as He chooses (adv. Prax. 4); Son and Spirit do not possess the
entire substance of the Godhead, but on the contrary are “portiones” (9); they
are subordinate to the Father (minores); they are in fact transitory
manifestations: the Son at last gives everything back again to the Father; the
Father alone is absolutely invisible, and though the Son is indeed invisible
too, He can become visible and can do things which would be simply unworthy of
the Father, and so on. All these utterances along with other things shew that
Tertullian was a theologian who occupied a position between Justin and Origen.
But the remarkable thing is that at the same time we have a view in a highly
developed form which coincides with the Cappadocian view, and—this is genuinely
Western—in some points in fact approaches nearer Modalism and the teaching of Athanasius than that of Gregory and has a strong
resemblance to the doctrine of an immanent Trinity, without actually being such: the Godhead in substantia, status, potestas, virtus, is one (2 ff.), there is
only one divine substance and therefore there are not two or three Gods or Lords
(13, 19). In this one substance there is no separatio, or divisio, or dispersio,
or diversitas (3, 8, 9), though there is indeed a distributio, distinctio,
dispositio, dispensatio (9, 13), an οἰκονομία in short, a differentia per
distinctionem (14). Accordingly the unitas substantiæ is not in any way a
singularitas numeri (22, 25)—God is not unicus et singularis (12)—but it
comprises three nomina or species, formæ gradus, res, personæ, (Tertullian
here, however, usually avoids the use of all substantives), see 2, 8 etc. No one
of these is a mere attribute, on the contrary each is a substantiva res ex
ipsius dei substantia (26); there are thus tres res et tres species unius et
indivisæ substantiæ (19); these, however, are most intimately connected
together (conjuncti 27); they are tres cohærentes (8, 25) without, however,
being one (masc.) [rather are they one (neut. 22, 25)], because the second and
the third spring ex unitate patris (19) and are accordingly God as He is,
individui et inseparati a patre (18). In the divine substance there are in fact
conserti et connexi gradus (8). These three gradus or persons are different from
each other in proprietas and conditio, but not in substance (8, 11, 14, 15, 17,
18, 24, 25). The peculiar property of the Father is that He is a nullo prolatus
et innatus (19) and also absolutely invisible. The Son is also invisible in
virtue of the substance, but visible as to his conditio (14). In virtue of the
substance there is in fact a perfect societas nominum; even the Son in
accordance with this is “almighty” (17, 18). It is thus necessary to believe in
the unitas ex semetipsa derivans trinitatem. This has already become an
established truth as against Jews and heathen. What is most instructive of all,
however, is to notice Tertullian’s use of “persona” as distinguished from
“substantia”, because it is here that he has most plainly prepared the way for
the later orthodox phraseology. The Latin Bible supplied Tertullian with the
word “persona”; for (adv. Prax. 6) in Proverbs VIII. 30 it had “cottidie
oblectabar in persona ejus” and in Lamentations IV. 20 (adv. Prax. 14) “spiritus
personæ ejus Christus dominus.” (The LXX. has πρόσωπον in both passages.)
Both passages must have attracted special notice. But Tertullian was further a
jurist, and as such the conceptions “persona” and “substantia” were quite
familiar to him. I accordingly conjecture—and it is probably more than a
conjecture—that Tertullian always continued to be influenced in his use of these
words by the juristic usage, as is specially evident from his naïve idea of a
substantia impersonalis and from the sharp distinction he draws between persona
and substantia. From the juristic point of view there is as little objection to
the formula that several persons are possessors of one and the same substance or
property, that they are in uno statu, as to the other formula that one person
possesses several substances unmixed. (See Tertullian’s Christology adv. Prax.
27; Vol. ii., p. 281.) The fact that Tertullian, so far as I know, never renders
“substance” by “natura”—although he takes the latter to include substance—seems to me as conclusively in favour of my view as the other
fact that, in the introduction to his work (3), he attempted to elucidate the
problem by making use of an image drawn from the spheres of law and politics.
“Monarchy does not always require to be administered by one despot; on the
contrary he may name proximæ personæ officiales, and exercise authority
through them and along with them; it does not cease to be one government,
especially when the Son is the co-administrator. Son and Father are, however,
consortes substantiæ patris.” Tertullian’s exposition of the doctrine in which
he hit upon the spirit of the West was, however, hardly understood in the East.
In the East the question was taken up in a philosophical way, and there the
difficulties first made themselves felt, which in the juristic way of looking
at the matter bad been kept in the background. In the latter “persona” is
sometimes manifestation, sometimes ideal subject, sometimes fictive subject,
sometimes “individuum”, and “substantia” is the property, the substance, the
Real, the actual content of the subject as distinguished from its form and
manifestation (persona). It is significant that Tertullian is also able to use
nomen, species, forma, gradus, and in fact even res for “persona”, so elastic is
the conception, while for “substantia” he has deitas, virtus, potestas, status.
On the other hand, when the question is viewed philosophically it is difficult,
it is in fact actually impossible to distinguish between nature and person. The
following passages will illustrate Tertullian’s use of words, (ad v. persona):
adv. Valent. 4: “personales substantiæ”, sharply distinguished from “sensus,
affectus, motus”; adv. Prax. 7: “filius ex sua persona profitetur patrem”; ibid:
“Non vis eum substantivum habere in re per substantiæ proprietatem, ut res et
persona quædam videri possit” (scil. Logos); ibid: “quæcumque ergo substantia
sermonis (τοῦ λόγου) fuit, illam dico personam”; 11:
“filii personam . . .
sic et cetera, quæ nunc ad patrem de filio vel ad filium, nunc ad filium de
patre vel ad patrem, nunc ad spiritum pronuntiantur, unamquamque personam in sua
proprietate constituunt”; 12: “alium autem quomodo accipere debeas jam professus
sum, personæ, non substantiæ, nomine, ad distinctionem non ad divisionem”; 13:
“si una persona et dei et domini in scripturis inveniretur, etc.”; 14: “si
Christus personæ paternæ spiritus est, merito spiritus, cujus personæ erat, id
est patris, eum faciem suam ex unitate scilicet pronuntiavit”; 15: “manifesta et
personalis distinctio conditionis (this too is a juristic conception) patris et
filii”; 18: “pater prima persona, quæ ante filii nomen erat proponenda”; 21: “quo dicto
(Matt. XVI. 17) Christus utriusque personæ constituit distinctionem”;
23: (on John XII. 28) “quot personæ tibi videntur, Praxea?” . . . “Non propter me
ista vox (John XII. 30) venit, sed propter vos, ut credant et hi et patrem et
filium in suis quemque nominibus et personis et locis”; 24: “duarum personarum
conjunctio (in reference to John XIV. 10 “apparet proprietas utriusque personæ”); 26: “nam nec semel sed ter ad singula nomina in personas singulas
tinguimur”; 27: “Father and Son must not be distinguished in una persona”; c. 27: “videmus duplicem statum non confusum sed conjunctum in una persona, deum et
hominem Jesum”; 31: “sic voluit deus renovare sacramentum, ut nove unus
crederetur per filium et spiritum, ut coram iam deus in suis propriis nominibus
et personis cognosceretur.” Did not Hosius carry it into the East? (See above p. 57.)
The Christological dogma with its formula had already had a share in the
establishment of the Trinitarian dogma. Tertullian had already made use of the
same conceptions for giving a fixed form both to his doctrine of God and to his
Christology (adv. Prax.). The form taken by the Trinitarian doctrine of the
Homoiousians, as represented by Basil of Ancyra and of Apollinaris, was likewise
determined by their Christological speculations. (It was Christological
speculation which produced the “ὁμοίωμα”
[likeness] and which gave currency to the analogy of the conceptions. “Humanity”
and “Adam” in relation to individual men.Natural theology also exercised an influence here and did good service to the
Homousios. If it is certain that man has been created καθ᾽ ὁμοίωσιν of God, and
if the view—a view which was indeed rejected—could even suggest itself, that his
spirit is a portio dei (substantia divina), then the Logos appeared to have no
advantage over man if the Homoousia were not attributed to Him. But the Cappadocians learned from
them. Quod erat in causa, apparet in effectu! An Aristotelian and a
Subordinationist element lurks in the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity as well
as this element of dependence upon Christological dogma. The Christological
controversies accordingly could not but re-act on the form given to the dogma of
the Trinity. That their influence was not stronger than the historical evidence
shews it actually to have been, is to be explained solely by the rigid form
taken by the dogma so quickly rendered sacred by tradition. Anything in the way
of modification was unsuccessful, and accordingly the attempts in this direction
belong not to the history of dogma, but of theology. Some Monophysites who were
influenced by the Aristotelian philosophy and who were thus scholars of the same
type as Apollinaris, but who were also Chalcedonian theologians, attempted to
give a dialectic shape to the ambiguous conceptions of “Nature” and “Person” in
the Church. In doing this they naturally landed either in Tritheism or in
Unitarianism, which their opponents could also represent as Quaternity whenever
the three persons were reckoned as belonging to the one real Substance as Reals
and not as attributes. The departure on the part of the Monophysites from
orthodox dogma had not a philosophical cause only, though the period was one in
which there had been a revival of Aristotelian study, but was also the result of
their Christology. Since in their Christology they regarded φύσις (nature) as
equal to ὑπόστασις (hypostasis),Οὐκ ἔστι φύσις ἀνυπόστατος—said both Monophysites and Nestorians in setting
forth their Christology. This was applied to the Trinity. But the orthodox too
in so far as they were Aristotelians, shunned the platonic—which was also the
juristic—fiction of a φύσις ἀνυπόστατος, and this was bound to create
difficulties in connection with their doctrine of the Trinity. The Theopaschian
controversy is connected with this; see Chap. III. it naturally suggested itself to them to carry out the same equation in reference to the
Trinity. But if οὐσία or φύσις be regarded as equivalent to
ὐπόστασις then we
have Unitarianism; while if on the other hand, in making this equation we start
from the hypostasis, we have three gods. Both of these doctrines were taught
amongst the Monophysites in the sixth century, or to put it more accurately,
from about 530.Of the Monophysite Tritheists the most important are Askusnages, Johannes
Philoponus against whom Leontius of Byzantium wrote “de sectis”, and Peter of
Kallinico. On the works of John, see the article in the Dict. of Christ. Biogr.;
an important fragment in Joh. Damasc., de hær. 83 from the “Diætetes” of John.
Here it may be plainly seen that Christology determined the form of John’s
doctrine of the Trinity, but that he sought to give out as Church doctrine his
Aristotelian conception of the Hypostasis, viz., Nature reaching manifestation
in an “individuum”, Nature itself existing only in the single substance, or in
the Idea. From Leontius we gather that John spoke of τρεῖς μερικαὶ οὐσίαι and
accepted the notion of an οὐσία κοινή which, however, exists only in
conception. This doctrine caused divisions amongst the Monophysites, and these
led the Coptic patriarch Damian to emphasise so strongly the reality of the one
substance, that he could be represented as a Tetradite, although at the same
time he probably took away from the independence of the persons. Cf. the Art. “Tritheisticher Streit” by Gass in the R.-Encykl. In opposition to the Tritheists Johannes Damascenus, although
he was himself strongly influenced by Aristotle and based his theology on the
work of the Cappadocians, gave a Modalistic turn to the theological exposition
of the dogma of the Trinity, and in so doing sought to get rid of the last
remains of Subordinationism. It is true that he also grants that the Father is
greater than the Son (de fide orthodox. I. 8) because He is the Principle of the
Son, a view which Athanasius too, founding on John XIV. 28, had always
maintained, but he nevertheless conceives of the being unbegotten (ἀγεννησία)
in a still higher fashion than the Cappadocians had done—namely, as a mode of
being of the same kind as the being begotten (γεννησία) and procession
(ἐκπόρευσις), and in order to put the unity of the Hypostases on a firm basis
he not only emphasises much more strongly the “in one another” (ἐν αλλήλοις)
which had already been maintained before this, rejecting the Apollinarian
analogy of human-substance and man, and teaching that each person is not less
dependent on others than on himself, but he also uses the questionable formula
that the difference between them exists only for thought (ἐπινοία), and that
there exists between them a pervasion (περιχώρησις) without,
however, any blending (συναλοιφή) and mixture (σύμφύρσις) (I. 8). In his
case too this way of putting the dogma was determined by the Christological dogma.See on this Bach, DG. des MA. I., pp. 53 ff., 67 ff. In the Tritheistic
propositions and in the counter-movement we have the beginning of the mediæval
controversy regarding Realism and Nominalism.
In the Eastern Church the further development of the dogma of the Trinity beyond
the limit reached by the Cappadocians had no appreciable result.On the other hand the fact that the most distinguished teacher of the East
propounded a doctrine of the Trinity which seems to be akin to that of Augustine
was of importance for Western theology. We cannot assume that Augustine
influenced John. Moreover, after this theologians were still to be found in the
East who, perhaps under the influence of Mohammedanism, worked out the doctrine
of the Trinity in a modalistic way. Thus in the eleventh century Elias of
Nisibis in his book “On the proof of the truth of the Faith”, written against
the Mohammedans, says (Horst, 1886, p. 1 f.); “Wisdom and Life are two
attributes of God, which no one except Him possesses. For this reason Christians
also say that He is three persons, i.e., possesses three essential
attributes—namely, Essence, Wisdom which is His Word, and Life; He is, however,
a single substance . . . ‘Three persons’ expresses the same as is expressed by
the statement—the Almighty is God, wise, and living. The Essence is the Father,
the Wisdom is the Son, the Life is the Holy Spirit.” God is thus purely a single
being. I am not able to say whether Elias is alone amongst the Nestorians in
teaching this heterodox doctrine. It was too
unimportant in itself, and, above all, it left untouched the point in connection
with which the placing of the Father above the other Hypostases came most
plainly to the front. John also (I. 8) taught that the Holy Spirit proceeds from
the Father.The addition “and rests in the Son” does not require to be taken account of;
see Langen, Joh. v. Damaskus, p. 283 ff. He further simply repeated the old statements that the Spirit
proceeds through the Son, that He is the image of the Son as the latter is of
the Father, and that He is the mediation between Father and Son, although in his
day the doctrine of the Latins—the filioque—was already known in the East.John expressly rejects the view (l.c.) that the Spirit is from the Son or
that it has its ὕπαρξις from the Son (Hom. de Sabb. s.). The
Easterns clung to the statements in support of which they alleged countless
passages from the writings of the Fathers of the Fourth Century, that the Spirit
proceeds from the Father, or from the Father through the Son. As against the
Arians and Semi-Arians they emphasised the Spirit’s independence of the Son, in so far as
dependence meant that the Spirit was a creation of the Son, and they always
continued to stick to the “from the Father”. If in the following centuries
they seldom purposely emphasised it, still they always laid stress on it as
being a self-evident expression of the thesis that the Father is the First
Principle (ἀρχή) in the Trinity, and that accordingly the Spirit appears as
depotentiated, or double caused, if it is regarded as proceeding from the Son
also.Παρὰ τοῦ υἱοῦ or διὰ τοῦ υἱοῦ was the expression used; i.e., it was assumed
from what was stated in Holy Scripture that there was a μεσιτεία on the part
of the Son in connection with the ἐκπόρευσις of the Spirit; e.g., Athan. ad
Serap. I. 20, so that Athanasius himself could say, “what the Holy Spirit has,
it has from (παρὰ) the Son” (Orat. IV. 24), but the Father alone is the cause of
the Spirit; cf. Basil. ep. 38. 4, de sp. s. 6 f.; Gregor., Naz., Orat. 31. 7, 8,
29; Gregor., Nyss., Orat. cat. 3 and many passages in his work against Eunomius.
This system of doctrine continued to be the dominant one, and it makes no
difference to it that a passage has always been pointed to in Epiphanius and
Cyril according to which the Spirit is ἐξ ἀμφοῖν. Marcellus had already
expressed himself on this point in his own fashion when he wrote (Euseb., de eccl. theol. III. 4):
Πῶς γὰρ, εἰ μὴ ἡ μονὰς ἀδιαίρετος οὖσα εἰς τριάδα πλατύνοιτο, ἐγχωρεῖ, αὐτὸν περὶ
τοῦ πνεύματος ποτὲ μὲν λέγειν, ὅτι ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς ἐκπορεύεται, ποτὲ δὲ λέγειν,
ἐκεῖνος ἐκ τοῦ ἐμοῦ λήψεται καὶ ἀναγγελεῖ ὑμῖν.
In reference to this point the dominant theology found it possible only
to distinguish between the immanent processio and the processio in the
historical revelation, or to analyse the “παρά” into “ἐκ” (Father)
and “διά”.
In the Nestorian controversy the use of the proposition that the Spirit
proceeds from the Son was formally disallowed. Theodoret, it is true, maintained
in opposition to Cyril the view that the Holy Spirit is ἴδιον υἱοῦ, but he
declared it to be an impiety to teach that the Holy Spirit is ἐξ υἱοῦ or has
δι᾽ υἱοῦ τὴν ὕπαρξιν (Opp. V. p. 47 ed. Schultze). Maximus Confess. further
repeated this in the ep. ad Marinum, and so too did Joh. Damasc. It is to be
found also in the Confession of Theodore v. Mops. (Hahn, § 139, p. 230). The doctrine of the procession of the Holy Spirit from the Father alone
thus clearly shews that in the East the mutual indwelling of the Hypostases was
not thought of as complete, and that the Father was regarded as greater than the
Son. The spiritual representation of the Trinity was of a different kind in the
East and in the West respectively, especially from the time of Augustine
onwards. It is accordingly at this point that Photius (867) took up the subject,
since he, in searching for a dogmatic disputed point, charged the West with
introducing innovations into doctrine, and strengthened this charge by alleging
the still graver accusation against the West, of having falsified the most holy
Creed of Constantinople by the addition of the “filioque”—“worst of
evils is the addition to the holy Creed” (κακῶν κάκιστον ἡ ἐν
τῷ ἁγίῳ συμβόλῳ προσθήκη).
As a matter of fact “filioque”, as a word in the Creed and
indeed in the doctrine itself too, was an innovation, but in reality it was
merely the correct expression for the original Western conception of the one God
in whom the Trinity coheres. This is not the place to describe the endless
controversy; for the countless and ever new arguments adduced on both sides, so
far as they do not spring from a different way of conceiving of the Trinity and
from the determination to hold by what had once been delivered to the Church,
are worthless. Nor have the attempts to reconcile the opposing views any
interest for the history of dogma, because, as a rule, they were dictated by
ecclesiastical policy. It is, however, worthy of note that the Greeks gradually
came to be suspicious of the old “διὰ τοῦ υἱοῦ”, “through the Son”, too, but
that they otherwise continued to hold by the Cappadocian doctrine of the
Trinity.Photius, Mystag. (ed. Hergenröther) p. 15:
Εἰ δύο αἰτίαι ἐν τῇ θεαρχικῇ καὶ
ὑπερουσίῷ τριάδι καθορᾶται, ποῦ τὸ τῆς μοναρχίας πολυύμνητον καὶ θεοπρεπὲς κράτος;
The tracing back of the Holy Spirit to the Father and the
Son is compared to Manichean dualism. The controversial works are innumerable
and those in the Slav languages are also very numerous, dating chiefly from the
ninth, eleventh, thirteenth, (Council of Lyons) fifteenth (Synod of Florence)
and seventeenth (Cyrillus Lucaris) centuries. In our own day, owing to the
Old-Catholic movement and its projects of Union, the question has again been
revived. For the carrying out of their plans of Union with Eastern Churches,
which have already been in a large measure successful, the Romans have always
found it necessary to have controversialists of a conciliatory disposition,
e.g., Leo Allatius; while for their condemnation of the obstinate Greeks they
have always required fanatical controversialists. The Greeks in order to protect
themselves against the threatening encroachment on the part of the Romans, still
continue to lay great stress on dogmatic controversy, as is proved by the
existence of numerous works and essays, and even by the Greek newspapers which
appear in Constantinople. Besides the large works on the Schism by Pichler, and
on Photius by Hergenröther, cf. Walch, Hist. controv. de process. s. s. 1751;
Theophanes, de process. s. s. 1772; Gass, Symbolik d. griech. K. p. 130 ff.;
Kattenbusch, op. cit. I., p. 318 ff.; Vincenzi, op. cit.; Langen, Die trinitar.
Lehrdifferenz, 1876; Swete, On the History of the Procession of the Holy
Spirit, 1876; Stanley, The Eastern Church, 1864; Kranich, Der h. Basil, i. s.
Stellung z. filioque, 1882; Pawlow, Kritische Versuche zur Geschichte der
ältesten griechish-russischen Polemik gegen die Lateiner (Russian) 1878; Bach,
Dogmengesch. des M.-A. II. p. 748 ff. This together with the dogma of the Incarnation continued to be the
Faith of the Church, the mystery κατ᾽ ἐξοχήν. The whole of the material,
however, which had
been taken over from Greek philosophy was turned to account in giving a definite
form to this dogma, and was to a certain extent exhausted here. Accordingly in
the Trinitarian theology we also meet with what the Church inherited from the
downfall of the ancient world of thought, though certainly it presents itself
in a very much abridged and stunted form. Owing to the way in which it was
employed and owing to its being united with separate Biblical expressions which
came to be taken as philosophical-theological conceptions—the τρόποι ὑπάρξεως,
modes of existence for example—it doubtless underwent the most astonishing
modification. Still the doctrine of the Trinity in the theological treatment
given to it, became the vehicle by which the Platonic and Aristotelian
philosophy was transmitted to the Slavic and Germanic peoples. It contains a
most peculiar blend of the Christian thought of the revelation of God in Jesus
and the legacy of ancient philosophy.
In the West, Augustine, following an ancient Western tendency, destroyed the
last remains of subordinationism, though just because of this he advanced in the
direction of Modalism. According to him in constructing the doctrine of God we
should not start from the person of the Father. On the contrary the conception
of the Godhead ought from the very first to be personal and Trinitarian, so that
the Father is regarded as being conditioned in His existence by the Son in the
same way as the Son is by the Father. Augustine wishes the unity of the three
persons to be so conceived of that the three are equal to each one singly, and
the triple personality is understood as existing within the absolute simplicity
of God. The differences or characteristic notes of the three persons are still
to hold good when the Godhead is so conceived of; but they appear merely as
relations in the one Godhead, and their characteristics are done away when it is
considered that in connection with the act of production or procession Son and
Spirit are to be regarded as active agents. Augustine searched for analogies to
the threefoldness which is found in the one divine essence, in creation, in the
conceptions of basis and substance, form and idea, persistence, and in the human
spirit in object, subjective picture of the object, intention of perception—mens
ipsa, notitia
mentis, amor—memoria, intelligentia, voluntas. The doctrine in its entirety is
the effort of a man whose mind was as sceptical as it was intellectually
powerful, but who revelled in the incomprehensible, who had laid hold of a new
thought, but who both as sceptic and as theosophist felt himself bound to
tradition, and who for this reason was for his punishment driven about between
the poles of a docta ignorantia and a knowledge which was replete with
contradictions. This speculation, which attempts to construe the most immanent
of immanent Trinities and to sublimate the Trinity into a unity, just because it
does this, discards everything in the way of a basis in historical religion and
loses itself in paradoxical distinctions and speculations, while at the same
time it is not able to give clear expression to its new and valuable thought.
The great work of Augustine, “De Trinitate”, can scarcely be said to have
promoted piety anywhere or at any time. It, however, became the high-school not
only for the technicological culture of the understanding, but also for the
metaphysics of the Middle-Ages. The realistic scholasticism of the Middle-Ages
is not conceivable apart from this work, because it itself already contains Scholasticism.The larger histories of dogma go very fully into Augustine’s doctrine of the
Trinity. For the history of dogma, however, it is sufficient to get a knowledge
of the main outlines of this doctrine. The chief source is the great work “de
trinitate”, the letters Nos. 11 and 120 are specially instructive; the former
because, written immediately after Augustine’s conversion, it nevertheless
already contains his fundamental thought, although still in a simple form and
accompanied by a confidence in the power of sanctified reason to understand the
mystery; letter 120, because in a proportionately brief form it sets forth the
doctrine in its matured shape. (The Quaternity is rejected in c. 7, 13.) Besides
this, attention should be given to lib. XI. 10 de civit. dei, amongst other
passages; cf. the monographs by Bindemann and Dorner jun., and also Gangauf,
Augustin’s specul. Lehre v. Gott., 1865. According to Augustine it is not the
divine substance or the Father that is the monarchical principle, but, on the
contrary, the Trinity itself is the one God (unus deus est ipse trinitas, pater
et filius et spiritus s. est unus deus; see de trin. V. 9, c. serm. Arian. c.
4). Consequently the equality and unity are conceived of by him in a much
stricter fashion than by the Cappadocians. He is not afraid of the paradox that
two persons are equal to three, and again that one is equal to three (VII. 11,
VI. 10); for “singula sunt in singulis et omnia in singulis et singula in
omnibus et omnia in omnibus et unum omnia.” Accordingly the Son too takes an
active part in His own sending (II. 9: “a patre et filio missus est idem filius,
quia verbum patris est ipse filius”); the immanent function of the persons as
well as their economic function are never to be thought of as separated, for
“sunt semper unicem, neuter solus” (VI. 7); it is therefore true that the
Trinity—in the O. T.—has also been seen (II.), a fact which the Greeks denied, and that the unity is
actually a numerical one. It is accordingly also self-evident that the equality
is a perfect one; the Father in all His acts is no less dependent on the Son
than the Son is on Him (c. serm. Arian. 3: 1. C. 4 is therefore striking: “solus
pater non legitur missus, quoniam solus non habet auctorem, a quo genitus sit
vel a quo procedat”); the special qualities do not establish anything in the way
of superiority or inferiority. Nor are the persons to be conceived of as
independent substances or as accidents, but as relations, in which the inner
life of the Godhead is present (V. 4, VII. 11, VI. 60, V. 5: “in deo nihil
quidem secundum accidens dicitur, quia nihil in eo mutabile est; nec tamen omne
quod dicitur, secundum substantiam dicitur. Dicitur enim ad aliquid, sicut
pater ad filium et filius ad patrem, quod non est accidens, quia et ille semper
pater et ille semper filius” etc. V. 6: amplification of the “relative”, see
also ep. 233). We can see that Augustine only gets beyond Modalism by the mere
assertion that he does not wish to be a Modalist, and by the aid of ingenious
distinctions between different ideas. His strength and the significance of his
book consist in the attempts he makes to base the doctrine of the Trinity on
analogies, together with these distinctions in thought. In connection with these
Augustine has given us some extraordinarily acute and valuable discussions on
psychology, the theory of knowledge, and metaphysics, which supplied the
subsequent centuries with philosophical education. The Scholastics made use of
these investigations not only in connection with the doctrine of the Trinity, in
discussing which they do not get beyond Modalism—but also in connection with the
conception of God in itself and theology generally. It is impossible, however,
to understand the labyrinths of the work “de trinitate”, on which Augustine
was occupied for fifteen years, if we do not keep the fact in view that the
great thinker has attempted to express in his formula for the Trinity a thought
which this formula not only does not contain, but, on the contrary, implicitly
disowns—namely, that the Godhead is personal and is consequently one person,
that θεότης and Θεός mean the same thing. Obliged to believe in “the three
persons in the one essence” by tradition, but obliged also by his Christian
experience to believe in the single personality of God (see the Confessions),
spite of the value which he too puts upon the “Essence” this situation could
only result in a contradiction. Had Augustine been able to make a fresh start in
putting the Christian religion into a doctrinal system, he would have been the
last to have thought of the Greek formula. One who could write (V. 9) “dictum
est ‘tres personæ’ non ut illud diceretur, sed ne taceretur,” would not have
discovered the three persons in the one substance! But though thus involved in
contradiction this great mind was nevertheless able to instruct posterity in a
hundred ways, for Augustine employed the whole resources of his philosophy in
the endeavour to overcome the contradiction which could not be overcome. It is
moreover, of importance that his acquaintance with the Cappadocian theology was
of such a very superficial kind. When (V. 9) he translates the formula, μίαν
οὐσίαν τρεῖς ὑποστάσεις, by “una essentia tres substantiæ” it is evident
that he had not entered into the spirit or grasped the point of view of that
theology. The addition, however, “sed quia nostra loquendi consuetudo iam
obtinuit, ut hoc intelligatur cum dicimus essentiam, quod intellegitur cum
dicimus substantiam, non audemus dicere: unam essentiam tres substantias, sed
unam essentiam vel substantiam, tres
autem personas, quemadmodum multi Latini ista tractantes et digni auctoritate
dixerunt, cum alium modum aptiorem non invenirent, quo enuntiarent verbis quod
sine verbis intellegebant,” proves that spite of the agreement come to with the
East, the West was not yet conscious of possessing a common terminology. The
studies of Reuter (Ztschr. f. K. G. V., p. 375 ff., VI. p. 155 ff.) have thrown
light on Augustine’s relation to the Trinitarian conclusions of the East. We may
assent to his thesis (p. 191) “In his discussion of the doctrine of the Trinity
Augustine seldom expressly falls back on the formulæ of the Nicene Creed. His
doctrine is not anti-Nicene, but neither is it for the most part Nicene in its
wording. He made very little use of the discussions of Greek or even of Latin
authors.” The Nicene Creed is not once mentioned in the work “de trinitate”.
We ought not in fact to measure the acquaintance which the West had with the
theological development in the East by the careful attention given to it by the
Roman bishops. Reuter is right in saying (p. 383 f.) that it is not so much the
Nicene Creed or indeed any formula whatever which Augustine takes for granted as
expressing the Church doctrine of the Trinity, but rather a fixed series of
fundamental thoughts. The West was never so deeply impressed by the Nicene Creed
as the East had been. In the writings of Tertullian, Novatian, Dionysius of Rome
amongst others, it possessed the “series of fundamental thoughts” which proved
sufficient and in which was still contained a trace of that ἕν πρόσωπον
maintained by Calixt. (Philos. IX. 12) and the presence of which is still
manifested in the “non ut illud diceretur [to wit, ‘tres personæ’]” of
Augustine. Just for this very reason the West did not require the Nicene Creed,
or required it only when it came to close quarters with Arianism, as we may
gather from what is said by Ambrose. We have finally to refer to an important
element in the position of Augustine in reference to the doctrine of the
Trinity. Augustine was positively and negatively influenced by Neo-Platonism as
represented by Plotinus and Porphyry. Negatively, in so far as he was there
confronted with a doctrine of the Trinity, but with one which was based on a
descending series of emanations; positively, in so far as he took over from
Plotinus the thought of the simplicity of God and attempted actually to make use
of it. To Augustine as a philosopher the construction of a doctrine of the
Trinity was already a matter of course. All the more was it necessary for him to
strive to construct a peculiarly Christian doctrine of the Trinity, and, because
of the idea of simplicity which could no longer be referred to the Father alone,
to bring the other two persons into unity with the Father. With the
philosophical postulate of the simplicity of God was blended the religious
postulate of the personality of God, a point regarding which indeed Augustine
never got to have theoretically clear views. Here accordingly the other two “persons” had to be fused, and in this way originated the logical work of art
represented by his doctrine of the Trinity, which no one had taught him and
which appeared even to himself to be so difficult that he did not count on its
being understood by outsiders (Reuter, p. 384). Prudentius (see, e.g., Cath. XI.
13 sq.) has a very ancient doctrine of the Trinity, which partly recalls that of
Tertullian and partly that of Marcellus.
It was for Augustine a self-evident truth that the Holy Spirit proceeds also
from the Son, and he expressly maintained
this.The Father Himself is only relatively principium, the Son and the Holy Spirit
are also to be termed principium; but they form together one principium (V. 13).
The statement accordingly holds good: “fatendum est, patrem
et filium principium esse spiritus sancti, non duo principia.” It is, however,
worthy of note that Augustine in this very place (V. 14) rejects the view that
the Son was born of the Holy Spirit also. In doing this he merely gave expression to the view which was implicitly
contained in the ancient Western doctrine of the
TrinityIt seems to have appeared again in the teaching of Priscillian as avowed
Modalism; see the Anathemas of the Spanish Synod of 447 in Hefele, op. cit. II.,
p. 307 f., and Leo I., ep. ad Turibium. inasmuch as the procession of the Spirit from Father and Son implied in
it could never be regarded as the procession from two First Principles. The
first mention of the doctrine after Augustine is in the Confession of Faith of a
Synod of Toledo which probably met in 447, hardly in 400, “paracletus a patre filioque procedens”
(Hahn, § 97) and in the words of Leo I. (ep. ad Turib. c.
1): “de utroque processit”; see further the so-called Athanasian Creed and the
Confession of the Synod of Toledo in the year 589 (Reccared’s Confession, Hahn,
§ 106). It was at this Synod that the “filioque” was first put into the text
of the Creed of Constantinople, which had probably then or shortly before first
reached Spain. We have no further information regarding the reception it met
with;See the Acts of the Council in Mansi IX., pp. 977-1010, Gams, K. Gesch.
Spaniens II. 2, p. 6 ff., Hefele III., p. 48 ff. Rösler (Prudentius, p. 362 ff.)
regards the Confession in question as being that of the Council of 400. it is likely that in opposition to the West Gothic Arianism there was a
desire to give expression to the doctrine of the equality of Father and Son.
From Spain the addition reached the Carlovingian Frankish Empire,The first controversy, (with the Easterns,) arose at the Council of Gentilly
in the year 767. Already in the libri Carolini the East is censured for not accepting the filioque. and already
in the first decades of the ninth century it had been there embodied in the
official form of the Creed—by the order of Charles the Great. In Rome the
Augustinian doctrine of the Holy Spirit had indeed been long ago sanctioned, but
as late as the beginning of the ninth century the Creed as accepted there was
still without that addition, as the table constructed by Leo III. and his answer
to the Frankish ambassadors in the year 809 prove. Soon after this,
however,—when and under what circumstances it is impossible to say—it was
adopted into the Creed in Rome too; see the ordo Romanus de div. off. (Max Bibl. Patr. XIII.,
p. 677a), which perhaps belongs to the second half of the ninth century, and the
controversy with Photius.See Abelard, Sic et Non IV., p. 26 sq. ed. Cousin, and the works cited above;
in addition Köllner, Symbolik I., p. 1 f., p. 28 ff.
So far as popular Christian thought is concerned, the Cappadocian manner of
formulating the doctrine exercised in the end a more decisive influence even in
the West than the Augustinian view which dissolves the persons into conceptions
and leaves little room for the play of ordinary or pictorial thought. But for
the Church and for ScienceSee Erigena’s doctrine of the Trinity, which is entirely drawn from Augustine,
de div. nat. I. 62, II. 32, 35, homil. in prolog. ev. sec. Joann. Augustine’s view came to be authoritative. What
contributed most to this result was the fact that it was embodied as the
doctrine of Athanasius in a formula which came to have the authority of a
universal and binding Confession of Faith. It is extremely probable that the
so-called Athanasian Creed, so far as the first half of it is concerned, is a
Gallican Rule of Faith explanatory of the Creed of Nicæa. As such it was from
the fifth century onwards, by means of the theology of Augustine and Vincentius
of Lerinum, gradually made into a course of instruction for the clergy, i.e.,
the monks, suitable for being committed to memory. As a regula fidei meant to
explain the Nicene Creed it was called “fides catholica” or “fides Athanasii”,
though it had other names also, and perhaps as early as 500 it began with the
words “Quicunque vult salvus esse.” It is probable that in the course of the
sixth century it essentially received its present technical form in Southern
Gaul where the West-Gothic Spanish Arianism still continued to provoke
opposition. In the middle of the sixth century it, or at least a recension very
similar to it, was already current as the authoritative course of instruction
for the clergy in Southern Gaul, and was together with the Psalms learned by
heart. It got into the decisions of single Councils from the Psalm-books and
breviaries of the monks and clergy, in so far as the practice had here begun of
appealing to single statements in this rule of faith. Starting from here it
gradually came to be the Confession of the Frankish Church in the eighth and
ninth centuries. It was perhaps then that the second Christological half was added, the origin of which is completely
wrapped in obscurity; it was of course put together before the ninth century.
The Frankish Church by its relations with Rome was the means of communicating
the Creed as the Confession of Athanasius to the entire Western Church during
the period from the ninth to the eleventh centuries. As Rome and—through
Rome—the West finally received the Gallico-Frankish form of the so-called
Apostles’ Creed and gave up the primitive Apostles’ Creed, so too Rome adopted
as a second Creed the Gallico-Frankish statement of the Augustinian doctrine of
the Trinity. This, at any rate, is the relatively most probable view that can be
taken of the obscure history of the origin and reception of the so-called
Athanasian Creed.For the older works on the Athanasian Creed which begin with the disquisition of
Voss (1642), see Köllner, Symbolik I., p. 53 ff. In more recent times, besides
Caspari, the English, who use the Creed at divine service and nevertheless have
come to feel it to be inconvenient, have published valuable discussions on it;
see Ffoulkes The Athan. Creed, 1871; Swainson, The Nicene and Apost. Creeds,
etc., 1875; Ommaney, Early History of the Athan. Creed, 1875; two prize-essays
by Peabody and Courtney Stanhope Kenny, 1876, which are known to me only from
the Jena Lit. Ztg., 1877, No. 21. In addition the discussions on the Utrecht
Psalter by Hardy (1874), Aratz (1874), and Springer (1880). It is since the
non-Athanasian origin of the Creed has been established beyond doubt both on
internal and external grounds, that positive work has begun to be done, and this
has not yet been brought to a conclusion. The question as to how far its
transmission in writing takes us back has already been the subject of important
controversies. It is doubtful if the manuscript takes us back as far as the time
of Charles the Great or Charles the Bald. But the question of origin cannot be
decided by the settlement of this point. Swainson gives 850 as the date of its
origin—amongst the Neustrian clergy—and sees in it a piece of intentional
deception. Ffoulkes endeavours to prove that it originated at the end of the
eighth century and is also inclined to believe there was deception in the matter; Caspari suggests the sixth century; others go as far back as the fifth,
beyond the middle of which, at any rate, we cannot, for internal reasons, go.
The question of origin is a complicated one since the Rule of Faith originated
by stages and only gradually came to he authoritative. There is no reason for
thinking of deception. What I have given in the text is based on independent
studies, but to describe these at length would take us too far. The most certain
traces seem to me to point to Southern Gaul, and North Africa may also have had
something to do with it. The Athanasian Creed does not belong to the same
category as the pseudo-Isidorian Decretals as Swainson holds; nor was it set up
by Charles the Great as a sharp boundary line between East and West, which is
the view of Ffoulkes; on the contrary, it was a syllabus of instruction based on
the doctrine of Athanasius, which in uncritical times was turned into a creed of
Athanasius. The necessity for a detailed creed of this kind was coincident with
the desire to possess a compendium of the sacred paradoxes of Augustine and at
the same time a sharp weapon against the Trinitarian, i.e., Arian, errors which had for so long haunted the West. The three
so-called ecumenical Creeds are consequently all “apocryphal.” The Apostles’
Creed did not originate with the Apostles, though so far as its basis is
concerned, it belongs to the post-Apostolic age; the Nicene-Constantinopolitan
Creed originated neither in Nicæa nor in Constantinople, but in Jerusalem or
Cyprus, though it got its main contents from Nicæa; the Athanasian Creed is not
the work of Athanasius. Nor are they ecumenical, on the contrary it is at most
the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed which can be so termedThe Armenian Church possesses a Creed which is closely akin to the Creed of
Constantinople, but not identical with it. since the East knew
nothing of the other two.
The doctrine of the Trinity in the Athanasian Creed is strictly Augustinian, and
yet it has certain traits which are not to be traced either to Augustine or to
Vincentius. No other Creed went so far in the development of the doctrine of the
Trinity as an article of faith necessary to salvation, as this one. This can be
explained only by the fact of its having originated in mediæval times. The
Franks regarded the Faith handed down to them by the ancient Church simply as a
legal statute, and accordingly only required faith in the Faith, obedience, that
is, fides implicita therefore, since they did not yet possess what was required
for a religious or philosophical appropriation of the system of belief. Under
the form of fides implicita, however, i.e., a faith of obedience, the most
developed theology can be looked for from every one. In the Athanasian Creed as
a Creed we have the transformation of the doctrine of the Trinity as an article
of Faith to be inwardly appropriated, into an ecclesiastical legal statute on
the observance of which salvation depends.The Creed is in Hahn, § 81. Careful attention has been bestowed on the
separate statements by those who have investigated the subject, and their origin
has been ascertained. The verses 9-12 are not to be directly traced to
Augustine. Four times over in the Creed salvation is made dependent on carefully
defined belief. This is not like Augustine; see ep. 169. 4. He did not intend
his amplifications of Trinitarian doctrine to be taken as Church doctrine (de
trin. I. 2). The most recent work on the Creed is in Lumby’s History of the
Creeds, third ed., 1887. Lumby comes to the conclusion based on a very careful
examination of the MSS., and tradition, that the Creed in its present shape is not older than the time of Charles the Bald.
For Athanasius the fundamental religious thought was the “Ὁμοούσιος”, and
just because of this he could not treat it technically. For the Cappadocians the
“Ὁμοούσιος” and the doctrine of the Trinity came to be the sum of theological
knowledge. For the Westerns after Augustine these doctrines became a sacred
legal statute, to which, above all, obedience must be rendered. This is the
course of things which is constantly repeated in the history of religion. Men
pass from the religious thought to the philosophical and theological doctrinal
proposition, and from the doctrinal proposition which requires knowledge to the
legal proposition which demands obedience, or to the sacred relic the common
veneration for which constitutes a bond of union for the community, whether it
be that of the nation, the state, or the Church. And thus the process of
formulating comes to have an ever-increasing importance, and the Confession
with the mouth becomes the foundation of the Church. But in reference to this
the Valentinian Herakleon had as early as the second century correctly remarked:—
“There is an agreement in faith and life on the one hand and in word on the
other; the agreement in word is also an agreement based on authorities which
many hold to be the only agreement, though this is not a sound opinion; for
hypocrites can subscribe to this kind of agreement.”
(Ὁμολογίαν εἶναι τὴν μὲν ἐν τῇ πίστει καὶ πολιτείᾳ, τὴν δὲ ἐν φωνῇ· ἡ μὲν
οὖν ἐν φωνῇ ὁμολογία καὶ ἐπὶ τῶν ἐξουσιῶν γίνεται, ἣν μόνην
ὁμολογίαν ἡγοῦνται εἶναι οἱ πολλοί, οὐχ ὑγιῶς· δόνανται δὲ ταύτην
τὴν ὁμολογίαν καὶ οἱ ὑποκριταὶ ὁμολογεῖν.)
CHAPTER II.
THE DOCTRINE OF THE PERFECT LIKENESS OF THE NATURE OF THE INCARNATE SON OF GOD WITH THAT OF HUMANITY.
While the question whether the Divine which had appeared on the earth was
identical with the supreme Godhead, was still agitating men’s minds, the second
question arose as to the nature of the union of the Divine in Christ with
humanity. In this question, comprising as it does two closely connected
problems, the problem, namely, as to the character of the humanity of Christ,
and the problem as to how the union of divinity and humanity is to be conceived
of, that which constituted the supreme concern of Greek theology has its
culmination. It accordingly had already necessarily emerged in the Arian
controversy, for it was in reference to the thought of the union of Godhead and
humanity that the whole controversy was carried on by Athanasius.See Vol. III., Chap. VI.
The problem was not a new one; on the contrary, it had already engaged the
attention of the old theologians who had carried on the struggle against Marcion
and Valentin,The Valentinians themselves had already handled it with supreme technical
skill, though no unanimity was attained in their own schools. With them the
whole stress was laid on complicated distinctions within the person of Christ.
On the other hand, all the elements of the composite nature of Jesus Christ were
by some of the leaders of the schools elevated to the heavenly sphere. and since the time of Irenæus it had occupied a central place in
men’s thoughts. The doctrine that the flesh of Christ was actual human flesh had been for long an established one,See Tertull., de carne Christi.
although platonising theologians still continued to find it possible to combine
with it dogmatic thoughts and a refined Valentianism;So, above all, the Alexandrians. in fact, no single
outstanding Church teacher really accepted the humanity in a perfectly
unqualified way. Further than that it was necessary to believe in an actual
“incarnation of the Logos” (σάρκωσις τοῦ λόγου) all else was uncertain. What
in the way of intensification or modification the conception of the σάρξ was
susceptible of in order still to rank as human flesh, was a point which was as
uncertain as the question as to the relation between σάρξ and ἄνθρωπος, and as
the other question as to whether the σάρξ must maintain itself as such in union
with the Divine and whether it could or could not do this. All the
Christological problems which had before given rise to controversies with the
Gnostics returned in a more subtle form, since it was still possible to posit a
real σάρξ of Christ in the statement of the problem, and then actually to do
away with it again in the course of speculation.
A Christological theory had undoubtedly been propounded by Origen, according to
which the presence of a human soul also in Jesus is to be expressly admitted.
Others before him had long ago demanded this, perhaps partly because they
already felt that everything turned on the human personal life, and that a
human body without a soul involves a merely seeming humanity, though they did
not actually draw the logical conclusions.See I Clem. ad Cor. 49, 6: τὸ αἶμα αὐτοῦ ἔδωκεν ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς . . .
καὶ τὴν σάρκα ὑπὲρ τῆς σαρκὸς ἡμῶν καὶ τὴν ψυχὴν ὑπὲρ τῶν ψυχῶν ἡμῶν.
Iren. V. I. 1: τῷ ἰδίῳ αἵματι λυτρωσαμένου ἡμᾶς τοῦ κυρίου καὶ δόντος τὴν ψυχὴν
ὑπὲρ τῶν ἡμετέρων ψυχῶν καὶ τὴν σάρκα τὴν ἑαυτοῦ
ἀντὶ τῶν ἡμετέρων σαρκῶν. But the theory of Origen was not
determined by this thought alone. He was also influenced by a cosmological
postulate. He required a middle term between the Logos and matter to bind them
together, and this was to be found in the human soul of Christ, concerning which
he taught that it had not shared in the general antemundane fall of the
spirits.For details see Vol. II., p. 369 ff. Moreover, he was certainly acute enough to perceive that the free
human will also must be located in the personality of Christ and that Holy Scripture affirms that it is. But his theory of the human
soul and of the nature of the union of the divine and human in Christ scarcely
passed beyond the circle of his own pupils.Hilary (de trinit. X. 22) will not entertain the idea of a human soul. His
view of the origin of souls is certainly, speaking generally, creationist. “He
has taken the soul from Himself which, moreover, was never communicated by men
as something emanating from those who beget. . . . The soul of the body (of
Christ) must have been from God.” It was too closely connected with
the most peculiar and most questionable fundamental presuppositions of the great
philosopher and was also too difficult to win approval. Even in Alexandria in
the time of Alexander and Athanasius it would appear that attention was no
longer given to Origen’s way of putting the doctrine; in those cases in which
his view was retained its effect at best was merely still further to increase
the elasticity of all the conceptions attached to the person of Jesus.
The general stagnation which marked theology in the first half of the Fourth
Century, shewed itself no less in the different views of the Incarnation than in
the doctrine of the Godhead of Christ. Most theologians contented themselves
with the idea of the ensarkosis, and in connection with this clung to the most
naïve doketic views as regard details.The detailed discussions of Hilary amongst other things (de trinitate) shew
the length to which these doketic views had gone and the extent to which they
had spread. According to him the body of Christ was exalted above all rah and
always took these upon itself voluntarily only. The normal condition of the body
of Christ was always the condition of glorification, the appearance in ordinary
material form with the ordinary needs was on every occasion a voluntary act (X.
23, 25: “in natura Christi corporis infirmitatem naturæ corporeæ non fuisse”
etc.). Christ in Gethsemane did not tremble and pray for himself, but for his
disciples (X. 37, 41) He did not feel pain; His sufferings affected Him as an
arrow passes through fire and air (X. 23). His nature was absolutely incapable
of suffering. Amongst the confused ideas of Hilary, that of a depotentiation of
the Logos by an act of self-emptying, is also met with. But the passages to
which the modern supporters of the kenotic theory appeal (de trin. IX. 14, XI.
48, XII. 6) are not in place; for when Hilary is dealing with the idea of
self-humiliation he always takes back in the second statement what he has
asserted in the first, so that the unchangeableness of God may not suffer. Hence
the statement: “Christus in forma dei manens formam servi accepit.” This
statement must be taken along with the strongly kenotic statements of Hilary. If this already involved a reassertion
of the opinions held in the oldest theological schools which Christianity
possessed, namely, the Valentinian, others went still further in reasserting these opinions and directly
taught the doctrine of the heavenly σάρξ of Christ,“Corpus cæleste” says Hilary himself,
l.c. X. 18. The Pauline speculations
regarding the second Adam and the heavenly man, had come to have very disastrous
consequences for the theologians of the Fourth and Fifth Centuries as they had
already had for the Gnostics before them. By the attention which was given to
these speculations the problem, which was otherwise already a complicated one,
got into the direst confusion. It was, however, doketism in particular, both in
its coarse and in its refined forms, which turned them to account, and modern
theologians have shown a fondness for fishing in these muddy waters in order to
extract from them their very different fancies regarding Christ as the heavenly
type of humanity and as the ideal-man. the Homousia of this σάρξ
with the Godhead of the Logos, and so on.See Vol. III., p. 299 ff. Others adopted the theory of a
transformation. According to them the σάρξ originated with the Logos Himself, who
in view of its appearance or manifestation, by an act of transformation made for
Himself a body capable of suffering and thus in part renounced His own nature.
We can trace the influence here of the old monarchian theologoumena of the
ὑιοπάτωρ who is incapable of suffering when He wills and capable of suffering
when He wills.That the Logos himself formed His own body (from Mary) seems to have been the
almost universal opinion; see Hilary X. 18 (also 22) “Christ Himself is the
source of His body.” Speculative Pantheistic views, such as afterwards plainly
reappeared amongst the Monophysites and which had formerly been propounded by
the Gnostics, may already have been in existence at this time, ideas such as
those of the moment of finitude in the essence of God Himself, and of the Cosmos
as the natural body of the Godhead. In opposition to these views some taught the
doctrine of a perfect incarnation (ἐνανθρώπησις), feeling probably that a mere
ensarkosis or appearing in the flesh was not sufficient. But they were perfectly
in the dark in regard to the question as to whether the Godhead really became a
man or adopted human nature. As no one had yet decided this question, so no one
knew whether the incarnate Logos had two natures or one, though the great
majority clung to the idea of one nature without knowing, however, how to
conceive of it. No one knew whether the Logos was blended with humanity or
merely joined with it, whether He had transformed Himself into it or whether He had put it on as a dress
and dwelt in it as in a temple, whether in becoming man He had taken it up into
the Godhead, or in deifying it had left its peculiar nature intact; or had not
deified it at all, but had merely associated it with the Godhead. Further, no
one knew in what way the Gospel statements were to be employed in connection
with the complicated nature of the God-man. Was the flesh, the man, born of the
Virgin Mary, or was the Logos born of her together with the flesh. Who suffers,
who hungers, who thirsts, who trembles and is afraid, who asks and is anxious,
who confesses his ignorance, who describes the Father as the only Good, who
dies, the man or the God-man? And again: who does miracles, commands nature,
forgives sins, in short, who is the Redeemer, God or the God-Man? There was no
fixed, generally accepted answer. Further, no one was able to make any definite
statement regarding the permanence of the humanitySee the peculiar doctrine of Marcellus in Zahn, Marcell., p. 177 f., given
differently by Dorner and Baur. of Christ and its nature
after the Resurrection, and yet the question as to the effect of the Incarnation
turned entirely on this point. Finally, the question as to whether the Logos did
or did not undergo a change owing to the Incarnation, was one on which complete
uncertainty prevailed. The questions regarding exaltation, humiliation,
depotentiation, assumption emerged and affected the always half concealed
fundamental question, as to the relation of the Divine and human generally. The
theologians, however, groped uncertainly about, and however paradoxical many of
the doctrines already were of a suffering without suffering, of a humiliation
without humiliation, still the most paradoxical by no means passed yet for the
most certain.Examples of these disputed questions are supplied by all the writings of the
Fathers dealing with the subject, down to the middle of the Fourth Century. A
specially characteristic example is to be found in Philostorg., H. E., IX. 14.
He tells us that in Constantinople, in the time of Valens, Demophilus, e.g.,
preached τὸ σῶμα τοῦ υἱοῦ
ἀνακραθὲν τῇ θεότητι εἰς τὸ αδηλότατον κεχωρηκέναι,
as a drop of milk disappears when it trickles into the ocean. We can easily see that we are here at the very central point of
the old Greek theology; at the time of the Nicene Creed this was, however, no
rock, but a slippery bit of country shelving down on all sides. The religious
thought: Θεὸς σαρκωθεὶς δι᾽
ἡμᾶς—God made flesh for us,—stood firm, but the theology which sought to grasp
it slipped off it at every point. How could it possibly be put in intelligible
conceptions so long as theologians concerned themselves with the “Natures”! A
human nature made divine which nevertheless remains truly human, is a
contradictio in adjecto. What those in after times succeeded in doing was
accordingly not to give a clear explanation, but simply a paraphrase which as
formulated was by no means perfectly suited to express the thought, and whose
value consisted in this, that it surrounded the speculative theologians with a
hedge and prevented them from falling into abysses.
The Christological problem, however, as it was treated in the ancient Church was
not only connected in the closest way with the Trinitarian, and, further, had
not only the element of contradiction in common with it, but it also in the last
resort issued in the same formulæ. If in the case of the latter the singular of
the substance or nature and the plurality of the persons were the accepted
terms, it was the reverse way in the case of the other, where the accepted terms
came finally to be the plurality of the substances and the unity of the persons.
The distinction between “Nature” and “Person” was also the subject of
discussion in both cases. That this distinction, with which the West had been
long acquainted without, however, using it as a speculative starting-point,
supplied the means of escape from the difficulties connected with both problems,
theologians had begun to perceive as early as the middle of the Fourth Century,
though undoubtedly in a slow and hesitating fashion. This was the anchor to
which they fastened themselves, although it was not supplied by any philosophy;
they had to provide it for themselves. While, however, so far as the Trinitarian
problem was concerned, the distinction once introduced quickly established
itself in the East, it was a century before it triumphed there as regards the
Christological problem, and this triumph, far from uniting the parties,
permanently separated them.
What is the explanation of this remarkable phenomenon? It may be said that
neither in connection with the Trinitarian question did the perfect unity of the
substance succeed in establishing itself (see pp. 120, 125); but it very nearly
did so, and
the controversy accordingly ceased. Why then did the formula of the unity of the
person not in the same way prove satisfactory in connection with the
Christological problem?
This question may already be raised here, though it cannot be settled till the
next chapter. Attention must, however, be directed to one point. The antecedents
of the “solution” of the Trinitarian and Christological problem which proved
victorious in the Eastern Church and consequently in the Catholic Church
generally, are to be found only partly in the East; it was naturalised in the
West. The Tertullian who in the work “adv. Prax.” created the formula of the
“una substantia” and the “tres personæ”, in the same work constructed the
formulae of the “utraque substantia (duplex status non confusus—this is the
ἀσυγχύτως—sed conjunctus) in una persona” (the substance of two kinds in one
person, the twofold state not confused but joined together in one person); “duæ substantiæ in Christo Jesu, divina et humana” (two substances in Christ
Jesus, divine and human); “salva est utriusque proprietas substantiæ in
Christo Jesu” (the property of each substance in Christ Jesus is not interfered
with).See Vol. II., p. 280 ff. and above, p. 121. He thus laid the foundation for the formally similar treatment of both
problems, and created the terminology which was accepted by the East after more
than two hundred years. Had he the same interest in the Christological problem
as the later Eastern theologians had? Was the deification of humanity a matter
of importance to him? By no means. And what philosophy did he make use of? Well,
no philosophy at all; on the contrary, he used the method of legal fictions. By
the aid of the distinction current among jurists between “substance” and
“person” he with great facility explained and securely established as against
the Monarchians both the ancient ecclesiastical and, par excellence, Western
formula, “Christus deus et homo”, and also the formula, “pater, filius et
spiritus sanctus—unus deus.” Substance—for Tertullian never uses the word
“nature”—is in the language of the jurists not anything personal, but rather
corresponds to “property” in the sense of possession, or to the essence as
distinguished from the manifestation or “status”; the person again is not in itself anything
substantial, but the subject or individual as capable of entering into legal
relations and possessing property, who can quite well possess different
substances, just as on the other hand it is possible for one substance to be in
the possession of several persons. Tertullian introduced these legal terms into
theology. That this is what they were in his use of them, and not philosophical
terms, is shewn by the words themselves, shewn too by the application made of
them and by the utter disregard of the difficulty which their application must
necessarily create for every philosophical thinker. And it was these legal
fictions which the East had to accept as philosophy, i.e., theology, or change
into philosophy! This became the basis of the “philosophy of revelation.” (!)
This was more than the boldest Neo-Platonic philosophy in its strangest
intellectual phantasies had ever asked. No wonder that difficulties were made
about accepting it, especially when, besides, it did not cover what was still
the preponderating interest of the Faith, the interest in the deification of
humanity. People always shrank from positing an οὐσία ἀνυπόστατος, a substance
without an hypostasis, because when used in reference to a living being it was
simply absurd, and because the unity of the person of Christ, “salva utriusque
substantiæ proprietate”, gave no security for the unity of the Godhead and
humanity. The jurist Tertullian, however, could manage quite well with “person”
and “substance”, as if the distinction between them were self-evident, because he
did not here develop the logical results of the doctrine of redemption, but gave
expressionThe Westerns did the same after him; amid all the odd ideas that some of them
produced they always clung to the humana et divina substantia, to the filius dei
et filius hominis, and this distinction which had been supplied by the Creed,
together with the unity of the person, became for them the rudder when it came
to be a question of sailing through the stormy waves which had arisen in the
East. See already Novatian, then Hilary, Ambrose, Augustin, Leo I. and also the
less important theologians. It is extremely characteristic that Vincentius
(Comm. 17, 18) still uses not the designation two natures, but two substances,
and as against Apollinaris he finds the thesis perfectly sufficient “that Christ
had two substances, the one divine, the other human, the one from the Father,
the other from His Mother.” Hilary very frequently employs the expressions
“utraque natura”, “persona”; he also writes de trin. IX. r4: “utriusque naturæ
persona.” In the “Statuta ecclesiæ antiqua” (Mansi III., p. 950) we have: “qui
episcopus ordinandus est, antes examinetur . . . si incarnationem divinam non in patre neque in spiritu s. factam, sed
in filio tantum credat, ut qui erat in divinitate dei patris filius, ipse fieret
in homine hominis matris filius, deus verus ex patre, homo verus ex matre,
carnem ex matris visceribus habens et animam humanam rationalem, simul in eo
ambæ naturæ, i.e., deus et homo, una persona, unus filius, unus Christus.” For details see below. to a matter of fact which was ostensibly
contained in the Creed, and because he did not, properly speaking, indulge in
philosophical speculation, but applied the artificial language of the jurists.
If we accordingly perceive that many centuries afterwards, the
philosophical-realistic method of handling the main problem was in Western
scholasticism completely displaced by a formal-logical or legal method of
treatment, there is nothing surprising in this; for the foundation of such a
method of handling the problem was in fact laid by Tertullian.
Irenæus had already clearly discerned and plainly expressed the thought of the
most perfect union. The great Western theologians about the year 200 were
further advanced in respect of Christology in consequence of the struggle with
Gnosticism and Patripassianism, than the East was a hundred years later.See Vol. II., p. 275 ff. But
what they had secured in the heat of battle did not possess even in the West
itself any general validity; while in the East the greatest uncertainty
reigned, having been brought in by the “scientific” Christology of Origen.Nevertheless he strongly emphasised the thought of the deification of the
human nature. On the other hand it is possible to attribute to him a doctrine of
two natures. It delayed or threw back the development, which had certainly begun in a
strictly scientific form. Thus at the beginning of the Fourth Century the East
had once more to take up the question entirely anew. If we are to estimate
correctly what was finally accomplished, it must not be measured by the Gospel,
but by the dead state of things which had prevailed a hundred years before.
The assertion of Arius and his pupils that the Logos took only a human body gave
the impulse to renewed consideration of the problem. Like Paul of Samosata the
Lucianists would have nothing to do with two natures, but they taught the
doctrine of one half-divine nature which was characterised by
human feelings, limited knowledge and suffering.Most instructive in this connection is the otherwise interesting Creed of
Eudoxius of Constantinople (Caspari, Quellen IV., p. 176 ff.):
πιστεύομεν εἰς ἕνα, τὸν
μόνον ἀληθινόν, Θεὸν καὶ πατέρα, τὴν μόνην φύσιν ἀγέννητον καὶ ἀπάτορα, ὅτι μηδένα
σέβειν πέφυκεν ὡς ἐπαναβεβηκυῖα· καὶ εἰς ἕνα κύριον, τὸν υἱόν, εὐσεβῆ ἐκ τοῦ σέβειν
τὸν πατέρα, καὶ μονογενῆ μέν, κρείττονα πάσης τῆς μετ᾽ αὐτὸν κτίσεως, πρωτότοκον
δέ, ὅτι τὸ ἐξαίρετον καὶ πρώτιστόν ἐστι τῶν κτισμάτων, σαρκωθέντα, οὐκ ἐναθρωπήσαντα,
οὔτε γὰρ ψυχὴν ἀνθρωπινην ἀνείληφεν, ἀλλὰ σὰρξ γέγονεν, ἵνα διὰ σαρκὸς
τοῖς ἀνθρώποις ὡς διὰ παραπετάσματος Θεὸς ἡμῖν χρηματίσῃ· οὐ δύο φύσεις, ἐπεὶ
μὴ τέλειος ἦν ἄνθρωπος, ἀλλ᾽ ἀντὶ ψυχῆς Θεὸς ἐν σαρκί· μία τὸ ὅλον κατὰ σύνθεσιν
φύσις· παθητὸς δι᾽ οἰκονομίαν· οὔτε γὰρ ψυχῆς ἢ σώματος παθόντος τὸν κόσμον σώζειν
ἐδύνατο· Ἀποκρινέσθωσαν οὖν, πῶς ὁ παθητὸς καὶ θνητὸς τῷ κρείττονι τούτων Θεῷ,
πάθους τε καὶ θανάτου ἐπέκεινα, δύναται εἶναι ὁμοούσιος. In the
same way Eunomius, see Epiph. H. 69. 19, Ancor. 33. Like Paul of Samosata they
also found fault with the orthodox on the ground that their Christology led to
the assumption of two Sons of God or two natures; for these were still regarded
as identical. The reply made by the orthodox at first to this charge lacked
theological precision. Just because Athanasius was as much convinced of the
necessity of the Incarnation (ἐνανθρώπησις) as of the unity of the personality
of Christ as Redeemer, he did not put the doctrine in fixed formulæ. On the one
hand, as against Arius, he made a sharp distinction between what the God and
what the man in Christ had done, in order to keep the Logos Omoousios free of
everything human; on the other hand, however, he wished the divine and human to
be thought of as a perfect unity; for it is to a strictly uniform being that we
owe our salvation, the Word made flesh, the λόγος
σαρκωθείς.Curiously enough Athanasius throughout merely touched on the Christology of
Arius. He afterwards stated his views in greater detail in opposition to
Apollinaris, see Atzberger, Logoslehre d. h. Athan., p. 171 ff. In the “Orations against the Arians” the distinction between the divinity and humanity
of Christ is brought prominently forward. The unity is next secured again by
means of the deceptive formula that the flesh of the Logos was just his own
flesh, his humanity (Orat. III. 32: ὅθεν τῆς σαρκὸς πασχούσης οὐκ ἦν ἐκτὸς ταύτης ὁ λόγος· διὰ τοῦτο γὰρ
αὐτοῦ λέγεται τὸ πάθος; see also the
particularly characteristic word ἰδιοποίησις used for the assumption of the
flesh. In the case of Athanasius it may already be very clearly seen that it was
not religious feeling, but solely the biblical tradition regarding Christ (His
weakness and His capacity for being affected in a human way,) which led him in
the direction of the doctrine of the two natures. That tradition was a serious
stumbling-block. But Athanasius used neither the formula “δύο φύσεις” nor
the other “μία φύσις”. (See also Reuter, Ztschr. f. K.-Gesch. VI., p. 184
f.) He speaks of divinity and humanity or of Θεὸς λόγος and σάρξ. So far as I
know the formula μία φύσις was brought into use by Apollinaris, while, so far
as I know, we first meet with the other, the δύο φύσεις, in Origen, and next in the
mouths of the Arians who reproached the orthodox with their use of it—with the
exception of a doubtful fragment of Melito, where, moreover, we have δύο οὐσίαι.
The Cappadocians were the first to make use of the expression again in
attacking Apollinaris, inasmuch as they made a sharp distinction between “two
natures” and “two Sons”. Owing to its use by the Cappadocians the formula of
“two natures” had almost already become orthodox and had been regularly
introduced into ecclesiastical language, or, to put it otherwise, the tradition
which had come down from Origen and the presence of which is scarcely anywhere
noticeable in Athanasius himself, penetrated into the Church in connection with
this matter also by means of the Cappadocians. Cyril himself accordingly
employed the expression. Thus the problem raised by Reuter, op. cit. 185 f., as
to how it comes about that Cyril employs an Origenistic formula, which
nevertheless is not to be found in Athanasius, is solved. We have to remember
that there was a revival of Origenism in consequence of the theological work of
the Cappadocians. For the rest “δύο φύσεις” as distinguished from “duo
substantiæ” is to be regarded as a realistic speculative formula.
The prolix amplifications of HilarySee especially lib. X. de trinit., Dorner I., pp. 1037-1071. were still more uncertain, so much so that
there was some justification for the charge brought against orthodoxy by its
opponents, that it led to a division of the Son of God from the Son of Man. But
Athanasius had not reflected on this; in this connection too he had stated the
mystery simply and forcibly, frequently in the words of Irenæus. The Logos not
only had a man, did not only dwell in a man, but was man. He united what was
ours with Himself in order to give us what was His. The Logos is not, however,
thereby lowered, but on the contrary, the human is raised higher.See the collection of passages referring to the matter in Dorner I., pp.
948-955. The Arian doctrine of the σῶμα ἄψυχον of Christ had already been
combated by Eustathius, see Dorner, op. cit. 966-969. The question
as to the extent of what was comprised in the human nature was one which
Athanasius did not think out. He preferred to speak of a natural union, an ἕνωσις φυσική,
in Christ, but in this connection he uniformly disregarded the
human personality. The free will was the category used, roughly speaking, at
that period to express what is called in modern times “human personality”. But
Athanasius had not yet thought of this term in connection with Christ, because
he had not learned anything from Origen. In all probability he found in fact no
problem here, but, like Irenæus, a comforting mystery which could not be other than
it was. He did not see that the mind must necessarily go astray on this matter
either in the direction of the Gnostic doctrine of two natures or in that of the
doctrine of unity, in the sense in which it was held by Valentinian, the
doctrine of a heavenly humanity, or in the sense in which it was held by Arius.
He believed that the doctrine of one composite being would serve his purpose
which in any given case allowed of the distinction being made between what
belonged to the divinity and what belonged to the humanity respectively. Neither
did the great theologian who attached himself to Athanasius—namely,
Marcellus—perceive yet the full difficulty of the problem. His energetic and
practical theology could, however, only bring him nearer to the doctrine of a
complete unity. The Logos is the Ego of the Personality of Christ; the nature
which serves as an organ for the incarnate Logos and gives outward expression to
his self-manifestation, is impersonal. The Logos is the ἐνέργεια δραστική,
the divine energy; the body is the matter which is moved by it, which is
transformed into a perfect instrument for the Logos. Marcellus was still
further than Athanasius from assuming the existence of two separate, independent
natures. He does indeed incidentally attack the Arian idea of the unity and he
also employs the expression σύναφεια, connection, for the union of the Logos with
humanity, but at bottom he sees at every point in the incarnate God-Logos a
perfect unity.See Dorner p. 871 ff.; Zahn, Marcell., pp. 155-165. He thus thought about the matter as the great Christologist did
after him, who first felt the difficulty of the problem and created a formula
which did not harm Greek religious feeling, but rather gave it a secure basis,
and which in doing this nevertheless left unnoticed an element of tradition
which was indeed concealed, but was not to be rooted out.
Apollinaris of LaodiceaDräseke, Zeitfolge d. dogmat. Schriften des A. v. Laod. (Jahrb. f. protest.
Theol., 1887, Part 4). The same author, Apoll. v. Laodicea, nebst einem Anhange,
Apollinarii Laod. que supersunt dogmatica (Texte u. Unters. z. Altchristl, Litt.
Gesch, VII, 3, 4) in addition Jülicher in the Gött. Gel. Anz., 1893, No. 2. whose divine teachers were Pythagoras, Plato, and
Aristotle, who had learned from Athanasius,
whose theological method was the Aristotelian one, and who because of this had
been strongly influenced by the Arian theology, the zealous and acute opponent
of Origen and Porphyry, the sober-minded exegete who preserved the most
brilliant traditions of the school of Antioch and had a reverence for the letter
of Scripture, made it the task of his life to combat the Origenistic and Arian
theologies,—their doctrine of the Trinity and their Christology. Nemesius and
Philostorgius have termed him the most important theologian of his age,According to Suidas, referring hack to Philostorgius, Athanasius seemed a child
alongside of Apollinaris, Basil, and Gregory of Nazianzus. and
that in fact he was. The most striking proof of his importance is supplied by
the fact that many of his works create the impression of having been written in
later centuries, so energetically has he thought out the Christological problem
and overtaken the coming generations. His syllogistic-dialectic and his exegetic
method is akin to that of the later Antiochians, and consequently the Fourth
Century possessed in Marcellus, Eunomius, Apollinaris and the Antiochians a
series of theologians, who, although not unacquainted with Plotinus and Origen,
did not all the same adhere to the Origenistic, Neo-Platonic speculative views,
theologians who were united by their employment of the same
philosophico-theological method, but who nevertheless arrived at wholly
different results.The fullest account of the Apollinarian Christology (after Walch) is that
given by Dorner I., p. 985 ff. (but cf. now Dräseke). Since that account was
written, however, thanks to the labours of Caspari (Alte and neue Quellen z.
Gesch. des Taufsymbols, 1879) and Dräseke, a new and rich supply of material has
been brought forward. These scholars have shewn that the Apollinarians have
foisted (from about 400) writings by their master on recognised authorities,
such as Gregor. Thaum., Athanasius, Felix of Rome, Julius of Rome, in order to
accredit their theology. We still possess the greater part of these writings;
see Caspari, Quellen, IV., p. 65 ff. (on the κατὰ μέρος πίστις); Dräseke in
the Ztschr. f. K. Gesch. Vol. VI., VII., VIII., IX.; Jahrb. f. protest. Theol.,
IX., X., XIII., Ztschr f. wiss. Theol., XXVI., XXIX., XXX., collected together
in the Monograph (Texte u. Unters. VII. 3, 4 by Loofs, Leontius von Byzanz, p.
92 ff.). The sources for Apollinaris previously known, i.e., the places where
fragments are found, are besides Epiph., H. 77, Socrat., Sozom., the works of
Athanasius (the genuineness of the work adv. Apoll. is disputed), of the
Cappadocians, of Theodore and Theodoret.; see in addition the resolutions of
Councils from 362 onwards, Mai, Script. Vet. nova Coll. T. VII. Spicil. X. 2 and
catenas. Epiphanius treated Apollinaris in a friendly fashion, Athanasius
corresponded with him, the Cappadocians at first revered him
and always held him in high respect, while the Arian theologians extolled him as
their ablest opponent. Cf. on this Vincent., Common. 15-20.
Apollinaris in combating Arius and his changeable Christ, Χριστὸς τρεπτός,
started by allowing that the assumption that in Christ the God-Logos who was
equal in substance with God united Himself with a physically perfect man,
necessarily led to the idea of two Sons of God, one natural and one adopted.Gregor. Antir. 42. According to Apollinaris two knowing and willing beings could
not possibly be united in one being. Here we can see the Antiochian tradition
which had come from Paul of Samosata: δύο τέλεια ἓν γένεσθαι οὐ δύναται. (So
Apollinaris according to what purports to be the work of Athanasius against him,
I. 2 Migne, Vol. 26, p. 1096.) A
perfect God and a perfect man can never make a uniform being,Εἰ ἀνθρώπῳ τελείῳ συνήφθη Θεὸς τέλειος, δύο ἂν ἦσαν, εἷς μὲν φύσει υἱὸς Θεοῦ,
εἷς δὲ θετός (Dräseke, Texte u.
Unters. VII. 3, 4, p. 388). and in this he
was in agreement with Paul of Samosata, Marcellus and the Arians. They
constitute on the contrary a hybrid form, i.e., a fabulous Minotaur, a cross
breed, etc. But if there is no such thing as a union between a perfect God and a
perfect man, then, if these premises are valid, the idea of the incarnation of
God which is the whole point in question, disappears. And further the
unchangeableness and sinlessness of Christ disappears also, for changeableness
and sin belong to the nature of the perfect man. We are, therefore, not to see
in the Redeemer a perfect man, we are on the contrary to assume and believe that
the Logos assumed human nature, namely, the animated σάρξ, but that He Himself
became the principle of self-consciousness and self-determination (πνεῦμα) in
this σάρξ. Freedom too is an attribute of the perfect man, but—this as against
Origen—Christ cannot possibly have possessed this freedom; for the Godhead in
Him would have destroyed it. God, however, destroys nothing He has created.There are three theses which Apollinaris everywhere attacks, and from these we
can easily understand what his own theology is. He wishes to disown (1) the view
that there are two Sons, (2) the idea that Christ was an ἄνθρωπος ἔνθεος, the
view he attributed to Marcellus, since heathens and Jews could also believe in a
Christ of this kind, (3) the view that Christ was a free and therefore a
changeable being. He accordingly directs his attacks (1) against the Gnostic
division of Christ and Jesus, (2) against Paul, Marcellus, and Photinus, (3) against Origen and Arius.
Apollinaris sought to prove his doctrine out of the central convictions of Greek piety, and at the same time to establish
it by Biblical and speculative arguments. In a lying age he stated it with the
most refreshing candour. Everything that Christ had done for us God must have
done, otherwise it has no saving power: “The death of a man does not abolish
death”—ἀνθρώπου θάνατος οὐ
καταργεῖ τὸν θάνατον.Antir. 51. Everything that He did must be perfect else it avails us nothing. There is here thus absolutely no
room for a human ego. This would do away with the redemption. If it had been
present in Him, then Paul of Samosata would be right, and Christ would be merely
an inspired man, ἄνθρωπος ἔνθεος; but such a being cannot give us any help;
for if he had not essentially united humanity with Himself how could we expect
to be filled with the divine nature? Further, if he had been a man he would have
been subject to weaknesses, but we require an unchangeable spirit who raises us
above weaknesses.Athan. adv. Apoll. I. 2: ὅπου τέλειος ἄνθρωπος, ἐκεῖ ἁμαρτία. It is just
from the νοῦς; that sin springs. In addition Antir. 40, 51: Ἡ σὰρξ ἐδεῖτο ἀτρέπτου νοῦ,
μὴ ὑποπίπτοντος αὐτῇ διὰ ἐπιστημοσύνης ἀσθένειαν, ἀλλὰ συναρμόζοντος αὐτὴν
ἀβιάστως ἑαυτῷ . . . Οὐ δύναται σώζειν τὸν κόσμον ὁ ἄνθρωπος μὲν ὢν καὶ τῇ κοινῇ
τῶν ἀνθρώπων φθορᾷ ὑποκείμενος. We must
accordingly seriously accept the thought that in Christ the Godhead was not a
force, but τὸ ὑποκείμενον. Antir. 39: Οὐ
σώζεται τὸ ἀνθρώπινον γένος δι᾽ ἀναλήψεως νοῦ καὶ ὅλου ἀνθρώπου, ἀλλὰ διὰ προσλήψεως
σαρκός. Apollinaris was conscious that he was the first to perceive what the incarnation of God meant. Therefore He must have assumed our nature in such a way that
He made it the perfect organ of His Godhead and Himself became its νοῦς—the
human nature of Christ “is not moved separately”—οὐ κινεῖται ἰδιαζόντως. But
this is also the doctrine of Scripture. It says that the Logos became flesh, and
by this is denoted the animated body, not the νοῦς. It does not say “He assumed
a man”, but that “He was found as a man”—ὡς ἄνθρωπος. It teaches that He
appeared in the likeness of sinful flesh—ἐν ὁμοιώματι σαρκὸς ἁμαρτίας,
and was in the likeness or according to the likeness of men—ἐν ὁμοιώματι ἀνθρώπων or καθ᾽ ὁμοίωσιν. It shews finally that there was in Him the most perfect unity of the human and the divine, so that it says
of the humanity what holds good of the divinity and vice versa; God was born
and died, and so on. At the same time, however, the Godhead is not to be thought
of as capable of suffering. Owing to the intimate union with the σάρξ which was
wholly and entirely its σάρξ, it shared in a complete fashion in the suffering,
and the efficacy of redemption consists only in the fact that it did so share in
it. And conversely the σάρξ is entirely taken up into the nature of the Logos. “The
flesh therefore is divine, because it is united with God, and it indeed
saves”—θεϊκὴ ἄρα σάρξ, ὅτι Θεῷ
συνήφθη καὶ αὕτη μὲν
σώζει.Apollinaris assumes the existence in Christ of what is indeed a composite
nature, but which is nevertheless a nature possessing oneness. The μία φύσις τοῦ
λόγου σεσαρκωμένη
is his formula (see the letter to the Emperor Jovian
in Hahn, Symbole 2, § 120: ὁμολογοῦμεν . . . οὐ δύο φύσεις τὸν ἕνα υἱόν, μίαν προσκυνητὴν
καὶ μίαν ἀπροσκύνητον, ἀλλὰ μίαν φύσιν τοῦ Θεοῦ λόγου σεσαρκωμένην καὶ προσκυνουμένην
μετὰ τῆς σαρκὸς αὐτοῦ μιᾷ προσκυνήσει.) He, besides, expressly teaches that the
σαρκωθεὶς οὔκ ἐστιν ἕτερος παρὰ τὸν ἀσώματον; he demands a perfect
ἀντιμεθίστασις τῶν ὀνομάτων
and he here reasons again mainly from the standpoint of Greek religious feeling: Ἄλλης καὶ ἄλλης οὐσίας μίαν εἶναι καὶ τὴν αὐτὴν προσκύνησιν
ἀθέμιτον, τουτέστιν ποιητοῦ καὶ ποιήματος, Θεοῦ καὶ ἀνθρώπου. Μία δὲ ἡ
προσκύνησις τοῦ Χριστοῦ, καὶ κατὰ τοῦτο ἐν τῷ ἑνὶ ὀνόματι νοεῖται Θεὸς καὶ ἄνθρωπος.
Οὐκ ἄρα ἄλλη καὶ ἄλλη οὐσία Θεὸς καὶ ἄνθρωπος· ἀλλὰ μία κατὰ σύνθεσιν Θεοῦ
πρὸς σῶμα ἀνθρώπινον, or ἀδύνατον τὸν αὐτὸν καὶ προσκυνητὸν ἑαυτὸν εἰδέναι καὶ μή.
Ἀδύνατον ἄρα τὸν αὐτὸν εἶναι Θεόν τε καὶ ἄνθρωπον ἐξ ὁλοκλήρου, ἀλλ᾽ ἐν μονότητι
συγκράτου φύσεως θεϊκῆς σεσαρκωμένης, see still other passages in Dorner I., p. 999 ff. The flesh must
therefore be adored also; for it constitutes an inseparable part of the one
substance: ἡ σὰρξ τοῦ κυρίου προσκυνεῖται καθὸ ἕν ἐστι πρόσωπον
καὶ ἕν ζῶον μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ.
Starting from this Apollinaris attempted to give his doctrine a speculative
basis. This also rests on Scripture passages, but at the same time it refers
back to a peculiar metaphysic. The attempt indeed to reach it was made long
before his day, and it is uncertain how far he himself followed it out, since
those who tell us about it had here an occasion for special pleading.
Apollinaris starts from the Scriptural statement that Christ is the heavenly
man, the second spiritual, heavenly Adam. (See also John III. 13.) Close upon
this idea he, like Marcellus, puts in the more general idea of Aristotle that
the divine is always related to the human as the moving to the moved.Mai VII., p. 70 (the letter of the Apollinarian Julian):
Ἐκ κινητοῦ καὶ ἀκινήτου,
ἐνεργητικοῦ τε καὶ παθητικοῦ, τὸν Χριστὸν εἶναι μίαν οὐσίαν καὶ φύσιν σύνθετον, ἑνί
τε καὶ μόνῳ κινουμένην θελήματι· καὶ μιᾷ ἐνεργείᾳ τά τε θαύματα πεποιηκέναι καὶ
τὰ πάθη, μόνος καὶ πρῶτος ὁ πατὴρ ἡμῶν Ἀπολλινάριος ἐφθέγξατο, τὸ κεκρυμμένον
πᾶσι καταφωτίσας μυστήπριον; see
also l.c., p. 301, where Apollinaris himself has developed the thought of the
one being (ἕν ζῶον) composed of the ruling moving principle of activity, and
the σῶμα, the passive principle:
σὰρξ, Θεοῦ σὰρξ γενομένη, ζῶόν ἐστι
μετὰ ταῦτα συντεθεῖσα εἰς μίαν φύσιν. P. 73:
Οὐδεμία διαίρεσις τοῦ λόγου καὶ τῆς
σαρκὸς αὐτοῦ ἐν θείαις φέρεται γραφαῖς· ἀλλ᾽ ἔστι μία φύσις,
μία ὑπόστασις, μία ἐνέργεια. As such
they stand opposed. This relation first reached perfect outward embodiment and
manifestation in the word made flesh, the λόγος σαρκωθείς. But the Logos as
“the mover” was from all eternity destined to become the λόγος σαρκωθείς. He has
always been in mysterious fashion “mind incarnate”—νοῦς ἔνσαρκος, and
“spirit made flesh”—πνεῦμα σαρκωθέν. Therefore He could be and had to be the
λόγος σαρκωθείς, the Logos made flesh. He certainly did not bring His flesh with Him
from heaven, but He is nevertheless the “heavenly man”; because it was
intended that He should become flesh, His flesh is consubstantial with His
Godhead; His Godhead comprised within it the future moment of the incarnation
from all eternity, because only thus was it destined to be in the most perfect
way the authoritative principle, the ἡγεμονικόν, of the creature. And just for
this reason the historical incarnation which cannot be denied, is the direct
opposite of anything like the accidental and arbitrary inspiration of a man. It
is the realisation of an idea which always had its reality in the essence of the
Logos, the heavenly man, the mediator (μεσότης) between God and humanity. After
the incarnation too everything in this heavenly man is divine; for death could
be overcome only if it was God who suffered and died. The human is purely the
passive element only, the organ of the Godhead and the object of redemption.Apollinaris has not himself put in words those furthest reaches of his
speculations in any of the numerous confessional formulæ of his which we
possess. (See, e.g., the two Confessions in the κατὰ μέρος πίστις.) Much, too,
of what is said by Gregory in his letters to Kledonius and by Gregory of Nyssa
in the Antir. may be exaggerated, but as regards the main point Apollinaris’s
own words prove that he really went the length of attributing the moment of the
σάρξ in some form or other to the Logos in the pre-temporal existence. He
conceived of the nature of the Logos as that of the mediator; it was only by so
conceiving of it that the μία φύσις could get justice done to it, and he
accordingly does not hesitate to take something from the Godhead itself, without
detriment to its homousia. The essential characteristic of the πνεῦμα which
the Logos is, consists in this, that it includes the idea of the mediator, i.e.,
the type of humanity. In this sense he could say: ἡ θεία
σάρκωσις οὐ τὴν ἀρχὴν ἀπὸ τῆς παρθένου ἔσχεν (Antir. 15), or (c. 13),
προϋπάρχει ὁ ἄνθρωπος Χριστός, οὐχ ὡς ἐτέρου ὄντος παρ᾽ αὐτὸν τοῦ πνεύματος, τοῦτ᾽ ἔστι τοῦ
Θεοῦ, ἀλλ᾽ ὡς τοῦ κυρίου ἐν τῇ τοῦ θεανθρώπου φύσει θείου πνεύματος ὄντος. The Logos was already man before He appeared on earth, since the statement holds
good: αὐτὴν τοῦ υἱοῦ θεότητα ἐξ ἀρχῆς ἄνθρωπον εἶναι. This conception,
however, which was not meant to take from the historical fact of the
incarnation, but was intended, on the contrary, to make its reality certain, now led him further to the
idea that neither is the Godhead present in the Logos, in its totality:
οὐδεμία μεσότης ἑκατέρας ἔχει τὰς ἀκρότητας ἐξ ὁλοκλήρου, ἀλλὰ μερικῶς ἐπιμεμιγμένας.
As the middle colour between black and white has not merely the white in it in
an imperfect way, but also the black, as spring is half winter and half summer,
as the mule is neither wholly horse nor wholly ass, so the mixture of divinity
and humanity in the Logos, at least in the Logos as appearing on the earth, is
of such a kind that neither element is entirely perfect: οὔτε ἄνθρωπος ὅλος οὔτε Θεός. How far the doctrine of Apollinaris did actually lead to this
conclusion—and we have here a clear example of the imperfect way in which the
Homousia was understood amongst the neo-orthodox of the East; how far his
opponents, including not only the Gregories, but also Theodoret, H. F. IV. 8,
were justified in asserting that his Trinity was composed of a great, a greater,
and a greatest; how far he made use of the old traditional image of the sun and
the sunbeam in order to build up on the basis of the Homousia a graduated
Trinity, are points which still require to be thoroughly investigated in the
light of the new material we now possess. But if his Christ actually was the
middle being his opponents represent it to have been, one can only be astonished
to observe how in the case of Apollinaris speculation regarding Christ has
returned to the point it started from. For this Christ is actually the Pauline
Christ, the heavenly spiritual being (ἐν μορφῇ Θεοῦ), who assumed the body,
i.e., the flesh, neither ὁ Θεός nor man, but as God and as a man, who is
nevertheless the mediator or reconciler between God and man because being
without sin He has done away with sin and death in His body and consequently for
humanity generally—the second Adam, the heavenly man. It cannot be doubted
either but that Apollinaris formed his views chiefly on the New Testament; for
he was above all an exegete—though unfortunately what is his in the numerous
collections of passages, in those of Cramer pre-eminently, has up till now not
been ascertained nor has any test been applied to find out what belongs to
him—and he endeavoured to be true to the words of the Bible without applying the
allegorical method of Origen, as his notable adherence to the primitive Christian eschatology, the reign of a thousand years, proves.
This doctrine, estimated by the presuppositions and aims of the Greek conception
of Christianity as religion, is complete. Apollinaris set forth in a way that
cannot be surpassed, energetically developed and in numerous works untiringly
repeated, with the pathos of the most genuine conviction, what at heart all
pious Greeks believed and acknowledged. Every correction made on his Christology
calls in question the basis or at least the vitality of Greek piety. Only this
perfect unity of the person guarantees the redemption of the human race and its
acquiring of a divine life. “Oh new creation and wondrous mingling. God and
flesh produced one nature!” (ὦ καινὴ κτίσις καὶ μίξις θεσπεσία, Θεὸς καὶ σάρξ
μίαν ἀπετέλεσαν φύσιν!) All else in the Redeemer is non-existent for faith. The assumption of a human separate personality
in Christ does away with His power as Redeemer. Thousands before Apollinaris
felt this and had a vague idea of its truth. He alone understood and preached
it. He did not juggle with what was a matter of indifference to Faith or
dangerous to Faith, but did away with it.The confessional formulæ of Apollinaris and his pupils emphasised as a rule
only the homousia of the Logos, the assumption of flesh from Mary and the
perfect unity (ἓν πρόσωπον καὶ μίαν τὴν προσκύνησιν τοῦ λόγου καὶ τῆς σαρκός). The somewhat
long creed in the κ. μ. πίστις is the most
instructive, see Caspari IV., p. 18, there too, p. 20, will be found the shorter
one, and at p. 24 that of the Apollinarian Jobius. In the latter we have:
ὁμολογῶ τὸν κύριον Ἰησοῦν Χριστόν, ἐξ αἰῶνος μὲν
ἄσαρκον Θεὸν λόγον, ἐπ᾽ ἐσχάτων δὲ αἰώνων σάρκα ἐξ ἁγίας παρθένου ἑνώσαντα
ἑαυτῷ, εἶναι Θεὸν καὶ ἄνθρωπον, ἕνα καὶ τὸν αὐτόν, ὑπόστασιν μίαν σύνθετον καὶ
πρόσωπον ἓν ἀδιαίρετον, μεσίτευον Θεῷ καὶ ἀνθρώποις καὶ συνάπτον τὰ διῃρημένα
ποιήματα τῷ πεποιηκότι, ὁμοούσιον Θεῷ κατὰ τὴν ἐκ τῆς πατρικῆς οὐσίας ὑπάρχουσαν
αὐτῷ θεότητα, καὶ ὁμοούσιον ἀνθρώποις κατὰ τὴν ἐκ τῆς ἀνθρωπίνης φύσεως ἡνωμένην
αὐτῷ σάρκα, προσκυνούμενον δὲ καὶ δοξαζόμενον μετὰ τῆς ἰδίας σαρκός· ὅτι δι᾽ αὐτῆς
ἡμῖν γέγονεν λύτρωσις ἐκ θανάτου καὶ κοινωνία πρὸς τὸν ἀθάνατον· ἄκρως γὰρ ἡνωμένη
ἡ σὰρκ τῷ λόγῳ καὶ μηδέποτε αὐτοῦ χωριζομένη, οὔκ ἐστιν ἀνθρώπου, οὐ
δούλου, οὐ κτιστοῦ προσώπου, ἀλλ᾽ αὐτοῦ τοῦ Θεοῦ λόγου, τοῦ δημιουργοῦ, τοῦ
ὁμοουσίου τῷ Θεῷ, τουτέστιν τῇ ἀσωμάτῳ οὐσίᾳ τοῦ ἀρρήτπυ πατρός.
It is difficult to say whether the long Creed printed by Caspari, p. 163 f., and
which in its formalism bears a resemblance to the Athanasian, is Apollinarian or Monophysite.
But he perceived at the same time that that separate personality is present
whenever a human νοῦς is attributed to Christ. This decided the matter so far as
he was concerned. Christ possessed no human νοῦς. He was honest enough not to
say anything more about the perfect humanity of Christ, but openly avowed that
Christ was not a complete man.Apollinaris did not deny the homousia of Christ with humanity, but he conceived
of it as a likeness in nature = ὁμοίωμα. The later Apollinarians even
emphasised the homousia, but they were thinking of a body and the ψυχὴ
σαρκική. The fact that Apollinaris, when called on to
decide between the interests of the Faith and the claims of tradition,
unhesitatingly decided in favour of the former, is fitted to call forth our
admiration, and is a clear proof of the great bishop’s piety and love of truth.
But the very frankness of his language reminded the Church that the Gospel and
partly tradition also demand a complete human nature for Christ. Even before the
appearance of Apollinaris the conflict with Arius had, from about the year 351,
taken a turn which made it as necessary to emphasise the complete human nature of the incarnate one as to reject the
thought of a transformation of the Logos into flesh or of a depotentiation. The
Christological question became involved with the Trinitarian, and the latter was
illustrated by the aid of the former. The full humanity was supposed to prove
the full Godhead ex analogia; it had been reached in the struggle against
Gnosis, and it was required in order to explain the Gospel accounts which
otherwise cast a shadow on the Godhead of the Redeemer. Accordingly the complete
humanity of Christ was first expressly asserted at the Council of Alexandria in
362 and, in fact, in oppositionSee Dräseke, Texte and linters. VIII. 3. 4., p. 28 f. to the views of Apollinaris.Athan. Tom. ad. Antioch. 7. He first establishes the truth that the Word of
God did not come in Christ to a holy man as it came to the prophets, on the contrary:
αὐτὸς ὁ λόγος σὰρξ ἐγένετο, καὶ ἐν μορφῇ Θεοῦ ὑπάρχων ἔλαβε δούλου
μορφήν, ἔκ τε τῆς Μαρίας τὸ κατὰ σάρκα γεγένηται ἄνθρωπος δι᾽ ἡμᾶς, καὶ οὕτω
τελείως καὶ ὁλοκλήρως τὸ ἀνθρώπινον γένος ἐλευθερούμενον ἀπὸ τῆς ἁμαρτίας ἐν
αὐτῷ καὶ ζωοποιούμενον ἐκ τῶν νεκρῶν εἰσάγεται εἰς τὴν βασιλείαν τῶν οὐρανῶν. Then it is further said:
ὡμολόγουν γὰρ καὶ τοῦτο, ὅτι οὐ σῶμα ἄψυχον οὐδ᾽ ἀναίσθητον
οὐδ᾽ ἀνόητον εἶχεν ὁ σωτήρ, οὐδὲ γὰρ οἷόν τε ἦν, τοῦ κυρίου δι᾽ ἡμᾶς ἀνθρώπου
γενομένου, ἀνόητον εἶναι τὸ σῶμα αὐτοῦ, οὐδὲ σώματος μόνου, ἀλλὰ καὶ ψυχῆς ἐν
αὐτῷ τῷ λόγῳ σωτηρία γέγονεν. Finally, however, the identity of the Son of God
and the Son of man is strongly emphasised. It was the same person who asked
about Lazarus and who raised him from the dead. He asked ἀνθρωπίνως, He raised
from the dead θεϊκῶς.
The great literary activity of the bishop who was equally distinguished as
exegete and apologist and as a systematic theologian, and who gathered around
him a band of enthusiastic pupils, falls within the sixties.In the way in which it kept firmly together, in its veneration for the master,
in its activity and vivacity and finally in the efforts made by the members of
it to carry their point in the Church, the school of Apollinaris reminds us of
the school of Lucian. Like the latter it was chiefly an exegetical school, and
at the same time like it it was a school for theologico-philosophical method
after the manner of the Aristotelian dialectic. Such conditions always give rise
to a peculiar arrogance and to a confident feeling of superiority to everybody
else. “It was our father Apollinaris who first and who alone uttered and put in
a clear light the mystery which had been hidden from all—namely, that Christ
became one being out of the moving and the immovable”: it is thus that one
Apollinarian writes to another and in so doing shews that the real interest of
the school was in the methodical and the formal. The fact that afterwards
falsification was carried to such an extraordinary extent in the school is a
sign that the Epigoni aspired to secure power at all costs. With the beginning
of the seventieth year of the century the Cappadocians came forward in
opposition to their old master, shewed now their unconcealed
indignation and sought to cast suspicion on his doctrine of the Trinity also.
Apollinaris accordingly retorted by treating them as they treated him. How far
Athanasius himself was mixed up with the controversy is a point which is still
uncertain. Apollinaris separated from the Church about the year 375. Soon after
he consecrated Vitalius bishop of Antioch.Sozom. H. E. VI. 25; Epiph. H. 67. 21, 23-25; Gregor. Naz., ep. ad Cledon.
II. 2; Basil, ep. 265, 2. On him see Dräseke, Ges. patrist. Abbandl. (1889), p. 78 ff. It was the West led by Bishop
Damasus which hastened to the assistance of the orthodoxy of the East held in
fetters under Valens, and which at the Roman Council of 377 condemned
Apollinarianism.See the fragment “Illud sane miramur”, Rade, p. 113 f., Mansi III., p. 461;
see also the fragment “Ea gratia”, Mansi III., p. 460. It could do this with a good conscience since it had always
understood the “filius hominis” in the thesis in the full extent of the term
and had had no difficulties about the unity. Basil had been the denouncer of the
Apollinarian heresy (Ep. 263). The Council of Antioch of 379 sided with the
Romans, and that held at Constantinople in 381 in its first canon expressly
condemned the heresy of the Apollinarians. The anathemas of Damasus which belong
perhaps to the year 381, condemn (No. 7) “those who say that the Word of God
dwelt in human flesh in place of the rational and intellectual soul of man,
since the Son Himself is the Word of God and was not in His body in place of a
rational and intellectual soul, but assumed and saved our soul, i.e., a rational
and intellectual soul without sin,” (“eos, qui pro hominis anima rationabili et
intelligibili dicunt dei verbum in humana carne versatum, quum ipse filius sit
verbum dei et non pro anima rationabili et intelligibili in suo corpore fuerit,
sed nostram id est rationabilem et intelligibilem sine peccato animam susceperit
atque salvaverit.”See Hahn, op. cit., p. 200. Before this those are condemned on the other hand “who
assert the existence of two sons, one before time and another after the
assumption of flesh from the Virgin”—“qui duos filios asserunt, unum ante sæcula
et alterum post assumptionem carnis ex virgine”—With all the zeal of a fanatic
who had nevertheless not made the matter his own, Damasus, under the guidance of Jerome, soon
after the year 382, once more took up the question and warned the Church against
the doctrine of Apollinaris and his pupil Timothy: “Christ the Son of God by
His passion brought the most complete redemption to the human race in order to
free from all sin the whole man who lies in sin. If therefore anyone says
something was wanting either in the humanity or divinity of Christ, he is filled
with the spirit of the devil and proves himself to be a son of hell.See the fragment “Illud sane miramur”: “If an imperfect man was assumed then
the gift of God is imperfect, because the whole man has not been redeemed.” Why
therefore do you once more demand of me the condemnation of Timothy? He has
already been deposed here by the sentence of the Apostolic chair, Bishop Peter
of Alexandria being also present at the time, together with his teacher
Apollinaris, and must await on the day of judgment the chastisement and
punishment due to his sin.”Theodoret, H. E. V. 10. Apollinaris was condemned. One after another the
representatives of the non-Alexandrian theology, Paul, Marcellus, Photinus,
Apollinaris were cut off from the Church. The Antiochians will follow them, but
the turn of Origen and his pupils is also to come; the Cappadocians only will
be saved “so as by fire.”
The homousia or the identity in nature,—for both words were used,—of the
humanity of the Redeemer and humanity, was thus acknowledged. And as a matter of
fact many and important arguments could be alleged in support of it. One has to
make use of the most desperate exegesis in order to banish it from the
Synoptics. And further Christ redeemed only what He assumed; if He did not
assume a human soul then the latter has not been redeemed, and this appeared a
very obvious argument. Finally, it was only by the assumption of the
completeness of the human nature in Christ that His divinity seemed to be
secured against sinking down into the region of human feelings and suffering.
But what signified these advantages if the unity was insecure? And Apollinaris
was perfectly right: it was insecure. His opponents, the Cappadocians, might
indeed be able to refute him as regards separate points,See several letters of Basil, the two letters of Gregory of Nazianzus to
Kledonius and his ep. ad. Nectar. sive Orat. 46, also the Antirrhet. of Gregory
of Nyssa and his work ad Theophil. They enter upon an examination of the Scripture proofs of
Apollinaris and also of his argument that the Logos could not have assumed a
rational, free nature, since in this case he must necessarily have destroyed
freedom, which is not, however, the Creator’s way of doing:
φθορὰ τοῦ αὐτεξουσίου ζώου τὸ
μὴ εἶναι αὐτεξούσιον· οὐ φθείρεται δὲ ἡ φύσις ὑπὸ τοῦ ποιήσαντος αὐτὴν· οὐκ ἄρα
ἑνοῦται ὁ ἀνθρωπος Θεῷ (Antirrh. 45). Gregory’s remarks on this are extremely
weak. The only striking thing is to be found in the detailed arguments in which
it is shewn that the picture of the Christ of the Gospels includes a human soul;
for it was neither the God-Logos nor the irrational flesh which was sad, which
trembled, feared, etc., but the human spirit; see also Athan. c. Apoll. I., 16-18. but they
could not escape from the reproach he brought against them that they reduced the
doctrine to the idea of an inspired man. In proportion, however, as they sought
to escape it, their assertion of the completeness of the human nature in Christ
became a mere assertion. Their long-winded, obscure, and hazy deductions made in
truth a miserable appearance alongside of the unambiguous, coherent, and frank
avowals of their opponent. There are two natures,The definite formula “δύο φύσεις” without some qualifying clause is rarely met
with in the East before the time of the great Antiochians, though it is
otherwise in the West. But expressions such as that of Eusebius, H. E. I. 2, 1,
are, however, frequent:
Διττοῦ ὄντος τοῦ κατ᾽ αὐτὸν τρόπου, καὶ τοῦ μὲν σώματος ἐοικότος
κεφαλῇ ᾗ Θεὸς ἐπινοεῖται, τοῦ δὲ ποσὶ παραβαλλομένου, ᾗ τὸν ἐν ἡμῖν ἄνθρωπον
ὁμοιοπαθῆ τῆς ἡμῶν αὐτῶν ἕνεκεν ὑπέδυ σωτηρίας, γένοιτ᾽ ἂν ἡμῖν, etc. The Arian theologians always reproached the
orthodox with teaching the doctrine of δύο φύσεις. but yet there is only one;
there are not two Sons, but the divinity effects one thing, the humanity another; Christ possessed human freedom, and nevertheless He acted within the limits of
divine necessity. On the other hand, the whole position of the later
Monophysites, thought out to all its conceivable conclusions, is already to be
found in Apollinaris; but his opponents had not yet at their command a fixed
terminology whereby to preserve the contradiction and to protect it against
disintegration. At bottom their views were the same as those of Apollinaris,
they did not think of two strictly separate natures; but they were unwilling to
give up the perfect human nature, and they had learned too much from Origen to
sacrifice the thought of freedom to the constitution of the God-man.It is unnecessary to give any summary of the numerous different forms in which
the Cappadocians set forth their view as against Apollinaris (see Ullmann,
Gregor. v. Naz., p. 276 ff.; Dorner I., pp. 1035 f., 1075 f.; Schwane II., pp.
366-390), for what they wish and do not get at—the unity, namely—is obvious,
while their terminology on the other hand is still uncertain. At this time
expressions and
images of the most varied kind were in use (δύο φύσεις, δύο οὐσίαι, μία φύσις,
σάρκωσις, ἐνανθρώπησις, θεάνθρωπος, ἕνωσις οὐσιώδης, ἕνωσις φυσική, ἕνωσις κατὰ μετουσίαν,
σύγκρασις, μιξις, συνάφεια, μετουσία, ἐνοίκησις, the humanity of Christ was described
as καταπέτασμα or παραπέτασμα as
ναός, as οἶκος, as ἱμάτιον, as
ὄργανον. In the writings of
the Cappadocians most of these terms are still found side by side; the only idea
which is definitely rejected is that of the change into flesh whether by kenosis
or by actual transmutation. The unchangeable; the divinity, remains
unchangeable; it merely takes to itself what it did not possess. How the
unlimited united with the limited is just the point which is left obscure. We
might imagine we were listening to a teacher of the period before Irenæus when
we hear Gregory of Nazianzus say that the unlimited dealt with us through the
medium of the flesh as through a curtain, because we were not capable of
enduring His pure Godhead (Orat. 39, 13, similarly Athanasius). He also teaches
that Christ by assuming humanity did not become two out of one (masc.), but out
of two became one (neut.). We can imagine it is Apollinaris who is speaking when
he further declares that God is both, the one who assumes and what is assumed,
and uses the word σύγκρασις in this connection (Orat. 37. 2, this word is
frequently met in Methodius). This thought is expressed in an almost stronger
form in Orat. 38. 13 (see Orat. 29. 19): “Christ is one out of the two opposite
things, out of flesh and spirit, of which the one deifies while the other was
deified, ὢ τῆς καινῆς μίξεως, ὢ τῆς παραδόξου
κράσεως! The eternally existing comes into being, the uncreated is created, the unlimited limits
itself, since—and now the thought takes an Origenistic turn—the rational soul is
the means whereby a union is brought about between the Godhead and the gross
flesh.” As if it were possible to stop short at this function of the human soul,
as if the human soul did not include the free will regarding which Gregory here
maintains a prudent silence. On the other hand, however, Gregory maintains in
opposition to Apollinaris that “there are undoubtedly two natures, God and man;
soul and body are also in Him, but there are not two Sons or Gods, since there
are not two men in one, because Paul speaks of an inner and an outer man”—this
argument is specially weak since it is just the argument which Apollinaris could
make use of. “To put it in a word: He is one and again He is another, in so far
as He is Saviour, but He is not one person and again another person—God
forbid. For both exist in the union which has been accomplished since God is
made human and man is made divine, or however it may be expressed” (Ep. ad. Cledon. I.). Gregory as a pupil of Origen sees no difficulty in putting two
different substances together into one. But neither does he follow the
Chalcedonian Creed since with him it was not a question of a union of divinity
and humanity in a third, but a question of fusion, and this spite of the δύο φύσεις. In their struggle with Apollinaris the Cappadocians nowhere
intentionally arrived
at the line of thought followed by the school of Antioch at a later time,
though, what is very rare, a formula here and there has an Antiochian
appearance. They are at bottom Monophysites, although they were the first to
make the ominous “two natures” of Origen fit for church use. It was only because
they were compelled that they trouble themselves about the question of freedom
in Christ, and the thought once occurred to Gregory of Nyssa (Antir. 48) that
Christ would not have possessed any ἀρετή if He had been without αὐτεξούσιον.
What most strongly impressed the Christian world in general was certainly the
view that Christ had to give His body as a ransom for our body, His soul for our
soul, His spirit for our spirit. There was undoubtedly some real justification
for this thought since Apollinaris, or his pupils, seem to have carried their
Paulinism so far (for so at least it would appear from some undoubtedly
uncertain indications in the work of Athan. adv. Apollo, sec. I., 2 sq., II. 11)
as to assert that Christ had only done away with the sin and death belonging to
the flesh and thus renewed the flesh, but that the purification of the spirit
was something which each individual had to carry out for himself by the
imitation of Christ on the basis of that purification; in this sense redemption
was not yet perfect. Σαρκὸς μὲν καινότητα Χριστὸς ἐπιδέδεικται
καθ᾽ ὁμοίωσιν, τοῦ δὲ φρονοῦντος ἐν ἡμῖν τῆν καινότητα διὰ μιμήσεως καὶ ὁμοιώσεως καὶ
ἀποχῆς τῆς ἁμαρτίας ἕκαστος ἐν ἑαυτῷ ἐπιδείκνυται
(I. 2) or τῇ ὁμοιώσει καὶ τῇ μιμήσει
σώζεσθαι τοὺς πιστεύοντας καὶ οὐ τῇ ἀνακαινίσει (II. 11).
In opposition to this thesis, which probably really originated with Apollinaris since it is in harmony with
the traditions of the school of Antioch, his opponents had certainly good reason
for emphasising the full extent of the work of Christ if the whole structure of
the faith of that time were not to be rendered insecure. Kenotic statements such
as we meet with in Hilary are, so far as I know, not to be found in the writings of the Cappadocians.
Probably an historical and biblical element had a share in turning them against
Apollinaris, the thought of the man Jesus as he is presented in the Gospels,
this, however, not as something which had a well-understood religious value,
but as a part of the tradition of the schools and as a relic of antiquity. None
of the religious thoughts current at that time led to the idea of a “perfect
man” with a free will, i.e., as an individual.
The idea that the human vows cannot have been saved if Christ did not assume it
too, was one which they themselves could not honestly believe in, for they
stripped His humanity of the principle of individuality and of more than that.
In Apollinaris, on the contrary, it was really the sovereignty of faith which
supplied him with his doctrine. He merely completed the work of Athanasius
inasmuch as he added to it the Christology which was demanded by the Homousia of
the Logos. They both made a supreme sacrifice to their faith in that they took
from the complicated and contradictory tradition regarding Christ those elements
only which were in harmony with the belief that He was the Redeemer from sin and
death. They neglected everything else: λόγος ὁμοούσιος ἐν σαρκί, (μία φύσις σύνθετος)—the co-substantial
Logos in the flesh, (one composite nature)—was the watchword of
Apollinaris, in the sense of a perfectly uniform being. This Apollinarianism
dressed in orthodox garb exercised the strongest possible influence upon Church
doctrine in the Fifth Century. The Church, however, rejected this particular
form of unity and maintained the idea of “the perfect man”, “the perfect
humanity” in the unity. The Church knew what it wanted to do—to unite
contradictions; there were not to be two sons, but two natures; not two natures,
but one substance; though it certainly did not know how this was to be
conceived of. Nor did it know how the contradiction was to be expressed. But
while it thus loaded its own faith with a heavy burden and thereby weakened its
power, by preserving the thought of the perfect humanity of Christ, it did an
inestimable service to later generations. And there was further one good result
which even those times got the benefit of. The Gnostic speculations regarding
the heavenly origin of the flesh of Christ, the transformation of God into a
man, and such like, were now forbidden, or at least were rendered excessively
difficult.
CHAPTER III.
THE DOCTRINE OF THE PERSONAL UNION OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN NATURES IN THE INCARNATE SON OF GOD.
The course of theological development in ecclesiastical antiquity may in some
parts be compared to the windings of a descending spiral. Starting from any
given point we seem to be always getting further away, and finally we come back
to it again; only we are a stage lower down. The great Trinitarian controversy
of the Fourth Century has its starting-point in the Christological doctrine of
Paul of Samosata: Christ, the deified man inspired by the power of God and one
with God in loving affection and in energy of will. Opposed to this doctrine was
the belief that Christ is co-substantial with God, the Θεός ὁμοούσιος, who has
become man. This article of faith established itself after Arianism and other
middle doctrines had been rejected. But when in the course of the development
both the perfect Godhead and the perfect humanity of Christ had been elevated to
the rank of an article of faith, it looked as if the unity could be secured only
by once more following the path taken by Paul of Samosata, by emphasising the
spiritual and moral unity of God and man. This idea of the unity was indeed made
more difficult now that the God in Christ had to be conceived of as a personal
being, but any other unity no longer offered itself to thinking people who were
unwilling to give up clear views on the subject. And it was still permissible to
hold this view of the unity; for though the doctrine of Apollinaris had been
repudiated, no fixed idea was thereby arrived at as to the nature of the union
of the divine and the human. All the conceivable forms in which the conception of
the union of the divine and the human might be put, were still at anyone’s
disposal, especially as no single term was yet in regular use.
As it was the Antiochian Apollinaris who worked out to its logical conclusion
the doctrine of the Trinity as regards Christology, so it was his compatriots
who worked out to its logical conclusion the formula “perfect God and perfect
man.” This conclusion was indeed the opposite of the doctrine of Apollinaris. He
had shewn every clear thinker that it was impossible to carry out the idea of
the incarnation without deducting something from the essence of humanity, and
that the incarnate one could have only one nature (μία φύσις). But if the human
nature in the incarnate one was nevertheless to be complete,—and the Church
maintained that it was,—then the conception of the incarnation would have to get
a new form. And if piety should suffer in the process, well, there was and there
still is a stronger interest than that of piety—namely, that of truth.
§ 1. The Nestorian Controversy.
I. The most zealous opponents of Apollinaris were his compatriots and scientific
friends, the Antiochian theologians, distinguished by methodical study of
Scripture, sober thinking in imitation of Aristotle, and the strictest
asceticism. They alone had during many decades worked out the Christological
dogma in a scientific way in opposition to Arius and Apollinaris. Following the
example of Diodorus of Tarsus, Theodorus of Mopsuestia treated it with the
greatest fulness by making use of the philosophical theological fundamental
conceptions which Paul of Samosata had already employed, and by turning to
account the biblical results of the exegetical labours of the school of Antioch.
The Antiochians based their position on the Ὁμοούσιος and did not wish either
to interfere with the divine personality of the Logos. But at the same time they
fully accepted the perfect humanity of Christ. The most important characteristic
of perfect humanity is its freedom. The thought that Christ possessed a free
will was the lode-star of their Christology. To this was added the other thought that
the nature of the Godhead is absolutely unchangeable and incapable of suffering.
Both of these thoughts have at least no concern with the belief in the real
redemption of humanity from sin and death through the God-man. The Christology
of the Antiochians was therefore not soteriologically determined; on the
contrary, the realistic-soteriological elements were attached to it by way of
supplement.In respect of scientific method we may regard Paul of Samosata, Dorotheus,
Lucian, the Lucianists such as Arius and Eusebius of Nicomedia, Eusebius of
Emesa, Theodore of Heraklea, Eustathius, Marcellus, Cyril of Jerusalem,
Apollinaris, Diodorus, Theodore, Polychronius, Chrysostom; Theodoret, etc., as
forming a union of like-minded scholars as opposed to the school of Origen.
Regarded in a theological aspect their differences are manifold. Diodorus of
Tarsus (+ shortly before 394) and his school constitute a special group here.
Diodorus “the ascetic who was punished in his body by the Olympian gods”, was
the recognised head. His numerous works, of which only fragments are preserved,
are specified in the Diction. of Chr. Biogr. I., p. 836 sq. He was as prolific
an apologist, controversialist, and dogmatist as he was an exegete. His most
important pupils were Theodore of Mopsuestia (+ 428) and Chrysostom. The
former is the typical representative of the whole tendency. Of the astounding
mass of his works a good deal has been preserved. To what is printed in Migne,
T. 66, we have to add, above all, the edition of his commentary on the Pauline
letters by Swete, 2 vols., 1882; the fragments of the dogmatic works are given
in the second volume, pp. 289-339. Sachau edited, in 1869, Syrian fragments with
a Latin translation; in addition Bäthgen in the Ztschr. f. Atlich. Wissensch.
V., p. 53 ff., Möller, in Herzog’s R.-Encykl. XV. 2, P. 395 ff.; Gurjew, Theodor
von Mopsu., 1890 [Russian]. On the Antiochian School Münscher (1811), Kihn
(1866), Hergenröther (1866). Specht, Theodor v. M. u. Theodoret, 1871; Kihn,
Theodor v. Mops. 1880. Glubokowski has written a very comprehensive and thorough
monograph on Theodoret in Russian (2 vols. 1890). Bertram, Thedoreti doctrina
christologica. Hildesiæ, 1883. On Theodoret’s brother, Polychronius, see
Bardenhewer, 1879. Chrysostom did not take any part in the work of giving
Christology a sharply outlined form. Theodoret taught the same doctrine as
Theodore, but finally capitulated.
In the view of the Antiochians it followed from the premises above mentioned,
that Christ possessed, strictly speaking, two natures and that the supposition
of a natural union (ἕνωσις φυσική, ἕνωσις καθ᾽ ὑπόστασιν) was prejudicial
both to the humanity and the divinity of Christ, as the doctrines of Arius and Apollinaris shewed. It
was, on the contrary, necessary to maintain that the God-Logos assumed a perfect
man of the race of David and united him with Himself. He dwelt (ἐνοίκησις) in
the man Jesus from the time of the conception. This indwellingAthanasius also used the word in a natural way, e.g., de incarn. 9. is to be
conceived of according to the analogy of the indwelling of God in men generally.
It is not a substantial indwelling, not κατ᾽ οὐσίαν, for this involves a
transmutation or else limits the God-head. Nor is it any mere indwelling of
inspiration, but a gracious indwelling,κατὰ χάριν (κατ᾽ εὐδοκίαν), i.e., God
out of grace and in accordance with His own good pleasure has united Himself
with the man Jesus in the way in which He unites Himself with every pious soul,
only that in the case of Jesus the union was besides a perfect one in virtue of
the perfection of his piety. It is to be thought of as a species of combination
(συνάφεια), or we may express it thus: God dwells in the man as in a temple.Athanasius also employed this image, e.g., l.c. c. 20.
The human nature, therefore, as nature remains purely unchanged, for grace
leaves the nature as it is. This nature, then, like all human nature, was also a
free self-developing nature. As man Jesus Christ had to pass through all the
stages of moral growth as a free self-acting agent. Over him and in him God did
undoubtedly always hold sway as a supporting power, but He did not interfere
with the development of the character belonging to his human nature, which by
independent action confirmed itself in the good.
In accordance with this the union was only a relative one (ἕνωσις σχετική) and
was at the outset only relatively perfect, i.e., the God-Logos united Himself
with the man Jesus as early as the time of his conception, forseeing of what
sort he would be (κατὰ πρό̥γνωσιν ὁποῖός τις ἔσται), but this union merely
began then in order to become a more intimate union at every stage of the human
development.It was always and from the first dependent on God’s good pleasure in the
virtue of the man Jesus; for to Theodore the general proposition held good
without any exception that God bestows grace solely in proportion to the free
exercise of virtue. Grace is always reward; see the large fragment from the
seventh book of the work περὶ ἐνανθρωπήσεως in Swete II., p. 293 sq. Theodore
paid special attention to the baptism of Jesus also. It consisted in the common feeling and energy of the two natures
as well as in the common direction given to the will; it was therefore
essentially a moral union. By means of it, however, there appeared at the close
of the human development of Jesus and in virtue of the elevation which was granted to him as the reward of his perseverance,
a subject or individual worthy of adoration, (I separate the natures, I unite
the adoration: χωρίζω τὰς φύσεις, ἑνῶ τὴν προσκύνησιν). Still we must not
speak of two sons or two lords, but, on the contrary, we have to adore one
person, whose unity, however, is not a substantial one, but κατὰ χάριν. The
formula of the distinction of the natures and the unity of the person is to be
found in Theodore. But the unity of the person is the unity of names, of honour,
of adoration.“Unam offer venerationem.” Since, however, each nature in Christ is at the same time person,
it was here that the peculiar difficulty of the Antiochian Christology made its
appearance. The union does not at bottom result in any unity of the person; it
is merely nominal. The Antiochians had two persons in Christ, a divine and a
human (δύο ὑποστάσεις or πρόσωπα). When, spite of this, they spoke of one,
this was really a third, or rather, to put it more correctly, it was only in the
combination (συνάφεια), and indeed in the last resort it was only in the
relation of believers to Jesus Christ that the latter appeared as a unity.
It was in accordance with this that the conception of the Incarnation took its
shape. Two natures are two subjects; for a subjectless or impersonal spiritual
nature does not exist Since accordingly one subject cannot become the other, for
if it did it would either have to cease to exist itself or would have to
transform itself, it is also impossible that the Logos can have become man. It
is only in appearance that He became something through the incarnation, through
“becoming man”; in reality He assumes something in addition to what He had.
Since the sphere of the unity is solely the will, the attributes, experiences,
and acts of the two natures are to be kept strictly apart. It was the man only
who was born; it was he who suffered, trembled, was afraid, died. To maintain
that this could be said of God is both absurd and blasphemous. So too
accordingly Mary is not to be called the mother of God, not at least in the
proper sense of the term.The designation θεοτόκος was already quite current about 360. Instances of its
use at an earlier period may be found in Pierius and Alexander of Alexandria,
see accordingly Julian c. Christ., p. 276 E. But the Christian
adores Jesus Christ as the one Lord, because God has also raised to divine
dignity the man who in feeling was united with the Logos so as to form a unity.
In accordance with this conception, though certainly invitis autoribus, the
humanity in the person of Christ came again to the front as a humanity which
experienced merely the effects produced by the divine Logos who remained in the
background. Since the distinction between person and nature was not fundamental,
was not made in a realistic way, that is, and since the possibility of the
substantial union of two persons was denied as we can see already from the case
of Paul of Samosata, since further, in opposition to Paul, the Godhead in Christ
was recognised as being a substantial Godhead, unity was not attained, as
opponents at a later time justly observed. When again, as in the case of the
Antiochians, an approach was made towards this unity, then the divine factor,
contrary to the pre-supposition which was strictly clung to, threatened to
become an inspiring and supporting power, and hence the reproach brought against
them of Ebionitism, Somosatenism, Photinianism, or of Judaising. It would appear
that the Antiochians rarely took the doctrine of redemption and perfection as
the starting-point of their arguments, or when they did, they conceived of it in
such a way that the question is not of a restitution, but of the still defective
perfection of the human race, a question of the new second katastasis. The
natural condition of humanity, of which liability to death forms a part, can be
improved; humanity can be raised above itself by means of a complete
emancipation from the sense life and by moral effort. This possibility, which
lies open to everyone who summons up courage to raise himself by the exercise of
free will above his inherited nature, has become a fact through Christ the
second Adam. This fact has an immeasurable significance, for its effects now
uphold everyone who honestly strives so to raise himself. The second Adam who
has already appeared will once more appear from heaven ἐπὶ τῷ πάντας εἰς μίμησιν ἄγειν ἑαυτοῦ—in order to bring all to imitate him. He already points
out to all “the path to the angelic life”, and, judging from the way in which they sometimes work out the thought, it almost looks as if in the
view of the Antiochians the whole thing reduced itself to this alone. The hints
given here towards a spiritual conception of the redemption through Christ have
not, as one can see, resulted from perceiving that everything depends on a
transformation of the feelings and will, and in the case of the Antiochians
themselves they have by no means entirely displaced the realistic and mystical
conception of redemption. In the indefinite form which is peculiar to them, they
were thoughts of reason and results of exegesis, but not thoughts of faith. We
hail them as cheering proofs of the fact that the feeling of the spiritual
character of the Christian religion had not at that time wholly died out amongst
the Greeks; but there can be no doubt of this, that these Antiochians were
further away from the thought of redemption as the forgiveness of sins and
regeneration than from the idea of a realistic redemption. While in Christology
they illustrated in an admirable way the weak side and in fact the impossibility
of this idea, they did not understand how to point these out in reference to
soteriology itself. The latter was with them always vague and tinged with a
strongly moralistic element. Its connection with the Christology was loose and
indefinite, while the development of the latter in the form of positive
doctrines was no less questionable, contradictory and uncouth than the theses of
their opponents; for the Antiochians out of one being made two and thereby
introduced an innovation into the Church of the East. Only Gnostics had before
them taught the doctrine of two strictly different natures in Christ. The fact
too that the redemption work of Christ was essentially attributed to the man
Jesus and not to God was a further innovation. It was a flagrant contradiction
that Theodore would not entertain the idea of two Sons although he assumed the
presence of two natures and rejected the thought of an impersonal nature. But
though we might criticise the Christology of the Antiochians still more
severely, we must not forget that they held up before the Church the picture of
the historical Christ at a time when the Church in its doctrinal formulæ was
going further away from Him. One has indeed to add that they also directed
attention to the incomprehensible essence of the God-Logos which ostensibly
remained behind this picture,
and did not on that account possess the power of presenting the historical
Christ to the minds of men in a forcible way. But still that these theologians
should have done what they did at that time was of immeasurable importance. It
is to them the Church owes it that its Christology did not entirely become the
development of an idea of Christ which swallowed up the historical Christ. And
there is still something else for which these Antiochians are to be praised.
Although they professed to preserve the traditional elements of dogma as a
whole, they nevertheless essentially modified them by perceiving that every
spiritual nature is a person and that what gives character and value to the
person is feeling and will. This view, which was inherited from the Adoptionists
and Paul, restores to the Christian religion its strictly spiritual character.
But the Antiochians as Easterns were able to get possession of this knowledge
only in a way which led from religion to moralism, because they based the
spiritual on freedom, while again they understood freedom in the sense of
independence even in relation to God. It was Augustine in his thought of liberty
as “adhærere deo” and as “necessitas boni” who first united the most ardent
piety with the recognition of Christianity as the spiritual-moral religion. It
is, however, worth remembering that alone of all the Easterns the Antiochians
and the theologians who sympathised with them took an interest in the
Augustinian-Pelagian controversy—though they undoubtedly sided with Pelagius.
For this interest proves that spite of the Eastern fog of mysteries, they were
accessible to the freer air in which that controversy was fought out. Their
opponents in the East wished to have mystery and spiritual freedom side by side; they, however, strove to lift the whole of religion up into the sphere of the
latter—and they led it in the direction of moralism.Compare, above all, the full Confession of Theodore in Mansi IV., p. 1347 sq.
(Hahn, § 139) which gives an admirable view of the Christology of Theodore and
of its tendency. The word συνάπτετθαι (συνάφεια) occurs more than a dozen times
(so far as I know the word is first found within Christology in a fragment of
Hippolytus [ed. Lagarde, p. 202]; ἵνα ὁ πρωτότοκος Θεοῦ πρωτοτόκῳ ανθρώπῳ συναπτόμενος
δειχθῇ, Julius Afr. in his letter to Aristides [ed. Spitta, p.
121] uses συνάφεια in the sense of blood-relationship); λόγος ἄνθρωπον εἴληφε τέλειον ἐκ σπέρματος
ὄντα Ἀβραὰμ καὶ Δαυΐδ is the principal thesis (also
τέλειον τὴν φύσιν). The exaltation is strongly emphasised; then we have:
δέχεται τὴν παρὰ πᾶσης τῆς
κτίσεως προσκύνησιν, ὡς ἀχώριστον πρὸς τὴν θείαν φύσιν ἔχων τὴν συνάφειαν,
ἀναφορᾷ Θεοῦ καὶ ἐννοίᾳ πάσης τῆς κτίσεως τὴν προσκύνησιν ἀπονεμούσης.
Καὶ οὔτε δύο φαμὲν υἱοὺς οὔτε δύο κυρίους . . . κύριος κατ᾽ οὐσίαν ὁ Θεὸς λόγος, ᾧ
συνημμένος τε καὶ μετέχων θεότητος κοινωνεῖ τῆς υἱοῦ προσηγορίας τε καὶ τιμῆς· καὶ
φιὰ τοῦτο οὔτε δύο φαμὲν υἱοὺς οὔτε δύο κυρίους. In what follows the doctrine of the two sons is again disowned and this
with a certain irritation, as is also the idea that our Sonship can be compared
with that of Christ, (μόνος ἐξαίρετον ἔχων
τοῦτο ἐν τῇ πρὸς τὸν Θεὸν λόγον συναφείᾳ τῆς τε υἱότητος καὶ κυριότητος μετέχων,
ἀναιρεῖ μὲν πᾶσαν ἔννοιαν δυάδος υἱῶν τε καὶ κυρίων). Theodore thus did not teach the doctrine of
two sons, one natural and one adopted, but that of one son who communicated his
name, his authority, and his glory to the man Jesus in virtue of the συνάφεια.
This was indeed the impossible shift of one in a dilemma. At the end of the
Creed the doctrine of the two Adams—a specially Antiochian doctrine cf.
Apoll.—and that of the two states are developed in detail. The commentaries of
Theodore ought to be studied in order that it may be seen how γνώμη and
μίμησις—as opposed to φύσις—were for him the main thing. Both in our case
and in that of Christ everything was to depend upon freedom, disposition, and
the direction of the will. In what follows I quote some passages from the
dogmatic works of Theodore by way of explaining and illustrating the account
given in the text; Diodorus is in complete agreement with Theodore so far as it
is still possible for us to check his statements. Theodore, de myster. I. 13
(Swete, p. 332): “Angelus diaboli est Samosatenus Paulus, qui purum hominem
dicere præsumpsit dominum J. Chr. et negavit existentiam divinitatis unigeniti,
quæ est ante sæcula”; cf. adv. Apollin. 3 (Swete, p. 318), where Theodore places
Paul together with Theodotus and Artemon and condemns him. Theodore, περὶ ἐνανθρωπήσεως
1. 1 (Swete, p.291): “præcipuum Christo præter ceteros homines
non aliquo puro honore ex deo pervenit, sicut in ceteris hominibus, sed per
unitatem ad deum verbum, per quam omnis honoris ei particeps est post in cœlum
ascensum”; l. 2 (p. 291): “homo Jesus similiter omnibus hominibus, nihil
differens connaturalibus hominibus, quam quia ipsi gratiam dedit; gratia autem
data naturam non immutat, sed post mortis destructionem donavit ei deus nomen
supra omne nomen . . . o gratia, quæ superavit omnem naturam! . . . sed mei fratres
dicunt mihi: “non separa hominem et deum, sed unum eundemque dic, hominem dicens
connaturalem mihi deum”; si dicam connaturalem deum, dic quomodo homo et deus
unum est? numquid una natura hominis et dei, domini et servi, factoris et
facturæ? homo homini consubstantialis est, deus autem deo consubstantialis est.
Quomodo igitur homo et deus unum per unitatem esse potest, qui salvificat et qui
salvificatur, qui ante sæcula est et qui ex Maria adparuit”? l.c. 1. 2 (p. 292): “quando naturas quisque discernit, alterum et alterum necessario invenit . . .
hoc interim item persona idem ipse invenitur, nequequam confusis naturis, sed
propter adunationem quæ facta est adsumpti et adsumentis . . . sic neque naturarum
confusio fiet neque personæ quædam prava divisio, maneat enim et naturarum ratio
inconfusa et indivisa cognoscatur esse persona; illud quidem proprietate naturæ
. . . illud autem adunatione personæ, in una adpellatione totius considerata sive
adsumentis sive etiam adsumpti natura”; l.c. 1. 7 (p. 294): οὐσίᾳ μὲν οὖν λέγειν ἐνοικεῖν
τὸν Θεὸν τῶν ἀπρεπεστάτων ἐστίν . . . οὔτε οὐσίᾳ λέγειν οὔτε μὴν ἐνεργείᾳ οἷόν
τε ποιεῖσθαι τὸν Θεὸν τὴν ἐνοίκησιν (both would draw him into
the sphere of ἀνάγκη and limit him).
Δῆλον οὖν ὡς εὐδοκίᾳ λέγειν γίνεσθαι τὴν ἐνοίκησιν προσήκει, εὐδοκία
δὲ λέγεται ἡ ἀρίστη καὶ καλλίστη θέλησις τοῦ Θεοῦ ἣν ἂν ποιήσηται ἀρεσθεὶς τοῖς
ἀνακεῖσθαι αὐτῷ ἐσπουδακόσιν ἀπὸ τοῦ εὖ καὶ καλὰ δοκεῖν αὐτῷ περὶ αὐτῶν . . .
ἄπειρος μὲν γὰρ ὢν ὁ Θεὸς καὶ ἀπερίγραφος τὴν φύσιν πάρεστιν τοῖς πᾶσιν· τῇ δὲ
εὐδοκίᾳ τῶν μὲν ἔστιν μακράν, τῶν δὲ ἐγγύς. This ἐνοίκησις, however, as is shewn in
what follows, has different τρόποι; in its unique and perfect form it is in the
“Son” only; l.c. (p. 297):
Ἰησοῦς δὲ προέκοπτεν . . . χάριτι παρὰ Θεῷ—χάριτι δὲ,
ἀκόλουθον τῇ συνέσει καὶ τῇ γνώσει τὴν ἀρετὴν μετιών, ἐξ ἧς ἡ παρὰ τῷ Θεῷ χάρις
αὐτῷ τὴν προσθήκην ἐλάμβανεν . . . δῆλον δὲ ἄρα κἀκεῖνο, ὡς τὴν ἀρετὴν ἀκριβέστερόν
τε καὶ μετὰ πλείονος ἐπλήροῦ τῆς εὐχερείας ἢ τοῖς λοιποῖς ἀνθρώποις ἦν δυνατόν,
ὅσῳ καὶ κατὰ πρόγνωσιν τοῦ ὁποῖός τις ἔσται ἑνώσας αὐτὸν ὁ Θεὸς λόγος ἑαυτῷ ἐν αὐτῇ
διαπλάσεως ἀρχῇ, μείζονα παρεῖχεν τὴν παρ᾽ ἑαυτοῦ συνέργειαν πρὸς τὴν τῶν δεόντων
κατόρθωσιν . . . ἥνωτο μὲν γὰρ ἐξ ἀρχῆς τῷ Θεῷ ὁ ληφθεὶς κατὰ πρόγνωσιν· ἐν αὐτῇ
τῇ διαπλάσει τῆς μήτρας τὴν καταρχὴν τῆς ἑνώσεως δεξαμενος; l.c. 1.
8. (p. 299): πρόδηλον δὲ ὡς τὸ τῆς ἑνώσεως ἐφαρμόζον· διὰ γὰρ ταύτης συναχθεῖσαι αἱ φύσεις ἓν
πρόσωπον κατὰ τὴν ἕνωσιν ἀπετέλεσαν
(Matt. XIX. 6, is now brought in as an analogy; we also no longer speak
κατὰ τὸν τῆς ἐνώσεως λόγον of two persons, but of one,
δηλονότι τῶν φύσεων διακεκριμένων; ὅταν μὲν γὰρ τὰς φύσεις διακρίνωμεν,
τελείαν τὴν φύσιν τοῦ Θεοῦ λόγοῦ φαμέν, καὶ τέλειον τὸ πρόσωπον· οὐδὲ γὰρ
ἀπρόσωπον ἔστιν ὑπόστασιν εἰπεῖν· τελείαν δὲ καὶ τὴν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου φύσιν καὶ τὸ
πρόσωπον ὁμοίως· ὅταν μέντοι ἐπὶ τὴν συνάφειαν ἀπίδωμεν, ἓν πρόσωπον τότε φαμέν: l.c. 1. 9 (p. 300):
Λόγος σὰρξ ἐγένετο—ἐνταῦθα τὸ “ἐγένετο” οὐδαμῶς ἑτέρως
λέγεσθαι δυνάμενον εὑρήκαμεν ἢ κατὰ τὸ δοκεῖν . . . τὸ δοκεῖν οὐ κατὰ τὸ μὴ εἰληφέναι
σάρκα ἀληθῆ, ἀλλὰ κατὰ τὸ μὴ γεγενῆσθαι: ὅταν μὲν γὰρ “ἔλαβεν” λέγῃ οὐ κατὰ
τὸ δοκεῖν ἀλλὰ κατὰ τὸ ἀληθὲς λέγει· ὅταν δε “ἐγένετο”, τότε κατὰ τὸ δοκεῖν· οὐ
γὰρ μετεποιήθη εἰς σάρκα; l.c. 1.
10 (p. 301):
καταβέβηκεν ἐξ οὐρανοῦ νὲν τῇ εἰς
τὸν ἄνθρωπον ἐνοικήσει· ἔστιν δὲ ἐν οὐρανῷ τῷ ἀπεριγράφῳ τῆς φύσεως πᾶσιν παρών; l. c. 1. 12 (p. 303):
ἀληθῆ υἱὸν λέγω τὸν τῇ φυσικῇ γεννήσει τὴν υἱότητα κεκτημένον·
ἑπομένως δὲ συνεπιδεχόμενον τῇ σημασίᾳ καὶ τὸν κατὰ ἀλήθειαν τῆς ἀξίας
μετέχοντα τῆ πρὸς αὐτὸν ἑνώσει.
For the explanations given of Luke I. 31 f.; 1 Tim. III. 16;
Matt. III. 14, IV. 4, see p. 306 f., l.c. 1. 12 (p. 308):
ἑνώσας αὐτὸν ἑαυτῷ τῇ σχέσει τῆς γνώμης, μείζονά τινα παρεῖχεν αὐτῷ τὴν χάριν, ὡς τῆς εἰς
αὐτὸν χάριτος εἰς πάντας τοὺς ἑξῆς διαδοθησομένης ἀνθρώπους· ὅθεν καὶ τὴν περὶ τὰ
καλὰ πρόθεσιν ἀκέραιον αὐτῷ διεφύλαττεν; see the sequel where
the thought is developed that the man Jesus voluntarily willed the good, his
will being protected by the God-Logos; l.c. 1. 15 (p. 309): “utrumque iuste
filius vocatur, una existente persona, quam adunatio naturarum effecit” l.c. c.
15 (p. 310): Mary may as well be called θεοτόκος as ἀνθρωποτόκος, but the
latter τῇ φύσει τοῦ πράγματος the former τῇ ἀναφορᾷ. Adv. Apollin. l.c.
(p. 313): the distinction between ναός (the man Jesus) and ὁ ἐν ναῷ Θεὸς λόγος·
next: ἔστιν μὲν γὰρ ἀνοήτον τὸ τὸν Θεὸν ἐκ
τῆς παρθένου γεγεννῆσθαι λέγειν. In the eighth Sermon of the “Catechism” Theodore has employed the
Aristotelian category “secundum aliquid” in order to shew, that a thing may be a unity in one respect and a duality in another. What confused the Antiochian
theology and involved it in contradictions was apparently the load of tradition,
i.e., the adhesion to the belief that Jesus Christ possessed a divine nature. This belief, however, constituted
the strong foundation of the theology of their opponents. Their Christology was built up on this thesis. For the Antiochians
it was simply a fact to which they had to adapt themselves, although they had
not themselves felt its truth in this form.
The view adopted by the Alexandrians, above all by Cyril, is undoubtedly the
ancient view, that namely of Irenæus, Athanasius, and the Cappadocians, even
when we make allowance for the falsification of tradition by the Apollinarians.
The interest they had in seeing in Christ the most perfect unity of the divine
and human, and therefore their interest in the reality of our redemption,
determined the character of the development of the doctrines. Up till the year
431, and even beyond that time, this was wanting in formal thoroughness and
scientific precision. This is as little an accident as the fact that Athanasius
supplied no scientific doctrine of the Trinity. The belief in the real
incarnation of God was only capable of the scientific treatment which
Apollinaris had given it. If this were forbidden then theologians were debarred
from all treatment of the subject with the exception of the merely analytic and
descriptive or scholastic mode of treatment. This latter was not, however, yet
in existence. But also apart from this, belief in the real incarnation simply
demanded a forcible and definite statement of the secret, nothing more:
σιωπῇ προσκυνείσθω τὸ ἄρρητον—let the secret be adored in silence. We must live
in the feeling of this secret. This is why Cyril also stated his faith in what
was essentially a polemical form only; he would not have taken long to have
given a purely positive statement of it. Therefore it is that without knowing
it he has recourse to Apollinarian works when he wishes to bring forward a plain
and intelligible formula in opposition to the Antiochians and so to make the
mystery clearer—and he is continually in danger of over-stepping the limits of
his own religious thought—and therefore it is finally, that his terminology has
so little fixity about it.In many respects his language is more certain than that of the Cappadocians
and Athanasius: he no longer speaks, so far as I know, of mingling, fusion and
so on, but in other respects his language is not behind theirs in uncertainty,
and in denying “freedom” to Christ, he comes nearer to Apollinaris than they,
for they in fact made use also of the conception of “two natures.” The works of
Cyril are in Aubert. Vol. VI. and VII., Migne Vols. 75-77. Most of what bears on
the subject under discussion will be found also in Mansi T. IV., V. Specially
notable are his letters to the Egyptian monks, to Nestorius (3) to John of
Antioch, to Succensus (2) to the Constantinopolitan and Alexandrian Churches, the liber
de recta in Jesum fide addressed to Theodosius, the book and the oration on the
same subject addressed to the Empress, the explanation of the 12 anathemas and
their vindication as against Theodoret, the five books against Nestorius, the
dialogue on the Incarnation of the only-begotten, the other dialogue:
“Οτι εἷς ὁ Χριστός
and the tractate κατὰ τῶν μὴ βουλομένων ὁμολογεῖν θεοτόκον τὴν ἁγίαν παρθένον.
On Cyril’s theology see Dorner, Thomasius, (Christology) and
H. Schultz. Koppalik, Cyril, Mainz 1881. That the work published by Mai (Script.
Vet. Nova Coll. I., VIII.) περί τῆς τοῦ κυρίου ἐνανθρωπήσεως does not belong
to Cyril has been shewn by Ehrhard (the work attributed to Cyril of Alex.
περὶ τ. τ. κυρ· ἐνανθ., a work of Theodoret of Cyrus.
Tübingen, 1888). In this treatise will be found a full and thorough account of the Christological formulæ of Cyril.
Still he vindicated the religious thought of Greek piety: (“If the God-Logos
did not suffer for us in a human way then He did not accomplish our salvation in
a divine way, and if He was only man or a mere instrument then we are not truly
redeemed.” “Our Immanuel would not in any way have benefited us by His death if
He had been a man; but we are redeemed because the God-Logos gave His own body
to death.”) Neither Cyril’s personal character nor the way in which he devised
and carried on the controversy ought to be allowed to lead us astray as regards
this fact: for his Christianity did not succeed in making him just.
It was as easy for Cyril to formulate the thought of faith as it was for
Athanasius and the Cappadocians. Faith does not in his case start from the
historical Christ, but from the Θεὸς λόγος, and is occupied only with Him. By
the Incarnation the God-Logos incorporated with Himself the whole human nature
and still remained the same. He did not transform Himself, but He took up
humanity into the unity of His substance, without losing any of it; on the
contrary, He honoured it and raised it into His divine substance. He is the same
with human nature as He was before the Incarnation, the one indivisible subject
which merely added something to itself just in order to take up into its nature
this something thus added. Everything which the human body and the human soul
of the God-Logos endured, He Himself endured, for they are His body and
His soul.I purposely cite no passages; they would not, taken separately, prove the
doctrine here summarised, but would, on the contrary, point now in one direction
and now in another. That the group of phrases given in the text embodies Cyril’s
view and in a measure embodies it completely, will be allowed by everyone
acquainted with the subject. Nor as regards Christology can I hope much from a
careful monograph on Cyril on the lines of a history of dogma, such as has
recently been asked for; for beyond what is adduced above Cyril had no
theological interest; his way of formulating his views might, however, easily
lead to his having a very complicated “Christology” attributed to him. The characteristic moments in this
conception are “one and the same” (εἷς κὰι ὁ αὐτός) that is, the God-Logos, “the
making the flesh His own by way of accommodation” (ἰδίαν ποιεῖν τὴν σάρκα οἰκονομικῶς),
“He remembered who He was” (μεμένηκε ὅπερ ἦν), “out of two
natures one” (ἐκ δύο φύσεων εἷς), or “the joining of two natures in an
unbroken union without confusion and unchangeably”
(συνέλευσις δύο φύσεων καθ᾽ ἕνωσιν ἀδιάσπαστον ἀσυγχύτως καὶ ἀτρέπτως), “the Logos with His own
flesh” (ὁ λόγος μετὰ τῆς ἰδίας σαρκός), hence the “physical union”
(ἕνωσις φυσική) or “hypostatic union”
(καθ᾽ ὑπόστασιν), and finally, “one nature of the God-Logos made flesh”
(μία φύσις τοῦ Θεοῦ λόγου
σεσαρκωμένη),According to an expression taken from a work of Apollinaris which Cyril
considered as Athanasian, because the Apollinarians had fathered it on Athanasius.
yet “not so that the difference of the two natures is done away with by the union”
(οὐχ᾽ ὡς τῆς τῶν φύσεων διαφορᾶς ἀνῃρημένης διὰ τὴν ἕνωσιν).
Cyril scarcely touched upon the distinction between φύσις (οὐσία) and
ὑπόστασις, which had nevertheless already come to be current among the
Antiochians so far as Christology was concerned; still he never says “of two
hypostases” (ἐκ δύο ὑποστασεων) or “a union in nature”
(ἕνωσις κατὰ φῦσιν).See Loofs, Leontius, p. 45. He was not able to make that distinction, because in his view
φύσις and ὑποστασις meant the same thing as applied to the divine nature, but not as
applied to the human. What rather is really characteristic in Cyril’s position
is his express rejection of the view that an individual man was present in
Christ, although he attributes to Christ all the elements of man’s nature.The Ep. ad Succens. supplies the most important proof-passages here. Cyril’s
thought is that the substance (οὐσία) of the human nature in Christ does not
subsist on its own account, but that it is nevertheless not imperfect since it
has its subsisting element in the God-Logos. This either means nothing at all or
it is Apollinarianism. For Cyril, however, everything depends on the possibility and actuality of such a
human nature, on the fact, namely, that in Christ a hypostatic union was reached and that this union forthwith purified and
transfigured human nature generally. Christ can be the second Adam for men only
if they belong to him in a material sense as they did to the first Adam, and
they do belong to Him materially only if He was not an individual man like Peter
and Paul, but the real beginner of a new humanity. Cyril’s view, moreover, was
determined as a whole by the realistic thought of of redemption.Orat. ad imp. Theodos. 19, 20 (Mansi IV. 641): An apparent body would have been
sufficient if the God-Logos had merely required to show us the path to the
angelic life. But He became a perfect man,
ἵνα τῆς μὲν ἐπεισάκτου φθορᾶς τὸ
γήϊνον ἡμῶν ἀπαλλάξῃ σῶμα, τῇ καθ᾽ ἕνωσιν οἰκονομίᾳ τὴν ἰδίαν αὐτῷ ζωὴν ἐνιείς,
ψυχὴν δὲ ἰδίαν ἀνθρωπίνην ποιούμενος ἁμαρτίας αὐτὴν ἀποφήνῃ κρείττονα, τῆς ἰδίας
φύσεως τὸ πεπηγός τε καὶ ἄτρεπτον, οἷάπερ ἐρίῳ
βαφὴν, ἐγκαταχρώσας αὐτῇ. Still it is
not a matter of accident that he so frequently uses σάρξ for “human nature”,
although in opposition to Apollinaris he acknowledged the human conscious soul
in Christ. It was only σάρξ, that he could freely employ straight off in this
connection, not πνεῦμα and ψυχή. The proposition that before the
Incarnation there were two φύσεις, but after it only one, is, however, of
special importance for Cyril’s conception of the Incarnation. This perverse
formula, which Cyril repeats and varies endlessly, regards the humanity of
Christ as having existed before the Incarnation, and therefore in accordance
with the Platonic metaphysic, but does not do away with the humanity after the
Incarnation, on the contrary, it merely transfers it entirely to the substance
of the God-Logos. Both natures are now to be distinguished θεωρίᾳ μόνῃ—a
phrase which he uses very frequently, i.e., it is in virtue of the physical or
natural unity that the Logos has actually become man. This physical unity does
not, however, mean that the Godhead thereby becomes capable of suffering: but
the Logos suffers in His own flesh and was born of Mary as regards His own
humanity. He is thus God crucified, (Θεὸς σταυρωθείς)—the Logos suffered
without suffering, i.e., in His flesh (ἔπαθεν ὀ λόγος ἀπαθῶς,
i.e, ἐν σαρκί)—and
Mary is θεοτόκος, in so far as the σάρξ, which she bore constitutes an
indissoluble unity with the Logos. (What belonged to the Logos thus became the
property of the humanity, and again what belonged to the humanity became the property of the
Logos—γέγονε τοίνυν ἴδια μὲν τοῦ λόγου τὰ τῆς ἀνθρωπότητος,
ἴδια δὲ πάλιν τῆς ἀνθρωπότητος τὰ
αὐτοῦ λόγου). Therefore this
σάρξ of Christ can in the Lord’s Supper be the means of producing divine life,
although it has not disappeared as human flesh.Cyril connected the Christological dogma in the form in which he put it, with
the Lord’s Supper and also with baptism.
Is this conception Monophysitism? It is necessary to distinguish here between
the phraseology and what is actually stated. As regards their actual substance
all conceptions may be described as Monophysite or Apollinarian which reject the
idea that Christ was an individual man; for between the doctrine of the
hypostatic union and the most logical Apthartodocetism there are only grades of
difference. No hard and fast line can be drawn here, although very different
forms of monophysitism were possible according as the consequences of the
Incarnation for the divinity of Christ on the one hand, or for His humanity on
the other were conceived of in a concrete way and definitely stated. But
according to ecclesiastical phraseology only those parties are to be described
as monophysite who rejected the deliverance of the Council of Chalcedon. But
this deliverance presupposes the existence of factors which did not yet lie
within the mental horizon of Cyril. In these circumstances we must content
ourselves with saying that nowhere did Cyril intentionally deviate to the right
hand, or to the left, from the line of thought followed by the Greek Church and
its great Fathers in their doctrine of redemption. He was a Monophysite in so
far as he taught that the Logos after the Incarnation continues to have as
before one nature only; but as the opponent of Apollinaris he did not wish to
mix the human nature with the divine in Christ.Similarly also Loofs op. cit., p. 48 f. As Loofs rightly remarks, the
distinction between the natures which Cyril wished to have made was nevertheless
not one solely in thought, but I cannot find any word which expresses what he
wanted. It is obvious that as regards the docetic and Apollinarian ideas
(apparent-humanity, κρᾶσις, σύγχυσις, τροπή), which were current and which
were still widely spread at the time, Cyril’s influence was of a wholesome kind.
It is wonderful how firm he was here. Perhaps it is herein that his greatest
significance lies. And yet the best of what he had he had got from Apollinaris.
Moreover, before Cyril, Didymus in Alexandria had already put together and used
the words ἀτρέπτως, ἀσυγχύτως in his formula for the Incarnation; see Vol.
III., p. 299. They were therefore not a monopoly of the Antiochians. The assertion of a perfect
humanity, unmingled natures, must be allowed to stand, for it is really impossible to put in an intelligible
form any part of these speculations which treat of substances as if
they had no connection whatever with a living person. It is really not any more
difficult to put up with the contradiction here than it is to tolerate the whole
method of looking at the question. Both constitute the great mystery of the
faith. Monophysitism, which limits itself to the statement that in Christ out of
two perfect natures, divinity and humanity, one composite or incarnate divine
nature has come into existence, and which will have nothing to do with the idea
of a free willLike Apollinaris, Cyril also regarded with the deepest abhorrence the thought
that Christ possessed a free will. Everything seemed to them to be made
uncertain if Christ was not ἄτρεπτος. We can quite understand this feeling; for
all belief in Christ as Redeemer is, to say the least of it, indifferent to the
idea that Christ might have done other than He did. But that age was in the
direst dilemma; for “freedom” was at that time the only formula for the
“personality” of the creature, and yet it at the same time necessarily involved
the capability of sin. In this dilemma the true believers resolved to deny
freedom to Christ. With these accordingly the Apollinarians who had been
excluded from the Church were able once more to unite. “All with the exception
of a few,” writes Theodoret H. E. V. 3, cf. V. 37, “came over to the Church and
again took part in Church fellowship; they had not, however, all the same, got
rid of their earlier disease, but still infected many with it who before had
been sound. From this root there sprang up in the Church the doctrine of the
μία τῆς σαρκὸς καὶ τῆς θεότητος
φύσις, which attributes suffering to the
Godhead too of the only begotten.” in Christ, is dogmatically consistent. It has indeed no longer
the logical satisfying clearness of the Apollinarian thesis; it involves an
additional mystery, or a logical contradiction, still in return for this it
definitely put into words the by no means unimportant element of “perfect
humanity”. But this Monophysitism, when distinctly formulated as ἕνωσις φουσική,
certainly made it plain to the Greeks themselves that it was no longer
possible to reconcile the Christ of faith with the picture of Christ given in
the Gospels; for the idea of the physical unity of the two natures and of the
interchange of properties, which Cyril had worked out in a strict fashion,
swallowed up what of the human remained in Him. Arrived at this point three
possible courses were open. It was necessary either to revise the doctrine of
redemption and perfection which had the above-mentioned statement as its logical
result—a thing which was not to be thought of,—or else theologians would have to
make up their minds still further to adapt the picture of the historical Christ to the
dogmatic idea, i.e., to destroy it altogether, which was logical Monophysitism,
or finally, it would be necessary to discover a word, or a formula, which would
mark off the dogma of faith from Apollinarianism with still greater sharpness
than had been done by the catchword “perfect humanity”. It was therefore
necessary to intensify the contradictions still further, so that it was no
longer only the concrete union of the natures which appeared as the secret, but
the conception of the union itself already involved a contradictio in adjecto
and became a mystery. If it could be maintained that the natures had become
united without being united, then on the outside everything seemed to be as it
should be, and Apollinaris was as certainly beaten as Paul of Samosata—and this
was maintained. But certainly no pupil of Athanasius or Cyril hit on a notion
such as this, which paralysed the force of the thought: λόγύς σαρκωθείς. A
danger lurked here which had finally a momentous result. The expression of the
faith which was constantly being burdened with fresh contradictions so that no
legitimate element might be wanting to it, had to forfeit its strength.Thomasius in his description of the Christology of Cyril sees only difficulties,
but no contradictions. Nor has he fully understood the relation between
Apollinaris and Cyril. Its
place was finally taken by a complicated formula which it was no longer possible
to make one’s own through feeling, the mystery of conceptions put in the form of
concrete ideas. If theologians might no longer teach as Apollinaris taught and
in fact no longer quite in the way in which Cyril taught, they saw themselves
under the necessity of using a complicated formula. But to begin with it seemed
as if Cyril had carried his point.Cyril never sought subsequently to tone down in appearance the paradox of the
mystery of the Incarnation by means of logical distinctions. In this connection
it is important to note that he allows that Nestorius wishes a ἕνωσις τῶν προσώπων
(Ep. ad C P. Mansi IV., p. I005), but that he himself rejects such
a union because the important thing is the union of the natures.
The controversy broke out in Constantinople and was throughout carried on with
ambitious designs and for the purposes of ecclesiastical policy. In the person
of Nestorius an ascetic Antiochian was again raised to the dignity of Bishop of Constantinople (428). The bishop of the capital just because he was
the bishop was an object of jealousy to the Alexandrian Patriarch and as an
Antiochian he was doubly so. A conceited preacher and one who plumed himself on
being an enemy of heretics, but not a man with any meanness about him,
Nestorius, who was supported by his presbyter Anastasius, gave offence in the
capital by using the catchwords of the Antiochian dogmatic and by the contest he
engaged in against the description of Mary as θεοτόκος. With great frankness
Nestorius described the statements regarding the God who was wrapped in
swaddling clothes and fastened to the Cross, as heathen fables. His ChristologySome of his writings in Mansi IV., V., see also VI., VII., IX. On the
beginning of the controversy Socrat. H. E. VII. 29 sq. cf. the letters of
Cœlestin and Vincent. Common. 17 sq. The sermons of Nestorius, above all,
deserve attention. The history is in Hefele, op. cit. II. 2, pp. 141-288, who is
indeed wholly biassed. See Walch, Ketzergesch., Vol. V.; Largent, S. Cyrille et
le concile d’Éphèse (Rev. des quest. hist., 1872, July). Older accounts by
Tillemont and Gibbon. was that of Theodore; it cannot be said that he developed it further; on the
contrary, one can see the influence of Chrysostom. Nestorius seems scarcely to
have mentioned the human development of Jesus, and he seems to have laid greater
emphasis on the idea of the union than Theodore (“one Christ”), if also only
in the form of the συνάφεια and προσκύνησις; but he was, above all, concerned
in getting rid of “the corruption of Arius and Apollinaris.” Cyril took
advantage of the excitement in the Capital, which would perhaps have quieted
down spite of some unruly priests and monks, in order to stir up the Egyptian
monks, the Egyptian clergy in Constantinople, and the imperial ladies. The
result was an angry correspondence with Nestorius, who was, moreover, protected
by the Emperor. Cyril wrote in a more dignified way than his rival, but the
hierarchs since the days of Cyprian had always known better how to take up an
outwardly dignified attitude than their opponents. The narrow-minded patriarch
of the capital was characterised by a simple pride.Luther (“Von den Conc. u. K K.”, Vol. 25, pp. 304 ff., 307), falling back on
Socrates, has rehabilitated Nestorius: “One can see from this that Nestorius,
though a proud and foolish bishop, is in earnest about Christ; but in his folly
he does not know what he is saying and how he is saying it, like one who was not
able to speak properly of such things and yet wished to speak as if he knew all
about it. He expressed himself in an inconsiderate and imprudent way
in his letters, and his conduct in his diocese was no less inconsiderate and
imprudent, for there he went on with the work of deposition and attacked “Apollinarianism” as if it had been a red rag.
The formula employed by the two opponents were no longer very different.
Everything depended on how they were accentuated. Both spoke of two natures and
one Christ, and the one wished as little to be an Apollinarian as the other did
to be a “blasphemous”So Nestorius himself in the third letter to Cœlestin. Samosatene. Cyril did not deny that the God-head was
incapable of suffering, and Nestorius was prepared to use even the formula
θεοτόκος with a qualification.This was the case from the first; see already the first letter to Cœlestin.
In the third letter he proposed to the Pope that the latter should see that
neither θεοτόκος nor ἀνθρωποτόκος was used, but
χριστότοκος; “This
controversy about words,” he adds moreover, “will not in my opinion occasion any
difficult enquiry at the Council nor will it interfere with the doctrine of the
divinity of Christ.” But in reality they were undoubtedly separated
from each other by a deep gulf represented in the former case by the ἕνωσις φυσική,
(the physical union,) and in the latter by the ἕνωσις κατὰ συνάφειαν, (the union by combination,) and they can scarcely be blamed if they
indulged in specious arguments; for both views were intelligible only when one
went behind the formulæ, and in the case of many if not actually in that of the
leaders, ideas which went a great deal further were as a matter of fact
concealed behind the formulæ.In this contest Nestorius directs his attack against Photinianism, as
representing the idea that the Word had first originated with the Virgin,
against Apollinarianism, against the idea that the flesh of Christ was no longer
flesh after the Resurrection, and therefore against the “deificatio” of the
flesh, and against the mingling of the natures (first letter to Cœlestin). As a
matter of fact nothing of all this applied to Cyril. The latter fought against
Nestorius as if it were a matter of combating Paul of Samosata, and in this
Cœlestin made common cause with him (see his first letter to the Church of
Constantinople c. 3). The real difference was: Did God become man or did He not? Nestorius addressed himself to the Roman bishop
Cœlestin as a colleague of co-ordinate rank, Cyril did the same soon after as
an informant moved by a sense of duty, and therewith the controversy came to
have a universal importance. But owing to the interference of the Roman bishop on behalf of Cyril it also took a wholly unexpected turn; for there is not
perhaps in the history of dogma a second fact of equal importance which so
thoroughly deserves to be pronounced a scandal nor one which at the same is so
little to the credit of its author, as the interference of the Pope on behalf of Cyril.
He had indeed sufficient reason for doing this. Since the time of Athanasius and
Julius, and in fact from the days even of Demetrius and Fabian, it had always
been the traditional dogmatic policy of the Roman Chair to support the
Alexandrian Patriarch, as conversely the latter in his struggle against the
ambitious patriarch of New Rome necessarily looked for his natural ally in old
Rome.The solidarity between Rome and Alexandria is emphasised also in the letters of
Cœlestin to Cyril (I. I), to John of Antioch (c. 2) and to Nestorius (c. II). Further Nestorius had shewn himself unwilling to excommunicate right off
the Pelagians who had been condemned by the Pope and who had fled to
Constantinople. Finally, he had not in his writing generally given token of the
submission which the Apostolic Chair already demanded. But what does that
signify in face of the fact that Cœlestin in interfering on behalf of Cyril
disowned his western view and in the most frivolous fashion condemned Nestorius
without having considered his teaching. That he did both things may be easily
shewn. In his letter to the Pope Nestorius laid before the latter the formula “utraque natura quae per conjunctionem summam et inconfusam in una persona
unigeniti adoratur”Ep. II. Nest. ad Cœlest. (Mansi IV., p. 1024.) (“the two natures which, perfectly joined together and
without confusion, are adored in the one person of the only-begotten”). This
was substantially the Western formula, and Cœlestin himself held no other
view.It was substantially the Western formula: see on this above, p. 145, and
Reuter, Ztschr. fur K: G. VI., p. 156 ff. Augustine, Cœlestin’s authority, had
taught the doctrine of una persona and two natures, or still more frequently the
“duæ substantiæ” which corresponds more closely with the Western conception; he
had further used “deus (ex patre) et homo (ex matre), or “verbum et homo” or
“deus-homo.” He had rejected every view which taught the changeableness of God,
and explained that the “forma dei” remained together with the “forma servi”
after the “assumptio carnis”. He had not himself questioned the relative
correctness of the idea of the indwelling of the Godhead in Christ after the
fashion of the indwelling of the Godhead in believers, i.e., as in a temple, if
he also clung to the view that the Word became flesh. It is undoubted that
according to Augustine, “Christ is the collective person comprising a duality” in
connection with which we have to distinguish between what relates to the forma
dei and the forma servi. It is only with certain qualifications that the formula
“God was crucified” is to be employed, the perfectly correct statement is only
“Christus crucifixus est in forma servi.” The passages in which Augustine speaks
of “caro dei”, “natus ex femina deus” etc., are extremely rare, and for him
these formulæ have in my opinion no real importance; for the reconciling work of
Christ belongs according to Augustine to his humanity; see above. Here he is
therefore in agreement with the Antiochians. (The fact that in one passage
Augustine, like Tertullian, speaks of “mingling”, is of no importance). We meet
with the same thing in Ambrose (de incarn. Sacram.) and again in Vincentius and
Leo I. They all go back together to Tertullian (see above). Ambrose like
Augustine speaks of two substances (natures) and he is “still more zealously
intent than the latter in preserving the two in their integrity”: “Servemus
distinctionem divinitatis et carnis.” Apollinaris has no more violent opponent
than Ambrose. According to him the Johannine “becoming flesh” first gets its
true meaning through “He dwelt among us.” When we speak of the death and passion
of Christ we ought to add “secundum carnem”. And naturally in this connection
emphasis is also laid on the “unus et idem”, but the co-existence of the formæ
dei et servi is maintained. And here, as in Augustine, we meet with the formula
that the Logos assumed a man. In fact Ambrose, the keenest opponent of
Apollinaris, turned against the ἀντιμετάστασις τῶν ὀνομάτων as against a
dangerous, Apollinarian mode of speech, and went so far in regard to the
distinction of the natures as even to hazard (c. 2, § 13) the bold statement:
“Fieri non protest, ut, per quem sunt omnia, sit onus ex nobis.” (More detailed
information in Förster, Ambrosius, p. 128 f., 136 f.) The remaining evidence,
moreover, which we possess in the shape of Papal letters etc., proves that the
Westerns since the time of Tertullian and Novatian—in the latter also we find
the “utraque substantia” (not “natura”) and
the “sociatus homo et deus”—possessed a christological formula on which they were all agreed, based on
their creed, and to which they had strictly adhered, (see the admirable remarks
of Reuter op. cit. p. 191 f.). This form was closely akin to that of the
Antiochians, although it rested on a different basis. The Antiochians, without
being influenced by the West, had reached quite independently the formula “two
natures, one person.” Not only the “mild” Antiochians (Loofs op. cit., p. 49
f.), but Theodore also (see above) and Nestorius had employed it. We must
certainly admit that there is a radical difference, the Antiochian formula would
strictly have run thus: The two natures, which are two hypostases, constitute
together one prosopon or person who is to be adored, i.e., in the view of the
Antiochians nature and hypostasis coincided and the undivided subject possessed
its unity only in the union, the name, in the position of authority and in
adoration. On the other hand we should have to paraphrase the Western form of
the doctrine which was outlined by Tertullian, developed by Ambrose and handed
on to the theologians of subsequent times, thus: Jesus Christ as one and the same possesses two
substances (properties) or two co-existent forms (status, forma). The
difference is obvious at the first glance. The former formula is of a
speculative kind and from general conceptions constructs a personal being, the
latter on the contrary assigns “the state of life” to a person, it is, so to
speak (see above), of a legal or political kind. The two formulæ are thus quite
disparate (the Antiochian and Alexandrian are on the contrary formally similar)
and therefore it is very possible that the Western form in fine, considered from
the religious point of view, contains a side which is more akin to the
Alexandrian than to the Antiochian form. But in the formulæ Nestorius was in
agreement with Cœlestin, and it cannot be proved that the Pope was able to look
behind the formula (see the “simplicior” in Mansi V., p. 702). In fact the
opposite can be proved. In all his numerous letters he took good care in
connection with this affair not to state his own Christological view. If
anything escapes him it does not remind us at all of Cyril’s views, see, e.g.,
the letter to the Church of Constantinople (Mansi IV., p. 1044): “Nestorius
denies that the Logos assumed a man for our sakes.” He fastens solely on the
θεοτόκος to which objection had been taken by Nestorius and he adduces a sort of
argument in proof of its antiquity taken from a poem of Ambrose. Beyond this
nothing else occurs in his letters to shew what was really to blame in the
Christology of Nestorius. In place of this he from the very start loads him with
abuse, with threats from the Bible and with imprecations of a wholly general
character, denounces him to his Church as a heretic and writes him a letter
(Mansi IV., p. 1026 sq.), which in its unfairness and bare-faced audacity is one
of the vilest compositions we have of the fourth and fifth centuries. In his
instructions to his legates too and in his letter to the Council, he carefully
guarded against using any Christological formula at all, and he knew very well
why. As Nestorius had expressed himself, particularly towards the end, his
Christology came so near to that of Augustine that Cœlestin at all events was
not able to distinguish the one from the other. Cœlestin’s main concern,
however, was by no means with the Christology, but rather with the person of
Nestorius because the latter had not treated the Pelagians ad nutum
papæ. He accordingly, instructed his legates simply to take Cyril’s side, and in his
letter to the Council contented himself with an exhortation to the members to
preserve the old faith without saying what the old faith was. There is, however,
not the slightest ground for the assumption that Augustine’s affair with the
Galilean monk and presbyter Leporius (about 426, Mansi IV., pp. 518, 519 sq.)
probably had an influence upon Cœlestin. This controversy, which was quickly
settled, undoubtedly shews that on the basis of the formulæ of Tertullian and
Novatian, discussions regarding the mystery of the person of Christ had been
started in the West too, which led to considerable division of opinion, and that
in opposition to this the Westerns held firmly to their “unus et idem” which,
however, was something different from the Antiochian ἓν πρόσωπον (Leporius
would have nothing to do with the idea of a deus natus et passus; Augustine and
Aurelius of Carthage forced him to recant: the Confession of Leporius is in
Hahn, Symbole 2, § 138). But in the affair with Nestorius Cœlestin nowhere
referred to the heresy of Leporius and to his recantation. The commonitorium of
Vincentius best shews how little disposed those in the West were to have their
own Christological form of doctrine interfered with by the East or by the
recognised Council of Ephesus. In this book, written soon after 431, the Creed
of Ephesus is highly praised and Nestorius is abused, but at the same time the
Christological formula of Tertullian and no other is used, and what is said
exhibits complete uncertainty regarding the teaching of Nestorius. He did not, however, trouble himself
about the formula, put his own Christology on one side and declared in favour of
Cyril, while he made everything depend on the one point “θεοτόκος” in order
at least to produce an appearance of difference, although this was just the very
point regarding which Nestorius was prepared to make concessions.
The Pope had determined to put down Nestorius. A Roman Synod (430) demanded of
him immediate recantation on pain of excommunication. As if by way of insult
Cyril was charged by the Pope himself with the duty of carrying the sentence
out. Nestorius himself, whose Church was revolutionised, now
urged the Emperor to call a General Council, and in addition to this collected a
number of accusations against Cyril for the way in which he had discharged the
duties of his office. To the twelve anathemas which an Alexandrian Council under
the presidency of Cyril had served on him, and which embodied the teaching of
Cyril in sharply cut phrases (θεοτόκος γεγέννηκε
σαρκικῶς σάρκα γεγονότα τὸν ἐκ
Θεοῦ
λόγον—ἕνωσις καθ᾽
ὑπόστασιν—ἕνωσις
φυσική—σὰρξ τοῦ κυρίου
ζωοποιός,—the mother of God bore flesh born after the manner of flesh, the
Logos of God—hypostatic union—natural union—the life-giving flesh of the Lord)
he replied by twelve counter-anathemas.Mansi IV., pp. 1081 sq., 1099 sq., Hahn, § 142, 143. In the third thesis of
Nestorius the permanence of the difference of the two natures also after the
Incarnation is strongly emphasised. The fifth thesis runs thus: “Si quis post
assumptionem hominis naturaliter dei filium unum esse audet dicere, anathema
sit.” It is the most questionable one. This sealed the breach. The Emperor,
displeased with Cyril, summoned a Council to meet at Ephesus at Whitsuntide 431.
Cyril who appeared with some 50 bishops, here shewed how an Emperor, such as
Theodosius was, ought to be treated. Without waiting for the arrival of the
Syrians under John of Antioch, the cautious friend (?) of Nestorius,John of Antioch was perhaps also one of the false friends of Nestorius. The
matter is still not quite clear—spite of the Coptic sources which are now at our
command. Probably John came so late intentionally, in order to be able to turn
the scale; from the first his attitude towards Nestorius had been an equivocal
one. We may indeed assume that he wished to get rid both of Nestorius and of
Cyril in order to secure for himself the supreme influence over the Church. the
Egyptian party supported by the bishop of Ephesus, Memnon, on its own authority
and spite of the opposition of the Imperial commissioner, constituted itself the
Council, treated Nestorius who naturally did not appear at this meeting, but
waited in the city for the Syrians, as an accused person, approved of all Cyril’s declarations as being in harmony with
Holy Scripture and the Nicene Creed, pronounced the deposition of Nestorius and
declared him to have forfeited priestly fellowship. In opposition to this petty
assembly, which did not set up any new creed, but which on the contrary took up
the position that the sole question had reference to the Nicene Creed which was
in danger, Nestorius and his friends, as soon as the Syrians arrived, held the
legal Council under the presidency of the Imperial Commissioner and pronounced
sentence of deposition on Cyril and Memnon. It was only now that the Papal
legates arrived in Ephesus and they at once took the side of Cyril.Otherwise the Westerns were not present at all. In
accordance with their instructions they reopened the case pro forma, in order to
exalt the authority of the Apostolic Chair. Cyril’s party complied with this,
and the Legates then agreed to everything which had been done, after all the
documents had been once more read over.Besides Cœlestin’s letter to the Council a similar one from the Carthaginian
Archbishop Capreolus who excused the absence of the Africans was read again.
This letter too is instructive because the bishop does not go beyond counselling
that no change should be made on the ancient faith. He expresses no opinion on
the question in dispute, (Mansi IV., p. I207 sq.). With the cry, “the whole Council
thanks the new Paul Cœlestin, the new Paul Cyril, Cœlestin the guardian of the
faith, Cœlestin who concurs with the Council: One Cœlestin, one Cyril, one
faith of the Council, one faith of the whole world,”Mansi l.c. p. 1287. At the close the Council did the Pope the further favour
of condemning the Pelagians. Thus both parties were quits. Cœlestin condemned
Nestorius without knowing what his teaching was and thereby disparaged his own
doctrine, and the followers of Cyril condemned the Pelagians without thoroughly
examining their theses and condemned themselves in condemning them. We may put
it thus and yet not mistake the peculiar solidarity which existed between the
Antiochians and the Pelagians; for the Ephesian judges knew nothing of this. It
was Cassian who first drew attention to it (libr. VII., de incarn. Chr.). this assembly closed,
which sought to maintain the ancient Nicene faith and did maintain it, at which,
however, there was no discussion, but at which unanimity was reached solely on
the basis of a selection of authorities.See the Acts in Mansi; Vicentius too in the so-called Second Commonitorium
describes the procedure; they interrogated antiquity. “Peter of Alex.,
Athanasius, Theophilus of Alex., the three Cappadocians, Felix and Julius of
Rome were quoted at Ephesus as teachers, councillors, witnesses and judges
(what, however, was quoted from them originated with Apollinaris!), and also Cyprian and Augustine.”
According to Vincentius these constituted “the hallowed decalogue”. But in
addition to these the opinions of others were also adduced.
The following will be found in the historical accounts. The Emperor, instead of
standing up for the right, allowed himself to be overawed. At first it is true
the resolutions of Cyril’s Council were annulled, but thereafter the controversy
was to be settled in true Byzantine fashion by the removal of the leaders. The
Emperor gave the force of law both to the deposition of Cyril and Memnon and to
that of Nestorius. The Alexandrians, however, were united and followed one
master, but this was not the case with the opposite party. Nestorius who was
violent but not tenacious, resigned; soon, however, his isolation was to change
to imprisonment. In the eyes of the Emperor the doctrine which he represented
was by no means condemned; but Cyril succeeded in getting permission to resume
possession of his bishopric, and by means of intrigue and bribery his party
continued more and more to gain ground at the Court and the capital. Still he
could not reckon on a victory as regards the dogmatic question; he had to be
content with knowing that a man who was acceptable to him occupied the chair of
Constantinople. The Emperor sought to bring about a union, and the friends of
Nestorius became disunited. One section under the leadership of John of Antioch
was prepared to come to terms, and to this party Theodoret,He was now the spiritual leader of the Antiochians. He fought untiringly for
the view that God was incapable of suffering.
the most distinguished Antiochian scholar, also belonged, though undoubtedly
with a certain reserve. Another section actively resisted. Cyril’s behaviour in
the year 432-433 is little to his credit. To him it was of more importance to
get the condemnation of his mortal enemy, Nestorius, carried through in the
Church, than to preserve his dogmatic system pure. Thus he subscribed the creed
submitted by the moderate Antiochians, without, however, retracting his earlier
opinions, and in return for this got some of the heads of the opposite party,
above all, John of Ephesus, to abandon Nestorius. Cyril could save his
consistency by interpreting this Antiochian creed in accordance with his
Christology; the friends of Nestorius were not able to
escape the disgrace which they had brought upon themselves by their treachery
towards their ill-used friend. But in a question which was for him a matter of
faith Cyril had agreed to a compromise, in proof of the fact that all hierarchs
are open to conviction when they are in danger of losing power and influence.The Creed of Union is in Mansi V., pp. 781, 291, 303. (Hahn § 99). It was
composed as early as the year 431, probably by Theodoret; and was sent from
Ephesus to be submitted to the Emperor, Cyril subscribed it in the year 433. The
Creed is a dogmatic work of art in which the Antiochians, however, could without
much difficulty recognise their views, but not so Cyril. The second, and really
important half runs thus:
δύο γὰρ φύσεων ἕνωσις γέγονε· διὸ ἕνα Χριστόν,
ἕνα ὑιόν, ἕνα κύριον ὁμολογοῦμεν. Κατὰ ταύτην τὴν τῆς ἀσυγχύτου ἑνώσεως ἔννοιαν
ὁμολογοῦμεν τὴν ἁγίαν παρθένον θεοτόκον, [Nestorius had already
admitted this, and he might in fact have subscribed this creed without any scruples of conscience]
διὰ τὸ τὸν Θεὸν λόγον σαρκωθῆναι καὶ ἐνανθρωπῆσαι, καὶ ἐξ αὐτῆς τῆς
συλλήψεως ἑνῶσαι ἑαυτῷ τὸν ἐξ αὐτῆς ληφθέντα ναόν. Τὰς δὲ εὐαγγελικὰς καὶ
ἀποστολικὰς περὶ τοῦ κυρίου φωνὰς ἴσμεν τὸυς θεολόγους ἄνδρας τὰς μὲν κοινοποιοῦντας,
ὡς ἐφ᾽ ἑνὸς προσώπου, τὰς δὲ διαιροῦντας, ὡς ἐπὶ δύο φύσεων
(Cyril admitted that!)
καὶ τὰς μὲν θεοπρεπεῖς κατὰ τὴν θεότητα τοῦ Χριστοῦ, τὰς δὲ ταπεινὰς
κατὰ τὴν ἀνθρωπότητα αὐτοῦ παραδιδόντας. This formula of union which reflects no discredit on the
Antiochians, especially as they, like the Arians and Semi-Arians before them, had a theological rather than a religious interest in the problem, is markedly
different from the later Chalcedonian formula. It does not abandon an intelligible position as that was understood by the Antiochians. Cyril had to
content himself with the words ἕνωσις and
θεοτόκος and had to put up with the
absence of συνάφεια. He naturally clung firmly to the
μία φύσις σεσαρκωμένη, declaring that the creed of union merely excluded the
misinterpretations of the doctrine he had hitherto taught, misinterpretations which he had himself always disavowed; in fact he went so far as to assert that
the Antiochians too understood the difference of the natures after the incarnation as being purely a distinction in thought.
He could, moreover, reckon on the victory of his opponents being a Pyrrhic
victory. His own reputation and that of his dogmatic system went on increasing;
thousands of monks were busy spreading it, and Cyril himself was constantly
working at the Court and in Rome. The condemnation of Nestorius was followed by
the most disgraceful treatment of the unfortunate bishop. In consequence of the
confusion which arose because he was condemned while his teaching was tolerated
by others, the whole party was weakened; the strict Nestorians separated from
the others,This was a slow process which began with the emigration to Edessa and was
concluded only at the end of the fifth century with the formation of a strictly
exclusive Nestorian Church. It maintained itself in the extreme East of
Christendom, in East Syria and Persia, and soon took on a national colouring; on the
strongly marked national consciousness of the Nestorians in Church matters, see
Horst, Elias von Nisibis, p. 112 ff. The Emperor Zeno put an end to their
existence in the Empire in 489. All the successors of Theodosius II. persecuted
them. How the latter came to have such a ferocious hatred of Nestorius whom he
had once protected has not, however, been yet explained. The Emperor gave orders
that all the writings of Nestorius were to be burned and that his followers were
to be called “Simonists”. The result was that the writings of Diodorus and
Theodore were all the more eagerly circulated in the East and translated into
other languages. Edessa in particular did a great deal in the way of getting the
Greek-Antiochian literature put into Syrian (Persian, Armenian). Much that is of
a free and antique character has been preserved in the Nestorian-Persian or
Chaldean Church; Assemani, Bibl. Orient. III., 2; Silbernagl, Kirchen des
Orients p. 202 ff.; Kattenbusch, op. cit. I., p. 226 ff. For the history of
dogma, in the strict sense of the word, the Nestorians are no longer of any importance. and since Cyril had not been under the necessity
of retracting anything, he was able to direct his energies towards getting the
decrees of his assembly accepted as orthodox, as ecumenical decrees, under cover
of the union-creed. He did actually succeed in a few years in getting this done
in the East; in the West they had ranked as such from the first. The situation
continued to be perplexed and became more and more disingenuous.
§ 2. The Eutychian Controversy.
Cyril died in the year 444; there were in his own party some who so far as he
was concerned had never forgiven him the union of 433 which had led Cyril to
agree to the expression “δύο φύσεις”.See Isidor Pelus. epp. I., Nos. 323, 334; Acacius of Melitene, ep. ad Cyril.
in Mansi V., p. 860 (998 sq.). Cyril himself (ep. ad Eulog. Migne, Vol. 97, p.
225) says that people are now speaking reproachfully of him:
διὰ τί δύο φύσεις ὀνομαζόντων
αὐτῶν ἡνέσχετο ἢ καὶ ἐπῇνεσε ὁ τῆς Ἀλεξανδρείας. Fuller
details in Ehrhard, op. cit., p. 42 f. His successor was Dioscurus who,
according to the testimony of his own adherents, though not indeed the equal of
his predecessor, was also not unlike him. The Alexandrian bishops from
Athanasius to Dioscurus have something in common. They strove to make themselves
the masters of Egypt and the leaders of the Church of the East.See, above all, the Church History of Socrates, who thoroughly understood this
aspiration of theirs. Their resistance to the power of the State was not less strong than their hatred of the
parvenu, the bishop of New Rome, whose aspirations after power they wished to
put a stop to. We can only compare them with the great Popes, and the comparison
is so far a just one inasmuch as they aimed at making Egypt a sort of
independent ecclesiastical State. Each bishop in the series from Athanasius to
Dioscurus came nearer accomplishing this design.Of all the great bishops of the Empire the Roman and Alexandrian bishops alone
possessed a traditional policy which was strictly adhered to, and acted in
accordance with it. They accordingly really became forces in history. The Chair
of Antioch never had a policy; in the conflicts with the Arians it became a mere
puppet after the Church already sixty years before this had had to come to its
assistance, and it possessed no fixed traditions. The position taken up in the
Nestorian controversy by the feeble and unreliable John is typical of the
bishops of Antioch (see his letter to Sixtus of Rome). It is customary to
complain of the hierarchial imperiousness of Athanasius, of the violent actions
of Theophilus, Cyril, and Dioscurus, and of the unfeeling policy of the Roman
bishops, and to contrast them with the Bishops of Antioch. But people do not
reflect that when forces manifest themselves they have to adapt themselves to
the material upon which they are to work, and quite as little do they try to
imagine what appearance the history of the Church would have presented without
the “violences” of the Roman and Alexandrian bishops. Those who at the present
day complain, together with their dogmatic system, would not at all events have
been here at all if these tyrannical and unfeeling princes of the Church had not
existed, and the tame dogmatic of the present time would never have made its
appearance apart from the fanatical dogmatic of those despots. It may be
incidentally remarked that we ought hardly to conclude from Mansi VI., p. 1008,
that Dioscurus wished to restore Origen’s reputation. In following out this policy
they relied upon three powerful forces, on Greek piety and monasticism, on the
masses of the lower classes, and on the Roman Bishop who had an equal interest
in keeping down the bishop of Constantinople, and in making head against the
State. In the respect first mentioned, Theophilus’ change of front is specially
characteristic. He abandoned science, i.e., Origenism, as soon as he perceived
that a stronger force was present in the Church,—namely, the orthodoxy of the
monks and of the religious communities. From that time onwards the Alexandrian
bishop stood at the head of ecclesiastical traditionalism; he decisively
rejected Greek science. But in doing this he surrendered what was an important
element in the influence he could exercise on the rest of the churches, and the
loss of this was a momentous one. He became a national Coptic bishop. This brings us to the second point. Like all
despots, the great Alexandrian bishops sought the support of the masses. They
were demagogues. They flattered the people and sought to please them, while they
hampered and crushed the aristocracy composed of the bishops, the scholars and the upper classes.
Athanasius had already begun this policy, in fact he was not in all probability
the first to follow it. Each of his successors went a step further on these
lines. But the Copts were not the Romans; the master of the eternal city could
always think of ruling the world. A Coptic despot, however, who had rejected all
that belonged to the Greek world, could only dream of world-empire.Hellenism in the East received its death-blow owing to the downfall of the
Alexandrian bishop in the year 451; with Theophilus the process of estrangement
between the Church and Hellenism had undoubtedly already begun. Cyril had
the Egyptian clergy and people completely under his power; but the less wise
Dioscurus by his unconcealed despotism created an aristocratic reaction in the
country. In him we see the downfall and overthrow of the policy of the
Alexandrian chair. Had he been a man like Leo I., Christianity might perhaps
have got a second Rome in Alexandria.The unique position of the Alexandrian Chair till 450 and its policy, have up
till now not had justice done them in our histories. The bishop of Alexandria
ranked as the second in Christendom (see above, at the Council of 381) and
corresponding to this position was a certain right which is indeed difficult to
define—of oversight, or better, the exercise of an oversight over the churches
of the East in the Fourth and Fifth centuries, which was being more and more
widely recognised. The Alexandrian bishops attempted to develop the position
which they thus occupied to a position of primacy. But there was no room in the world for
two such chairs. The traditional policy of common action which had for so long
united Rome and Alexandria, was bound to reach a point at which it turned into
bitter enmity. The Byzantine patriarch accordingly turned this enmity to
account. It is indeed possible to trace back the whole difference between the
Roman and the Alexandrian bishop to the brusque and imprudent conduct of
Dioscurus, or, with a still greater show of justice, to Leo’s love of power;Sixtus III., Cœlestin’s successor, as his letters prove, continued on the
best of terms with Cyril and silently repulsed the attempt made by two Nestorian
bishops, Eutherius and Helladius, to break up the union between Rome and Alexandria
(see the letter of the two amongst the letters of Sixtus). His epistle to John
of Ephesus proves (ep. 6) that he had inherited his predecessor’s hatred of
Nestorius. On the other hand the sole letter of Leo I. to Dioscurus which we
possess, and which was written soon after his enthronement (445), surprises us
by its tone which recalls the letters of Victor and Stephanus, and by its
demands. Dioscurus could not have forgotten a letter such as this. Still it is
not till the time of the Council of Ephesus that we have plain evidence of the
dissension between the two bishops (see Leo’s ep. 43 sq.). The way in which
Dioscurus treated Leo’s epistle and the legates secured for him the bitter
enmity of the Pope. The question now was: Rome or Alexandria? Previous to this
Leo himself, like his predecessors, had in Christology used a form of statement
which was Cyrillian, or Tertullian-Augustinian. He says Serm. 34. 4: “dei filius naturæ carnis immixtus”, and 23. 1:
“naturæ alteri altera miscebatur.” but this would be to take a narrow view of the
matter. About the middle of the fifth century the Alexandrian bishop was on the
point of becoming master of Egypt and at the same time master of the East. Rome
would not have been Rome if she had looked calmly on at a result such as this,
to which indeed she had herself contributed so long as she was concerned in
defending herself against a more powerful enemy. It is here that we have the key
to the proper understanding of the direction taken by Roman policy in the East,
and it is owing to it that the history of dogma too has taken a wholly
unexpected turn. For once that opposition had sprung up between Rome and
Alexandria it could not be but that the profound dogmatic difference between the
two which Cœlestin had disregarded in order to humble the Emperor and the
Constantinopolitan bishop, should find expression. But if Rome came off
victorious, then the dogmatic development of the East was bound to enter a new,
and what was essentially, a foreign channel. Conversely again, the permanent
victory of the Second Council of Ephesus (449) would, owing to the weakness of
the State, have been equivalent to the victory of Egypt in the Church and
probably also in the Empire; for Empire and Emperor had come to be entirely
dependent on the Church which culminated in the Alexandrian chair and its monks.
Pope and Emperor therefore made common cause; in the years 450-451
they had a common enemy and realised the solidarity of their interests. But the
political victory of Rome did not correspond with the victory of Leo in the
dogmatic question over the East under the leadership of Alexandria. The Emperor
went about the matter in an extremely clever way. While making use of
the Roman bishop in so far as he found him necessary in order to carry out his
purpose, which was to deliver the Empire and the Church from the despotism of
Alexandria based as it was on dogmatics, he at the same time deprived him of the
power of extending in any way his influence in the East by raising his own
court-patriarch to a position of equal rank and importance with the Pope.
Simultaneously with the downfall of his Alexandrian colleague Leo I. had to
direct his attention once more to his Constantinopolitan colleague, behind whom
stood no less a person than the Emperor himself—the Byzantine idea of the state.
He now promptly resumed the traditional policy of his chair and sought to form a
connection with Proterius, the successor of Dioscurus. He, however, no longer
found in Alexandria a powerful monarch, but only the shadow of such a ruler, the
Melchitian bishop of a small party who soon fell a victim to the fanaticism of
the Egyptians. But on the other hand the Emperor had dearly bought his victory
over the hankering after independence on the part of the Church in the East, in
the form in which it had been fostered by the monkish church of the Copts under
the Alexandrian patriarchs. He plunged the East into a state of frightful
confusion, and his policy, which was a clever one for the moment, resulted in
being the direst calamity for the Eastern Empire, since it set free the
centrifugal and national forces of the Eastern provinces. It was possible to
overthrow the Egyptian ecclesiastical State, but this done, it was no longer
possible permanently to retain Egypt. It was possible to deliver the Empire and
Constantinople from the domination of a dogmatic which was hostile to the State,
but it was not possible to force a foreign dogmatic on the people of the East.
The Roman bishop, however, also soon saw that he was further from the attainment
of his aim than ever, and the proud language employed by Leo’s successors
towards the Emperor and the East and which reminds us of the mediæval Popes, is
not so much a token of actual power as a proof of the breach and estrangement
between East and West which had occurred, and so of the actual powerlessness of
Rome. The Emperor could no longer get at the Pope, but neither could the Pope
get at the Emperor and the East; he came to have no influence.
A section of the Easterns could come to terms with the dogmatic decree of
Chalcedon—it is always possible to come to terms with dogmatic decrees—and while
acknowledging its authority could nevertheless give expression to what was truly
essential in the Faith of the East; but the twenty-eighth Canon of Chalcedon,
which had reference to the Roman bishop, was no “noumenon” which could be got
over by scholastic refinement. Rome had the satisfaction of having dictated its
Christological formula to the Byzantine State-Church, just as it had previously
taken the biggest share in the work of getting the Trinitarian formula accepted,
but this very Church now took up a position of extreme isolation relatively to
Rome and the West. The Byzantine Patriarch, although his power was always more
and more restricted within the domain in the East over which he ruled, was an
invincible opponent; for he was simply the exponent of all the peculiar powers
still possessed at the time by the State of Constantine and Theodosius I. and by
the Greek Church.
This is the general outline of the circumstances we have to take into account in
studying the history of the “Eutychian Controversy.” What happened here was,
mutatis mutandis, repeated in the controversy about images in so far as the
State in this struggle in the same way resisted the authority of the Church
which sought to crush it. It was successful in both instances. The power which
had opposed the State in Egyptian Monophysitism and set itself against it in the
matter of the adoration of images, was one and the same. But the nature of the
victory was different in the two cases. In the middle of the Fifth Century the
State, unfortunately for itself, did not possess the power of putting up with
the dogmatic teaching of its opponent while humiliating the opponent himself; or
shall we say: it did not think of the power it had, and to its own loss lent an
ear to the suggestions of a foreign power, namely, the Roman bishop. In the
ninth century, however, it was able to let its opponent have its own way in the
domain of dogma and worship—for the adoration of images was restored,—and yet to
make it submit to its laws and attach it to its interests. A powerful ruler, who
would have accepted the dogmatic decree
of the second Council of Ephesus but who would have been at the same time able
to break the political power of Dioscurus and to compel the monks and Copts to
submit—would perhaps—if it is permissible to make such a reflection—have been
able to maintain the unity of the Empire of Constantius and to preserve for the
Eastern provinces the Græco-Christian culture. Of what incalculable importance
this would have been! But it is useless to pursue a line of thought such as
this.
It follows from these considerations that the history of dogma has to be
regarded almost exclusively in its connection with politics, not merely after
the Council of Chalcedon, but already previous to this. The forces which from
444 onwards determined the great decisions and actions were throughout
political. It was individuals only who really thought of the Faith when they
spoke of the Faith; they brought about crises, but they no longer determined
the course things were to take. Nor is it the case that what was dogmatically
“the right thing” gained acceptance here as if by a wonderful arrangement of
things; for if, as is reasonable to suppose, “the right thing” here can only be
what is in harmony with Greek religious feeling, then it did not gain entire
acceptance. And in pronouncing an opinion on this, whether we take our stand at
a very much earlier or at a very much later period, it may certainly be
maintained that the decision of Chalcedon was the happiest amongst those that
were at all possible at the time; but to see this can in no way alter the
opinion that the Council of Chalcedon, which to distinguish it from the Robber
CouncilThomasius (Dogmengesch. I. 2, p. 367) also pronounces the Council of Chalcedon
“hardly less stormy” than that of the year 449. we might call the Robber and Traitor Council, betrayed the secret of
Greek Faith. It is only with the forces of history that the historian is
concerned; and so, from about 444 onwards, the political historian almost
entirely takes the place of the historian of dogmas. If the latter is willing to
keep strictly to his own domain but a small extent of ground is left to him,
which, since what does not change awakens no interest, gets smaller and smaller from century to century.
If it be asked, what is the saddest and most momentous event in the history of
dogma since the condemnation of Paul of Samos ata, we must point to the union of
the year 433. The shadow of this occurrence rests on the whole subsequent
history of dogma.The documentary material bearing on the Eutychian controversy has been for the
most part printed in Mansi T. V. sq.; where also will be found the letters of
Leo I. (cf. the edition of Ballerini) and those of Theodoret having reference to
the subject. Historical accounts in Prosper, Liberatus, Facundus, in the hist.
eccl. of Zacharias of Mytilene hitherto published only in Syrian, in the
breviculus hist. Eutych. (Sirmond’s App. ad Cod. Theodos.), in Euagrius,
Theophanes, and many later Greek and particularly Oriental chroniclers. To these
have been added in recent times, apart from Zacharias (see Krüger, Monophys.
Streitigkeiten, 1884) first of all the hitherto unknown Appellations of Flavian
and Eusebius of Doryläum to Leo I. (see Guerrino Amelini, S. Leone magno e
l’Oriente. Roma 1882, Grisar i. d. Ztschr. f. Kath. Theo]. VII., 1883, p. 191
f., Mommsen, Neues Archiv. XI. 2, 1886, p. 361 f.); second, the Acts of the
Robber-Council according to a Syrian MS., in German by Hoffmann (Kiel 1873), in
an English translation with rich additions from other Syrian MSS, by Perry, The
Second Synod of Ephesus 1881, and previously published by the same writer, An
Ancient Syriac Docum. etc., Oxford 1867; Martin, Actes du Brigand. d’Éphese,
traduct. faite sur le texte Syriaque, 1875 by the same, Le Pseudo-Synode connu
dans l’hist. sous le nom de Brigandage d’Éphese, étudié d’après ses actes
retrouvés en Syriaque, 1875, thirdly the publication of Révillout, Récits de
Dioscore, exilé à Gangres, sur le concile de Chalcédoine, translated into French
from the Coptic, (Rev. Egyptol. 1880, p. 187 sq., 1882, p. 21 sq., 1883, p. 17
sq.); see Krüger op, cit. p. 12 f. Accounts in Baronius, Tillemont, Gibbon,
Walch, Schröckh, Neander and Hefele; cf. the works on Leo I. by Quesnel, Arendt,
Perthel. Spite of these works we do not yet possess a critical account of the
history of the Church and of dogma for the all important years previous to the
Council of Chalcedon. The most important preliminary work in this direction
would be a monograph on Theodoret, the man who in my opinion was the most
truth-loving and the least guided by considerations of policy of the Fathers of
that period. This has been done by a Russian, Glubokowski (see above); but it is
unfortunately not accessible to German science. It bore two sorts of evil fruit. In the first place it
permanently prohibited Greek piety from establishing the formula which was alone
appropriate to it: μία φύσις θεοῦ
λόγου σεσαρκωμένη—one incarnate nature
of the divine Logos. (The relief which the Creed of Ephesus of 449 was supposed
to bring, came too late.) In the second place it introduced such a stagnation
into the dogmatic question that every one who attempted to state his
Christological views ran the risk of being regarded as a heretic, while on the
other hand people found it possible when they so desired, to give a favourable turn to every dogmatic utterance. It threw the East into
a state of confusion and made of Christology an armoury of poisoned weapons for
the warfare of ecclesiastical politics. A middle party was formed from each of
the two sides. To one of these Theodoret belonged, and to another Dioscurus
(Cyril). But the representatives of these middle parties were no nearer each
other than the two extremes. If they employed the same formulæ they nevertheless
gave them a different meaning, and they were at the same time intent upon
protecting their extreme associates so far as possible.
The Alexandrians had acquired the sovereignty of the East at the price of union.
The “high-priest Emperor” and his eunuchs abandoned themselves more and more to
their guidance. Under the feeble Theodosius the Empire was in danger of becoming
an ecclesiastical state led by Alexandria. In addition to this, under cover of
the formula of concord the doctrine of the one nature was propagated, and even
the extravagances of earlier times again made their appearance. Cyril himself
who was so cautious otherwise in his use of formulae, had not been able to avoid
the use of the questionable Apollinarian conception, according to which the
nature or hypostasis of the incarnate Logos is a “certain middle something”,See, e.g., de recte fida ad Theodos. (Mansi IV., p. 693): Ἰ. Χρ. ἀνθρωπίνοις τε
αὖ καὶ τοῖς ὑπὲρ ἄνθρωπον ἰδιώμασιν εἰς ἕν τι τὸ
μεταξὺ συγκείμενος.
and accordingly it is not astonishing to find that his followers went still
further. The brave and indefatigable TheodoretSee, above all, his “Eranistes”. The work of the Catholic Bertram, Theodoreti doctrina christologica, 1883, is painstaking but biassed; sec. Theol.
Lit. Ztg., 1883, No. 24; Möller in Herzog’s R.-Encyklop. sec ed. XV., p. 401 ff.,
The question of Theodoret’s orthodoxy is certainly a very troublesome one for a
Catholic. did indeed keep a look-out
against the ἕνωσις φυσική, “the suffering God”, the
κρᾶσις or mixture, in
short, against the anathemas of Cyril, while at the same time he parried the
attacks of Cyril on Theodore of Mopsuestia. But spite of the great prudence shewn by Theodoret in keeping to a middle path Dioscurus succeeded in
calumniating him at the Court, after he had himself in his character as supreme
bishop interfered in the affairs of Antioch.Dioscurus treated the metropolitan Irenæus of Tyre, and Theodoret in the year
448, in the style of one who was primate of the whole Greek Church and was
recognised by the Emperor as such. Theodoret was instructed to keep to his diocese.
Still greater was the hatred of the Alexandrians against the bold and
worldly-minded Bishop Ibas of Edessa, Theodore’s enthusiastic supporter.
Dioscurus had apparently made up his mind to bring the East under his authority
and gradually to exterminate all who in a half way or who wholly accepted the
Antiochian theology. The formula: two natures or hypostases, one Christ, was to
disappear from the Church.
In the capital the old and respected Archimandrite Eutyches supported his views,
taking his stand on the Christology of Cyril. Still it was no mere calumny when
his opponents maintained that in the course of the violent attack on the
Nestorians he had himself fallen into the error of making Apollinarian
statements. Already in the year 448 Bishop Domnus of Antioch had denounced him
on these grounds to the Emperor. But no action was taken until Bishop Eusebius
of Dorylaum brought a similar charge against him before Flavian who was bishop
of Constantinople at the time. Eutyches afterwards asserted that he had done
this from personal hatred, and one cannot get rid of the suspicion that he was
right; for Eusebius himself had formerly been one of most bitter opponents of
Nestorius. In any case a certain obscurity hangs over the outbreak of the
controversy, and the energy too with which Flavian at once took the matter up is
strange. He was on bad terms with the court and particularly with the
all-powerful Chrysaphius with whom Eutyches stood in high favour. The bishop
probably felt that he was hampered by the Archimandrite and wanted to get rid of
him. It is useless to look for any religious motives in the case of Flavian,
whose Christological statements bear a pretty close resemblance to those of
Cyril, though they did actually fall short of them.Flavian takes his stand on the Union of 433 though he inclines to the
Antiochian interpretation of it; see his confession in Mansi VI., p. 541:
καὶ γὰρ ἐν δύο φύσεσιν ὁμολογοῦντες τὸν Χριστον μετὰ τὴν σάρκωσιν τὴν ἐκ τῆς ἁγίας
παρθένου καὶ ἐνανθρώπησιν, ἐν μιᾷ ὑποστάσει καὶ ἐν ἑνὶ προσώπῳ
(a distinction is thus drawn between φύσις and ὑπόστασις, while
ὑπόστασις and πρόσωπον
are regarded as parallel terms, and accordingly the way is paved for
the Chalcedonian formula in the East also),
ἕνα Χριστόν, ἕνα υἱόν, ἕνα κύριον ὁμολογοῦμεν, καὶ μίαν μὲν τοῦ
Θεοῦ λόγου φύσιν σεσαρκωμένην μέντοι καὶ ἐνανθρωπήσασαν λέγειν οὐκ
ἀρνούμεθα—the letter is addressed to Leo, and Flavian was apparently not yet aware what
Leo’s views were and whether perhaps he did not adhere entirely to the doctrine
of Cyril. The prudent patriarch accordingly “confesses” two natures after the
incarnation also and yet one!—διὰ τὸ ἐξ ἀμφοῖν ἕνα καὶ τὸν αὐτὸν εἶναι τὸν κύριον
ἡμῶν Ἰ. τὸν Χρ. Τοὺς δὲ δύο υἱοὺς ἢ δύο ὑποστάσεις etc.; a
condemnation of Nestorius follows. Here at all events the way is paved for the
Chalcedonian formula but, characteristically enough, by a bishop who sought to
take up a safe position relatively to both sides. The Council of Constantinople
(448) which followed on this and with whose procedure we are well acquainted,
shewed the frivolity of the attack on Eutyches, though it shewed too how the
influential archimandrite set his bishop at defiance. In reference to the
dogmatic question Eutyches acted with great prudence, and, though indeed with
some hesitation, gave his assent to the formula of the Creed of Union, “of two
natures, one Christ” (one hypostasis, one person). But one can plainly see that
this formula, in so far as it was taken as implying the continued existence of
the two natures after the union, was one which Eutyches would regard as
objectionable. “Two natures after the union” was rightly felt to be Nestorian
and above all to be an “innovation”. Eutyches, indeed, corrected the incautious
statements he had made at an earlier time, divergent from the middle path of the
formula of unity—my God is not of the same substance with us;The statement when compared with Cyril’s doctrine can scarcely be regarded as
open to suspicion. Eutyches recognised the existence of two natures previous to
the incarnation, i.e., allowed that the distinction in thought was an ideal
moment, but he could not admit the perfect homousia of the body of the Logos
with our body after the incarnation, since that body was to be thought of as
having been deified. Cyril had not indeed openly said that the actual body of
the Logos was not ὁμοούσιος with our body, but still he could scarcely avoid
that conclusion. Eutyches rejected as a calumny the charge brought against him
of teaching that Christ brought his flesh from heaven, on the contrary indeed he
was the first to declare in the course of the debate that the Holy Virgin is
homousios with us and that from her our God became flesh. He wished in this way
to escape making any direct admission. He has no
“body of a man” (σῶμα ἀνθρώπου), but only a “human body”
(σῶμα ἀνθρώπινον).
But this was of no avail. It was insisted that he taught a “blending”
(σύγκρασις) and “confusion” (σύγχυσις), and after the most disgraceful
proceedings the records of which were besides falsified, he was deposed “amid
tears” on account of Valentinian and Apollinarian heresy. This was done by
people who themselves professed to acknowledge Cyril’s second letter to Nestorius and its approval by the Synod of Ephesus,
as well as the epistle of Cyril to John of Antioch. Both parties laboured to
secure the favour of the Court, the capital, and the Roman bishop, and the Court
sided with Eutyches. People’s views were still everywhere ruled by the
condemnation of Nestorius and there was no inclination to change sides. Flavian,
“the moderate Antiochian” played a dangerous game when he sought to increase the
authority of his chair in face of the court and the ruling system of dogma. Leo
I. who was applied to by Eutyches first, was for some weeks uncertain which
course to take (Leon. epp. 20 sq.). He was disposed to regard the
Constantinopolitan Patriarch as his born enemy; but he had soon to recognise
the fact that his strongest enemy was to be looked for elsewhere. Dioscurus, who
substantially agreed with Eutyches and who long ere this took an active part in
different provincial Synods in the East as supreme bishop, had already annexed
the question and moved the Emperor to summon a Council. The Pope’s policy was
now marked out for him. He must not strike either upon the Constantinopolitan
Scylla or upon the Alexandrian Charybdis, but on the contrary, as his
predecessor Julius had done, he must attempt to bring the true faith and with it
himself to the East. Dioscurus was determined to use every means to exploit the
Council in his own interests. It was to establish the authority of the
Alexandrian Patriarch and of the Alexandrian Christology in the Church of the
East. He was prudent enough all the same to employ no new formula while
attempting this. The Nicene Creed was alone to be regarded as authoritative, of
course according to the interpretation put upon it by the anathemas of Cyril.
Whoever went a word beyond this was to be considered an innovator, a heretic.
This was his standpoint and he found a pliant Emperor and a minister who were
favourably disposed toward him and who were prepared to hand over the Church to
him in order to humiliate the occupant of the episcopal chair of the capital for
the time being whom they hated, a policy which was treachery to the State.See the letter of the Empress Eudokia to Theod. II. (Leo. ep 57):
ἐγράφη γὰρ ἐνταῦθα πᾶσαν φιλονεικείαν κεκινῆσθαι, ὥστε φλαυιανὸν τὸν ἐπίσκοπον ἐκ τῶν ἀνθρωπίνων
πραγμάτων ἐπαρθῆναι. Dioscurus was equipped with full
powers as master of the Synod. It was called together in accordance with his
ideas, even a representative of the monastic order was present—a novelty at a
Council—and Theodoret was excluded.
Leo had meanwhile discovered that Eutyches was a hereticLeo’s admission is amusing reading (ep. 34 I): “Diu apud nos uncertum fuit,
quid in ipso Eutyche catholicis displiceret.” Now Eutyches is the child of the
devil who denies the reality of the body of Christ. Leo represents him in the
bluntest fashion as the out and out doketist. (ep. 27) and
bethought himself of the Western Christological form of doctrine which his
predecessors, Cœlestin and Sixtus, and he himself seem up to this time to have
forgotten. The summoning of a Council caused him grave anxiety; Flavian, who
had seriously displeased the Pope by his independent attitude, nevertheless
suddenly became his dear friend who had been attacked, and along with the
legates who attended the Council Leo sent numerous letters to all in the East
concerned in the affair (epp. 28-38), to Flavian (28, 36, 38), to the Emperor
(29, 37), to Pulcheria (30, 31), to the Constantinopolitan archimandrites (32),
to the Council (33) and to Bishop Julian of Kos (34, 35). He repeatedly observes
that a synodal decision was not at all necessary, and that the Council was
superfluous.Ep. 36 ad Flav.: “Et quia clementissimus imperator pro ecclessiæ pace sollicitus
synodum voluit congregari, quamvis evidenter appareat, rem, de qua agitur,
nequaquam synodali indigere tractatu” etc.; ep. 37 ad Theod. II.: “præsertim
cum tam evidens fidei causa sit, ut rationabilius ab indicenda synodo fuisset
abstinendum” etc. But what he was now above all concerned with was to furnish
Flavian with dogmatic instructions and to draw the attention of the Council to
the unique dignity of the Roman Chair which had already decided the question.
The latter of these two things he did in Epistle 33, which contains a daring
attempt to misrepresentLeo writes here as if in this affair of Eutyches the Emperor had had recourse
to him first as the successor of Peter, and as if he had at once unfolded the
true doctrine of the Incarnation on the basis of the confession of Peter and
thereby refuted Eutyches (“religiosa clementissimi principis fides sciens ad
suam gloriam maxime pertinere, si intra ecclesiam catholicam nullius erroris
germen exsurgeret, hanc reverentiam divinis detulit institutis, ut ad sanctæ dispositionis effectum auctoritatem apostolicæ sedis adhiberet, tamquam ab ipso
Petro cuperet declarari, quid in eius confessione laudatum sit, quando dicente
domino: quem me esse dicunt homines filium hominis?” etc.). The Council is
merely an opus superadditum,
“ut pleniori iudicio omnis possit error aboleri.” Thus the condemnation of
Eutyches is already decided upon and the Council has merely to repeat it. The Pope enjoins this. the conditions under which the Council had come
together, while he accomplished the former by the dogmatic epistle he sent to
Flavian. It contains a paraphrase of the Christological section of the work of
Tertullian adv. Prax. (cf. Novatian de trinitate) in accordance with the views,
and in part in the words, of Ambrose and Augustine, with special reference to
Eutyches, and in combating the views of the latter it accordingly undeniably
goes a step beyond what had hitherto been accepted in the West, though not any
further than the situation for the moment demanded. This document, which was
highly lauded in subsequent times and is to the present day, contains nothing
new. What, however, is of importance in it is that the West, i.e., the Pope, has
here kept in view the peculiar character of its Church. It is consequently an
evidence of power, and the Christology set forth in it may at the same time have
actually corresponded with the inclinations of the Pope. But on the other hand
it ought not to be forgotten that the situation, as represented by Nestorianism
already condemned and Eutychianism about to be rejected, appeared directly to
call for the old Western formula “duæ substantiæ (naturæ) in una persona”,
and that the Pope expressed himself more fully regarding it than tradition
justified.The letter to which not till a later date, however, (see Mansi VI., p. 962
sq.) though by Leo himself, proofs were appended from Hilary, Augustine, Gregory
of Nazianzus, Chrysostom and Cyril, begins with a reference to the Roman Creed
which in the view of Leo decides the whole question in its opening words; for
the three statements: “Credere in patrem omnipotentem, et in Christum Iesum
filium eius unicum dominum nostrum, qui natus est de spiritu sancto et Maria
virgine”, demolish “the devices of almost all heretics.” They involve the
nativitas divina, and the nativitas temporalis which in no way injures the
former. We should not have been able to overcome the author of sin and death if
the deus ex deo had not assumed our nature. If Eutyches was unable to recognise
that this was taught in the Creed, then certain passages (which the Pope now
adduces) ought to have convinced him—as if Eutyches had ever denied the truth of
this thought! The idea of a non-human body of Christ cannot be proved from the
miraculous birth; for the Holy Spirit merely gave the impulse; the reality of
the body of Christ was got from the body of Maria semper virgo (c. 2). This is
followed by the proposition in the style of Tertullian: “Salva igitur
proprietate utriusque naturæ et substantiæ (both words should be noted) et in
unam coeunte personam suscepta est a maiestate humilitas”, attached to which we
have a series of expressions which are supported by statements in Damasus, Ambrose, Augustine, and partly
also in Tertullian; thus, “natura inviolabilis unita est naturæ passibili”,
“mediator dei et hominum homo Iesus Christus”, “mori potest ex uno, mori non
potest ex altero”, “in integra veri hominis perfectaque natura verus natus est
deus, totus in suis, totus in nostris”, “assumpsit formam servi sine sorde
peccati, humana augens, divina non minuens”, “exinanitio inclinatio fuit
miserationis, non defectio potestatis”, “tenet sine defectu proprietatem suam
utraque natura, et sicut formam servi dei forma non adimit, ita formam dei servi
forma non minuit” This was the way in which God met the cunning of the devil, in
order that we should not be lost contra dei propositum (c. 3). Next follow the
old Western paradoxes of the “invisibilis factus visibilis” etc. The fourth
chapter contains the detailed development of the doctrine. The human nature in
Christ was not absorbed by the divine; on the contrary “agit utraque forma cum alterius communione, quod proprium est verbo scilicet operante quod verbi est
et carne exsequente quod carnis est.” The flesh never loses the “natura nostri
generis”. In accordance with this the evangelic history is apportioned between
the human and the divine nature of him “qui unus idemque est”. “Quamvis enim
in domino T. Chr. dei et hominis (!) una persona sit, aliud tamen est, unde in
utroque communis est contumelia, aliud unde communis est gloria”. “Propter
hanc unitatem personæ”, as it is put in c. 5, “in utraque natura intelligendam
et filius hominis legitur descendisse de cœlo” etc., that means as Leo now
shews, that we can and must interchange the opera. “That the Son of God was
crucified and buried, we all confess in the Creed.” Christ established this
article of faith in the 40 days after the Resurrection, after Peter had already
before this acknowledged the identity of the Son of God and the Son of Man. All
ought accordingly to see that the “proprietas divinæ humanæque naturæ”
“individua permanet” in Him, and consequently know that “Word” and “Flesh” are
not the same, but that the one Son of God is Word and Flesh. Eutyches, who has
by the most barefaced fictions emptied of its meaning the mystery to which alone
we owe our redemption and separates the human nature from Jesus, incurs the
sentence pronounced in 1 John IV. 2, 3. He must also necessarily deny the
reality of the passion and death of Christ and thus subvert everything, the
Spirit of sanctification, the water and the blood.
In his concluding chapter Leo discusses the statement of Eutyches that before
the union there were two natures and one after it and expresses his astonishment
that “none of the judges censured such a foolish and perverse avowal and passed
over such an absurd and blasphemous utterance as if they had heard nothing to
which to take exception.” The first half of the statement is as impious as the
second; this statement which had been passed over ought “si per inspirationem
misericordiæ dei ad satisfactionem causa perducitur,” to be made a clean sweep
of as a pestilential opinion. The Pope hopes that Eutyches will amend and in this
case the greatest mercy will be shewn him. The statements in this twenty-eighth
letter were further supplemented in letter 35 addressed to Julian. Here (c. 1)
Nestorius too is regarded as a heretic; as against Eutyches the view is made
good that it is not only a question of the Creator being known, but also of the
creature being redeemed. Here we meet with the statement “in susceptione hominis
non unius substantiæ, sed unius eiusdemque personæ”, here the unity of the person
is made intelligible (see Cyril) by pointing to unity of body and soul in man,
and here finally the statement of Eutyches examined in the sixth chapter of
letter 28 and which was not censured at Constantinople, is further dealt with.
Leo understands it as meaning that the human nature of Christ had been already
created before the Incarnation and accordingly classes it along with the
statement of Origen regarding the pre-existence of the soul which had been
already condemned. See also letter 59.
A few remarks on the catchwords ἀσυγχύτως, ἀτρέπτως will perhaps not be out
of place here. (The words ἀδιαιρέτως and ἀχωρίστως do not require any special
genetic explanation.) They have sprung from two sources in the history of dogma.
The first of these is to be found in Tertullian’s work adv. Prax. Tertullian c.
27 wrote in opposition to certain monarchian ideas, according to which the
spiritus (= deus = pater = Christus) was either changed into the caro (= homo =
filius = Jesus) or else was united and mingled with the caro so as to form a
tertium quid and therefore a new being, and thus disappeared in the new being.
The view thus developed became universally known through Novatian who adopted it
in part, but particularly by means of Leo’s doctrinal letter. It runs: “Si enim
sermo ex transfiguratione et demutatione substantiæ caro factus est, una iam erit substantia ex duabus, ex carne et spiritu, mixtura quædam, ut electrum ex
auro et argento et incipit nec aurum esse, id est spiritus, neque argentum, id
est caro, dum alterum altero mutatur et tertium quid efficitur.” Thus Jesus
would be no longer either God or Man: ita ex utraque neutrum est; aliud longe
tertium est quam utrumque. But both the passages in the Psalms (LXXXVII. 5) and
the Apostle (Rom. I. 3) teach de utraque eius substantia. Videmus duplicem
statum, non confusum sed coniunctum, in una persona, deum et hominem Iesum . . .
Et adeo salva est utriusque proprietas substantiæ, ut et spiritus res suas
egerit in illo, i.e., virtutes et opera et signa, et caro passiones suas functa
sit, esuriens sub diabolo, sitiens sub Samaritide . . . denique et mortua est.
Quodsi tertium quid esset, ex utroque confusum, ut electrum, non tam distincta
documenta parerent utriusque substantiæ. Sed et spiritus carnalia et caro
spiritalia egisset ex translatione aut neque carnalia neque spiritalia, sed
tertiæ alicuius forma ex confusione . . . Sed quia substantiæ ambæ in statu suo
quæque distincte agebant, ideo illis et operæ et exitus sui occurrerunt.” The
second source is to be found in the Eastern and Western
authors who wrote against Apollinaris; these maintained the ἀσυγχύτως and
ἀτρέπτως, and this was quite the current view in the time of Cyril. Cyril, in a
great number of passages asserts that according to his doctrine the two natures
are joined together ἀσυγχύτως, ἀτρέπτως, ἀναλλοιώτως, ἀμεταβλήτως, without
there having been any kind of mingling (σύγχυσις, σύγκρασις, συνουσίωσις) (see
adv. Nest. 1. 5, c. 4—ad Theodos. n. 6, 10—ep. 3 ad Nestor. Migne, Vol. 77, p.
109—adv. neg. deip. n. 2—epil. ad. I—adv. Theodoret. ad. 4, 5, 8, 10—adv.
Orient, ad 1, 10, 11—ep. ad Maxim., Vol. 77, p. 152—ad Acac. Ber. 160—ad Joan.
180—ad Acac. Mel. 192—ad Eulog. 225—ad Valerian. 257—1 ad Succ. 232, 36—2 ad
Succ. 237, 40—ad Euseb. 288—Explan. Symb. 304—Quod un. Christ. Vol. 75, p.
1361—Hom. XV., Vol. 77, p. 1092—in Luc., Vol. 72, p. 909—c. Julian.
I., 10, Vol. 76, p. 1012—Hom. ad Alex., Vol. 77, pp. 1112, 1113—in ep. ad Hebr., Vol. 74, p.
1004—Resp. ad Tiberium ed. Pusey c. 6, 7, III., p. 587 sq. Cyril devoted a
special work to this subject entitled κατὰ συνουσιαστῶν which I regard as one
of his last). Nevertheless he defended the word κρᾶσις as against Nestorius
(adv. Nestor. c. 3) as an expression used by the fathers to bring out the
closeness of the union of the two natures, and unhesitatingly employs certain
forms of speech compounded of it or its synonyms. (Ehrhard op. cit., p. 44.)
Further, both of these, the amplifications of Tertullian and those of the
anti-Apollinarian Greek fathers, refer back to philosophical usage, but this
usage explains at the same time why Cyril and others could indeed adopt the
expression κρᾶσις but not σύγχυσις. The Stoics (see Zeller. Philos. d. Griechen
III. 3, p. 127) drew a distinction between παράθεσις, μῖξις, κρᾶσις and
σύγχυσις. “The παράθεσις is the
σωμάτων συναφὴ κατὰ τὰς ἐπιφανείας, as in
the case of the mixing of different kinds of grain”—they have the Nestorians in
view—: μῖξις on the contrary is
δύο ἢ καὶ πλειόνων σωμάτων ἀντιπαρέκτασις δἰ ὅλων, ὑπομενουσῶν τῶν
συμφυῶν περί αὐτὰ ποιοτήτων, as in the case of
the union of fire with iron and of the soul with the body; but speaking more
accurately a mingling of this sort of dry bodies should be called μῖξις, and of
fluid bodies κρᾶσις (the κρᾶσις δἰ ὅλων of the Stoics presupposes the
permeability of the bodies and assumes that the smaller body when mingled with a
larger body spreads itself over the entire extent of the latter and is thus to
be found in every particle of it [ὡς μηδὲν μόριον ἐν ἀυτοῖς εἶναι μὴ μετέχον πάντων τῶν ἐν τῷ μίγματι], but that both preserve their own
peculiarities in the mingling; thus the “mixtio” does not exclude, but on the
contrary includes the salva proprietas utriusque substantiæ). The σύγχυσος
finally is δύο ἢ καὶ πλειόνων ποιοτήτων περὶ τὰ σώματα μεταβολὴ εἰς
ἑτέρας διαφερούσης τούτων ποιότητος γένεσιν, i.e., the old substances and
their qualities cease to exist (φθείρεσθαι) and a third body comes into
existence.” Tertullian, the Stoic, rested his ideas apparently on these
philosophical theorems and first of all applied this materialistic view to the relation of the two substances in
Christ (he and Novatian, who was also a Stoic, accept the μῖξις and reject the
σύγχυσις; but along with this Tertullian has further a juristic set of
conceptions (una persona, duæ substantiæ). In his treatise “Ammonius Sakkas
and Plotinus” (Archiv. f. Gesch. d. Philos. VII. Vol. H. 3) Zeller, however, has
called attention to the fact that Ammonius Sakkas (Plotinus) described the
relation of body and soul in man in the sense of the Stoic κρᾶσις (μῖξις) (the
soul entirely permeates the body and unites itself with it so as to form one
substance, but nevertheless remains unchanged and retains its proprietas salva)
and that Nemesius expressly says that this view of the matter, in support of
which he appeals to Porphyry, is to be applied to the relation of the two
natures in Christ. Now, however, not only the Eastern bishops but also Leo I.
expressly appeal in support of their Christology to the relation between body
and soul. There can therefore be no doubt but that this is to be traced back to
the Neo-Platonic school which had adopted a Stoic terminology. Plotinus calls
the soul not only ἀπαθής but also ἄτρεπτος (because in the union it undergoes
no change); but, as Zeller observes, he never speaks of ἀσύγχυτος. This word,
however, once more occurs in Porphyry and is used to designate the union.
Consequently so far as the Easterns are concerned the ἀτρέπτως is to be referred
to Plotinus and the ἀσυγχύτως to Porphyry (Zeller), while the West through
Tertullian took the “non confusus” direct from the Stoa.
The Pope
throughout puts the interests of our salvation in the foreground; he wants
exactly what Cyril and Eutyches also want, but he goes on to give an explanation
which Cyril at any rate would have entirely repudiated, [Cyril said that the
idea of redemption demands the deification of the human nature, Leo went on to
shew that this same idea demands a true human nature which
remains absolutely unchanged], and which, so far, goes beyond the use and wont
doctrine of the West and actually approaches Nestorianism, inasmuch as the Pope
uses by preference “nature” in place of substance and speaks of a peculiar mode
of action on the part of each nature, and thus really hypostatises each nature.
In Leo’s view the “Person” is no longer entirely the
one subject with two “properties”, but the union of two hypostatic natures. In a
word, the unity is neither made intelligible by Leo nor did he consider what was
the supreme concern of the pious Greeks in this matter, namely, to see in the
humanity of Christ the real deification of human nature generally. Nor is there
any trace in the doctrinal letter of anything
like an express repudiation of Nestorius, not to speak of the Antiochian
Christology.It may also be said that the speculations of Cyril and the Alexandrian
theologians begin where Leo leaves off, and for this reason it is altogether
astonishing to read in Thomasius (Dogmengesch., Vol. I., p. 365) that Leo in his
epistle seeks to gather up both negatively and positively the results of the
Christological movement so far as it had gone. Leo did not think of this. He
contents himself with making the thought definite and confessing with full
assurance that Christ was perfect God and perfect man, and points out that
redemption demands the divinity and the humanity. But the question as to the
relation into which the divinity and the humanity have come to each other, was
one which really never gave him any concern when he thought of redemption. This,
however, was the main question with Cyril, Eutyches and Dioscurus. It cannot
accordingly be said that Leo and they are in direct contradiction. On the
contrary, Cyril and his followers further developed the problem in concrete
fashion in the name of the Faith, ex necessitate fidei so to speak, while with
Leo it was in true Western fashion left in the indefinite form of conceptions.
This is how the matter stands on a favourable view of Leo’s position; for as
soon as we take his development of the doctrine in a concrete sense and transfer
it into the region of the Eastern controversy it can be understood only as
Nestorian. With Leo it is not at all a question of a union of the two natures.
It may, however, help towards forming a fair and correct estimate of Leo’s
position to note that he (mistakenly) saw in Eutychianism the recurrence of a
danger which he had so energetically warded off in his struggle with Manichæism
(see his sermon). He in fact opposes “Eutychianism” as if it were Manichæism.
The Council was opened at Ephesus in August 449. Dioscurus presided and assigned the second place to the representative
of the Roman bishop. There were one hundred and thirty-five members
present. The bishops who had sat in judgment on Eutyches were not allowed to
vote, since the Synod meant to proceed with a revision of that process.
Dioscurus put the Pope’s letter to the Council amongst the Acts, but did not
have it read out, and in fact treated Rome as non-existent. Not Rome but
Alexandria was to speak. It was a bold stroke, but Dioscurus had got authority
from the Emperor. As regards its proceedings the Council does not compare
unfavourably with other Councils. What gave it its peculiar character was the
fact that it was guided by a powerful and determined will, that of Dioscurus.
The latter got the Council simply to resolve not to go beyond the conclusions
come to at Nicæa and Ephesus. The affair of Eutyches was next taken up; he
declared that he took his stand on the teaching of these Councils and repudiated
Manes, Valentin, Apollinaris, and Nestorius. In the course of the debate it
became evident that those present regarded the formula “after the Incarnation
one nature”, as alone orthodox—with the addition: “made flesh and made man”
(σεσαρκωμένην καὶ ἐνανθρωπήσασαν), and that they condemned the doctrine of
two natures after the Incarnation. In this sense Eutyches was declared by all to
be orthodox. Rome’s legates refrained from voting. Domnus of Antioch and Juvenal
of Jerusalem also concurred, and even three of the bishops who had condemned
Eutyches at Constantinople did the same. Dioscurus now proceeded to take
aggressive steps. Each bishop was required to state in writing whether he
considered that those should be punished who in the course of their theological
investigations had gone beyond the Nicene Creed. Dioscurus got the answer he
wished, and even the Roman legate did not oppose the question when put in this
form. On the basis of this resolution the Council pronounced sentence of
deposition on Flavian and Eusebius of Doryläum, Domnus and Juvenal concurring.
Both of the deposed bishops were present and soon after appealed to the Pope,
whose legates, moreover, had at least shewn some hesitation at the Council,
though after the first session they took no further share in the proceedings. In
the second and third sessions Dioscurus got the detested Ibas
deposed (to whom the saying was currently attributed “I do not envy Christ
because He became God; for I too can become God if I wish”), the Sabinian
bishop of Perrha and several others;This has reference to the proceedings of the year 448 (Irenæus of Tyre) into
which I cannot enter. The Syrian Acts first threw light on them as well as on
the Councils of Tyre and Berytus. also Theodoret,See Martin, op. cit. p. 186 sq. the pillar of the East,
and finally even Domnus of Antioch.See Martin, p. 196 sq. The fact that he had for so long sided
with Dioscurus availed him nothing. He had latterly drawn back, was unwilling to
take part in the ecclesiastico-political revision of the Canons of Nicæa and
Constantinople which Dioscurus was contemplating, and was generally in his road.
Never before at any Council had a Patriarch scored such a victory, The
atmosphere was cleared; the triumph of the old Confession of Nicæa and Ephesus
(431) which alone was recognised by the pious Greeks as embodying their faith,
had been secured; the Christology of Cyril, the one incarnate nature of the
God-Logos, had been acknowledged as the true one; those who opposed it had
partly been deposed and partly had submitted; arrangements had already been made
for securing suitable successors to those who had been deposed, and an
Alexandrian priest, Anatolius, was appointed to Constantinople. The Church of
the East lay at the feet of the Alexandrian Patriarch and he had attained
everything with the concurrence of the Emperor.The charges brought against him by Egyptians at the third sitting of the
Council of Chalcedon (Mansi VI. p. 1006-1035) even after making all due
allowance for the calumnies in them, afford interesting proofs of how he
disregarded the imperial authority in Egypt and how he weakened the authority of
the State there and also of the extent to which he was master of Egypt and now
threatened to become master of the State. Tillemont XV. p. 589, very justly says: “Dioscore règne partout.” See, above all, p. 1032:
Διόσκορος πάντα ἀκαθοσιώτως πράττων,
νομίζων τε ἀνωτέρω πάντων εἶναι, οὔτε τοὺς θείους τύπους οὔτε τὰς μεγίστας
ἀποφάσεις συνεχώρησεν ἐκβιβασθῆναι, ἑαυτοῦ τὴν χώραν μᾶλλον ἤ τῶν κρατούντων
εἶναι λέγων. He had doubtless made use of
force; but it was the State in fact which stood behind him; the police and the
monks of Barsumas had, to be sure, over-awed the Fathers; but far worse than the terrors of this Council were the calumnies
spread regarding it on the part of those who two years later had to
extenuate their dastardly treachery. If we consider who were present at the
Council we must conclude that Dioscurus, to whom even Theodoret on one occasion
(ep. 60) bore favourable testimony, cannot have found it necessary to employ any
very great amount of actual force. That Flavian was trampled on and left half
dead is anything but certain, and a Council which more than any other gave
expression to the tradition of the religious feeling of the time and to what it
considered of vital importance, does not deserve the name “Robber-Council” (Leo,
ep. 95). Regarded from the standpoint of the Church of the East something of
importance had actually been attained, and what had been thus attained had the
guarantee of permanence so long as foreign elements did not come in to disturb
it.
But Dioscurus had not reckoned on the death of the Emperor which was near at
hand, nor with the Roman bishop, nor finally on the widespread aversion felt
towards the right wing of his army which was Apollinarian in disguise. He had
rehabilitated Eutyches without, however, getting the questionable statements to
which the latter had formerly given utterance, proscribed, though the allegation
that he endorsed them is a falsehood asserted by his embittered opponents at
Chalcedon. This was a blunder in policy which was calculated to bring on a
reaction introduced from the outside, and the reaction taking its start from
this, might in the state in which matters then were, overthrow the great work
which had been accomplished without in appearance abandoning the position gained
in the year 431. At first Dioscurus was still master of the situation. While all
those who felt themselves injured by him betook themselves to Leo as the only
refuge,See Theodoret’s letters 113 and ff. Theodoret speaks in terms of high praise
of Leo’s ep. dogmatica, and as a matter of fact he had no reason for suspecting
it in any way. In letter 121 he expressly says that Leo’s letter agrees with
τοῖς παρ᾽ ἡμῶν καὶ συγγραφεῖσι καὶ ἐπ᾽ ἐκκλησίας
κηρυχθεῖσιν ἀεί. and while the latter hastened to reject the resolutions of the Council,
Dioscurus pronounced sentence of excommunication upon Leo,See the Acts of the Council of Chalcedon in Mansi VI., p. 1009; the matter
is, however, not quite certain. It is even probable that Dioscurus did not
excommunicate Leo till shortly before the Council of Chalcedon. prepared
now to measure his strength with the last remaining opponent too, whom he had
treated at Ephesus as a nonentity. Leo was in an extremely difficult position,
as letters 43-72 prove. If the decree of Ephesus were to become permanent it was
all over with his orthodoxy as well as with the primacy of his chair. He
assembled a Council and at the same time got all the members of the imperial
family of the Western Empire, when they came to Rome, to write letters to
Theodosius against the “episcopus Alexandrinus sibi omnia vindicans” (45, 2), against the Council in
support of his just claim to be considered supreme judge in matters of faith,Valentinian III. writes to Theod. II. (ep. Leon. 55): “The Faith must get into
confusion, ἣν ἡμεῖς ἀπὸ τῶν προγόνων παραδοθεῖσαν ὀφείλομεν μετὰ τῆς προσηκούσης
καθοσιώσεως ἐκδικεῖν καὶ τῆς ἰδίας εὐλαβείας τὴν ἀξίαν τῷ μακαρίῳ ἀπστόλῳ
Πέτρῳ ἄτρωτον καὶ ἐν τοῖς ἡμετέροις χρόνοις διαφυλάττειν, ἵνα ὁ μακαριώτατος
ἐπίσκοπος τῆς Ῥωμαίων πόλεως, ᾧ τὴν ἱερωσύνην κατὰ πάντων ἡ ἀρχαιότης παρέσχε,
χώραν καὶ εὐπορίαν ἔχειν περί τε πίστεως καὶ ἱερέων κρίνειν. Flavian was right in appealing to him. It is a
curious spectacle! Both Emperors are entirely in the hands of their Patriarchs,
the one in the hands of Dioscurus, and the other as here in the hands of Leo.
Never yet had the State been so much under priestly authority. The Emperors who
were powerless to do anything themselves played the one primate against the other.
and in favour of calling a new Council to meet in Italy. He saw himself under
the necessity of repeatedly assuring the Emperor of the East that he also held
firmly to the Nicene Faith; he took care not to mention what it was exactly
that he found fault with in the dogmatic decrees of Ephesus; he simply insisted
on the condemnation of Eutyches as a Manichean and a Doketist, and was slow
about recognising the new bishop of Constantinople, the creature of Dioscurus.
He yielded nothing as the successor of Peter, but neither did he gain anything.
Theodosius stood firm, maintained that the Council had merely defended antiquity
against the innovations of Flavian, and coldly replied to the letters of his
imperial relations in the West, declining to take any action. A less politic
Pope than he was, would have brought on a breach backed up as he would have been
by the whole West and by the Emperor of the West, but Leo waited and did not wait in vain.
Theodosius II.He had, however, begun to shew a certain amount of hesitation during the last
months, as is evident from the recall of Pulcheria and the banishment of his
minister Chrysaphius. See Krüger, op. cit. p. 56. died on the 28th of July, 450, and the situation was at once
altered. Pulcheria who mounted the throne and offered her hand to Marcian, had
always deplored her brother’s miserable misrule, and his proteges were her
enemies. She specially guided the ecclesiastical policy of the Government, while
Marcian fought its enemies outside. The Court resolved to free itself and the
State from the Alexandrian despot. This could not be done without the help of
Rome, for—and this is a fact of the highest importance—the Council of 449 had
really pacified the Church of the East. Of course there were some who were
discontented, but they were in the minority. The Court could not in carrying out
its new policy reckon on the support of any united and reliable party. It was
only in Constantinople that it was able to make way quickly, for there Flavian
was not yet forgotten. The Church of the East had enjoyed peace since August. In
order that the State might get back its independence, this Church which had been
pacified, had to be disturbed anew and reduced to the most lamentable condition.
Marcian, whose recognition as Emperor Dioscurus had sought to prevent in Egypt,
at once addressed a letter to Leo. He formally handed over to the latter the
primacy with which his predecessor had actually invested Dioscurus, and
announced besides his readiness to summon the Council desired by Leo.Marcian ep. in Leon. epp. 73: “Pro reverenda et catholica religione fidei
Christianorum tuam sanctitatem principatum in episcopatu divinæ fidei
possidentem sacris litteris in principio justum credimus alloquendam . . . omni
impio errore sublato per celebrandam synodum te auctore maxime pax circa omnes
episcopos fidei catholicæ fiat!” It was in these terms that Marcian wrote to
Leo! But he had in view merely an Eastern Council; see the second letter (ep. 76). Soon
after an epistle reached Leo from Pulcheria which announced the change of view
on the part of the bishop of Constantinople. He had subscribed Leo’s dogmatic
letter, that sent to Flavian, and had condemned the erroneous doctrine of
Eutyches; the Emperor had also ordered the recall of the bishops who had been deposed by the Council, and their reinstatement
in office was reserved for the Council over which, if possible, Leo was to
preside in person and which was to be held in the East. As a matter of fact in
the capital itself, after a local Synod had been called, everything was already
going as the Emperor, or rather, as the Empress, desired. The wretched toady,
the patriarch, the creature and the betrayer of Dioscurus, was prepared to do
everything the Court wished. In view of the completely changed circumstances Leo
had no longer any wish for a Council, because a Council might always mean action
which was dangerous for the Pope. He now took up the position that his letter
was sufficient, that the bishops were individually to bind themselves to accept
the doctrine set forth in it, and that by their return to orthodoxy and the
erasure of the names of Dioscurus, Juvenal, etc., from the Diptychs, the
Robber-Council would be rendered powerless for harm. He wished on his own
initiative and apart from any Council, but with the assistance of his legates,
to act the part of judge and to receive to favour or punish as impenitent each
individual bishop; the bishop of Constantinople was to act with him in the
matter as his mandatory. He therewith made an actual beginning with the business
and it was now fairly on its way. And as a matter of fact Leo may have been
naïve enough to imagine that the solution of the dogmatic difficulty of the East
was contained in his sorry letter, for it seems never to have occurred to the
Pope that there could be any other Christologies besides the “correct” one, Doketism, and the doctrine of Paul of Samosata. He had no appreciation of the
subtle, though no doubt partly incorrect formulæ of the Greek theologians; but
he was sure of his ground, and it was with this feeling that the letters 82-86
were composed, in which the Pope sought at all costs to prevent the calling of a
Council as being unnecessary and inopportune.The Westerns could not come, he writes, because of the distress occasioned by
the Huns. But Marcian required the Council for himself and for the Eastern Church, in which, since the change of rulers, no
one knew what he should believe, and in which, for the time, many bishoprics
were held by two bishops or had no bishop at all. The Emperor had no desire
to surrender to the Pope while claiming his help. He issued an edict ordaining
the Council to meet at Nicæa in September 451, and Leo had to acquiesce, though
with a very bad grace (ep. 89). He arranged to send four legates and deputed to
one of them, Bishop Paschasinus, the duty of presiding in his stead; for
Marcian had designated Leo himself as leader of the future Council, and so what
Dioscurus had got for himself in 449 after a struggle, the Pope now secured
without taking any trouble.Still the presidency was only an honorary presidency; even Hefele admits that
“the official conducting of the business” was looked after by the Imperial
Commissioners. As a matter of fact the Romish Legates were merely the first to
record their vote. Still Leo was extremely uneasy. His numerous
letters (89-95) prove that he was afraid of “innovations contrary to the Nicene
Creed”, i.e., divergences from his doctrinal letter. He accordingly kept
constantly counselling mildness and forgiveness; whoever would only condemn
Eutyches and recognise the Nicene Creed was to be regarded as orthodox. The
controversy regarding the Faith was in no case to be renewed, everything was
clear and finally decided. In his letter to the Council (93) he expressly
guarded his position by hinting that besides the condemnation of Eutyches, that
of Nestorius also in the year 431, must remain in force. This request was rather
an act of self-justification than a demand; for there were very few in the East
who were disposed to rehabilitate Nestorius, but then there was no actual
repudiation of the “heretic” in the epistola dogmatica. But all this did not
in fine constitute the Pope’s greatest anxiety. What he dreaded above all was
the restoration of the power of the bishop whom his predecessors in alliance
with the Alexandrians had humbled, the bishop of Constantinople, behind whom was
Constantius’ idea of the State. Now, however, he was at enmity with the old ally
and had in fact humiliated him to the dust,One of the instructions given by Leo to his legates is to the effect that
Dioscurus ought not to have a seat in the Council, but should only be heard as a
defendant; Mansi VI , p. 580 sq. but with the downfall of the enemy
the support he had given disappeared too. The Pope’s anxiety comes out in the
precise instructions given to the legates:Mansi VII., p. 443. “You may not permit the constitution set up by
the holy Fathers (the sixth Canon of Nicæa according to the Roman forgery) to
be violated or diminished by any rash action. . . . and if perchance some trusting
to the dignity of their cities shall have attempted to appropriate anything for
themselves, this you may check with befitting firmness.” (“Sanctorum patrum constitutionem prolatam nulla patiamini temeritate violari vel imminui . . . ac si
qui forte civitatum suarum splendore confisi aliquid sibi tentaverint usurpare,
hoc qua dignum est constantia retundatis”). In order to ensure the Emperor’s
personal presence which the Roman legates insisted upon, the Council was at the
last moment transferred to Chalcedon in the neighbourhood of the capital, and
was opened on the eighth of October, 451.
As regards the number of those who took part in it—between 500 and 600 and
perhaps over 600—no earlier Council can compare with this one, which was “politically and ecclesiastically one of the most
important of all”,Ranke, Weltgesch. IV. 1, p. 324. Luther, who is, speaking generally, not favourably disposed towards the
Chalcedonian Council, says of it (von Conciliis and Kirchen, Erl. Ed., Vol.,
25, p. 351): “The Fourth Council of Chalcedon had 630 members, almost as many as
all the others, and yet they were quite unequal to the Fathers at Nicæa and
Constantinople.” a memorial
of the restoration of the authority of the State accomplished by Pulcheria and
Marcian, but for this very reason a memorial of the enslavement of the spirit of
the Eastern Church which here, in connection with the most important doctrinal
question, surrendered to the Western supreme bishop allied with the Emperor. We
have no right at all to say that possibly the “authorised moment of truth” of
the Antiochian Christology triumphed at Chalcedon over the dogmatic ideas of the
Alexandrians and the monks, for the representatives of this Christology had long
ere this succumbed to the power of the Alexandrian Confession. The unspeakably
pitiful behaviour too of the Patriarchs of Antioch and of the largest section of
the bishops who were theologians in sympathy with them,—the Antiochian
middle-party which dates from 433—proves that the members of this school
conscious of their miserable powerlessness, had of their own free will long ere
this renounced all attempts to influence the Church. The disgrace attaching to this Council consists in
the fact that the great majority of the bishops who held the same views as Cyril
and Dioscurus finally allowed a formula to be forced upon them which was that of
strangers, of the Emperor and the Pope, and which did not correspond to their
belief. Judging by the Acts of the Council we can be in no doubt as regards the
following points:From the Récits de Dioscore (Krüger op. cit. 12 ff. 61-68) we gather—what was
hitherto not known—that Dioscurus was to be won over in a friendly way by the
Court after he had arrived at Constantinople from Alexandria. accompanied by
fewer bishops than he had intended to have with him, in consequence of an
intrigue. We now know that he was conducted to a meeting of ecclesiastical
notables and that there he also met the Emperor and Pulcheria. Every effort was
made to get him to agree to the ep. Leonis; but he remained firm and it is said
that by his glowing words against the two natures he for the time being again
won over the bishops (Anatolius, Juvenal, Maximus of Antioch and others) as well
as the Senate to his doctrine. This is very probable. The story given in Krüger,
p. 62, shews by what a spirit of rebellion against the State and Emperor he and
his followers were animated. It follows from the Acts that during the first
session of the Council of Chalcedon he was still a power. (1) that the views of the great majority of the Fathers
assembled at Chalcedon agreed neither with those of Leo nor with those of
Flavian who represented the Antiochian middle-party, that on the contrary they,
and above all the Illyrian, Palestinian, and Egyptian bishops, wished for
nothing else beyond the ratification of the Creeds of Nicæa and Ephesus as
understood by Cyril;Those too who held Antiochian views were undoubtedly no small number, namely,
bishops from Syria, Asia, Pontus, and Thrace; they could accept Leo’s letter:
but (1) they were in the minority. (2) Partly by their repudiation of Nestorius
and partly by what they did at Ephesus in 449 they had made the sacrifcium
intellectus fidei and were thus spiritually demoralised. Others might without
trouble have gained all they wanted so far as they were concerned. (2) that for this reason the formula, “out of two
natures Christ is,” with the addition either expressed or understood, that after
the Incarnation the God-Logos had only one nature which had become flesh, alone
answered to the faith of the Constantinopolitan Patriarch Anatolius and of the
majority of the bishops; (3) that far from Theodoret and his friends possessing
the sympathy of the majority of the members of the Council, they had to endure
the worst forms of abuse, being called “Jews”, while Theodoret succeeded in
saving his orthodoxy only by allowing his opponents to extort from him the
condemnation of Nestorius;The threatening and abusive language (“Whoever divides Christ ought to be
divided himself; dismember them, cast them out, etc.”) used at Chalcedon was
not any milder than that used at Ephesus in 449. Theodoret condemned Nestorius
at the eighth sitting, Mansi VII., p. 185 sq. From the time of Leo I., moreover,
the orthodox and those whose views were more of the type of the school of
Antioch, applied the worst term of abuse, “Jew”, to the Eutychians
(Monophysites) because they ostensibly denied the Incarnation. (4)
that the Imperial Commissioners directed all the proceedings and were resolved
from the first to get the deposition of Dioscurus carried through at the
Council, although they gave the Council the show of freedom; (5) that the
Imperial Commissioners had been at the same time instructed to press for the
establishment of a new doctrinal formula on the basis of Leo’s letter in order
to bring to an end the intolerable state of things which had prevailed in the
Church of the East owing to the annulling of the resolution of 449; (6) that the
Roman legates were at one with the Commissioners in their determination to get
the Council to decree the deposition of Dioscurus and the setting up of a
dogmatic confession, but that they differed from them so far in that they wished
Dioscurus to be described as a heretic, in other words, as a rebel against the
Pope, and at the same time exerted themselves simply towards getting Leo’s ep.
dogmatica accepted in the Church; (7) that Dioscurus had to submit to a
judicial process of an extremely disgraceful and unjust kind, that he acquitted
himself worthily, and firmly maintained his position as the successor of
Athanasius, and that in the end he was in no sense deposed on the ground of
heresy, nor on account of murder, but on the ground of certain irregularities,
including contempt for the divine canon, and disobedience to the Council,Dioscurus protested that he did not assume that there was any mixing of the
natures; and nobody was able to prove the opposite against him; see Mansi VI., p. 676:
Διόσκορος εἶπεν· οὔτε σύγχυσιν λέγομεν οὔτε τομὴν οὔτε τροπήν. ἀνάθεμα τῷ
λέγοντι σύγχυσιν ἢ τροπὴν ἢ ἄνάκρασιν. On the other hand he
was not refuted when he (p. 683) asserted: “Flavian was justly condemned because
he still maintained two natures after the union. I can prove from Athanasius,
Gregory, and Cyril that after the union we ought rather to speak only of one
incarnate nature of the Logos. I will be rejected together with the Fathers, but
I am defending the doctrine of the Fathers, and yield on no point.” He approved
of the expression “out of two natures”; one can readily understand how as early
as the second session he no longer wished to appear at the Council. while his deceased opponent Flavian
was on the other hand rehabilitated;In connection with this affair Juvenal and the Palestinian bishops changed their
opinion in the most disgraceful fashion. (8) that the bishops who had met together
with him at Ephesus at first attempted to make out that the vote they gave there
had been extorted by force, but that afterwards when they found they could not
prove this they described themselves in the most dishonourable way as erring men
who had gone wrong and begged forgiveness, although as a matter of fact they did
not deny their faith at Ephesus in the year 449, but now at Chalcedon;Some of them had agreed with Flavian in 448, with Dioscurus in 449, and now they
agreed with the Council! Even the Imperial Commissioners blamed the bishops for
the contradiction in which they entangled themselves when they gave out that
their vote of the year 449 had been purely extorted from them; see Mansi VI., p.
637 fin. It has to be noted, moreover, that throughout the proceedings it was
much more—in fact it was almost exclusively—a question of persons, of their
standing, or of the right or wrong of their condemnation, and therefore as to
Nestorius, Cyril, Flavian, Eutyches, Theodoret, Dioscurus, Leo, than a question
of the actual matter in hand. In the first place everyone took care not to touch
the real point or to have anything to do with constructing formula., and in the
second place the personal question was with most of them the main thing. (9)
that, considering the views of the faith prevailing at the time, the great
majority of the bishops were able to comply with a new rule of faith even though
it might be expressed in the usual terms, only by doing violence to their
consciences, and that they finally deceived themselves by drawing the delusive
distinction that it was not a question of an exposition (ἔκθεσις) but of an
interpretation (ἑρμηνεία); (10) that spite of all the pressure put on them by
the Roman legates and the commissioners, the majority under the guidance of
Anatolius while expressly emphasing the fact that Dioscurus was not deposed on
account of heresy—Anatolius had always in his heart agreed with the views of
Dioscurus—further attempted to set up a doctrinal formula in which the
distinction between the two natures was made one in thought only, and which made
it possible to speak of one nature after the Incarnation,See the proceedings in Mansi VII., p. 97 sq. and that three
statements particularly, in the third and fourth chapters of Leo’s letter to Flavian, (see above) appeared to the bishops
to be intolerably Nestorian;The expression so frequently used by the Westerns, God has assumed “a man”,
was also found fault with, but not officially. (11) that the bishops abandoned their proposed
formula only after the most violent threats on the part of the Emperor, among
which too was a threat to transfer the Council to Italy, and that they outwardly
reconciled themselves to the statements of Leo with which they had found fault
by deluding themselves with the false idea that Cyril said very much what Leo
said and that both were in agreement; (12) that the new doctrinal formulaThe formula was probably already drawn up when the Chalcedonian Council began;
that commission cannot have got it ready in the short time it had; it even
appears to follow from what is said in the Récits de Dioscore that it had
already been laid before the Court previous to the meeting of the Council.
would nevertheless not have been carried through if it had not finally been
established under severe pressure at a secret commission, and that this formula
is so far lacking in veracity in that it is intended to contain the genuine
doctrine of Cyril and recognises the resolution of the Cyrillian Council of 431,
while it gives it the go-bye in so far as it sets aside the unity and union of
the natures.
The imperial-papal formula was proclaimed and adopted at the fifth sitting.See Mansi VII., p. 107 sq. It
first of all confirms the decision of Nicæa a, Constantinople, and Ephesus, it
then explains that the Creed which had been handed down is sufficient in itself,
but that on account of the teachers of false doctrine who on the one hand reject
the designation θεοτόκος and on the other wish to introduce the idea of a
confusion (σύγχυσις) and mixing (κρᾶσις) of the natures, “and absurdly
fabricate only one nature for the flesh and the Godhead,”Rarely had any one to my knowledge expressed himself in this way after
Apollinaris (μίαν εἶναι τῆς σαρκὸς καὶ τῆς θεότητος φύσιν), but the Bishops
had first to distort the faith which they themselves had avowed and which they
now nevertheless rejected, in order to turn it into a heresy. The “Eranistes”
of Theodoret, however, attacks those who “make the divinity and humanity into
one nature.” and consider the divine nature of the only-begotten to be capable of suffering, the Council has
adopted both the letters of Cyril to NestoriusThe Anathemas of Cyril are also implicitly to be understood as included in
these; see Loofs, op. cit. p. 50 f. and the Easterns, as
well as the letter of Leo. It is therefore directed both against those who break
up the mystery of the Incarnation into two sons, and also against those who
consider the Godhead of the only-begotten to be capable of suffering, who
imagine a mingling and a fusion and declare the human substance of Christ to be
a heavenly substance: “those who on the one hand assert two natures in the
Lord before the union and those on the other hand who imagine one after the
union, be anathema.” (καὶ τοὺς δύο μὲν πρὸ τῆς ἑνώσεως φύσεις τοῦ κυρίου μυθεύοντας,
μίαν δὲ μετὰ τὴν ἕνωσιν ἀναπλάττοντας, ἀναθεματίζει). (This was
the sacrifice of the thought of Faith.) “Following therefore the holy Fathers,
we all agree in teaching plainly that it is necessary to confess one and the
same Son our Lord Jesus Christ, perfect alike in His divinity and perfect in his
humanity, alike truly God and truly man,” (Ἑπομενοι τοίνον τοῖς ἁγίοις πατράσιν
ἕνα καὶ τὸν αὐτὸν ὁμολογεῖν υἱὸν τὸν κύριον ἡμῶν Ἰ. Χρ. συμφώνως
ἅπαντες ἐκδιδάσκομεν, τέλειον τὸν αὐτὸν ἐν θεότητι καὶ τέλειον τὸν
αὐτὸν ἐν ἀνθρωπὸτητι, Θεὸν ἀληθῶς καὶ ἄνθρωπον ἀληθῶς τὸν αὐτόν).
This is further developed in detail, then we have: “We acknowledge one and the
same Christ in two natures unconfusedly, unchangeably, indivisibly, inseparably; nowhere is the difference of the natures annulled because of the union, but on
the contrary the property of each of the two natures is preserved; each nature
coming together into one person and one hypostasis, not divided or separated
into two persons, but one and the same Son and only-begotten, God-Logos.” (ἕνα καί
τὸν αὐτὸν Χριστὸν . . . ἐν δύο
φύσεσινIt is here that the difficulty occurs which has been so much discussed,
namely, that the Greek text gives ἐκ δύο φύσεων and the Latin “in duabus
naturis”. Judging from all that preceded this, one cannot but hold that
Tillemont, Walch, Gieseler, Neander, Hefele and others are right (as against
Baur and Dörner) and look for the original reading in the latter phrase. The
form in which we have the Greek text is of course not a mere error, but is an
ancient falsification. In the period from the fifth to the seventh century the
falsification of acts was an important weapon for the defence of what was sacred. ἀσυγχύτως, ἀτρέπτως, ἀδιαιρέτως,
ἀχωρίστως γνωρίζομεν· οὐδαμοῦ τῆς τῶν φύσεων διαφορᾶς
ἀνῃρημένης διὰ τὴν ἕνωσιν, σωζομένης δὲ μᾶλλον τῆς ἰδιότητος ἑκατέρας φύσεως. καὶ εἰς ἓν πρόσωπον καὶ μίαν ὑπόστασιν συντρεχούσης,
οὐκ εἰς δύο πρόσωπα μεριζόμενον ἢ διαιρούμενον, ἀλλὰ ἕνα
καὶ τὸν αὐτὸν υἱὸν καὶ μονογενῆ, Θεὸν λόγου). The decree appeals in support of
these statements to the Old Testament, to Jesus Christ Himself, and—to the
Nicene Creed; at the close it is said that no one is to accept or teach any
other creed, that on the contrary only this form of belief is to be handed down
in connection with the instruction of Jews, heathen, and heretics.
The Emperor had now got what he wished. He had shewn that he ruled the Church,
and he had got a formula according to which he was able henceforth to decide
what was orthodox and what was heretical.This prospect was indeed a delusive one; for since the Council had expressly
appealed both to Cyril and to Leo, its decree could be interpreted according to
the views either of the one or of the other, and consequently the old trouble
was really there again. The three decrees of February 7th, March 13th, and July
28th, 452, (Mansi VII., pp. 476, 477, 501) are a proof of the energy and vigour
with which the Emperor purposed to enforce the Chalcedonian Creed. According to
the first of these all controversy was to cease, nobody was to dispute publicly
regarding the faith. Whoever does this is looking in broad daylight for a false
light, commits an act of sacrilege, insults the holy Council and betrays the
secret to the Jews and the heathen. He must accordingly expect severe
punishment, which has been already fixed and which will he of different degrees
for the separate classes of the community. According to the third edict
Eutychians and Apollinarians are forbidden to have pastors; those who contravene
this order are to be punished with confiscation of their goods and exile. The
right of assemblage, the right of building churches, and of being together in
monasteries, is withdrawn from them. Their property is to go to the Exchequer.
So too they are deprived of the power of inheriting anything and of bequeathing
anything. Eutychian monks are to be treated as Manicheans, are to be driven from
their “stalls” and removed from the soil of the Empire. Eutychian writings are
to be burned, etc. Eutyches and Dioscurus themselves must go into exile. An end was put to the uncertain state
of things which permitted everyone to appeal to the 318 bishops and in doing
this to think whatever he liked. In the full consciousness of his triumph
Marcian appeared in person along with Pulcheria at the sitting immediately
following (6), and addressed the Council, making express reference to
Constantine. He was greeted with acclamations from the whole Council: “We all
so believe; we are all orthodox; this Faith has saved the world; hail to Marcian, the new Constantine, the new Paul, the new David! You are the peace of
the world; Pulcheria is the new Helena!” But the Pope too had got what he wanted, if not everything. His letter had not been
given straight off the place of a doctrinal ordinance, but the Conciliar-decree
had proceeded from this letter; his dogmatic teaching was acknowledged, and in
his address to the Council Marcian had given expression to this fact. The truth
is that without the help of the Papal legates Marcian could not have effected
anything. But the Church of the East had been deprived of its faith.In respect of its relation to the orthodox faith and of the fact that it owed
its origin to the Emperor, the Chalcedonian Creed may be compared with the
decrees of the last Councils of Constantius. It is true that orthodoxy
afterwards found it easier to reconcile itself to the two natures than to the
“likeness”. Still perhaps it might have come to terms with the latter also. The
ἕνωσις φυσική, the natural union, was not mentioned; no one could any longer
unhesitatingly teach that the God-Logos had taken up the human nature into the
unity of his unique substance and made it the perfect organ of His deity. The
construction of a Christology based on the God-Logos was severely shaken; the
“two hypostases” (δύο ὑποστάσεις) were not expressly condemned. In the “coming
together” (συντρέχειν) each nature continues to exist in its own mode of being;
the divinity has not absorbed the humanity nor has the humanity been exalted to
the height of the divinity, but the human and divine natures are simply united
in the person of the Redeemer, and therefore only mediately and in an individual
(individuum). No pious Greek who had had Athanasius and Cyril for his teachers
could acknowledge that to be “the right mean”; it was not even a formula of
compromise like that of the year 433; it was the abandonment of the work of
developing the Christological formula strictly in accordance with soteriology.
The latter itself now became uncertain. If humanity was not deified in Christ,
but if in His case His humanity was merely united with the divinity by the
prosopon or person, then what effect can a union such as that have for us? That
formula can only be of advantage either to the detested “moralism” of the
Antiochians, or to mysticism, which bases its hope of redemption on the idea
that the God-Logos continually unites Himself anew with each individual soul so
as to form a union. The four bald negative terms (ἀσυγχύτως etc.,) which are
supposed to express the whole truth, are in the view of the classical theologians amongst the Greeks, profoundly
irreligious. They are wanting in warm, concrete substance; of the bridge which
his faith is to the believer, the bridge from earth to heaven, they make a line
which is finer than the hair upon which the adherents of Islam one day hope to
enter Paradise. One may indeed say that the Chalcedonian Creed preserved for the
East the minimum of historical conception which the Church still possessed
regarding the person of Christ, by cutting short the logical results of the
doctrine of redemption, which threatened completely to destroy the Christ of the
Gospels. But the Fathers who accepted the Creed did not think of that. They in
fact accepted it under compulsion, and if they had thought of this, the price
which they paid would have been too dear; for a theology which, in what is for
it the most important of all questions, has recourse to mere negatives, is
self-condemned. Nor is it of any use to point to the fact that the Council
merely gave the mystery a definite standing and thereby furthered the interests
of the Greek Church and the Greek theology. The true mystery on the contrary was
contained in the substantial union of the two natures themselves. It was
seriously damaged by being banished from its place here, and when in place of it
the conception of the union, a conception which was supposed at the same time to
involve a state of separation, was raised to the position of the secret of
faith. The real mystery was thus shoved aside by a pseudo-mystery which in truth
no longer permitted theology to advance to the thought of the actual and perfect
union. Monophysitism which holds to the statement that, without prejudice to the homoousia of the body of Christ with our body, the God-Logos made this body His
own body and for this reason took it up into the unity of His substance, is
without doubt the legitimate heir of the theology of Athanasius and the fitting
expression of Greek Christianity.We can only adduce one consideration here, namely, that it was essential to
this Christianity which had the New Testament beside it, that it should never,
just because of this, develop in a logical way as a mystical doctrine of
redemption. Understood in this sense no objection can be taken to the statement
that the logical development of the monophysite faith even in its least
extravagant form, was bound to come into conflict with certain elements of the
ecclesiastical tradition, or with certain New Testament passages which could not be given up. The proposition, however, which was
now to pass for orthodox, “each nature in communion with the other does what is
proper to it,” (agit utraque forma cum alterius communione, quod proprium est)
actually makes two subjects out of one and betokens a lapse from the ancient
faith. That the view we have here expressed is correct is attested by the
previous history of the formula of the two natures and the one person. Up to
this time scarcely anything had been known in the East of a “nature without
hypostasis” (φύσις ἀνυπόστατος), although the Antiochians had distinguished
between φύσις and πρόσωπον. It is attested further by the melancholy proceedings at the Council
itself, and, as will be shewn, it is attested above all by the history which
follows. A formula was now introduced which could ultimately be traced to a
legal source and which for that reason could be transformed into a
philosophical-theological formula only by a scholastic.
At Chalcedon only a part of the deputation of monks who had approached the
Council with the prayer that the ancient faith might not suffer harm, and also
the majority of the Egyptian monks, remained firm.See the proceedings of the fourth sitting. We cannot say, however,
whether the action of the latter was an instance of the courage of faith. Their
request that the Council should not compel them to accept the formula since in
this case they would be killed after their return to Egypt, their despairing
cry, “We shall be killed, if we subscribe Leo’s epistle; we would rather be
put to death here by you than there; have pity on us: we would rather die at
the hands of the Emperor and at your hands than at home,” proves that they were
still more afraid of Coptic fanaticism than of the Emperor’s police. They were
allowed to postpone their subscription till a new bishop should be appointed to
Alexandria, since they had explained that without a new bishop they could do
nothing. They were not, however, to stir from Constantinople till then.
The Council was to be a Council of peace after the downfall of Dioscurus. All
were pardoned, even Ibas himself, and on the other hand, the traitorous
associates of Dioscurus at whose head stood Juvenal of Jerusalem. All were
restored to their bishoprics so far as that was at all feasible. A series of Canons
was then issued dealing with the regulation of ecclesiastical matters. The
seventeenth Canon asserted in a blunt fashion what was a fundamental Byzantine
principle: “let the arrangement also of the ecclesiastical districts follow
that of the civil and state places.” (τοῖς πολιτικοῖς καὶ δημοσίοις τόποις καὶ τῶν
ἐκκκλησιαστικῶν παροικιῶν ἡ τάξις ἀκολουθείτω). The twenty-eighth, under
cover of an appeal to the third CanonThe Romans before this had no official knowledge whatever of this Canon, and in
praxi it had not been entirely enforced, even in the East itself, as the Robber-Synod shews. of 381, struck a blow at Rome by
ordaining that the patriarch of Constantinople was to enjoy similar privileges
to those possessed by the bishop of Rome, was to be second to him in rank, and
was to get an enormous extension of his diocese—namely, over Pontus, Asia, and
Thrace. The proceedings in connection with this matter do not belong to the
history of dogma, although Leo combated the resolution with dogmatic arguments
drawn from tradition. The Roman legates, we may note, entered their protest. The
Emperor once more created for himself a patriarch primi ordinis, after that the
patriarch of Alexandria had had to be overthrown, and it was the bishop of his
own capital whom he put alongside of the Roman bishop. The Council had to ask
the Pope to confirm the twenty-eighth Canon by way of return, as it was openly
put, for the acknowledgment of his dogmatic letter in the East.Leo, ep. 98. The letter is full of flattery of the Pope; see c. I. It follows
too from the formally very submissive epistle of Anatolius to Leo (ep. 100) that
an attempt had been made to induce Leo by flattery to acknowledge the 28th
Canon. We gather from Marcian’s epistle to Leo (ep. 100) that the Emperor
considered that Canon as the most important ordinance of the Council together
with the doctrinal decision. For details see Kattenbusch, op. cit. I., p. 87
ff., where the Canons 9 and 17 are discussed. But the Pope
remained firm; his letters 104-107 prove that he had no intention of
surrendering the grand success he had secured just in the East. A primacy of the
East in Constantinople was the greatest possible danger, and for this reason Leo
at once again took up the cause of the chairs of Alexandria and Antioch. In fact
he now even shewed some hesitation in giving his approval of the resolutions of
the great Councils generally, so that the Monophysites came to be
under the pleasing delusion that he was inclined to side with them. (!)See ep. 110; the approval followed in ep. 114, with certain reservations
because of Canon 28; see ep. 115-117. He soon
entirely broke with Anatolius and entered into negotiations with the new bishop
of Alexandria (ep. 129) and with the bishop of Antioch (ep. 119) whose position
in their patriarchates he sought to strengthen, and whom he begged to send him
more frequently information regarding their affairs that he might be able to
render them assistance. Soon, however, the Constantinopolitan bishop Anatolius
found himself in such a difficult position owing to the new dogmatic
controversies, that he preferred to shelve the Canon complained of and once more
to seek the friendship of Leo which he did indeed secure.
§ 3. The Monophysite Controversies and the Fifth Council.The enormous and varied documentary material is given only in part in Mansi
VII-IX. The Pope’s letters are in Thiel, 1867. Much new in Mai’s Script. Vet.
Nova Coll.; Joh. of Ephesus (Monophysite) hist. eccl., German translation by
Schönfelder, 1862, something different in Land, Anecd. Syr. Information
regarding further sources in Möller, Monophysiten (R.-Encykl. X.) and Loofs,
Leontius, 1887, (Texte u. Unters. III. 1, 2). Accounts by Tillemont, Gibbon,
Walch, Schröckh, Hefele, Dorner, Baur, cf. the articles on the subject by
Möller, Gass, and Hauck in the R.-Encykl.: in the same place the special
literature in connection with the Theopaschitian, Tritheistic, and Origenist
controversies and that of the Three Chapters. The special investigations,
however, which had been carried on up till the beginning of the 18th century
have rarely been resumed in recent times, but see Gieseler, Comment., qua
Monophys. opin. illustr., 2 parts, 1835, 1838; Krüger, Monophys. Streitigkeiten,
1884 and Loofs, op. cit.; Kleyn, Bijdrage tot de Kerkgeschiedenis van het Oosten
gedurende de zesde Eeuw, 1891 (from the chronicle of Dionysius of Tellmahre, who
made extracts from the Church History of John of Ephesus. Kleyn gives the
portions referring to the 6th century; they are identical with the
second and third parts of John’s Church History. Kleyn has published for the
first time the sections for the years 481-561 [in Dutch]; they are of great
importance for the history of Monophysitism, its spread, and the persecution it
underwent).
I. The severest condemnation of the Chalcedonian Creed as decree wrung from the
Eastern Churches, is to be found in the history of the next 68 years. These
years are not only marked by the most frightful revolts on the part of the
populace and the monks, particularly in Egypt, Palestine, and a part of Syria,
but also by the attempts of the Emperors to get rid of the decree which had been
issued with a definite end in view, and which was a source of difficulty and threatened the security
of the Empire.Leo I., Martian’s successor, had already made a beginning with this, though he
proceeded cautiously; see Leon. papæ ep. 145-158, 160-165, 169-173. One can
see here what trouble it cost the Pope to maintain the Chalcedonian Creed. The
opposition parties made the strongest efforts to prove that the Chalcedonian
Creed was Nestorian. Of the memorial of Timotheus Aelurus (Heruler? hardly) the
Monophysite Patriarch of Alexandria, Gennadius says (de vir. inl. 73): “librum
valde suasorium, quem pravo sensu patrum testimoniis in tantum roborare conatus
est, ut ad decipiendum imperatorem et suam hæresim constituendam pæne Leonem,
urbis Romæ pontificem, et Chalcedonensem synodum ac totos occidentales episcopos
illorum adminiculo Nestorianos ostenderet.” The fact that the Emperor Leo called
for an expression of opinion regarding the Chalcedonian Creed, was a step
towards getting rid of it. They were all the more under the necessity of making these
attempts, that in the East energetic theologians who could defend the
Chalcedonian Creed were entirely lacking. At this period it maintained its
position only by means of the great importance given to it by the imposing
Council, by the majority of the clergy in the capital, and by the Roman bishop.
These were strong forces; but the strength of the opposition to it, which was
supported by the increasing aversion to the Byzantine Emperor and his Patriarch,
by national aspirations and personal antipathies.Monasticism which was hostile to the State, the aspirations after independence
on the part of the Egyptians, and jealousy of the influence of the Byzantine
Patriarch, all played a part behind Monophysitism. This feeling of jealousy was
shared by the Roman bishop who, however, felt himself under the necessity
primarily of guarding the dogmatic formula. was also great. In addition
to this the pious-minded felt as much aggrieved by the fact that a new formula
had been introduced at all as by what was in the formula itself.See the opinion of a Pamphylian Council supplied to the Emperor, printed in
Mansi VII. p. 573-576. We can see from this that not only was the new definition
which went beyond the Nicene Creed felt to be objectionable by the bishops, but
that they disapprove too of the distinction of nature and person, prefer to
speak with Cyril of one nature and wish to make the Chalcedonian Creed
authoritative only in connection with controversies as being a formula which
originated in and was rendered necessary by controversy, but not for the
instruction of ordinary Christians. The Armenian Church has kept to this
position; it is not Monophysite, but Cyrillian; see Arsak Ter Mikelian, Die
Armenische Kirche in ihren Beziehungen zur Byzantischen vom. 4-13 Jahrh.,
Leipzig 1892, cf. Karapet, Die Paulikianer, (Leipzig 1893) p. 54 ff. The
Encyclical letter (ἐγκύκλιον) of the usurper
Basilikus (476) which abrogated the Chalcedonian Creed and decided in favour of
Monophysitism, had certainly only a passing importance.Basilikus had the ep. Leon. ad Flav. and the Chalcedonian Creed condemned.
About 5oo bishops of the South and West actually subscribed it, but not Acacius;
see Euagr. h. e. III. 4. The decree takes its stand upon the Nicene Creed and
the two following Councils, but orders the Chalcedonian canons to be burned.
Basilikus afterwards withdrew it (Euagr. III. 7), see also the epp. Simplicii papæ. But state-policy was
successful in uniting a section of the Chalcedonians and Monophysites by means
of a Henoticon (482), which, when issued as an imperial edict by Zeno, virtually
annulled the decree of 451.The Henotikon (Euagr. III. 14) declares in the first part that the sole
authoritative creed is the Nicene-Constantinopolitan, and excludes all the other
σύμβολα or μαθήματα; it then expressly condemns Nestorius and Eutyches
while accepting the anathemas of Cyril. Then, however, there further follows a
full Christological Confession in which the following statements are specially worthy of note:
ὁμολογοῦμεν τὸν μονογενῆ τοῦ Θεοῦ υἱὸν . . . ἕνα τυγχάνειν καὶ οὐ δύο· ἑνὸς γὰρ
εἶναι φαμὲν τὰ τε θαύματα καὶ τὰ πάθη ἅπερ ἑκουσίως ὑπέμεινε σαρκί . . . ἡ
σάρκωσις ἐκ τῆς θεοτόκου προσθήκην υἱοῦ οὐ πεποίηκε. μεμένηκε γὰρ τριὰς ἡ τριὰς
καὶ σαρκωθέντος τοῦ ἑνός τῆς τριάδος Θεοῦ λόγου . . . πάντα δὲ τὸν ἕτερόν τι φρονήσαντα
ἢ φρονοῠντα, ἢ νῦν ἢ πώποτε ἢ ἐν Καλχηδόνι ἢ οἵᾳ δήποτε συωόδῳ ἀναθήματίζομεν.
An appeal on behalf of union is then made to the Egyptians to whom the epistle is
addressed. Its dogmatic substance is not orthodox; the insincere way, however,
in which the Council of Chalcedon is not condemned, but ignored, shews that
there was a desire to tolerate Monophysitism. The Emperor. indeed cannot be
blamed for issuing the edict; in doing this he simply did his duty. But Petrus Mongus played a double game, and so too did Acacius. The result was that soon instead of two parties
there were three; for not only did the strict Monophysites renounce their
allegiance to the Alexandrian patriarch Peter Mongus who had concluded a union
with his Constantinopolitan colleague Acacius, but the Roman bishop too, Felix
II., (see the epp.) rejected the Henoticon and pronounced sentence of
excommunication on Acacius. Old and New Rome, which were already separated by
political circumstances, now came to be divided ecclesiastically, and this
schism lasted from 484 to 519. Since the Henoticon soon shewed itself to be
ineffective, it would have been brought to an end sooner if Rome had not
insisted on the condemnation of Acacius by his successors. The Monophysites soon
came forward again openly rejecting the Chalcedonian Creed, and those in the
Eastern Empire who adhered to it, and also the Henotics, had at first difficulty
in preventing the new Emperor Anastasius from formally doing
away with the unfortunate decree.See Rose, Kaiser Anastasius I., Halle, 1882. The confusion was now greater than it had
ever been. People who used one and the same Christological formula were often
further apart and more bitter against one another than were those who were
separated by. the wording of the formulæ. If the Emperor had not been a
capable ruler, things in the Empire would have got out of joint. He was
meanwhile always approaching nearer to Monophysitism with which he was
personally in sympathy, and on the side of which stood not only the more
fanatical, but also the more capable theologians, such as Philoxenus of Mabug,
and Severus. In Syria and Palestine the Monophysite cause already triumphed amid
terrors of all sorts; but the capital, Constantinople, and Thrace, with the
true instinct of self-preservation held to the Chalcedonian Creed against the
Emperor, the patron of heretics, and Vitalian,On the importance of the part played by Vitalian, see Loofs, p. 243 ff., and in
addition Joh. Antioch. in Müller, Fragm. hist. gr. V., p. 32 sq. a fierce general, a
semi-barbarian, and rebel who was yet the forerunner of Justinian who taught him
politics, made common cause with the Chalcedonians against his monarch. The
Emperor had to submit to the powerful general; but it was not possible, even by
making all sorts of concessions in regard to the dogmatic question, to get Rome,
which put forward exorbitant claims, to agree to a policy of oblivion in
reference to Acacius. Anastasius did not come to any agreement with the Pope
Hormisdas. But what he did not succeed in doing was successfully accomplished by
his successor Justin, or rather by the nephew and director of the new Emperor
Justin, Justinian, in conjunction with Vitalian. They saw that for the
re-establishment of the authority of the Emperor and the state in the Empire,
the re-establishment of the Chalcedonian Creed and of the league with Rome, was
indispensable. After that the authority of the four Councils had been once more
solemnly recognised in Constantinople, everywhere throughout the Empire the
orthodox raised their heads. Hormisdas did not himself appear in the capital;
but his legates succeeded in getting almost everything he had asked. Again did
the Roman bishop, like Leo before him, help the Byzantine State to gain
the victory over the ecclesiastical movements. Orthodoxy was again restored and
the names of the authors and defenders of the Henotikon, from Acacius and Zeno
downwards were erased from the sacred books (519). The purification of Syria and
its chair from the monophysite heresy meanwhile created some difficulty. The
attempt to get the more determined Monophysites out of the way was, it is true,
successful, but as soon it became a question as to who were to be their
successors, it at once became evident again that the Chalcedonian Creed was
understood in a different way in Rome and in the East respectively, and that the
East had not got rid of the suspicion of Nestorianism so far as Rome was
concerned.
This difference emerged in a very characteristic fortn in the so-called
Theopaschitian controversy.See Hauck in the Realencyklop. Vol. XV. p. 534 ff. The formulæ, “God has suffered”, “God was
crucified”, were time-honoured formsSee Vol. I., p. 187. of speech in the Church and had never
been quite forgotten. But after there had been so much speculation regarding the
Trinity and the Incarnation, these formula came to be discussed too. Still, even
after the formation of the Chalcedonian Creed, it seemed to be impossible to
disapprove of them; for if Mary was to be called θεοτόκος this meant that they
were approved of. Nevertheless opposition soon shewed itself when the
Monophysite patriarch of Antioch, Petrus Fullo, with the approval of his
co-religionists, formulated the Trishagion as follows: Holy God, Holy the
mighty one, Holy the immortal one who was crucified for us:
ἅγιος ὁ Θεός, ἅγιος ἰσχυρός, ἅγιος ἀθάνατος, ὁ
σταυρωθεὶς δι᾽ ἡμᾶς. The Emperor approved of this
innovation which, however, at once met with opposition in Antioch itself, and
which cost one of those who had to do with it his life. In the capital a
controversy broke out when some Scythian monks, whose soundness in the faith was
unimpeachable, defended the orthodoxy of the formula, “one of the Trinity was
crucified—suffered in the flesh” (“unum de trinitate, esse crucifixum—passum
carne”), about the year 518. The legates of Pope Hormisdas, bearing in mind Leo’s
doctrinal letter, opposed it as being incompatible with the Catholic Faith! The Pope himself
was now concerned in the matter. A decision was necessarily urgently
desired—on the part of the Emperor too; for the relations had become so
strained that any sudden movement might throw the whole Church into confusion.
Hormisdas hesitated about giving an answer; he neither wished to disavow his
legates nor too openly to reject the formulæ. The decision which he finally
gave in a letter to the Emperor Justin (521), was to the effect that everything
was already decided, without, however, saying what was to be regarded as
authoritative. This declaration which shewed his perplexity roused just
indignation not only in Constantinople but also in North Africa. Justinian, who
at first did not approve of the formula,—so long, that is, as he still followed
in the wake of Vitalian,— afterwards held to it all the more strongly, the more
he urged the strictly Cyrillian interpretation of the Chalcedonian Creed. When
he had the power he got the Popes too to acknowledge it, had the faithful but
impolitic partisans of Rome, the Akoimetan monks in Constantinople,
excommunicated, and finally got the formula sanctioned at the Fifth Ecumenical
Council, that our Lord who was crucified in the flesh, Jesus Christ, was one of
the Trinity.See on the controversy Marcellinus, Euagr. Theophanes, Victor Tun., The
Letters of Hormisdas, Mansi VIII. c. IX. Noris, Hist. Pelag. Disser. I. 1702. On
the Scythian Monks, see Loofs, pp. 229-261.
It is apparently necessary to make a sharp distinction between the attempt of
the Monophysites to give an extension to the Trishagion in a Theopaschitian
sense, and the assertion of the Scythian monks that the doctrinal formula: “One
of the Trinity suffered in the flesh”, was orthodox. That attempt was rejected
because it involved an innovation in worship and because it could be interpreted
in a Sabellian sense. Orthodoxy putting this meaning on it, gave the name “Theopaschitian” a permanent place in its collection as a heretical name. On the
other hand it was, to begin with, purely owing to Roman obstinacy that the
formula proposed by the Scythians, and which, moreover, rather justifies than
adopts the monophysite formula, was objected to. But it has been recently very
justly remarkedSee Loofs, op. cit., pp. 53, 231 f., 248 ff., whose splendid investigations
have been made use of is what follows. that the cause of the offence which the formula gave,
even to some of the Chalcedonians, is not to be looked for within the
Christological, but on the contrary within the Trinitarian, domain. This brings
us to a complete change which took place in the theology of that period and
which claims the most serious attention.
Attention has been already drawn to the fact, (Vol. III., p. 154 and above p.
126) that in the course of the transition from the fifth to the sixth century
Aristotelianism once more became the fashion in science. This revolution helped
to bring about the naturalisation of the Chalcedonian Creed in the Church, or
what amounts to the same thing, contributed towards reconciling Greek religious
feeling to it. While up to the beginning of the sixth century orthodoxy was
without any theologians, we come across a man in the first half of the century
who both as theologian and student of dogma was as able as he was prolific, and
in the case of whom one feels that while he believes and thinks as Cyril
believed and thought, his determined defence of the Chalcedonian Creed was
nevertheless not in any way forced out of him—Leontius of Byzantium (c.
485-543).Loofs was the first to throw light on his works, his personality, and his
history. When, however, we try to find out by what means he, as a theologian
of the school of Cyril, succeeded in accommodating himself to the Chalcedonian
Creed, it becomes clear that he was helped to this by the Aristotelian
conceptual distinctions, and therefore by scholasticism. Leontius was the first
scholastic.This description is to be taken with the qualification that in his theological
thinking he still shewed a certain freedom. While the proofs alleged by Loofs in
favour of the view that the “Origenist” Leontius is identical with the Byzantine
(pp. 274-297) are indeed not absolutely decisive, though to my mind they are
convincing, one can see that Leontius held the great master in veneration
without following him in his doubtful statements. But nothing is more
characteristic of the period upon which the Church had now entered than the fact
that even this academic veneration for Origen was no longer tolerated. Leontius
was described as “Origenist” and Loofs’ conjecture is quite correct (p. 296)
that Joh. Damascenes, that in a certain sense the Eastern Church itself,
consigned this theologian of theirs to oblivion because he was still too liberal. While, owing to his faith, he stood in an intimate relation to
Greek religious feeling, the Chalcedonian formula presented itself to him as an
inviolable doctrine promulgated by the Church. But
while he unweariedly defended it against Nestorians, Apollinarians, and Severians, dogmatic and religious considerations were put entirely into the
background; their place was taken by an exposition of doctrine based on
philosophical conceptions.See Loofs, p. 60: “It is neither exegetical, nor religious arguments which
are given a foremost place, but philosophical, and the philosophical theory upon
which the arguments of our author rest, has a decidedly Aristotelian and not a
Platonic origin. Our author is a forerunner of John of Damascus.” He treated of substance, genus, species, individual
being, of the attributes which constitute the substance, of inseparable
accidents and of separable accidents.See the explanations given by Loofs of the apparatus of conceptions used by
Leontius, p. 60-74. The entire distinction between the Western conception and
that which combines the views of Cyril and Leontius is to be found in scientific form in the statement of Leontius:
οὐκ ἔστι φύσις ἀνυπόστατος . . . ἀνυπόστατος
μὲν οὖ φύσις, τουτέστιν οὐσία, οὐκ ἂν εἴη ποτέ.
The Western legal fiction of a distinction between person and nature is here pitched aside. I do not enter
into further detail regarding the theology of Leontius because in an outline of
the History of Dogma it must suffice to ascertain its tendency and methods.
Anything further belongs to the history of theology. It was on the result of these discussions
that the conceptions of the natures and the hypostasis in Christ were based;
the Aristotelian δευτέρα οὐσία, or second substance, was given a place of
prominence, and thus the Chalcedonian Creed was justified. All the Aristotelian
splitting of conceptions did not, it is true, cover the most crucial point of
all—namely, the exposition of the unity. Here, however, Leontius had recourse to
the idea of the Enhypostasis of the human nature; thus proving in the clearest
way that he wished to keep the Chalcedonian definition on the lines laid down by
Apollinaris and Cyril and not on those laid down in Leo’s doctrinal letter.The expedient of the enhypostasis was adopted in order to meet the objection
urged by the Monophysite Severus against the Chalcedonian Creed and Leo’s
doctrine, that two energies necessarily lead to two hypostases. Leontius,
following up a hint of Cyril herewith shews that if the relative standards of
criticism are once abandoned, all Greeks who start from the doctrine of
redemption, must be Apollinarians in disguise. Leontius was the first who
definitely maintained that the human nature of Christ is not ἀνυπόστατις nor on
the other hand an independent ὑπόστασις, but that it has its
ὑποστῆναι ἐν τῷ λόγῳ. Leontius refers to the mode of the existence of the
ποιότητες οὐσιώδεις in the ousia. The comparison is naturally defective since these
ποιότητες
do not in themselves constitute a φύσις. In fact all comparisons are defective.
Neither Plato nor Aristotle is responsible for this philosophy. A pious Apollinarian monk would probably have been able
to say with regard to the ὑποστῆναι ἐν τῷ λόγῳ: “Apollinaris says pretty
much the same thing only in somewhat more intelligible words.” In the whole way in which Leontius
transferred the Nestorian-Monophysite controversy into the region of Philosophy,
we may accordingly see a momentous revolution. This much, however, is certain,
that his violent μετάβασις εἰς ἄλλο γένος was the condition of the gradual
reconciliation of the East with the Chalcedonian CreedLoofs, p. 72 ff. shews that the Chalcedonian element is strongly represented
in the doctrine of Leontius and that in the efforts he made to do it justice we
see the presence of the modern element of personality as distinguished from
physic, though indeed only as a kind of shadow of it. and that in intrinsic
importance it may be classed along with the method of counting up authorities.
Only in this way was it possible for Leontius to accept the formula as
authoritative, and, spite of the dry form in which it was put, to regard it with
respect from the religious point of view and at the same time to see in it an
inexhaustible subject for the display of dialectical skill. It is undeniable
that Chalcedonian orthodoxy was first firmly established in the East in the age
of Justinian, that is to say, inner agreement with the Chalcedonian Creed was
then first secured to any large extent, and this without abandoning Cyril’s
religious theology, but on the contrary while emphasising it and giving it the
preference.The energetic opposition to the Antiochian theology is specially worthy of
note in this connection. lip to the beginning of the Sixth Century the
Chalcedonians were in such a state of alarm owing to the decree, that they could
find no. fixed point from which to carry on the old and to them supremely
important struggle against the “dismemberment”. Leontius was the first to resume
Cyril’s attack on it and to carry on the interrupted work of repelling the most
dangerous of all enemies. If this is so then the only possible explanation of these facts is
that supplied by the entrance of Aristotelian scholasticism into the Church. The
Chalcedonian dogma is lost in philosophical theology. The Faith and the Church
were to a certain extent relieved, feeling reassured by the knowledge that the
dogma was in safe keeping and in good hands, as it were. One can forget the
scruples to which it gives rise, when one is confident that there are scholars
who are able by the aid of a definite set of technical terms to make everything
right. Here, too, for this reason, the work of the historian of dogma ceases; his place is taken by the historian of theology.
Leontius was himself one of the Scythian monks.See Loofs, p. 228 ff. The fact that this great
opponent of the Monophysites championed the Theopaschitian formula and his
criticism of the Antiochian theology, prove how far removed he was from
Nestorianism. But the formula by its characteristic difference from the older
conception, that of Petrus Fullo, further proves that the introduction of the
Aristotelian philosophy into theology called for a restatement of the docttine
of the Trinity. The “unus ex trinitate” is opposed to the “thrice holy” who
was crucified for us. Tritheistic tendencies were not wanting at that period,
and this is true of both sides in so far as attention was given to the
Aristotelian philosophy. That Petrus Fullo, who as a Monophysite so
energetically made the Trinity into a unity, was, it is true, no Aristotelian,
but neither is his formula in any way typical of Monophysitism as a whole.
The latter on the contrary for the two or three generations after the
Chalcedonian Creed, shews that it had in it sufficient life and vigour to be
accessible to the influence of the most varied movements and thoughts. It shews
during this period that it was the expression of spiritual and theological life
in the East generally. The state of petrifaction, barrenness, and barbarism into
which it afterwards got, did not yet actually exist, although signs of its
approach were evident amongst the fanatical masses and the ignorant monks. It is
significant, to begin with, that Monophysitism did not allow itself to be
carried to extremes by the blow dealt it by the Chalcedonian Creed. That is a
proof of the goodness of its cause and of its power. The Monophysites were
strongly bent on keeping clear of “Eutychianism”. Anything like mingling or transformation was out of the
question, in fact Eutyches himself was abandoned to his fate.See Martin, Pseudo-Synode, p. 53. Then the
readiness shewn by a large section of the Monophysites to come to terms with
orthodoxy if only the Chalcedonian Creed and the objectionable dogmatic
development in Leo’s doctrinal letter were got out of the way, is a proof that
they really strictly maintained the position of Cyril. This is true very specially of the most important champion of
Monophysitism—Severus. The attempt has indeed been to draw a distinction, as
regards doctrine, between Cyril and Severus, but the attempt does not seem to me
to have been successful.See Loofs, p. 53 ff. The sources of information regarding the Christology of
Severus are given there, p. 54. I refrain from giving any account of it (see
Gieseler, op. cit. I., Dorner II., p. 166 ff.), since its identity with Cyril’s
doctrine seems to me to follow from the evidence brought forward by Loofs. It is
interesting to note that Severus deduces from the Chalcedonian Creed the
hypothesis of two natural energies and two wills, and further employs this
deduction against his opponents as an argumentatio ad absurdum. No one in the
East knew just at that time what was still to come in the succeeding century.
The statement of Severus: οὐκ ἐνεργεῖ ποτὲ φύσις οὐχ ὑφεστῶσα, from which he
concludes that in Leo’s view there are two hypostases, is highly noteworthy and
is quite in accordance with Cyril’s ideas. Gieseler, op. cit. I., p. 9. Cyril, equally with Severus, would have objected to
Leo’s assertion that each nature in Christ effects what is peculiar to it,
though in conjunction with the other. The emphasis laid by Severus on the one
energy is genuinely Cyrillian, and the expression borrowed from the Areopagite,
ἐνέργεια θεανδρική, “theandric energy”, by no means approaches so near the limits
of the permissible as the expression θεοτόκος. But neither is there any
difference in the formulæ, μία φύσις τοῦ λόγου σεσαρκωμένη, “one incarnate
nature of the Logos” and μία φύσις τοῦ λόγου σεσαρκωμένου, “one nature of
the incarnate Logos”; for Cyril too, logically attributed one nature not only to
the God-Logos but also to the Christ. The communication of properties according
to him, involves in every respect the natures. But there is not even any trace
of a theological difference between Severus and Leontius.See the 30 κεφάλαια of Leontius
κατὰ Σευήρου (Migne 86, 2, p. 1901 sq.). See
the notice in Loofs, p. 79 ff. It is highly amusing to notice how two authors
whose ideas are exactly the same appear to have absolutely distinct views owing
to the different terminology, “one nature”, “two natures”. In Thesis XI. where
the Trinity and Christology are treated together in a scientific way, Leontius
says: “If, according to Gregory, we have in the case of the Holy Trinity the
reverse of what we have in the οἰκονομία κατὰ τὸν σωτῆρα, then in the case of
the latter we must have two natures and one hypostasis, just as in that of the
former we have three hypostases and one nature.” The difference
consists purely in the extent to which each was desirous of accommodating his
views to the Chalcedonian Creed and interpreting Leo’s doctrinal letter in bonam
partem, and also in the philosophico-theological terminology
employed. The statements of Severus regarding the one composite nature,
the μεταστοιχείωσιςSee Gieseler, op. cit. II. p. 3. or transformation etc., express absolutely nothing else
than what is found in the formulæ of Leontius which are in part expressed in an
entirely different and in fact in an opposite way. Leontius accepts the
enhypostasis of the human nature in Christ, and Severus strictly defends himself
against the supposition that he teaches that the human nature in any way loses
its natural peculiarity in the union. It is simply that unfortunate Chalcedonian
Creed which stands between the opponents, and what separates them therefore is
the question as to whether the Western terminology is to be followed or not.
That this is the case is proved by the attitude taken up by Severus to the
Extreme Right of his party. The Henoticon had already split up the Egyptian
Monophysites. One section of them had renounced connection with Petrus Mongus
(ἀκέφαλοι). But in Syria, too, at the beginning of the Fifth Century we find
several tendencies amongst them. The blow dealt them after the restoration of
orthodoxy in 519 drove them to Egypt, and there actual splits took place. Even
the strictest party amongst them did not put forth the catchword “transformation”; but in seriously reflecting on the problem as to how a human nature must be
constituted after a God had made it His own, they arrived at propositions which
were perfectly logical and which for this very reason referred back to Irenæus,
Clemens Alex., Origen, Gregory Nyss., Hilary, Apollinaris, and to some
utterances of Dioscurus and Eutyches. Their leader, Julian of Halicarnassus who
was opposed by the Severians, developed the doctrine of the one nature into the
doctrine of the identity of the substance and properties of the divinity and the
humanity in Christ. The hypothesis of the indestructibleness of the body of
Christ from the moment of the assumptio, became the shibloleth of the
“Julianists” or Gaians, who, now nicknamed Aphthartodoketæ and Phantasiasts by
the Severians, retorted with the word “Phthartolatry”. The Julianists, whose
point of view was determined solely by the thought of redemption, did not shrink
from maintaining the perfect glorification of the body of Christ from the very first, and in accordance with this saw
in the emotions and sufferings of Christ not the natural—though in
reference to the Godhead the voluntary—states consequent on the human nature, but
the acceptance of states κατὰ χάριν, which were regarded as having no inner connection
with the nature of the Redeemer as that of the God-man. This nature being entirely
free from all sin was also supposed to have nothing in common with suffering and
death.The extremely
instructive second treatise of Gieseler supplies us with abundant material. Gieseler
has brought out two things at the same time (1) that these Julianists (see the sixth
anathema of Julius, p. 6) started from the idea of redemption, according to which
the Logos assumed our flesh (ὁμοούσιος), but that as it (second Adam) was not
subject to sin so neither was it subject to corruptio, and that in the moment of
the assumptio He raised it to the state of the Divine. A homousia of the body of
Christ with our body after the Incarnation would do away with all the comfort and
the certainty of redemption. For the Logos assumed our nature just in order that
He might free it from φθορά; if therefore the human nature of Christ had been still
subject to φθορά then redemption would be rendered uncertain. Gieseler has shewn
(2) that this idea is identical with the idea of the classic fathers of the Church,
that while they undoubtedly shewed some hesitation as regards the conclusions to
be drawn from it, still all the conclusions drawn by the Julianists, or by Philoxenus,
are represented in one or other of the classical witnesses. Above all the Julianist
and Philoxenian statement that in the case of Christ all passiones were not assumed
naturally, but in the strictest sense voluntarily, κατ᾽ οἰκονομίαν or
κατὰ χάριν,
(Gieseler, p. 7) is merely the vigorous echo of the oldest religious conviction.
It was the sharper distinction between the divinity and the humanity in the incarnate
one, worked out in the Arian controversy, that first endangered this conviction.
Apollinaris sought to give some help here, but it was no longer of any avail. Gieseler
very rightly calls attention to the fact that in the Apollinarian school the dispute
between the Polemians and Valentinians corresponds exactly to the dispute between
the Julianists and Severians, i.e., in the case of the former the same conclusions
had been already drawn and had in turn been denied, which the Monophysites afterwards
drew. Of these some went the length of assuming the divinity of Christ's blood and
spittle (see besides, Athanasius, ad Serap. IV. 14; “Christ spat as a man, and His
spittle was filled with the Godhead”), and, strictly speaking, the Church itself
never could nor would dispense with this ancient idea spite of its doctrine of the
two natures. The very same people who got excited about Aphthartodoketism had never
any scruples in speaking about the blood of God, and in thinking of that blood as
actually divine. We cannot therefore avoid seeing in Aphthartodoketism the logical
development of the Greek doctrine of salvation, and we are all the more forced so
to regard it that Julian expressly and ex necessitate fidei acknowledged the homousia
of the body of Christ with our body at the moment when the Logos assumed it, and
rejected everything of the nature of a heavenly body so far as its origin was concerned. In opposition to this view the Severians laid so much stress on the relation
of the sufferings of Christ to the human side of Christ's nature
in order to rid them of anything doketic, that no Western could have more
effectively attacked doketism than they did.The passages are in Gieseler I. p. 20. The distinctions which were made are
highly significant in view of the period of scholasticism which was approaching. There
are two sorts of φθορά; Christ was subject to the natural πάθη of the body,
but not to the φθορά as ἡ εἰς τὰ ἐξ ὧν συνετέθη τὸ σῶμα στοιχεῖα διάλυσις.
(Gieseler, p. 4). We find in general amongst the
Severians such a determined rejection of all doctrinal extravagances—though
these are not to be regarded as absurdities, but as signs of the settled nature
of the belief in redemption—that we are glad to be able clearly to see how
unnecessary it was in the East to adopt the Chalcedonian Creed, and to replace
the μία φύσις of Cyril by the doubtful doctrine of the two natures. One section
of the Monophysites nevertheless went the length of asserting that the human
soul of Christ was not omniscient (“Agnoetæ”), so that as regards the one
energy of the God-Man, a distinction is to be drawn even in the sphere of
knowledge between what it did as possessed of divine knowledge and what it did
as humanly ignorant. This idea yields to none of the Monophysite eccentricities
in absurdity,Thomasius indeed finds it “remarkable” (p. 375) that the majority of the
orthodox teachers of the Church, Jerome, Ambrose, the Patriarch Eulogius, the
Roman Gregory, rejected the doctrine of the Agnoetæ and attributed to Christ an
absolute knowledge which he concealed temporarily only κατ᾽ ὀικονομίαν. These
Fathers had not yet succeeded in doing what the Agnoetæ and the modern theologians
can manage and do—namely, to imagine a Christ who at the one and the same time
knew as God what he did not know as man and was yet all the while one person. and indeed it differs from them for the worse by the fact of its
having no religious thought as its basis. While one section of the Monophysites
thus did the work of criticising their own party better than any Chalcedonian
could have done without incurring the reproach of Nestorian-ism, a philosophy of
identity made its appearance amongst certain individuals in the party itself,
which might have raised the fear that it would turn into Pantheism, if there had
been any danger of its doing this at the time. On the mystical side, this had
indeed been accomplished long ago, but this was very far from involving an
intellectual mode of conceiving of things. Still it is of importance to note
that an approach was made in this direction from two sides. First there were
Monophysites who took up with the thought that the body of Christ from
the moment of the assumptio was to be considered as untreated, the view of the
Aktistetæ. If the Father can communicate to the Son the attribute of
unbegottenness, and at that time no one any longer doubted that he could, why
should the Logos not also be able to give His body the attributes of the
uncreated; and in fact if it is His body, could He help doing this? Here
already we meet with the thought that something created can nevertheless be
something eternal. We hear no more of a flesh which was brought hither from
heaven, but a kindred idea takes the place of this heretical thought. In the
second place there were people, the Adiaphorites,See Möller, R.-Encykl. X., p. 248. Stephanus Niobes is mentioned as the
originator of this line of thought. who refused to make any
distinction between the divinity and the humanity in Christ, and this denial of
all distinction further led some Syrian and Egyptian monks to the speculative
idea, or to put it otherwise, gave increased strength to the speculative idea,
that Nature in general is of one substance with God (see Vol. III., p. 302), a
thought which had points of contact with mystical religious practices.Frothingham in his Stephen bar Sudaili (1886) has now given us information
regarding the Syrian Pantheistic thinkers amongst the Monophysites about the
year 500 and further down. All Scotus Erigena is in Barsudaili. The Pantheistic
mysticism of this Syrian and his friends merits the serious attention not of the
historian of dogma, but of the historian of philosophy and culture. Scotus and
the Pantheistic Mystics of the Middle Ages stand in closer connection with these
Syrians than with the Areopagite. 1 Cor. XV. 28 supplies the central doctrine here. If all
these movements illustrate the inner life of Monophysitism which within itself
once more passed through old forms of development, the attention it gave to the
Aristotelian philosophy and such excellent works as those published by Joh.
Philoponus, finally proves too that it did not in any way shrink from contact
with the great spiritual forces of the time. The tritheistic controversy was in
all essential respects fought out on its own ground, and the boldness and
freedom shewn by the scholarly Monophysites, in the face too of tradition,See Stephanus Gobarus in Photius, Cod. 232. He is also Aristotelian and
Tritheist; noteworthy also for his bold criticism of tradition.
bears witness to the fact that in the Chalcedonian Creed a foreign power had
imposed itself on the Church of the East.On the Tritheists, see Schönfelder, Die Kirchengesch. des Johann v. Ephesus,
p. 267 ff. The works of Philoxenus, Bishop of Hierapolis, who has lately been
termed the best Syrian stylist, have been hitherto wholly neglected and still await an editor.
2. The restitution of orthodoxy in the year 519 coincides with the successful
efforts of the theologians who were skilled in the Aristotelian philosophy, to
furnish the Church which clung to the Chalcedonian Creed with a good conscience.
It is possible to accept the Chalcedonian Creed as authoritative and at the same
time to think exactly as Cyril thought: this was the result arrived at by the
“new Cappadocians”, the “new Conservatives”, as Leontius and his friends came
to be called, who made terms with the two natures in the same way as the
oriental scholars in the Fourth Century did with the ὁμοούσιος; and it is
this conviction which lies at the basis of Justinian’s policy in reference both
to the Church and the State. If the efforts of former emperors in so far as they
favoured Monophysitism were directed towards getting rid of the Chalcedonian
Creed or consigning it to oblivion, the policy of the Emperor, which had the
support of the new conservative theology, was to make use of the power which
every fait accompli, and therefore too a Council, supplies, and at the same
time to do justice to the old tendencies of Greek piety. It was the Roman bishop
who was hardest hit by such a policy. For the second time he had contributed
towards giving the Emperor of the East a firmer position in the country, this
time by doing away with the schism. But the friend had not become any more
harmless than he was in the year 451. As at that time he was, after having done
what was required of him, quietly pushed back within his own boundaries by the
28th Canon of the Council, so on this occasion too he was to get a poor reward
for his services. It was not intended that Rome should triumph in the East, but
that the Emperor of the East should once more become the Lord of Rome. The
dogmatic union with the West represented the terms on which it was to be made
ecclesiastically and politically subject to the Emperor.
Justinian’s policy has in it an element of greatness. He once more set up the
world-empire and pacified the Church, and yet his civil and ecclesiastical policy of conquest was unsound and
its results lacked permanence. He did not know how to win over the Monophysites,
and by his Western policy he did harm to the much more important Eastern policy.
Some years after his accession Justinian arranged a grand religious discussion
in Constantinople between the Severians and the Theopaschitian Orthodox (531).
It is of some importance because it shews the extent of the advances made by the
Orthodox towards the Monophysites under the guidance of Hypatius of Ephesus in
conformity with the wish of the Emperor.See the Acts in Mansi VIII., p. 817 sq., Loofs, p. 263 f. Leontius took part
in the discussion and it was dominated by his theology. The orthodox held firmly to the
Chalcedonian Creed, but allowed that the Council had also approved of the
phrase, one incarnate nature (!);See 823: “Sancta synodus utrosque sermones (two and one natures) pari honore
suscepit et pertractat.” on the other hand they rejected as
Apollinarian forgeries the testimonies of their opponents in reference to the
condemnation of the words “in duabis naturis” on the part of the ancient
fathers.It was here that the Areopagite was first cited as an authority—by the
Severians, p. 820; his writings were, however, described by the orthodox as
doubtful. About the same time the Emperor issued several edicts regarding the
true Faith (533), which in thesi were based on the Chalcedonian Creed, but did
not reproduce its formulæ; on the contrary they evaded the use of them and
contained besides, the addition that it is necessary to believe that the Lord
who suffered was one of the Holy Trinity.Cod. Justinian (ed. Krüger), de summa trinit. 6-8. The words:
ἑνὸς καὶ τοῦ αὐτοῦ τὰ τε θαύματα καὶ τὰ πάθη, ἅπερ ἑκουσίως ὑπέμεινεν σαρκί . . . οὔτε τετάρτου
προσώπου προσθήκην ἐπιδέχεται
ἡ ἁγία τρίας, are worthy of note. Pope John II., 534, had to approve of the Theopaschitian addition. The Emperor, who had himself an
interest in dogma, already here shewed what his policy was, namely, to take back
the Church in all that was essential entirely to Cyril, but to allow the
Chalcedonian Creed to remain authoritative. Thus as matters stood, the formula:
ἕνα τῆς ἁγίας τρίαδος πεπονθέναι σαρκί, “one of the Holy Trinity suffered
in the flesh”, was a henotikon. But the Empress went still further. She had
always favoured the Monophysites, one cannot even say secretly; the various
threads of the undertaking the object of which was to assist “the pious doctrine” to triumph,
all met in her cabinet, and it appeared not impossible that the Emperor might in
the end be got also to agree to the formal abandonment of the Chalcedonian Creed
and consequently to a new actual henotikon.Loofs, p. 304 f., has shewn, however, that at this time Justinian was
following the lead of Leontius. The appointment of Anthimus, a
Monophysite in disguise, as patriarch of the Capital, and the admission of
Severus to the Court, prepared the way for the final blow which was to be struck
at the Chalcedonian Creed. But once more did the Roman bishop, who was informed
of what was going on by Ephraem of Antioch, save orthodoxy. In the year 536
Agapetus appeared at the Court of the Emperor and succeeded in getting Anthimus
removed from his post and excommunicated. A Council which was held under the
presidency of the new patriarch Mennas at Constantinople in the year 536, after
the death of Agapetus who died in the capital, and which has left behind an
extensive collection of Acts,Mansi VIII., pp. 877-1162. put an end to the Monophysitism which was making
overtures in an underhand way, acknowledged anew the expression:
“ἐν δύο φύσεσι”, “in two natures”, and deposed and anathematised Anthimus. It is
important that the Council which followed in the track of the theology of
Leontius and upon which Leontius himself had some influence, roundly declared
through its leader that nothing whatever ought to be done in the Church contrary
to the will and command of the Emperor, but at the same time also added the
following: “We both follow and obey the apostolic throne (Rome) and we regard
those in communion with it as in communion, and those condemned by it we also condemn”:
ἡμεῖς τῷ ἀποστολικῷ θρόνῳ ἐξακολουθοῦμέν τε καὶ πειθόμεθα καὶ τοὺς κοινωνικοὺς
αὐτοῦ κοινωνικοὺς ἔχομεν, καὶ τοὺς ὑπ᾽ αὐτοῦ κατακριθέντας
καὶ ἡμεῖς κατακρίνομεν.P. 970. The days when the names of Marcian and Leo were
mentioned together, seemed to have returned. But the Pope at this time was no
Leo, and Justinian was more than Marcian. Besides Anthimus, Severus, about whom
the very worst calumnies were spread—that he was a heathen in disguise—and the heads of the Monophysite party of conciliation,
were condemned. Justinian confirmed this sentenceP. 1150 sq. by a decree (Aug. 536),
while he threatened all adherents of the accused with exile and ordered the
books of Severus as also those of Porphyry,P. 1154. to be burned. At the first glance
it seems paradoxical that the Emperor, who was himself not without Monophysite
leanings, was now so genuinely furious at Severus and accused him at once of
NestorianismP. 1151. and Eutychianism. But after what has been remarked above, (p.
241) the charge of Nestorianism is quite intelligible, and we can understand too
the aversion felt by the Emperor who had himself an interest in dogma. A
Monophysitism, such as that of Severus, which merely rejected the Chalcedonian
Creed, but which, moreover, in combating Aphthartodoketism got the length of
teaching in the most definite way the “division” of Christ, when once it was
thoroughly understood, could be regarded only with antipathy by the Imperial
theologian who had on the contrary always wished to have the Chalcedonian Creed
and Aphthartodoketism. A Jerusalem Council repeated the decrees of the Council
of Constantinople;Mansi VIII., p. 1164 sq. but it was impossible to restore tranquillity in Egypt.
The Severian Theodosius had to make way for the Julianist Gajanus as Patriarch,
and the Patriarch sent by the Emperor so seriously compromised his patron that
he had to be excommunicated.Liberat. Brev. 23.
In the measures he took the Emperor, however, never lost sight of his design
which was to win over the Monophysites, and it is at this point that the
humiliation of the Roman bishop begins, though he was himself undoubtedly mainly
to blame. The theology of Antioch was still something highly objectionable in
the eyes of all pious-minded persons. It seemed to be favoured by Leo’s
doctrinal letter and in fact to be put in a place of honour, and yet a large
section of the Eastern Orthodox were at one with all Monophysites in holding
that the great Antiochians “would have betrayed the secret”. People hated it for the same reason that they hate the Liberals
in the Church at the present day, and the Emperor certainly did not hate
it least, not to speak of the Empress, the patroness of all pious monks. The
Antiochians got the blame of “denying the divinity of Christ” and of dividing
the one Christ into two. The influential bishop, Theodorus Askidas of Cæsarea
in Cappadocia, is said to have advised the Emperor to make use of this
widespread hatred in the interest of his ecclesiastical policy. This man, an
enthusiastic pupil of Origen, had suffered seriously from the condemnation of
the latterOn this (in the year 544) see the concluding chapter. Since in the conflict
with Origenism Christology did not constitute the main cause of offence, we can
leave it out of account here. Still it must be admitted that certain features of
the Christology of Origen were acceptable to the Monophysites and to the monks
with Monophysite tendencies, and the discussions about Origen in the sixth
century took their start from here. to which he had assented against his will, and in order to divert
attention from Origen (Euagr. E. H. IV. 38) he got the Emperor persuaded to
believe that a great many Monophysites could be won over if a blow was struck at
the Antiochians.Regarding the Three Chapters’ dispute and the Fifth Council, there has been a
great controversy in the Catholic Church, which dates very far back and which is
still continued. We owe this controversy to the writings of the Jesuit Halloix
(for Origen; and unfavourable to the Fifth Council); the Augustinian Noris
(Diss. historica de synodo V., in favour of the Council) the Jesuit Garnier, in
the 17th century, and later, to those of the Ballerini. In more recent times
Vincenzi has sought in a big work which falsifies history (In S. Gregorii Nyss.
et Origenis scripta et doctrinam nova defensio, 5 Vols. 1864 sq.) to justify the
theses of Halloix, to rehabilitate Origen and Vigilius, and on the other hand
partly to “re-model” the Council and partly to bring it into contempt. The
Romish Church is not yet quite clear as to the position it should take up in
reference to the older Antiochians and Theodoret, and further, to Origen and
Vigilius. I am not acquainted with the work of Punkes, P. Vigilius und der
Dreicapitelstreit, München 1865. The fullest Protestant account is still that of
Walch, Vol. VIII. The most thorough study of the chief opponent of the imperial
policy, Facundus of Hermiane in North Africa, has been published by a Russian,
Dobroklonskij (188o); see on his work Theol. Lit. Ztg. 1880, n. 26. As a matter of fact what had given most serious offence to the
Monophysites in connection with the Council of Chalcedon, was that it pronounced
Ibas and Theodoret orthodox and was silent about Theodore.Theodore had still in the East and even in the monasteries some secret
adherents, apart from the Nestorians; see Loofs, pp. 274-297, 304. The Emperor, supported by Theodora, who
had long ago established a Monophysite branch-regime which made its influence
felt as far as Rome, issued, apparently in 543, an edict,No longer preserved. in which the person
and writings of Theodore, the Anti-Cyrillian writings of Theodoret, and the
letter of Ibas to the Persian Maris,Mansi VIII., p. 242 sq. were condemned. This was the edict of the
τρία κεφάλαια, the three points or chapters. The orthodox found themselves
placed by it in a most painful position. It was a political move on the part of
the Emperor forced on him by the circumstances in which he was placed, and a
better one could not have been contrived.Loofs, op. cit. has shewn that Justinian’s policy, which struck at once at
Origen and at Theodore, was occasioned by the disturbances in the monasteries of
Palestine where both had their sympathisers who had already come into sharp
conflict with each other. “The explanation of the fact that Justinian pretty
much about the same time struck at Origen with the one hand and at the Three
Chapters with the other, is to be found not in the ill-humour of Theodorus
Askidas, but in the state of things in Palestine.” The energetic attack already
made by Leontius on Theodore in the years 531-538 had prepared the way for a
decree which enjoined that the Chalcedonian Creed must positively not he
interpreted in the sense in which it was understood by Theodore; see Loofs, p.
307. The resolution to add the writings of Ibas and Theodoret, seems only to
have been come to at the last moment. The faithful adherents of the Fourth
Council had to face the alternative either of actually departing from orthodoxy
by the rejection of heterodox doctrines—for it was evident that a revision of
the Chalcedonian Creed was intended, which limited freedom in the interpretation
of it—or of having to defend what was questionable by way of protecting
doctrinal unity; for nobody could deny but that Theodore in particular had
actually taught heterodox doctrine. At the same time a sort of question du fait
was to be decided in addition. The question as to the views held by the Council
regarding things which it had not discussed, was to be settled. The Emperor
dictated what these views were. Distinctions were to be made between what the
whole Council had approved of and what had been approved of merely by individual
members; for example, in reference to the letter of Ibas. It was plain that all
this was bound only to be to the advantage of the Monophysites. It might be easy to point out to the Western opponents
of the imperial decree that they had been too sharp-sighted in hunting for
traces of Monophysite leaven, but as regards the main point they were entirely
in the right. The condemnation of the three chapters, so far as its tendency was
concerned, involved a revision of the Chalcedonian Creed. But the Emperor was in
the right too; for he corrected the conciliar-decree in accordance with the
spirit of the Eastern Church, which had been repressed at Chalcedon itself. He
destroyed the Western influence; he carried the Chalcedonian Creed back to
Cyril; he restored the dogmatic thought of the two Councils of Ephesus, without
meddling with the Creed of Chalcedon. All four patriarchs of the East took
offence at the condemnation of the Three Chapters and all four signed it after a
brief hesitation. Thus powerfully did the Emperor make his rule felt in the
Church; there had been no such monarch since Constantius and Theodosius I. The
patriarchs worked their bishops and they too all submitted, although they felt
it difficult to consent to the condemnation of a bishop who a hundred years
before this had died at peace with the Church. What, however, they did not feel,
was the desolation created by this imperial measure. Origen was already
condemned; the condemnation of the Antiochene theology now followed on his. It
was now that the Church first fully provided itself with a falsified tradition,
by shutting out its true Fathers as heretics under the patronage of Justinian.
It is pretended that its theology had always been the same, and any one who at
an earlier period had taught otherwise, was no Father and Shepherd, but an
innovator, a robber and murderer. This Church tolerated no recollection of the
fact that it had once allowed room within it for a greater variety of opinion.
Justinian who closed the School of Athens, also closed the schools of Alexandria
and Antioch! He is the Diocletian of theological science and the Constantine of
scholasticism! In doing this he did not, however, impose anything on the Church; on the contrary he ascertained what were the true feelings of the majority,
probably realised them himself, and by satisfying them made the Church obedient
to the State; for the World-Church is to be feared only when provoked; when
satisfied it will allow any kind of yoke to be imposed upon it.
The outbreak of the controversy of the Three Chapters which followed on this and
its history, have an interest for the history of dogma merely owing to the fact
that the North African bishops and, speaking generally, most of the Western
bishops made such an energetic resistance to the condemnation of the Three
Chapters. The conduct of the Africans and especially the work of Facundus “pro
tribus capitulis”, are honourable pages in the history of the Punic Churches.
On the other hand in the conduct of the Roman Bishop we have a tragedy, the hero
of which was no hero, but on the contrary a rogue. Vigilius, the creature of
Theodora, the intellectual murderer of his predecessor, the man who was
Monophysite or Chalcedonian in accordance with orders, constantly changed his
opinion in the course of the controversy, according as he considered compliance
with feeling in the West or compliance with the commands of the Emperor, the
more necessary. Twice over he was forced by the Emperor to appear before the
tribunal of the Church as a liar when Justinian produced secret explanations of
his which contradicted his public utterances. His conduct both before the great
Council and after it was equally lamentable. The poorest of all the Popes was
confronted with the most powerful of the Byzantine Emperors.Duchesne, Vigile et Pélage, 1884.
Justinian considered a great Council to be necessary although he himself, about
the year 551, issued a second edict dealing with the affair of the Three
Chapters. This edictMansi IX., p. 539 sq. Loofs has briefly indicated the nature of the Emperor’s
theological writing (p. 310 f.) and has shewn how closely it is related to that of Leontius. which was framed by the Emperor himself who was always
theologically inclined, contains in the most verbose form the strictly Cyrillian
interpretation of the Chalcedonian decree. The Cyrillian formula of the “one
nature” is approved of, attention being, however, directed to the fact that
Cyril made no distinction between nature and hypostasis. Christ is one “composite
hypostasis”—ὑπόστασις σύνθετος. The Antiochian theology is rejected
in strong terms, the three chapters are condemned in this connection; but it is asserted that we must abide by the Chalcedonian
Creed. In order to sanction this edict, the Fifth Ecumenical Council was
opened at Constantinople in May 553, Vigilius protesting. The patriarch of the
capital presided. The Acts have not come down to us in their original form; we
have only part of them in a Latin translation. But we know from the proceedings
of the Sixth Council that interpolations were put into the Acts in the 7th
century (on the part of the Monothelites?) and that these interpolations were
traced at the time by means of palæographic investigations, though the documents
which had been foisted in were in no sense forgeries. The proceedings of the
Council which consisted of about 150 members amongst whom there were very few
Westerns, were unimportant; all it had to do was to throw the halo of the
Church round the imperial edicts. It condemned Origen, as Justinian desired;So with reason Noris, the Ballerini, Möller (R. Encykl. XI., p. 113) and Loofs
(pp. 287, 291) as against Hefele and Vincenzi.
it condemned the Three Chapters and consequently the Antiochian theology as
Justinian desired; it sanctioned the theopaschitian formula as Justinian
desired, and in its 14 long-winded anathemas it adopted the imperial edict of
551 as its own. But amongst those who thus said yes to everything, there were
few who spoke contrary to their convictions. The Emperor was really the best
dogmatist of his time and of his country—if it is the duty of the dogmatist to
ascertain the opinions of the majority. While giving a position of exclusive
authority to the interpretation of the Chalcedonian Creed on the lines of the
theology of Cyril, he hit upon the sense in which it was understood by the
Church of the East, i.e., by the majority in it.The anathemas so far as their positive form is concerned come very near
Monophysitism without actually falling into it—the most distinct divergence is
in No. 8. No. 7 goes furthest in the direction of meeting Monophysitism:
εἴ τις ἐν δύο φύσεσι λέγων, μὴ ὡς ἐν θεότητι καὶ ἀνθρωπότητι τὸν ἕνα κύριον ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦν
Χριστὸν γνωρίζεσθαι ὁμολογεῖ, ἵνα διὰ τούτου σημάνῃ τὴν διαφορὰν τῶν φύσεων, ἐξ
ὧν ἀσυγχύτως ἡ ἄφραστος ἕνωσις γέγονεν, οὕτε τοῦ λόγου εἰς τὴν τὴς σαρκὸς μεταποιηθέντος
φύσιν, οὔτε τῆς σαρκὸς πρὸς τοῦ λόγου φύσιν μεταχωρησάσης—μένει γὰρ
ἑκάτερον ὅπερ ἐστὶ τῇ φῦσει, καὶ γενομένης τῆς ἑνώσεως καθ᾽ ὑπόστασιν—, ἀλλ᾽ ἐπὶ διαιρέσει
τῇ ἀνὰ μέρος τὴν τοιαύτην λαμβάνει φωνὴν ἐπὶ τοῦ κατὰ Χριστὸν μυστηρίου,
ἢ τὸν ἀριθμὸν τῶν φύσεων ὁμολογῶν ἐπὶ τοῦ αὐτοῦ ἐνὸς κυρίου ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ τοῦ
Θεοῦ λόγου σαρκωθέντος, μὴ τῇ θεωρίᾳ μόνῃ τὴν διαφορὰν τούτων λαμβάνει, ἐξ ὧν
καὶ συνετέθη, οὐκ ἀναιρουμένην διὰ τὴν ἕνωσιν—εἷς γὰρ ἐξ ἀμφοῖν, καὶ δἰ ἐνὸς αμφότερα—ἀλλ᾽
ἐπὶ τούτῳ κὲχρηται τῷ ἀριθμῷ, ὡς κεχωρισμένας καὶ ἰδιοϋποστάτους
ἔχει τὰς φύσεις· ὁ τοιοῦτος ἀνάθεμα ἔστω. Observe how the
conception of number too gets a new meaning in Dogmatics and how in the dogmatic
sense the conception of number is to be taken in one way in connection with the
dogma of the Trinity and again in a different way in connection with the
Christological dogma. There we have already the whole of scholasticism! In the
same way “θεωρία” is now a conception which has first to get a new form for
Dogmatics. All throughout in these conceptions things which are irreconcileable must be shewn to be reconciled. The importance of the dogmatic
finding of 553 ought not to be underrated. In a certain sense the blow which the
West gave to the East at the Fourth Council was parried by the Fifth Council—in
the fashion in which this is done in general in matters of dogma. Rome had given
the formula of the two natures to the East, but a hundred years later the East
dictated to the West how this formula was to be understood, an interpretation of
it which in no way corresponded to the actual wording of the formula. At first
undoubtedly the decree of the Fifth Council called forth serious opposition in
the West.The opposition in the East was wholly unimportant; see Hefele, p. 903 f. But first Vigilius submitted,Two statements of Dec. 553 and Feb. 554. Hefele, 905 ff. then five years later the African
Church followed his example.Hefele, p. 913 f. Still the position of the successor of Vigilius,
Pelagius I., was very seriously endangered in the West. The Churches of Upper
Italy under the guidance of Milan and Aquileia renounced their allegiance to
Rome. Never in antiquity was the apostolic chair in such a critical condition as
at that time. Its occupant appeared to many in the West in the light of a State
bishop at the beck of Constantinople and deprived of ecclesiastical freedom. The
Lombard conquests set him free and rescued him from his position of dependence
on Byzantium. Gregory I. having once more regained strength politically and his
help being regarded as indispensable by those in Upper Italy who were threatened
by the Arians and the pagans, again gained over the larger part of Upper Italy
together with the Archbishop of Milan, though indeed it was at the price of a
temporary disavowal of the Fifth Council.Gregor I., epp. 1. IV., 2-4, 38, 39. Gregory had to make his orthodoxy certain
by acknowledging the four Councils. He was silent about the Fifth. Another part stood
aloof from Rome for a whole century. But in the West too at the same period
there was a decay of all independent interest in theological questions; when it
once more revived, the Church had the Fifth Council and the Cyrillian Dogmatics,
The East had revenged itself.
And yet one may doubt if Justinian’s policy was the right one which in
dogmaticis aimed at a mean between the Western and the Egypto-Syrian dogmatic.
It stopped half-way. For the sake of the West and of the basis supplied by the
Council of 451, the Emperor had adhered to the Chalcedonian Creed; for the sake
of the Monophysites and of his own inclinations he decreed the Theopaschitian
formula and the rejection of the Three Chapters. But in doing this he roused the
West against the spirit of Constantinople and against the Byzantine State, at
the very moment when he was making friendly overtures to it, and yet he did not
gain over the Monophysites.It was only temporally that the Melchites, led by some distinguished patriarchs,
once more got the mastery in Egypt; see Gelzer, Leontios von Neapolis, Lehen
des h. Johannes des Barmherzigen, Ezbischofs v. Alexandrien 1893. He could not find the right dogmatic formula for
the World-Empire which he created; what he did settle was the specific formula
for the patriarchate of Constantinople and its immediate belongings. He,
however, saw that himself; he wished to sanction Aphthartodoketism (564)Euagr. H. E. IV. 39, 40. which
was in harmony with his own dogmatic views and which might perhaps win over the
Monophysites. His policy was a logical one, and the Emperor set about carrying
it out with his wonted energy, beginning as usual by deposing the patriarch of
the capital. We cannot now say what would have happened; the opposition of the
Bishops, led this time by the Patriarch of Antioch, Anastasius Sinaita, would
perhaps have been overcome; but the Emperor died in November, 565, and his
successor Justin II. did not continue this policy. Still, under Justin II. the
attempts to gain over the Monophysites, by dragonnades and by friendly methods,
did not cease.A sort of henoticon of Justin’s in Euagr. V. 4; cf. the Church History of John
of Ephesus. Even at that time the Imperial bishops were throughout kept from acceding to the
extreme demands of the Monophysites by their desire to preserve communion with
the West. The vacillation in the imperial policy, its partial success and
partial failure, and the divisions among the Monophysites themselves, etc.,
belong to Church-History. The way was being prepared for renouncing entirely the
authority of Byzantium—and here the political-national movement everywhere
preceded the other,—and for the organisation in each case of a separate
ecclesiastical constitution. These aims were not definitely accomplished till
the seventh century, under entirely altered political conditions.On the Syro-Jacobite-Monophysite, the Coptic-Monophysite, the Abyssinian
Church, as well as on the Armenian Church which continued to be Cyrillian, not
Monophysite in the strict sense of word—see the article in Herzog’s R. Encykl.,
and better in the Dict. of Christ. Biog. and in Kattenbusch, op. cit. I., p. 205
ff.; cf. also Sibernagl op. cit.
4. The Monergist and Monothelite Controversies. The Sixth Council and Johannes Damascenus.See the material in Mansi X., XI.; in addition the works of Maximus Confessor,
of Anastasius Biblioth., of Anastasius Abbas, and the Chronographs; see also the
Lib. pontif. and the works of Joh. Damascenus. Accounts by Combefis (1648),
Tamagnini (1678), Assemani (1764), Gibbon, Walch (Vol. 9), Schröckh, Hefele,
Baur, and Dorner. Further, Möller in Herzog’s R. Encykl. (Art. “Monothel.”),
Wagenmann, there also, Art. “Maximus Confessor”.
Paul of Samosata equallySee Vol. III., p. 41. with the old AntiochiansIn the “Ekthesis” it is expressly admitted that Nestorius did not teach the
doctrine of two wills. had affirmed the doctrine
of the one will (μία θέλησις) in reference to Jesus Christ. The statement of
the former, “the different natures and the different persons have one single
mode of union,—agreement in will, from which it plainly appears that there is a
unity as to energy in the things thus joined together,”
(αἱ διάφοροι φύσεις καὶ τὰ διάφορα πρόσωπα ἕνα καὶ μόνον ἑνώσεως
ἔχουσι τρόπον τὴν κατὰ θέλησιν σύμβασιν, ἐξ ἧς ἡ κατὰ ἐνέργειαν
ἐπί τῶν οὕτως συμβιβασθέντων ἀλλήλοις ἀναφαίνεται μονάς), lies at the
basis of the Antiochene Dogmatic even after it had taken definite shape as a
doctrine of two natures. They were thus Monothelites. On the other hand, Gregory
of Nyssa, Cyril, and the Areopagite had taught the doctrine of one energy in Christ,
the latter with the definite addition “θεανδρική”.Dionys. Areop. (Opp. ed. Corderius, edit. Veneta 1755, T. I., p. 593), ep. 4, (ad Caium):
ἡμεῖς δὲ τὸν Ἰησοῦν οὐκ ἀνθρωπικῶς ἀφορίζομεν· οὐδὲ γὰρ ἄνθρωπος
μονον (οὐδὲ ὑπερούσιος ἢ ἄνθρωπος μόνον) ἀλλ᾽ ἄνθρωπος ἀληθῶς, ὁ διαφερόντως φιλάνθρωπος
ὑπὲρ ἀνθρώπους καὶ κατὰ ἀνθρώπους ἐκ τῆς τῶν ἀνθρώπων οὐσίας ὁ ὑπερούσιος
οὐσιωμένος . . . καὶ γὰρ ἵνα συνελόντες εἴπωμεν οὐδὲ ἄνθρωπος ἦν, οὐχ ὡς μὴ ἄνθρωπος,
ἀλλ᾽ ὡς ἐξ ἀνθρώπων, ἀνθρώπων ἐπέκεινα, καὶ ὑπὲρ ἄνθρωπον ἀληθῶς ἄνθρωπος γεγονώς.
Καὶ τὸ λοιπὸν οὐ κατὰ Θεὸν τὰ θεῖα δράσας, οὐ τὰ ἀνθρώπεια κατὰ ἄνθρωπον, ἀλλ᾽
ἀνδρωθέντος Θεοῦ καινήν τινα τὴν θεανδρικὴν ἐνέργειαν
ἡμῖν πεπολιτευμένος. The Antiochians and those
last mentioned meant, however, something different by their respective
statements. The view of the Antiochians was that the human nature by placing
itself at the service of the divine was wholly filled with the divine will—their
μία θέλησις was not the product of a physico-psychological, but of an ethical,
mode of regarding Christ. The Alexandrians regarded the God-Logos as the subject
of the God-Man who had made the human nature His own and used it as his organ;
they thus thought of a unity of energy having its roots in the unity of the
mysterious constitution of the God-Man. In Leo’s doctrinal letter there was what
was for the East a new conception of it—“Agit utraque forma quod proprium est”,
“each nature does what is peculiar to it”, though undoubtedly “cum alterius
communione”—“in union with the other”. This way of conceiving of it was
indirectly sanctioned by the Chalcedonian decree. In the century following it
gave great offence; it besides rendered it necessary to consider the nature of
the energy, the willing and the acting of Christ, and as a matter of fact it was
the most serious stumbling-block for the Severians whose thesis “one composite
nature” (μία φύσις σύνθετος) naturally demanded the “one energy”
(μία ἑνέργεια). But still owing to the Chalcedonian Creed a theory gradually got a
footing in the Church according to which each nature was considered by itself
while the unity was consequently conceived of as a product, and the doctrine of
the Agnoetæ (see p. 239) which made its appearance amongst the Severians proves
that even this party could not avoid what was a sort of splitting up of the one
Christ. The neo-orthodox theology of a Leontius and Justinian spite of its
Cyrillian character required that Christ should be conceived of as having two energies, although it is going too far to maintain
that already in the time of Justinian the question had been decidedLoofs, p. 316. in
accordance with the later orthodox view.According to anathema No. 3 of the Fifth Council the active principle in the
Redeemer is the undivided person who as such performs miracles and suffers. No. 8 is undoubtedly opposed to this:
μενούσης ἑκατέρας φύσεως, ὅπερ ἐστίν,
ἡνῶσθαι σαρκὶ νοοῦμεν τὸν λόγον. The dispute as to whether there was one will
or two, dates at least as far back as the beginning of the 6th century; but the
assertion of two wills is as a rule charged against the orthodox by their
opponents as the logical result of their views.
One might try to explain the fact that the question was raised in the seventh
century at all, from the “inner logic” of the matter; but the dogma in the
form in which it was settled under Justinian, still left room for the raising of
countless other questions which were not less important. As a matter of fact it
was a purely political consideration, the desire, namely, to win back the
Monophysite provinces, which conjured up the controversy. The latter accordingly
essentially belongs to political history and it will be sufficient here to fix
the most important points, since the doctrine of one will equally with that of
two wills would have been in harmony with the decisions of the Fourth and Fifth
Councils.
The patriarch of the capital, Sergius, advised his emperor, the powerful and
victorious Heraclius, (610-641) to secure the conquests he had once more made
in the South and East by meeting the Monophysites half way with the formula that
the God-Man consisting of two natures effected everything by means of one
divine-human energy. In support of this doctrine Sergius collected together
passages from the Fathers, large numbers of which belonging both to ancient and
recent times, lay to hand, won over influential clergy in Armenia, Syria, and
Egypt, and succeeded in conjunction with the Emperor in filling the eastern
Patriarchates with men whose views were similar to his own and actually laid the
foundation of a union with the Monophysites (633). But a Palestinian monk named Sophronius, who was afterwards bishop of Jerusalem, came to Egypt, declared the
μία ἐνέργεια to be “Apollinarianism”, seriously embarrassed the imperial
Patriarch, Cyrus, in Alexandria, and impressed even Sergius to whom he had recourse. As on the one hand, however,
there was a desire not to abandon again the position gained in reference
to the Monophysites, and as on the other it was necessary to avoid the
appearance of endangering orthodoxy, Sergius now declared that all discussion of
the question of energies was to cease, and signified his wish in this matter to
his colleagues in Alexandria and to the Emperor himself. He wrote at the same
time to Bishop Honorius of Rome.Shortly before this the controversy between Rome and Byzantium regarding the
title “Ecumenical Patriarch” had been going on; see Gelzer in the Jahrbb. f.
Protest. Theol. 1887, p. 549 ff., and Kattenbusch, op. cit. I., p. 111 f. The latter at that time published the
celebrated letter which played such an important part in 1870 and the treatment
of which in the second edition of Hefele’s History of the Councils has justly
occasioned so much surprise.See S. Theol. Lit. Ztg., 1878, No. XI. The letter is in Mansi, XI., p. 538 sq. Honorius in this letter describes Sophronius as a
man who is stirring up new controversies, praises Sergius for his great prudence
in discarding the new expression (μία ἐνέργεια) which might be a stumbling-block
to the simple, declares that Holy Scripture makes no mention either of one
energy or of two energies, that the latter expression is suggestive of
Nestorianism and the former of Eutychianism, and incidentally states as
something self-evident that “we confess one will of the Lord Jesus Christ”
(ἕν θέλημα ὁμολογοῦμεν τοῦ κυρίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ), that is, the one will of
the Godhead. This was not yet in any sense a controversial question; but
Sergius in his letter to Alexandria had regarded it as likewise self-evident
that in putting the question of the energies into the background he could not in
any case agree to the doctrine of two wills.The heterodoxy of Honorius does not certainly amount to much, since he adheres
to Leo’s doctrinal letter and since nothing was yet decided regarding the energies and the will. Meanwhile Sophronius in his
character as the new bishop of Jerusalem had issued a work definitely based on
the Chalcedonian Creed as interpreted by Leo’s doctrinal letter. Two energies
are to be recognised in the one Christ who is in both the same. One and the same
Christ followed the energy both of his divine and also of his human nature. Still Sophronius does not say anything of two wills.
He likewise had recourse to Rome, and Honorius, like Sergius, made an effort to
bring about union between the contending parties in the Eastern Church by
dissuading them from employing the formula. Heraclius gave his support to these
efforts and published an edict drawn up by Sergius (638), the Ecthesis, which
forbade the use both of μία ἐνέργεια and of “two energies” as equally dangerous
expressions. The latter expression, it was maintained, leads to the assumption
of two conflicting wills in Christ, while Christ has only one will since the
human nature acts only in accordance with the God-Logos who has assumed it.Mansi, X., p. 931 sq.: “We must confess one will in our Lord Jesus Christ, the
true God, implying that at no time did his flesh animated by a reasonable soul
accomplish what was natural for it to do, separately, and by its own impulse, in
opposition to the suggestion of the God-Logos who was hypostatically united with
it, but that on the contrary it acted only when and how and in the way the Logos wished.” The
personality of the Redeemer thus appears, in strict accordance with the theology
of Cyril, as built up on the basis of the God-Logos.
But already Rome and the West once more bethought themselves of their
dogmatics. Every attempt to meet the views of the Monophysites always brought
the Byzantine Emperor into conflict with Rome. Pope John IV. as early as the
year 641 condemned Monothelitism at a Roman Council. Immediately thereafter
Heraclius died, putting the responsibility of the Ecthesis on to Sergius. The
latter had died previously to this; Pyrrhus, who held similar views, took his
place. After severe struggles in the palace, which Pyrrhus had to pay for by his
deposition, Constans II., a grandson of Heraclius, became emperor. Those at the
Court were resolved to maintain the Ecthesis and not to submit to the Roman
bishop, Theodore.John IV. had already, moreover, attempted to hush up the conduct of Honorius,
to excuse it, that is. Meanwhile North Africa had become the second headquarters of
the Dyothelites. The Byzantine governor there, Gregory, the patron of the monks,
who was on bad terms with the Court, made use of the African dislike of
Byzantium and its dogmatics in order, if possible, to detach the Province from
Constantinople, and with him sided the most learned Chalcedonian of the East,
Maximus (Confessor) and many other Easterns, monks especially, who had fallen
out with the Emperor.Battifol, L’abbaye de Rossano, Paris, 1891, has given us information of
first-rate quality regarding the exodus of the Greek monks and priests to (North
Africa) Sicily and Calabria. Lower Italy underwent at that time a new
Hellenisation. Pyrrhus too took up his quarters in North Africa and was
easily converted to dyotheletism. In Rome he completed his change of opinion and
was recognised by Theodore as the legitimate bishop of Constantinople. The
Emperor was flooded with addresses from North Africa the aim of which was to
induce him to enter the lists on behalf of orthodoxy. But the defeat of Gregory
by the Saracens weakened the courage and interfered with the plans of the
Anti-Byzantine coalition. Pyrrhus with all possible speed once more made his
peace with the Emperor and with the Imperial dogmatics; but the Roman bishop
stood firm, condemned Pyrrhus, and pronounced sentence of deposition on Paul who
was at the time occupying the Byzantine chair. The Emperor, on the advice of
Paul and in order to pacify the Empire, issued in the year 648 the Typus, which
bears the same relation to the doctrine of the wills as the Ecthesis does to the
doctrine of the energies. It simply prohibits under severe penalties all
controversy regarding the question as to whether it is necessary to believe in
one will and one energy or in two wills and two energies, and forbids the
prosecution of any one because of his position on this question. For the sake of
the Westerns the Ecthesis was removed from the principal church of the capital.Mansi X., p. 10t9 sq. The form of the Typus as distinguished from the Ecthesis
is worthy of note. It no longer speaks the theological language which Justinian
above all had naturalised. Constans in fact more and more gave evidence of
possessing qualities which make him appear akin in spirit to the iconoclastic
Emperors of a later time. Conversely, amongst the most outstanding monks and
priests of the seventh century we already meet with that enmity to the State, in
other words, that desire to see the Church independent of the State, which
occasioned the frightful struggle in the eighth and ninth centuries. In this
respect the position taken up by Maximus Confessor who contested the right of
the Emperor to interfere in dogmatic questions and disputed his sacerdotal
dignity, is specially characteristic.
But Rome was far from accepting this part-payment as a full discharge. It had
wholly different plans. The situation seemed a favourable one for estranging
from the Emperor the entire orthodoxy of the East and binding it to the successor of Peter,
in order to shew the Byzantine ruler the power of the Apostolic chair. What
Justinian had done to the latter was to be requited, although Constans was the
Sovereign of Rome. The new Pope, Martin I., who, like many of his predecessors,
had formerly been the Papal Apokrisiar in Constantinople, got together a large
Council in the Lateran in October 649. Over a hundred Western bishops attended;
they were surrounded by numerous Greek priests and monks who had fled from
Constans, first to North Africa, and then after the catastrophe there, to
Sicily, Calabria, and Rome. The Council was a conspiracy against Constantinople,
and he who was at the head of it was raised to the throne without the imperial
sanction. We have here a continuation of the policy of Gregory I., but in a more
energetic and menacing form. The dyothelite doctrine after a discussion lasting
over several sittings, was made a fixed dogma by the help of the huge patristic
apparatus contributed by the Greeks,“We have a library, but no manuscripts,” wrote the Pope in that same year to
Bishop Amandus. and finally a symbol was adopted which
added on to the Chalcedonian Creed the words, “two natural wills” (“duas
naturales voluntates”) “two natural operations” (duas naturales operationes),
without detriment to the unity of the person (“one and the same Jesus Christ
our Lord and God as willing and effecting divinely and humanly our salvation”—“eundem
atque unum dominum nostrum et deum I. Chr. utpote volentem et operantem
divine et humane nostram salutem”), and allowing in fact the validity of the
proposition when correctly understood; “one incarnate nature of the divine
Logos”—μία φύσις τοῦ Θεοῦ λόγου σεσαρκωμένη. The twenty canons attached to
the Creed define the doctrine more precisely and cover the whole of Christology.
In the eighteenth canon Origen and Didymus are reckoned amongst the other
“nefandissimi hæretici”. In addition, the fathers of Monothelitism, of the
Ecthesis and the Typus, Theodore of Pharan, Cyrus of Alexandria, and also the
three Constantinopolitan patriarchs, Sergius, Pyrrhus, and Paul were condemned.
Monothelitism was designated as Monophysitism, while the Typus again was described as the godless decree which robbed Jesus
Christ of His will, His action, and consequently of His natures generally.
Maximus Confessor too stated this brilliant thought with many variations.The Acts of the Council, which even yet enjoys a special authority in the
Romish Church, are in Mansi XI., the Creed, p. 1150; see also Hahn 2, § 110. When
we read the resolutions of this Council the impression produced is that of a
polemic encounter arranged with some secret end in view.
Martin now made the most strenuous endeavours to get authority over the Churches
of the East by the help of the decision of the Council. Like a second Dioscurus
he interfered with Eastern affairs, made use of the desperate state of the
Churches in the East which were in part in the possession of the Saracens and
consequently were no longer in connection with Constantinople, in order to play
the roll of supreme bishop, and accordingly worked in direct opposition to the
imperial interests and perhaps even conspired with the Saracens. The Emperor now
proceeded to take energetic measures. The first attempt to seize the Pope
miscarried, it is true, owing to the faithlessness of the Exarch who was sent to
Italy. But the new Exarch succeeded in getting Martin into his power (653). As a
traitor who had secretly made common cause with the Saracens and as a bishop who
had been illegally appointed, he was brought to Constantinople. Dishonoured and
disgraced he was then banished to the Chersonesus where he died in the year 655.
At the same time proceedings were taken against the dogmatic theologian of
Dyothelitism, the monk Maximus, the mystic and scholastic, who for the sake of
scholasticism was unwilling to do without the complicated formuke of the two
natures, two wills, two operations in the one person, and who had actually made
a profound study of them. In Rome Eugenius was now chosen as Pope and he was
disposed to come to some arrangement. At the same time the most reasonable
proposal was made which could possibly have been made in the circumstances: It
was allowable to speak of two natural wills which, however, in accordance with
the hypostatic union, become one hypostatic will. Maximus probably endeavoured
to prevent the West from falling into this “heresy”, but the successor of
Eugenius (+ 657) Vitalian, gave in without any
explanations and once more restored the communion with Constantinople which had
for so long been interrupted. Constans himself visited Rome in the year 663;
the peace lasted till the violent death of the Emperor (668) when he was staying
at Syracuse. Rome’s lofty plans seemed to be destroyed.
The revolution in policy which now followed in Constantinople is not perfectly
comprehensible spite of the obvious explanation that the Monophysite provinces
were lost and that consequently there was no longer any reason for shewing any
enthusiasm on behalf of Monothelitism or for opposing the establishment of
Dyothelitism. Then we may reflect further that, as a matter of fact, the
Chalcedonian Creed the more it was regarded from the outside demanded the
doctrine of two wills, and that this doctrine alone possessed in Maximus a
theologian of weight. But these considerations do not entirely clear up the
facts of the case. Constantine Pogonatus seems really to have held the memory of
Pope Vitalian in honour because the latter had supported him in putting down the
usurpers. For this very reason he hesitated to comply with the wish of the
Eastern Patriarchs that Vitalian’s name should be erased from the diptychs—the
bishop of Constantinople could never desire to enter into alliance with Rome.There was once more friction between Rome and the patriarch of Constantinople,
and this threatened to make the old controversy a pretext for quarrelling.
It was perhaps a real love of peace or still more a perception of the fact that
Italy must not be lost to the Empire, and that Italy, moreover, could be
retained only by an alliance with the Roman see, which induced the Emperor to
arrange a meeting and a conference of the opposing parties. In the year 678,
taking up an entirely impartial attitude, he requested the Roman bishop to send
representatives to the capital to attend a gathering of this kind. Rome, i.e.,
the new bishop Agatho, said nothing at first; why is not quite clear. At any
rate he once more set afloat in the West certain declarations in favour of the
doctrine of two wills. Meanwhile the Patriarch Theodore of Constantinople and
Macarius of Antioch who, however, resided in the Capital, succeeded in getting
the Emperor’s sanction for erasing Vitalian’s name from the diptychs. Finally, Agatho sent the desired deputies,
together with a very comprehensive letter which was modelled in imitation of
Leo’s doctrinal letter, and in which at the same time the infallibility of the
Roman see in matters of faith was expressed in a supremely self-conscious
fashion.Mansi XI., pp. 234-286. From this time onwards the Emperor was resolved to yield to the Pope
in everything (why?). By means of an edict addressed to George, the new
patriarch of the Capital, who had shewn himself pliable, he now summoned a
Council to meet, which though it was not originally intended by the Emperor
himself to be ecumenical, did nevertheless come to be this. It lasted from
November 680 to September 681, had 18 sittings and was attended by about 170
bishops. (The Byzantine East was already very seriously curtailed owing to the
Mohammedan conquests.) It was presided over by the Emperor, or, what is the same
thing, by the imperial representatives, while the Roman Legates voted first. It
may be called the Council of antiquaries and palæographists; for really
dogmatic considerations were hardly adduced. On the contrary, operations were
conducted on both sides by the help of the voluminous collections of the Acts of
earlier Councils and whole volumes of citations from the Fathers, which,
however,—and this is in the highest degree characteristic—were after delivery
sealed until the exact time when they were to be read out, so that they might
not be secretly falsified at the very last moment. Moreover, palæographic
investigations were conducted which were not without result.The Acts of the Council in Mansi, XI. Monothelitism had
not a few supporters; the most energetic of these was the Patriarch of Antioch,
Macarius, who amongst other things appealed to Vigilius, but was forbidden to do
so; the letters, it was alleged, were tampered with, which was not the case.
Other fathers expressed a desire that it should not be permissible to go beyond
the conclusions of the Five Councils in any direction. A proposal was also made
at the sixteenth sitting to grant two wills for the period of Christ’s earthly
life, but to allow of only one after the Resurrection.Mansi XI., p. 611 sq. But the new “Manichean”
and “Apollinarian” was promptly expelled from
the place of meeting. The experiment made by another Monothelite and which he
carried on for two hours, of laying his creed on the body of a dead person in
order to restore him to life and thus to prove the truth of the doctrine of one
will, miscarried.Fifteenth Session, Mansi XI., p. 602 sq. The Council knew what the will of the Emperor was, and
following the lead of the Patriarch of the Capital, placed itself at the
disposal of “the new David” who “has thoroughly grasped the completeness of the
two natures of Christ our God”! Vitalian’s name was restored; in accordance with
the wish of Agatho a long series of Constantinopolitan patriarchs from Sergius
downward together with Macarius and other Monothelites were condemned, amongst
whom Pope Honorius too was put.For the mode in which this “problem” is treated by Roman theologians, see
Hefele III., pp. 290-313. Finally a creed full of coarse flattery of the
Emperor was adopted,Mansi XI., p. 631 sq. and this completed the triumph of the Pope over
Byzantium. Two natural θελήσεις ἢ θελήματα were acknowledged and two
natural energies existing indivisibly (ἀδιαιρέτως), unchangeably (ἀτρέπτως),
undividedly (ἀμερίστως), unconfusedly (ἀσυγχύτως) in the one Christ. They are
not to be thought of as mutually opposed, on the contrary, the human will
follows the divine and almighty will and far from resisting or opposing it, is
in subjection to it. The human will is thus not done away with; but there is on
the other hand a certain interchange; it is the will of the divine Logos, just
as the human nature without being done away with has nevertheless become the
nature of the divine Logos. The Conciliar epistle to Agatho extols the latter as
an imitator of the prince of the Apostles and as the teacher of the mystery of
theology.Mansi XI., p. 658 sq. The Monothelites who had been condemned by the Council were handed
over to him to be further dealt with—an unheard of act hitherto. In the West the
decrees were universally accepted—in Spain too, where, soon after, the
Augustinian interpretation of the Chalcedonian Creed was advanced yet a stage further (as we see
in Adoptianism). In the East again the adoption of Dyothelitism which, backed up
by the authority of Rome had gained the victory, did not by any means proceed
smoothly. Not only did a Monothelite reaction ensue, which was, however,
definitely disposed ofOn the Maronites, see Kessler in Herzog’s R.-Encykl. IX., p. 346 ff. in the year 713, but there was, above all, a reaction
against the penetration of the Roman spirit into the East. This which began with
the second Trullan Council in 692 was continued in the age of the iconoclastic
Emperors and of Photius. Apart, however, from the controversy about the “filioque”
which was dragged in and which has already been treated of above p.
126, it belongs entirely to political history, or to that of worship and
discipline.
It is incontrovertible that Rome at the Fourth and Sixth Councils permanently
gave her formula to the East and that this formula admits of a Græco-Cyrillian
interpretation only by the use of theological artifice. But this interpretation
had been given to it already at the Fifth Council and had an effect on Rome
herself, who from this time onward had to tolerate also the
μία φύσις τοῦ Θεοῦ λόγου
σεσαρκωμένη—the one incarnate nature of the divine
Logos.Why in accordance with this the use of the formula ἓν θέλημα θεανδρικόν not
allowed together with the doctrine of the two wills, is a point that is not
easily understood. It was owing to Romish obstinacy. This circumstance explains on the one hand the
strange lack of vigour shewn by the Easterns in combating Dyothelitism, and on
the other hand the paradoxical fact that the ablest of the Eastern theologians,
even the Mystics, supported the doctrine of the two wills. But in order to
explain the action of the Mystics it is necessary further to point to the fact
that it was no longer possible to do without the scholastic theology of the
neo-orthodox, Leontius and Justinian, which had the “duality” as its
presupposition, and in conjunction with Mysticism presented a subject for
endless speculations. To this was added the fact that the Eucharist and the
whole system of worship, already satisfied in a much more certain and more
living way than did the system of dogma which had become purely “sacred
antiquity”, the feeling of the Church as to what was of direct concern and of supreme
importance in the past—namely, the thought of deification. This is shewn by the
nature of the discussions in the Sixth Council. The impression we get that at
that time believing thought, in the sense of a direct and living interest in the
spiritual and religious substance of the Faith, had been entirely blighted, very
strongly induces us to look for the life of this Church in some other sphere.
And if we ask where we are to look for it, the image-controversies on the one
hand, and the scholastic investigations of Johannes Damascenus on the other,
supply the answer. The dogma which had been already settled at the Fifth Council
and which at the Sixth Council had been once more revived and—not without
danger—meddled with, embodied itself in cultus and science.
The Christological propositions which are worked out in the Dogmatics of
Johannes Damascenus, especially in the third book, are—even according to
Thomasius—stated in “what is pretty much a scholastic form”. It is the idea of
distinction which dominates the method of treatment. Christ did not assume human
nature in its generic form—for John as an Aristotelian is aware that the genus
embraces all individuals—but neither did he unite himself with a particular man; on the contrary he assumed the human nature in such a way that he
individualised what he assumed and what is not a part but the whole. This is the
kind of cross which had already been recognised by Leontius, which has no
hypostasis of its own and yet is not without it, but which possessing its
independent existence in the hypostasis of the Logos is enhypostatic. Thus
Christ is the composite hypostasis. The “centaur” and “satyr” against which Apollinaris had warned the Church, have thus not been avoided The hypostasis
belongs to both natures and yet belongs wholly to each of them. But the divine
nature preponderates very considerably (cf. the old deceptive analogy of the
relation between soul and body in man, III., 7) and it has been correctly
remarked that with Johannes Damascenus the Logos is at one time the hypostasis
and then again the composite being of Christ as something between. In any case
the humanity is in no way considered as formally entirely homogeneous with the
divinity. This is shewn too in the
doctrine of the interchange (μετάδοσις), appropriation, exchange,
(οἰκείωσις, ἀντίδοσις) of the peculiarities of the two natures, which John conceives of as
so complete that he speaks of a “coinherence or circumincession of the parts
with one another”—εἰς ἄλληλα τῶν μέρων περιχώρησις. The flesh has
actually become God, and the divinity has become flesh and entered into a state
of humiliation. This exchange is to be conceived of as implying that the flesh
also is permitted to permeate the divinity, but this is allowed only to the
flesh which has itself first been deified; i.e., it is not the actual humanity
which permeates the divinity; hence the Logos too remains entirely untouched by
the sufferings. Everything is accordingly in this way assigned to the two wills
and the two operations. The religious point of view of the whole system is that
of Cyril, but this point of view cannot be perfectly realised by means of the “duality” already laid down in the dogma. Just for this reason a certain amount
of room is left for the human nature of Christ and for the work of the
philosophers. That is why the Christology of Johannes Damascenus has become classical.It is characteristic of the way in which John works out the doctrine, that his
arguments throughout are based on passages quoted verbally from the Fathers,
though the names of the authors are frequently not given. A mosaic of citations
lies at the basis of the scholastic distinctions; Leontius is most frequently
drawn upon, but he is never mentioned by name. John is also dependent to a very
great extent on Maximus. How scholasticism has stifled theology is most
strikingly shewn in proposition III. 3 (ed. Lequien 1712, I., p. 207):
ἀλλὰ τοῦτό ἐστι τὸ
ποιοῦν τοῖς αἱρετικοῖς τὴν πλάνην, τὸ ταὐτὸ λέγειν τὴν φύσιν καὶ τὴν ὑπόστασιν.
I imagine that as late as the fifth century any theologian
who would have drawn the inference of heresy in this fashion, would have made
himself ridiculous. That was the achievement of the neo-orthodox, the
Aristotelians from Leontius onwards. A detailed description of the Christology
of the Damascene belongs to the history of theology. But it may not be without
use to mention the topics which he dealt with here: III. 2: How the Word was
conceived and concerning his divine incarnation. 3: Of the two natures in
opposition to the Monophysites. 4: On the nature and mode of the antidosis. 5:
On the number of the natures (ὁ ἀριθμὸς οὐ διαιρέσεως αἴτιος πέφυκεν, p. 211).
6: That the whole divine nature in one of its hypostases united itself with the
whole human nature and not a part with a part. 7: On the one composite
hypostasis of the divine Logos. 8: Against those who say that the natures of the
Lord must be brought under the category either of continuous or discrete
quantity. 9: An answer to the question whether there is an enhypostatic nature
(here, p. 218, the enhypostasis). 10: On the Trishagion. 11:
περὶ τῆς ἐν εἴδει καὶ ἐν ἀτόμῳ θεωρουμένης φύσεως καὶ διαφορᾶς, ἑνώσεώς τε και
σαρκώσεως καὶ πῶς ἐκκληπτέον, τὴν μίαν φύσιν τοῦ Θεοῦ λόγου σεσαρκωμένην
(one of the main chapters from the scholastic point of view).
12: On θεοτόκος as against the Nestorians. 13: On the properties of the two
natures. 14: On the wills and the αὐτεξούσια of Christ (the fullest chapter
together with 15: On the energies which are in Christ). 16: Against those who
say: as man has two natures and two energies, so we must attribute to Christ
three natures and the same number of energies—a very ticklish problem. 17: On
the deification of the nature of the flesh of the Lord and of His will. (As is
the case throughout the discussion here starts from the contradictio in adjecto
and conceals it under distinctions: the flesh has become divine, but in the
process has undergone neither a μεταβολή, nor τροπή
nor ἀλλοίωσις nor
σύγχυσις; it has been deified
κατὰ τὴν καθ᾽ ὑπόστασιν οἰκονομικὴν ἕνωσιν
or κατὰ τὴν ἐν ἀλλήλαις τῶν φύσεων περιχώρησιν. The old image of the glowing
iron). 18: Once more regarding the wills, the αὐτεξούσια, the
double-understanding, the double-gnosis, the double-wisdom of Christ. 19: On the
ἐνέργεια θεανδρική. 20: Of the natural and blameless feelings (Christ possessed
them, but the number of them given is very limited). 21: Of the ignorance and
servitude of Christ (because of the hypostatic union neither ignorance nor
servitude can be attributed to Christ relatively to God). 22: On the προκοπή
in Christ (as a matter of fact the idea of προκοπή is plainly rejected: the “increase
in wisdom” is explained: διὰ τῆς αὐξήσεως τῆς ἡλικίας τὴν ἐνυπάρχουσαν αὐτῷ σοφίαν εἰς
φανέρωσιν ἄγων. This is genuine docetic
Monophysitism; to this it is added that “he makes man’s advance in wisdom and
grace his own advance.” John is here in the most patent perplexity). 23: Of fear
(the fear which Christ had and which he did not have. He had natural fear “voluntarily”). 24: Of the Lord’s praying (He prayed, not because there was any
need for Him to do it, but because He occupied our place, represented what was
ours in Himself, and was a pattern. Thus the prayer in Matt. XXVI. 39 was meant
merely to convey a lesson; Christ wished at the same time to shew by it that He
had two natures and two natural but not mutually opposed wills—this is just the
explanation formerly given by Clemens Alex. when he stated that Christ, whom he
himself conceived of in a docetic fashion, voluntarily did what was human, in
order to refute the Docetae. Christ spoke the words in Matt. XXVII. 46 purely as
our representative). 25: On the οἰκείωσις (this chapter too begins, like most
of them, with the distinction, that there are two forms of assumption, the
φυσική and προσωπική or
σχετική. Christ assumed our nature φυσικῶς, but
also σχετικῶς, i.e., took our place by way of sympathy or compassion, took part
in our forlorn condition and our curse and “in our place uttered words which do
not suit His own case”). 26: Of the sufferings of the body of the Lord and of
the absence of feeling in His godhead. 27: That the divinity of the Word was
not separated from the soul and the body even in death, and continued to be an
hypostasis. 28: Of the corruption and decay (as against Julian and Gajan; but
here again a distinction is drawn between two kinds of φθορά). 29: Of the
descent into Hades. The contents even of the Fourth Book are still
Christological, but this may be due to an oversight. One may admire the energy
and formal dexterity of Johannes, but still what we have is merely one and the
same method of distinction, which, once discovered, can be easily and
mechanically employed, as the application of a new chemical method to an
indefinite number of substances. Even this brief synopsis will, however, have
brought out one thing, if it was still necessary that this should be
done—namely, that in Greek Dogmatics in their religious aspect Apollinaris had
triumphed. The moderate docetism which the latter expressed in a plain, bold and frank way
forms the basis of the orthodox idea of Christ, though it is indeed concealed
under all sorts of formulæ. As regards these, orthodoxy approaches much nearer to
the Antiochians than to Apollinaris; but as regards the matter of the doctrine,
all that was preserved of the Antiochian doctrine was the statement that Christ
had a real and perfect human nature. This statement came to have a great
importance for the future, not of the East, but of the West; but, if I am not
mistaken, it helped to preserve the Byzantine Church too from getting into that
condition of desolation into which the Monophysite Churches got, though it is
true that in the case of the latter other causes were at work.
C. THE ENJOYMENT OF REDEMPTION IN
THE PRESENT.
CHAPTER IV.
THE MYSTERIES AND KINDRED SUBJECTS.
There is an old story of a man who was in a condition of ignorance, dirt, and
wretchedness and who was one day told by God that he might wish for anything he
liked and that his wish would be granted. And he began to wish for more and more
and to get higher and higher, and he got all he wanted. At last he got
presumptuous and wished he might become like God Himself, when at once he was
back again in his dirt and wretchedness. The history of religion is such a
story; but it is in the history of the religion of the Greeks and the Easterns
that it came true in the strictest sense. They first wished to have material
goods by means of religion, then political, æsthetic, moral, and intellectual
goods, and they got everything. They became Christians and desired perfect
knowledge and a supra-moral life. Finally they wished even in this world to be
as God in knowledge, bliss, and life, and then they fell down, not all at once,
but with a fall that could not be stopped, to the lowest stage in ignorance,
dirt, and barbarity. Any one who at the present day studies the condition of
Greek religion amongst the orthodox and the Monophysites, and not merely the
religion of the untrained masses, but also the ritual of worship and the magical
ceremonies practised by the ordinary priests and monks and their ideas of
things, will with regard to many points get the impression that religion could
hardly fall lower.That an honest and genuine faith can live and does live within these husks is not to be denied.
It has really become “superstitio”, a chaos of mixed and entirely diverse but at
the same time rigidly fixed maxims and formula;, an unintelligible and
long-winded ritual of a patchwork kind, which is held in high esteem, because it
binds the nation or the tribe together or unites it to the past, but which is
still a really living ritual only in its most inferior parts.Even in these, as experience teaches us, religion may still continue to live
for some. Thus the symbol and cult of the Cross in the Greek Church keeps alive
a feeling of the holiness of the suffering of the righteous one and a reverence
for greatness in humility. If we were to
imagine that we knew nothing, absolutely nothing, of Christianity in its
original form and of its history in the first six centuries, and had to
determine the genesis, the earlier stages, and the value of the original
religion from a consideration of the present condition, say, of the Jacobite or
of the Ethiopian Church, how utterly impossible this would be.This impossibility may serve as a warning to us in regard to the interpretation
of other religions, of their mythologies and ritual formularies. We know most
religions only in the form of “superstitio”, i.e., in the form in which they
have come down to us they are for the most part already in an entirely
degenerate state, or have become petrified. Who therefore would make bold to set
about explaining these forms in the absence of all knowledge of the previous
stages? It is an audacious undertaking. What we have
here is a forbidding and well-nigh dead figure of which only some members and
these not the principal members are still living, whose nobler parts are so
crusted over that so far as their essence is concerned they defy any historical
explanation.This judgment must stand although much that is ancient, genuine, and edifying
is contained in the prayers and hymns of the liturgies of all the peoples
belonging to the Greek Church. But it has become a formula and as a rule is not
understood by the people. In this respect the orthodox churches are in a more
favourable position, and much is now being done in order to make the liturgy
more intelligible. Islam which swept violently over Christianity in this form was a
real deliverer; for spite of its defects and barrenness it was a more spiritual
power than the Christian religion which in the East had well-nigh become a
religion of the amulet, the fetish, and conjurers, above which floats the
dogmatic spectre, Jesus Christ.See Fallmerayer, Fragmente aus dem Orient, 1877, further the descriptions of
the Easter festivals kept by the different ecclesiastical parties in Jerusalem and
their image worship. By the Mohammedans too the Christian priest is frequently
regarded as a conjurer and when they happen to be living in the same place with
Christians, and are in dire distress, they visit the holy places and have
recourse to the miracle-working reliques and images.
Many factors contributed to this final result, and above all, the stern march of
political history and the economic distress. Closely connected with this was the
abolition of the old distinctions between aristocrats, freemen, and slaves, and
following upon this the penetration into the higher ranks of the religious and
intellectual barbarism which had never been overcome in the lower ranks.
Christianity itself contributed in the most effective fashion towards the
decomposition of society; but having done this, it was not able to elevate the
masses and to build up a Christian Society in the most moderate sense of the
word, on the contrary it made one concession after another to the requirements
and wishes of the masses. The fact, however, that it thus soon became weak and
allowed the “Christian religion of the second order” which originally had been
merely tolerated, to exercise an ever increasing influence on the official
religion, is to be explained from the attitude which the latter itself had more
and more come to take up.
The general idea of redemption which prevailed in the Greek Church had an
eschatological character; redemption is deliverance from perishableness and
death. But in Vol. III., pp. 163-190, attention was drawn to the fact that at
all periods of its history the Greek Church was aware of possessing a means of
salvation which already exists in the present and had its origin in the same
source from which future redemption flows—namely, the incarnate person of Jesus
Christ. The conception of this present means of salvation was originally of a
spiritual kind; the knowledge of God and of the world, the perfect knowledge
of the conditions attached to the future enjoyment of salvation, and the power
of doing good works, in short “teaching of dogmas and good works”
(μάθημα τῶν δογμάτων καὶ πράξεις ἀγαθαί) (Cyril of Jerus.), and in addition power over
the demons (Athanasius). True, however, to the general mode of conceiving things
and also to the heathen philosophies of religion of that period, this knowledge
in reference to divine things soon came
to be regarded not as in its nature a clear knowledge, or as having an
historical origin, or as in its working something to be spiritually apprehended,
but on the contrary as a sophia or wisdom, which being only half comprehensible
and mysterious, originates directly with God and is communicated by sacred
initiation.The beginnings of this transformation are, it is true, to be found far back in
the past. We can already trace them in Justin, and perhaps in fact even in the
Apostolic Age missionaries like Apollos regarded religion in this way. The uncertainty which in consequence seemed to attach to the
content of this knowledge was more than counter-balanced by the consciousness
that the knowledge so acquired and communicated, establishes a fellowship
amongst those possessed of it and leads to real union with God and is thus not
merely individual reflection.
This magical-mystical element which attaches to knowledge as the present
possession of salvation, is certainly also to be considered as a clumsy
expression of the view that the summum bonum is higher than all reason.See Vol. I., p. III, Vol. II., p. 349, n. 2. But
the truth which the Eastern Christians wished to grasp and to retain, was not
securely established by mystical rationalism. The combination, however, of the
natural theology which had never been given up with mysticism,See Vol. III., p. 253, and p. 272 f. Mysticism as a rule is rationalism worked
out in a fantastic way, and rationalism is a faded mysticism. with the
magical and sacramental, entailed above all this serious loss that less and less
attention was given to the positive moral element, while the downfall of pure
science made it possible for the theologians to take up with all sorts of
superstition. It was not that the superstitio of the masses was simply forced
upon them; in their own theology they endeavoured in ever increasing measure to
reach a transcendental knowledge which could be enjoyed, as it were, in a
sensuous way. Like their blood-relations the Neo-Platonists, they were
originally over-excited, and their minds became dulled, and thus they required a
stronger and stronger stimulant. The most refined longing for the enjoyment of
faith and knowledge was finally changed into barbarity. They wished to fill themselves with the holy and the divine as one fills oneself with
some particular kind of food. In accordance with this the dogma, the μάθησις,
was embodied in material forms and changed into a means of enjoyment—the end of
this was the magic of mysteries, which swallows up everything, the sacred
images, the sacred ritual. Christianity is no longer μάθησις and πράξεις ἀγαθαί,
it is μάθησις and μυσταγωγία, or rather for the great majority it was
to be only μυσταγωγία. The image-controversy shews us where the supreme
interests of the Church are to be looked for.
The development of what belongs to the sphere of mysteries and of cultus from
the time of Origen to the ninth century does not form part of the History of
Dogma. Together with the conceptions of baptism, the Lord’s Supper, sacraments,
and images it constitutes a history by itself, a history which has never yet
been written,The best treatment of the subject is in von Zerschwitz, System der Kirchl.
Katechetik, Vol. I.; see also his article “Liturgie” in Herzog’s R.-Encyckl.,
and ed., and cf. the investigations of the disciplina arcana by Rothe, Th.
Harnack and Bonwetsch. and which runs parallel with the History of Dogma. In the Greek
Church there was no “dogma” of the Lord’s Supper any more than there was a “dogma” of grace. And quite as little was there up to the time of the
image-controversy a “dogma” of the saints, angels, and images; it was the
θεοτόκος only that was found in the Catechism. But ritual was practised here
with all the more certainty. There was a holy ritual; it was already firmly
established in the days of Athanasius when the State united with the Church, and
it was closely followed by a mystagogic theology. This mystagogic theology
starting from a fixed point moved with the greatest freedom in the direction of
a definitely recognised goal.
The fixed starting-point it had in common with dogma. It was the idea that
Christianity is the religion which has made the Divine comprehensible and offers
it to us to be possessed and enjoyed. The definitely recognised goal was the
establishment of a system of divine economy of a strictly complete kind as
regards time and place, the factors of which it was composed and the means it
employed, and which, while existing in the midst of what is earthly, allows the initiated by the help
of sensuous media to enjoy the divine life. Those who above all developed this
system did so with a certain reservation—it was not absolutely necessary. He who
has speculation and ascetic discipline has in these as a personal possession,
means which render it unnecessary for him to go in quest of sensuous signs and
initiation in common. This was the view of Clemens and Origen, and after them
the same opinion was expressed by the most important mystagogues of the earlier
period, that is, by all those who created mystagogy; for no one creates
anything without having the consciousness of being above his creation. But the
Epigoni receive everything which has come to be what it is under the form of
authority, and accordingly it becomes more and more impossible for them to
distinguish between end and means, actual things and their substitutes, between
what occupies a ruling place and what is subordinate. The spiritualism which,
partly in self-protection and partly following its craving for fantastic
creations and sensuous pictures, creates for itself in the earthly sphere a new
world which it fills with its own ideas, is at the last menaced and crushed by
its own creations. But then the spirit which has been artificially enclosed in
it vanishes too, and there is nothing but a dead, inert remainder. On it
accordingly that veneration is ever more and more bestowed which formerly was
supposed to belong to the spirit which had been confined within the matter.
Herewith polytheism in the full sense of the word is once more established, it
matters not what form dogmatics may take. Religion has lost touch with spiritual
truth. When for it a definite space is sacred—in the strictest sense of the
word,—and in the same way a definite place, definite vehicles, bread, wine,
images, crosses, amulets, clothes, when it connects the presence of the Holy
with definite persons, vessels, ceremonies, in short with the exact carrying out
of a carefully prescribed ritual, then though this ritual may have the form it
always had and may even include in it the most sublime and exalted thoughts, it
is played out as spiritual religion and has fallen back to a low level. But this
was the final fate of the religion of the Greeks, which adorns itself with the
name “Christian”. The private religion of thousands of its adherents, measured by
the Gospel or the Christianity of Justin may be genuinely Christian,—the religio
publica has only the incontestable right to the Christian name,—and in
possessing the Holy Scriptures it has what cannot be lost, the capability of
reforming itself. Its fundamental dogma, which in the end determined its entire
practice, namely, that the God-man Jesus Christ deified the human substance and
in accordance with this attached a system of divine forces to earthly media, did
not enable it to overcome the old polytheism of the Greeks and barbarians, but
on the contrary rendered it incapable of resisting this.
This is not the place to discuss the question as to the extent to which
religion succumbed to it and the consequences of this, nor as to the influence
exercised by the Neo-Platonic ecclesiastical science and by the ancient
religions and mysteries respectively. All we can aim at doing is to establish
the fact that the μυσταγωγία which the μάθησις had in view, gradually brought
about the decay of the latter. It is only now that we are able perfectly to
understand why such a determined resistance was made in the Greek Church to all
fresh attempts to give dogma a fixed form, a resistance which could be overcome
only by the most strenuous efforts. It was not only the traditionalism native to
all religions which thus offered resistance, but the interests bound up with the
ritualistic treatment of dogma and to which serious injury was done by the
construction of new formulae. If the practical significance of dogma lay not
only in the fact that salvation was attained hereafter on the basis of this
Faith, but also in the fact that on the basis of this Faith Christians were
already initiated in this world,—in worship,—into fellowship with the Godhead
and were able to enjoy the divine, it was necessary that the expression of this
truth should be raised above all possibility of change. The liturgical formula
which is constantly repeated, is what can least of all stand being altered.
Accordingly it is only when we consider how dogmatic controversies have
necessarily always been controversies about words which demanded admission into
the liturgy, as was the case with the foreign Nicene catch-words, the θεοτόκος,
the theopaschitian formula etc., and finally the “filioque”, that we can
understand the suspicion which they
necessarily roused. We can still see in fact from the state of things in our own
churches at the present time how such a liturgy or such a book of praise which
in no way corresponds to the creed, causes no difficulty, while even the best
innovation has a most disturbing effect. The value of the ritual of worship lies
always in its antiquity, not in its dogmatic correctness. Thus the μυσταγωγία
which rested on the fundamental thoughts of the μάθησις, and which in fact issued from
it, was the stoutest opponent of a doctrina publica which was advancing to
greater precision of statement. In the end it actually reduced it to silence. In
the controversy of Photius with Rome in reference to the Holy Spirit the charge
brought against the West of having altered the wording of the Creed was urged
quite as strongly as the charge of having tampered with the doctrine. One may in
fact say that the Greeks regarded the former as worse than the latter. This is
the most telling proof of the fact that the daughter became more powerful than
the mother, that the μυσταγωγία had come to occupy a place of central
importance. This, however, took place long before the days of Photius. The
dogmatic controversies of the seventh century are in truth only a kind of echo
of no importance, which merely gave dogma the illusory appearance of an
independent life. The nature of the controversy makes it evident to any one who
looks at the matter more closely, that the dogma had already become a
petrifaction and that the kindred ideas of antiquity and of the stability of
worship already dominated everything. It is the age of Justinian which brings
the independent dogmatic development to an end. At that time the liturgy too
received what was practically its final revision. The final completion of dogma
ensued under the guidance of scholasticism which now established itself in the
Church. Mystagogic theology, which now first began to spread widely, followed
the completed liturgy. In this connection we may mention Leontius on the one
side and Maximus Confessor who belonged to the seventh century on the other.
Dogma as treated in the scholastic and ritualistic fashion is no longer
μάθησις at all, in the strict sense of the word. It is, like the Eucharist or the
“authentic” image, a divine marvel, a paradoxical, sacred
datum,The description of the doctrine, i.e., the fides quæ creditur, as
μυστήριον (sacrament), dated back to ancient times, hence too the practice of keeping
the Creed secret. which scholasticism labours to elevate to being μάθησις, and which
mysteriosophy exhibits in worship as something to be enjoyed.
We might content ourselves with these hints regarding the fate of dogma. It
will, however, be proper to select two subjects from the rich and complicated
material of the history of worship and the mysteries and by means of them to
give a somewhat more precise outline of the course of development. These are the
ideas of the Lord’s Supper in connection with which we have to pay attention to
the mysteries in general, and the worship of angels, saints, the Virgin Mary,
martyrs, relics, and images. As regards the latter, the action ensued in the
eighth and ninth centuries which brings to an end the history of dogma or the
history of religion in the Eastern Church generally. From this date onwards it
has had merely an outward history, a history of theology, of mysticism, and
ritualism.
§ I.
At the beginning of the Fourth Century the Church already possessed a large
series of “mysteries” whose number and limits were, however, not in any way
certainly defined.See Kattenbusch, op. cit. I., p. 393 ff. “The mysteries represent by their
form the dogma” . . . “It is in this connection too that the comparison of the
details in the Liturgy with the life of Jesus as known to us from the Gospel and
for which Sophronius of Jerusalem had already prepared the way, first appears in
the true light. The arrangement of the Liturgy represents the history of the
Incarnation. In this way the whole form of the Liturgy came to share in the
value attached to the dogma. Only he who acknowledges the orthodox Liturgy is a Chalcedonian.” They are τελεταί, mystic rites, which are based on
λόγια τοῦ Θεοῦ, words of God; amongst these Baptism, together with the practice of
anointing which was closely connected with it, and the Lord’s Supper,There are many passages which prove how closely Baptism and the Lord’s Supper
were linked together, and regarded as the chief mysteries. What Augustine de
pecc. mer. et remiss. remarks (24, 34) can hardly be held to apply only to the
Punic Christians. “Optime Punici Christiani baptismum ipsum nihil aliud quam ‘salutem’
et sacramentum corporis Christi nihil aliud quam ‘vitam’ vocant, unde
nisi ex antiqua, ut existimo, et apostolica traditione” etc. It was chiefly
through the Lord’s Supper that the element of mysteries found an entrance into
the religion of spirit and truth. This way of treating the elements used in it,
which are nevertheless expressly described as symbols, supplied the point of
departure for the development of the greatest importance. were the most highly esteemed; while
from them a part of the other mysteries had also been developed. Symbolic acts,
originally intended to accompany these mysteries, got detached and became
independent. It was in this way that Confirmation originatedCypr. ep. 72. I. We find it first amongst the Gnostics alongside of Baptism
and the Lord’s Supper; see Excerpta ex Theodoto, the Coptic-gnostic writings and
the ritual of the Marcianites. Cf. on this sacrament Schwane, Dogmengesch. II.,
p. 968 ff. which is already
reckoned by Cyprian as a special “Sacramentum”, which Augustine designatesC. litt. Petiliani II., c. 104, 239. a
“Sacramentum Chrismatis”, and which is called by the Areopagite a “mystery of
the mystic oil” (μυστήριον τελετῆς μύρου). Augustine too knows of a
“Sacramentum Salis” as well as many others,De pecc. merit. II., 42. and the Areopagite makes special
mention of six mysteries: of enlightenment (φωτίσματος), of coming together or
communion (συνάξεως εἴτ᾽ οὖν κοινωνίας), of the mystic oil (τελετῆς μύρου),
of priestly consecrations (ἱερατικῶν τελειώσεων), of monastic consecration
(μοναχικῆς τελειώσεως), and the mysteries in reference to the holy dead
(μυστήρια ἐπὶ τῶν ἱερῶς
κακοιμημένων).See de eccles. hierarch. 2-7. To the author the most of these mysteries are
not separate mysteries, but represent a whole series of different mysteries. The
last mentioned has nothing to do with extreme unction, but designates certain
practices in connection with the treatment of the corpse. This enumeration is not, however, in any
way typical, and its author can hardly have intended it to be taken as
absolutely complete. “Mysterium” is every symbol, any material thing, in
connection with which anything sacred is to be thought of, every action done in
the Church, every priestly performance.The “aliud videtur, aliud intellegitur” (Augustine) is the best definition of
the sacrament or mystery. These mysteries correspond to the heavenly mysteries which have their source in the
Trinity and in the Incarnation.The orthodox Greek Church came to reckon the sacraments as seven owing to the
influence of the West, i.e., gradually from the year 1274 onwards. Still the
number seven never came to have the importance attached to it in the West. As every fact of revelation is a mysterium in
so far as the divine has through it entered into the sphere of the material, so
conversely every material medium, and thus too the word or the action, is a
mysterium as soon as the material is a symbol or vehicle of the divine. But even
in the earliest times no strict distinction was made between symbol and vehicle.
The development consists in this that the symbol more and more retreated behind
the vehicle, that new heathen symbols and ritual actions were adopted in
increasing numbers and that finally the vehicle was no longer conceived of as a
covering for or outward embodiment of a truth, but as a deified element, as
something essentially divine.In Athanasius we already meet with both modes of expression: (1) “The Logos
became flesh, in order that he might offer his body for all, and we by
participating in his spirit may be made divine” (de decret. synod. Nic. 14); (2)
“We are made divine inasmuch as we do not participate in the body of a man, but
receive the body of the Logos Himself” (ad. Maxim. phil. 2).
It is obvious that this way of regarding the “mysteries”, amongst which the
sign of the cross, relics, exorcism, marriage, etc., were reckoned, made it
impossible to think of them as having a marked and lofty dogmatic efficacy. The
rigid dogmatic even forbade such an assumption. As Greek theology regards the
Church as an institute for salvation only when it is thinking of heathen and
lapsed members or members who are minors, because the doctrine of freedom and
redemption does not allow of the thought of a saving institute or of a community
of believers chosen by God, in the same way and for the same reasons it knows
nothing of a means of grace for those who are already believers, so far as by
this is meant the sin-destroying, reconciliatory activity of God attached to a
material sign and always strictly limited in its range, and which has for its
object the re-establishment of justice and charity or of the filial relation.
The ancient Church knew nothing of such means of grace. Accordingly since it
desired to have mysteries, believed it possessed them in actions which had been
handed down, and was strongly influenced by the dying heathen cultus, it had
to content itself with the inexpressibleness of the effect of the mysteries.
This conception forms the basis even where, following the directions of the New
Testament,Here already at this early stage the difficult question emerges which even at
the present day troubles many amongst ourselves, as to whether the ceremonies of
the Old Testament, circumcision for instance, were sacraments. regeneration, the forgiveness of sins, the bestowal of the spirit,
etc., are deduced in rhetorical language from separate sacraments. The
assumption that the sacramental actions had certain inexpressible effects—the
doctrine of freedom prevented the magical-mystical effects which were specially
included under this head from being embodied in a dogmatic theory—logically led,
however, to these being performed in such a way that the imagination was excited
and the heavenly was seen heard, smelt, and felt, as for example in incense and
the relics and bones of martyrs. The enjoyment of salvation on the part of him
who participated in these rites, was supposed to consist in the elevating
impression made on the imagination and the sensuous feelings. He was supposed to
feel himself lifted up by means of it into the higher world, and in this feeling
to taste the glory of the super-sensuous, and for this reason to carry away the
conviction that in a mysterious fashion soul and body had been prepared for the
future reception of the immortal life. Such being the theory it was an easy step
from this to combine all the mysteries into one great mystery in worship, and
this was what actually took place. With this as the starting-point the “Church”
too accordingly became a holy reality, the institution for worship, the holy
mechanism, which supplies the believer with heavenly impressions and raises him
to heaven. The idea of the Church which had the most vitality in the East was
that of something which, regarded as active, was “the lawful steward of the
mysteries” (“ὁ γνήσιος τῶν μυστηρίων ὀικονόμος”) and conceived of as passive,
was the image of the “heavenly hierarchy.”
In strict logical fashion it developed from beginnings which already foreshadow
the end. Although the beginnings are characteristically different, we find them
in Antioch as well as in Alexandria and thus in both the centres of the East. In
the case of the former of these cities the beginnings are to be
looked for in Ignatius, the author of the Six Books of the Apostolic
Constitutions, the editor of the Eight Books, and in Chrysostom, and together
with them in Methodius. In the case of the latter the starting-point was
supplied by Clemens, Origen, (Gregory of Nyssa) and Macarius. In the former
everything from the first was intimately associated with the bishop and with
worship, in the latter with the true Gnostic originally, then next with the
monk. In the former the bishop is the hierurge and the representative of God,
the presbyters represent the apostles, and the deacons Jesus Christ. This is the
earthly hierarchy, the copy of the heavenly. Already with Ignatius the cultus
dominates the entire Christian life; the holy meal is the heavenly meal, the
Supper is the “medicine of immortality”—φάρμακον ἀθανασίας. By means of the
one Church-worship we mount up to God; woe to him who takes no part in it. All
this is put in a stronger form in the Apostolical Constitutions, and is
developed in a worthy and sensible fashion in the work of Chrysostom περὶ ἱερωσύνης.
But in all this the attitude of the laity is a passive one; they
make no effort, they allow themselves to be filled.I here leave out of account the Syrian mysticism of the fifth and sixth
centuries of which we first really got some idea from the admirable work of
Frothingham, Stephen bar Sudaili, 1886. The philosophico-logical element is not
entirely absent from the views of these Syro-Monophysite mystics who had
relations with Egypt too, but still it always was kept in the background. We
have in their case Pantheism of a strongly marked character represented by the
consubstantiality of God and the universe, and in accordance with this they had
a fondness for the “Origenistic” ideas of the history of the universe and of
the restoration of all things. The influential Methodius
viewed the matter from a different standpoint. Although he is the opponent of
the Alexandrians, he does not deny the influence which he had received from
them. His realism and traditionalism are, however, of a speculative kind. They
constitute the substructure of the subjectivity of the monkish mysticism. Christ
must be born “rationally” (νοητῶς) in the believer; every Christian must by
participating in Christ become a Christ. Methodius knew how to unite the ideas
of a powerful religious individualism with the Mysticism which attaches itself
to objective traditions. While protecting these latter against the inroads of a heterodox idealism, he nevertheless intended that
they should merely constitute the premises of an individual religious life which
goes on between the soul and the Logos alone.
This was the fundamental thought of the great theologians of Alexandria. But
they rarely connected the substructure of their theosophy with earthly worship,
and still more rarely with earthly priests. Nevertheless their substructure was
of a much richer kind than that of the Antiochians. There is probably no single
idea connected with religion or worship, no religious form, which they did not
turn to account. Sacrifice, blood, reconciliation, expiation, purification,
perfection, the means of salvation, the mediators of salvation,—all these, which
were connected with some symbol or other, played a rôle in their system. It was
the hierarchical element alone which was kept very much in the background, nor
was much prominence indeed given to the idea of the ritual unity of the Church
which was a leading one with the Antiochians. Everything is directed towards the
perfection of the individual, the Christian Gnostic, and everything is arranged
in stages, a feature which is wanting in the system of the Antiochians. The
Christian does not merely allow himself to be filled with the Holy; on the
contrary he is himself here always engaged in independent effort inasmuch as he
advances from secret to secret. At every stage some remain behind; each stage
down to the last presents a real thing and the covering of a thing. Blessed is
he who knows the thing or actual fact, still more blessed he who presses on to
the next stage, but he too is saved who grasps the thing in its covering only.
But with the stages of the mysteries the stages of the knowledge of the world
further correspond. He who makes the mysteries his own, thinks at the same time
on the progressively ordered world. He advances from the external world upwards
to himself, to his soul, his spirit, to the laws of the world and the
world-spirits, to the one undivided Logos who rules the universe, to the
incarnate Logos, to the highest Reason, which lies behind the Logos, to what is
above all reason—to God. The Cosmos, the history of redemption, the Bible are
the great graduated, ordered mysteries which have to be traversed: all divine
things and all human things—πάντα θεῖα καὶ πάντα ἀνθρώπινα. When we have
once reached the end aimed at, all helps may be dispensed with. There is a
standpoint viewed from which every symbol, every sacrament, every thing that is
holy, which appears in a material covering, becomes profane, for the soul lives
in the Holiest of all. “Images and symbols which set forth other things were of
value so long as the truth was not present, but when the truth is present, it is
necessary to do the things of the truth and not of the image or representation of it,”
(αἱ εἰκόνες καὶ τὰ σύμβολα παραστατικὰ ὄντα ἑτέρων πραγμάτων καλῶς
ἐγίνοντο, μέχρι μὴ παρῆν ἡ ἀλήθεια· παρούσης δὲ τῆς ἀληθείας τὰ
τῆς ἀληθείας δεῖ ποιεῖν, οὐ τὰ εἰκόνος). This holds good of the aspiring theologian; it holds good also in the main of the humblest, barbarous
monk. But Christianity would not be the universal religion if it did not present
salvation in the symbolic form at all stages. This thought separates the
ecclesiastical theosophs of Alexandria from their Neo-Platonic and Gnostic
brethren. In it the universalism of Christianity finds expression, but the
concession is too great. It sanctions a Christianity which is bound up with
signs and formulæ, the Christianity of the “εἰκόνες”. The most sublime
spiritualism, as happened in expiring antiquity, made terms with the grossest
forms of the religion of the masses,—or rather, here is expiring antiquity. That
it could do this is a proof that a naturalistic or polytheistic element was
inherent in itself. Because it did it, it was itself stifled by the power which
it tolerated. The issue reveals the initial capital blunder.
The mystical cultus of Antioch which culminates in the priest and divine
service, and the philosophical mysticism of Alexandria which has ultimately in
view the individual, the gnostic and the monk, already converge in Methodius and
the Cappadocians;Gregory of Nazianzus (in laud. Heron. c. 2) thus speaks from the altar to Hero
“Approach hither, near to the Holy places, the mystic table and me,
τῷ διὰ τούτων
μυσταγωγοῦντι τὴν θέωσιν,
οἷς σε προσάγει λόγος καὶ βίος
καὶ ἡ διὰ τοῦ παθεῖν
κάθαρσις.” they next converge in the works of the pseudo-Dionysius the
Areopagite.The article by Möller in Herzog’s R.-Encyklop. III., p. 616 ff. enables us to
understand how the Dionysius question stood in the year 1878 (the best analysis
is by Steitz, in the Jahrhb. für deutsche Theol., 1866, p. 197 ff; there are
valuable if not quite convincing discussions by Hipler, 1861 and in the Kirchenlex. 2 III.,
p. 1789 ff., cf. the work of Engelhardt, Die angebl. Schriften des A. Dionysius,
Sulzbach, 1823). Within recent years, however, several new publications based on
the sources, and discussions, have appeared, which shew that nothing has really
yet been certainly established; see Pitra, Analecta Sacra III., on this Loofs in
the ThLZ., 1884, Col. 554 f.; Frothingham, Stephen bar Sudaili, the Syrian
Mystic and the Book of Hierotheos, 1886; in addition Baethgen in the ThLZ, 1887,
No. 10; Skworzow, Patrologische Untersuchungen, 1875; Kanakis, Dion. d.
Areopagite, 1881; Dräseke (Ges. Patrist. Abhandl., 1889, p. 25 ff.; Dionysios v.
Rhinokolura, in addition Gelzer in the Wochenschrift f. Klass. Philol., 1892,
separate impression); Jahn, Dionysiaca, 1889; Foss, Ueber den Abt Hilduin von
St. Denis and Dionysius Areop. in the Jahresbericht des Luisenstadt.
R.-Gymnasiums z. Berlin, 1886. The most ancient testimony to the existence of
these works is to be found in the Church History attributed to Zacharias of
Mitylene (Land, Anecd. Syr. III., p. 228). Severus quoted them at a Council at
Tyre which cannot have been held later than the year 513. Still older would be
Cyril’s testimony in the work against Diodorus and Theodore, which even if it
ought not to be attributed to Cyril, belongs to the fifth century. “Although
the manuscript reading in Liberatus Brev. 10 is corrupt still it ought probably
to be emended thus: Dionysii Areopagitæ, (Dionysii) Corinthiorum episcopi”
(Gelzer). Hipler, Pitra, Dräseke, Möller, Kanakis (who wishes to fix the date of
the writings definitely for about 120) have pronounced against the old
assumption of a (pious) fraud, and have referred the writings to the second half
of the fourth century. They have besides sought to shew that we ought probably
to make a distinction between the several works which now bear the name of
Dionysius, and that the oldest of the writings bearing this name are in all
probability not forgeries, though forgers and interpolators did seize upon them
in the fifth or sixth century, and that therefore, as is so frequently the case,
it was not the author, but tradition which first committed the forgery. But if
Frothingham is right, the writings ought to be put later, and Gelzer as against
Dräseke has advanced some very strong arguments in favour of the idea of an
original pia fracas—after the analogy of the Neo-Platonic interpolations—that is
in support of the hypothesis “that the author of these writings purposely
intended from the first to secure a loftier authority from them than they would
otherwise have had by means of the prestige attaching to works contemporary with
the Apostles.” “The author of the Dionysian writings was merely following the
usages of the schools, in transferring his works to the apostolic age.” The
question of date is consequently not yet settled, (second half of the fourth and
fifth century). The period previous to 400 seems to me the more probable, but
there are so many points connected with these writings which are still obscure
that one must refrain from pronouncing an opinion until a new, thorough, and
comprehensive investigation has been made. It was owing to Maximus Confessor
that in this combination they became the power which dominates the Church.
Everything was grouped round the Lord’s Supper,Baptism may be left out of account; for the views held regarding it did not
undergo any actual development within the period we treat of (see Vol. II.,
140.) Naturally the general and changing ideas of the mysteries exercised an
influence upon baptism, but it was rarely studied ex professo. It besides
occupied an isolated position since it could never be brought into intimate connection with worship.
What was certain was that baptism actually purifies from sins committed previous
to it, i.e., destroys them, and consequently constitutes the beginning of the
process which makes the mortal man imperishable. It is thus the source and
beginning of all gifts of grace. But as was the case in regard to the other
mysteries, so here too there were theologians who, in imitation of Origen, held
the view that there was a mysterious purification of the soul, and regarded the
water as a symbol, but all the same as the absolutely necessary symbol, which
just for this very reason is not simply a “symbol” in the modern sense of the
word (see the Cappadocians). The intellectualism of these theologians and their
inability to believe in an actual forgiveness of sins, led them in the case of
baptism to prefer the idea of a φωτισμός—the primitive designation of the
sacrament—and thus of a physical purification (κάθαρσις) or else to think of the
proof it gave of such a purification. Other theologians, however, from the days
of Cyril of Alexandria downwards, in accordance with their ideas of the Lord’s
Supper with which, following John XIX. 34, baptism was always ranged (Johannes
Damascenus still gives prominence to these two sacraments only), assumed that
there was an actual μεταστοιχείωσις of the water into a divine material, which
took place by means of the descent of the spirit which followed the invocation
of God. Tertullian (de bapt.) and Cyprian had already taught similar doctrine in
the West. Cyril of Jerusalem too (cat. III. 3, 4) held the view that there was a
dynamic change in the water. But it is Cyril of Alexandria (Opp. IV., p. 147) who first says:
Διὰ τῆς τοῦ πνεύματος ἐνεργείας τὸ
αἰσθητὸν ὕδωρ πρὸς θείαν τινὰ καὶ ἀπόρρητον μεταστοιχειοῦται δύναμιν, ἁγιάζει δὲ
λοιπὸν τοὺς ἐν οἷς ἂν γένοιτο.
Still the Church did not get the length of having distinct
and definite formulæ for the sacramental unity of water and spirit, for the
moment, and for the means whereby this unity was produced. Although the
statement held good that baptism was absolutely necessary to salvation, still
people shrank more from the unworthy reception of it than from the danger of
definitely dispensing with it. In the fourth century people kept postponing it
repeatedly—so as not to use this general means till the hour of death. Baptism
was accordingly regarded by many in praxi not as initiation into the Christian
state, but as the completion of it. Some very characteristic passages in
Augustine’s Confessions, e.g., show this (e.g., Confess. VI. 4): it was possible
in the fourth century to rank as a Christian, though one was not yet baptised.
But the great Church-Fathers of the fourth century defended the practice of
infant-baptism which had been already handed down, and this was established in
the fifth century as the general usage. Its complete adoption runs parallel with
the death of heathenism. As regards baptism by heretics, the view held in the
Eastern Church at the beginning of the fourth century was that it was not valid.
But it gradually, though hesitatingly, receded somewhat from this position (see
the decisions of 325 and 381). A distinction was made between those sects whose
baptism was to be recognised, or was to be supplemented by the laying on of
hands, and those whose baptism had to be repeated (this is still what we have in
the ninty-fifth canon of the Trullan Synod 692). The Church did not, however,
arrive at any more fixed view on the matter, since just those fathers of the
fourth century who where held in the highest esteem generally demanded
re-baptism. Whether one ought to re-baptise the heretic or to
anoint him or merely to lay the hand upon him, is a point that is not certainly
decided up to the present time. The Greek Church very frequently still repeats
baptism at the present clay; see Höfling, Sacr. der Taufe, 1848; Steitz, Art.
“Ketzertaufe” in Herzog’s R.-Encykl. 2nd ed.; Kattenbusch, op. cit. I., p. 403 ff. and as
was the case in an earlier period, it still continued to be regarded from a
twofold point of view, the sacrificial and the
sacramental.See Vol. II., p. 136, and p. 146. The mystery with which it came to be increasingly surrounded and
the commemorations which took place at its celebration, preserved to the Lord’s
Supper in wholly altered conditions within the world-Church which embraced the
Empire, its lofty and at the same time familiar, congregational character.It is very worthy of note that already in the fourth century the Lord’s Supper
was regarded as the expression of a particular form of Confession. Philostorgius
(H. E. III. 14) tells us that up to the time of Aëtius the Arians in the East
had joined with the orthodox in prayers, hymns, etc., in short in almost all
ecclesiastical acts, but not in the “mystic sacrifice.” In the commemorations
from that time onwards connection with the Church found public expression. Cancelling of Church membership was regularly expressed by erasure of the name
in the commemoration from the diptychs.
No rigidly doctrinal development of the Lord’s Supper followed on this. But
probably the presence of changes in the conceptions formed of the Lord’s Supper
both in its sacrificial and in its sacramental aspect, might be proved. These
changes, however, take place throughout within the limits which were already
fixed in the third century. The blend of a sublime spiritualism and a sensuous
realism was already in existence in the third century. Any progress which took
place could consist only in this, that religious materialism advanced further
and further and forced spiritualism to retire. Its advance was, however,
furthered above all by the fact that the dogma of the Incarnation was brought
into connection with the Lord’s Supper. This is the most important fact
connected with this development, for now the Lord’s Supper became, as it were,
the intelligible exponent of the entire dogmatic system, and at the same time
the hitherto vague ideas regarding the kind and nature of the body of Christ in
the Lord’s Supper, came to have a firmly fixed form. If previous to this
Christians had never of set purpose thought of the body of the historical Christ
when speaking of the body of Christ in the Lord’s Supper, but of His spirit, His
word, or the remembrance of His body offered up, or of something inexpressible, something glorified which
passed for being His body, now the idea emerged that the material element which
is potentially already the body of Christ according to Gregory of Nyssa, is by
priestly consecration or more correctly, by the Holy Spirit who also
overshadowed Mary, changed with the real body of Christ or else taken up into
it. The Incarnation is not repeated in the Lord’s Supper, but it is continued in
it in a mysterious fashion, and the dogma is practically attested in the most
living and marvellous way through this mystery. The priest is here, it is true,
the minister only, not the author; but in connection with such a transaction to
be the servant who carries out what is done, means to be engaged in an
inexpressibly lofty service which raises one even above the angels. The whole
transaction, which is based on the Incarnation, is thus beyond a doubt itself
the mystery of the deification (θέωσις). The connection is exceptionally close;
for if the act gets its essence and its substance from the Incarnation, while
the latter again has in view the deification, it is itself the real means of the
deification. It is the same thought as that which had already been indicated by
Ignatius when he described the holy food as the “medicine of immortality”
(φάρμακον ἀθανασίας); but it is only now that this thought is taken out of the
region of uncertain authority and has fixity given to it by getting a thoroughly
firm foundation. But perhaps the point that is most worthy of note is, that in
reference to the elements phrases were used by the Greek Fathers of a later
period, which, as applied to the dogma of the Incarnation, had to be discarded
as Gnostic, doketic, Apollinarian, or Eutychian and Apthartodoketic! People
speak naïvely—up to the time of Johannes Damascenus, at least—of the changing,
transformation, transubstantiation of the elements into the Divine. No attempt
is made to form definite ideas regarding the whereabouts of their material
qualities; they are wholly and entirely deified. In a word, the views held
regarding the Lord’s Supper were for a long time Apollinarian-monophysite, and
not dyophysite. But this makes it once more perfectly plain that what was
regarded by the Greek Church as of real importance from the religious point of
view, was adequately represented only by the teaching of Apollinaris and
Monophysitism, and that the
reasons which finally led to the adoption of Dyophysitism had no strict
connection with the dogmatic system.
As regards the sacrificial aspect of the holy action, the most important
development consists in the advance made in the transformation of the idea of
sacrifice, for which the way had been already prepared in the third century. The
offering of the elements, the memorial celebration of the sacrifice of Christ in
the sacrifice of the Supper, the offering of the gifts (προσφέρειν τὰ δώρα)
and the offering of the memorial of the body (προσφέρειν τὴν μνήμην τοῦ σώματος) was changed into an offering of the body,
(τὸ σῶμα τροσφέρειν) a propitiatory memorial sacrifice. “The sacrifice of His Son on
the Cross was, as it were, put before God’s eyes and recalled to memory in order
that its effects might be communicated to the Church.” Thus, owing to the
influence of the heathen mysteries and in consequence of the development of the
priestly notion, the idea crept in that the body and blood of Christ were
constantly offered to God afresh in order to propitiate Him. And the more
uncertain men became as to God’s feelings, and the more worldly and estranged
from God they felt themselves to be, the more readily they conceived of the
Supper as a real renewal of the Sacrifice of Christ and of His saving death.
Christians had formerly made it their boast that the death of Christ had put an
end to every sort of outward sacrifice; they had spoken of the “bloodless and
rational and gentle sacrifice” (ἄναιμος καὶ λογικὴ καὶ προσηνὴς θυσία) or
of the “immaterial and mental sacrifice” (θυσία ἀσώματος καὶ νοερά). These
modes of expression continued to be used in the third and fourth centuries, but
the desire for a sensuous expiatory sacrifice, which had been present, though in
a hidden form, at an early date, became stronger and stronger, and thus “flesh
and blood”—namely, the flesh and blood of Christ—were described as sacrificial
offerings. Thus men had once more a bloody sacrifice, though indeed without
visible blood, and what it seemed not to have certainly accomplished when
offered once, was to be accomplished by a repetition of it. And thus, as the act
regarded as a sacrament was connected in the closest way with the Incarnation,
and appeared as a mysterious, real representation of it, as something
to be enjoyed by the believer, so, regarded as a sacrifice, it was now finally
brought into the most intimate connection with the death of Christ, but in such
a way that in it the saving sacrificial death likewise appeared to be continued,
i.e., repeated. Is it possible to give the sacramental act a loftier position
than this? Assuredly not! And yet it was nothing but pure Paganism which had
brought this about. Since these developments took place most of the Churches of
Christendom in the East and West have been fettered and enslaved by a “doctrine
of the Supper” and a “ritual of the Supper”, which must be reckoned amongst
the most serious hindrances which the Gospel has experienced in the course of
its history. Neither the calling out of elevated feelings, nor the
superabundance of intellectual force, of acuteness and “philosophy” which has
been expended in connection with this, can undo the mischief which has been
incalculable and which is still going on. And as in the fifth and sixth
centuries the Supper was conceived of as the resultant of the system of dogma as
a whole (the Trinity and the Incarnation), and was supposed to be equivalent to
it, and to give a lively representation of it, so the same is still the case at
the present day. The “doctrine” of the Supper has been treated in such a way as
in the first place to sanction the dogma of the Incarnation, and in the second
place to gather up to a point the entire confessional system of doctrine and the
conception of the Church. In the whole history of religions there is probably no
second example of such a transformation, extension, demoralisation and narrowing
of a simple and sacred institution!
Sure and logical as was the course of the development of the ritual and doctrine
of the Supper in the Greek Church, no dogma in the strict sense of the word was
set up, because there was no controversy unless about points of no importance.
But just for this very reason the doctrinal pronouncements scarcely ever get
beyond the stage of unfathomable contradictions and insoluble oracles.
Christians felt so comfortable in the darkness of the mystery; they laid hold
of this or the other extravagant form of expression without being afraid of
being corrected or being forced to pay respect to a fixed form of words
sanctioned by ecclesiastical usage. Anything that sounded
pious and edifying, profound and mysterious, could be freely used in connection
with the mystery. And since the words which were used in this connection, such
as spirit (πνεῦμα), spiritually (πνευματικῶς),
flesh (σάρξ), body (σῶμα) had a
three-fold and a manifold meaningLet any one take a proposition such as this from Athanasius:
πνεῦμα ζωοποιοῦν ἡ σάρξ ἐστι τοῦ κυρίου, διότι ἐκ πνεύματος ζωοποιοῦ συνελήμφθη,
in order to form an idea of how one may twist and turn the words. in ecclesiastical usage, since Scripture
itself supplied various allegories in connection with this matter, using flesh
of Christ as equal to the Church, flesh of Christ as equal to His words, etc.,
since John VI. as compared with the words of institution supplied endless scope
for speculation and rhetoric, since the consequences and the terminology of the
dogma of the Incarnation were on the same lines,—and in addition, the doctrine
of the Holy Spirit and certain ideas of the Church,—since finally the
sacramental and sacrificial elements were at one time kept strictly separate and
at another ran into one another, the utterances of the Greek Fathers in
reference to the Supper constitute as a rule the most forbidding portions of
their works. But to give a logical solution and orderly reproduction of their
thoughts is not at all the historian’s business, for in attempting such a task
he would constantly be in danger of missing the meaning of the Fathers. For this
reason we here renounce any such attempt. It will be sufficient to note the
tendency and progress of the development in the Fathers who are to be referred
to in what follows.In the essays by Steitz on the doctrine of the Supper in the Greek Church
(Jahrbb. f. deutsche Theol. IX., pp. 409-481; X., pp. 64-152, 399-463; XI., pp.
193-253: XII., pp. 211-286; XIII., pp. 3-66) we possess an investigation of the
subject which is as comprehensive as it is thorough. The author, however, does
not seem to me always to have hit the mark in the judgments he passes. He makes
too many distinctions, and in particular his view as to the existence of a
strictly distinct symbolic doctrine of the Supper is hardly tenable in the form
in which he seeks to develop it. A purely symbolic conception of the Supper
never existed, for it was always harmoniously united with a ritual which was
based on a very realistic way of conceiving of it. What we now call “symbol” is
something wholly different from what was so-called by the ancient Church. On
the other hand, after the sacramental magic in its coarsest form had found its
way into the Church, “symbolic” statements were always tolerated because the
symbol was really never a mere type or sign, but always embodied a mystery; see
Vol. II. p. 143. On the doctrine of the Supper cf. further the monographs by Rückert, Kahnis, Ebrard. That the increasingly complex
form taken by doctrine was of no advantage to real religion may be inferred from
the one fact that the effects of the Supper were always described in an
absolutely vague fashion. Nor did the θεώσις, that process to which was attached
this high-sounding name, really mean anything, for it was impossible to
understand it in any serious sense. The idea that freedom was the basis of all
that was good, was in the way of this. This θεώσις, which is experienced in
imagination, threatened, in the case of the Greeks themselves, to change into a
mere play of fancy; for as soon as they realised that they were moral beings,
they thought of nothing else save of the exalted God, of His demand that they
should renounce the world and do good, and of the duty which lay upon man of
living a holy life in order to die a blessed death. For this very reason they
were also unable to reach any complete confidence in the promise of the
forgiveness of sins given in the Supper. In place of this, however, religious
materialism went to absurd lengths, while at the same time the ascetic theosoph
was always free respectfully to ignore the whole transaction.
Only a few hints regarding the course taken by the development of the doctrine
can fitly be given here: Origen supplies the starting-point. “In his view the
eucharistic body was only the Word of God or of the Logos as being a substitute
for his appearance in the flesh; the shew-bread was for him the type of the
Word in the old Covenant; for as this was placed, as it were, before the eyes of
God as a propitiatory memorial object, so the Church also puts a bread before
God which has a great propitiatory power—namely, the commemoration, the word
regarding His passion and death with which Christ introduced and founded the
Supper. But the bread of blessing was in his view the symbol only of this word,
only of His eucharistic body, but not of His body offered up on the Cross, and
if he does once call the latter “the typical and symbolic body”, he did this
only in the sense referred to. This is just what is peculiar and characteristic
in his standpoint, that whenever he speaks of the Supper or indeed in a more general
sense of the eating of the flesh or of the drinking of the blood of Christ, he
does this without any reference to the body which He had as man or to the blood
which flowed in the veins of this body.”Steitz X., p. 99. The body and blood of Christ are
knowledge, life, and immortality, not, however, as a mere thought or as a
symbol, but in inexpressible reality. In Eusebius we already note an advance,
and in fact in the “Demonstratio” and in the work “de eccles. theologia” he
has several new categories. In his case already the offering of the memorial of
the body (μνήμην τοῦ σώματος προσφέρειν) passes over into the offering of the
body (τὸ σῶμα προσφέρειν). He has the propitiatory memorial sacrifice. But
from the sacramental point of view the consecrated elements are still for him
symbols of the mystical body of Christ, i.e., of His word: only from the
sacrificial point of view do they already possess the value of mysterious
symbols of the actual body, the body which was once offered up.Demonstr. ev. I. 10; de eccles. theol. III. 12; Steitz X., p. 99 ff. It is
impossible to extract a doctrine from the confused statements of Athanasius, nor
will it do to make him a “symbolist”.So rightly Thomasius I., p. 431 ff. as against Steitz X., p. 109 ff. Probably, however, Athanasius comes
nearer to Origen in his conception of the Supper than in any other part of his
doctrine.See ad Serap. IV., espec. c. 19 and the Festival-letters. The statement of Basil (ep. 8, c. 4) is genuinely Origenist: “We eat the flesh
of Christ and drink His blood in that by His Incarnation and His life which was
manifest to the senses, we become partakers of the Logos and of wisdom. For he
described His whole mystical appearance as flesh and blood and thereby indicated
the doctrine which is based on practical, physical, and theological science, and
by which the soul is nourished and is meanwhile prepared for the vision of the
truly existent.” But the Cappadocians likewise had already advocated a theurgy
of the most palpable kind—in all the Fathers the spiritualistic amplifications
of the doctrine occur, always with reference to John VI. As regards the doctrine
of the Supper, “Realism” and Real Presence of the true body of Christ (or
transubstantiation) are for us at the present day equivalent. In
ancient times, however, there was a “realism” which had no reference whatever
to that real presence, but which on the contrary regarded a spiritual mystical
something as really present. Hence the controversy on the part of historians of
dogma and of ecclesiastical parties regarding the doctrine of the Supper held by
the Fathers. They are “Symbolists” in respect of the real presence of the true
body; indeed as regards this they are in a way not even symbolists, since they
had not that body in their minds at all. But they know of a mystical body of
Christ which is for them absolutely real—it is spirit, life, immortality, and
they transferred this as real to the celebration of the Supper.On Basil Steitz X., p. 127 ff., on Gregor Naz. the same, p. 133 ff. From
Basil’s ninety-third letter in particular we see that for him spiritualism was
in no sense opposed to the most superstitious treatment of the Supper. Quite
correctly Ullmann, Gregor, p. 487: “It is difficult to determine what Gregory
understood by eating and drinking the blood of Christ, and in any case no dogma
which may be regarded as peculiarly belonging to Gregory can be deduced from
it.” In him we find the expression for the consecrated elements
“ἀντίτυπα τοῦ τιμίου σώματος καὶ αἵματος”,
an expression which Eusebius in his day
might have used and which Eustathius did use (Steitz X., p. 402). According to
Macarius too, Christ gives Himself and the soul to be eaten spiritually (hom.
27, 17), but this spiritual eating is the enjoyment of something actual.
Macarius, however, while he had the individual soul in view always thought of
the Church; for to this noteworthy Greek mystic who, moreover, knew something
of sin and grace, as to Methodius, the soul is the microcosm of the Church and
the Church is the macrocosm of the soul. But the statements made by him and
Methodius in respect to this point, were not further followed out.On Macarius, see Steitz X., p. 142 ff. The
influence of the sacrificial conception of the consecrated elements, as being
the antitypes of the broken body of Christ, on the sacramental conception, can
be traced already in Eustathius and in the Apostolical Constitutions;Steitz X., pp. 402-410. its
presence is perfectly apparent in the mystagogic catechetics of Cyril of
Jerusalem. But I suspect that in their catechetical instruction Basil and
Gregory did not express themselves differently from him. Besides the many other passages having reference to the subject, Catech.
V., 7 is specially important. “And next after we have sanctified ourselves
(through prayer), we pray the gracious God that He will send down His Holy
Spirit on the elements presented, in order that He may make the bread into the
body of Christ and the wine into the blood of Christ; for' what the Holy Spirit
touches is wholly sanctified and transformed (μεταβέβληται).” Here therefore
we have a plain assertion of the μεταβολή which is effected by the Holy
Spirit in the Supper, and Cyril in fact appeals to the miracle of Cana. At the
same time “Cyril is the first church-teacher who treats of baptism, the oil,
and the Eucharist, in their logical sequence, and in accordance with general
principles.” The element which may be termed the symbolic, or better, the
spiritual element, is nowhere wanting in his theology, and in fact it still
quite clearly constitutes its basis; but we see it supplemented by that
“realism” which already regards the details of the act of ritual as the special
subject of instruction. The epiklesis or invocation, brings with it a dynamic
change in the elements in the Supper as in all mysteries. By partaking of the
holy food one becomes “a bearer of Christ”; the flesh and blood of Christ is
distributed amongst the members of the body. In Cyril’s view the elements in
their original form have after consecration wholly disappeared. “Since now thou
art taught and convinced that the visible bread is not bread, although to the
taste it appears to be such, but the body of Christ; and that the visible wine
is not wine, although to taste it seems to be such, but the blood of Christ,
comfort thine heart,” (Catech. V., 9). But still we might make a mistake if we
were to attribute to the theologian what is said by the catechist. Extravagances
of this sort still belonged at that time to the liturgical and catechetical
element, but were not a part of theology.On Cyril, see Steitz X., pp. 412-428. But the miracle of Cana and the
multiplication of the bread now became important events for teachers, as indeed
is evident from the sculpture of the Fourth Century, and even such a pronounced
Origenist as Gregory of Nyssa for whom indeed σύμβολον was equivalent to
ἀπόδειξις (a setting forth) and γνώρισμα (mark or token) and who laid down
the principle “Christianity has its
strength in the mystic symbols”
(ἐν τοῖς μυστικοῖς συμβόλοις ὁ
χριστιανισμὸς τὴν ἴσχον
ἔχει),C. Eunomium XI., T. II., p. 704. as catechist propounded a physiological
philosophically constructed theory regarding the spiritual nourishing power of
the elements which were changed into the body of the Lord, which in religious
barbarity far outstrips anything put forward by the Neo-Platonic Mysteriosophs.
It makes it plain to us that in the fourth century Christianity was sought after
not because it supplied a worship of God in spirit and in truth, but because it
offered to men a spiritual sense-enjoyment with which neither Mithras nor any
other god could successfully compete. Gregory wished for a spiritual and
corporal “communion and mixing” (μετουσία καὶ ἀνάκρασις) with the Redeemer.
The only help against the poison which has crept into our body is the antidote
of the body of Him who was stronger than death. This antidote must be introduced
into the body. It accordingly transforms and alters our body
(μεταποιεῖν καὶ μετατιθέναι; μετάστασις, μεταστοιχείωσις, ἀλλοίωσις). The actual
body of Christ as immortal is thus the remedy against death; it must therefore,
like other sorts of good, be partaken of bodily. This partaking takes place in
the Supper; for through the act of consecration the bread and wine are changed
into the flesh and blood of the Lord (μεταποίησις) in order that through
partaking of them our body may be transformed into the body of Christ
(μεταστοιχείωσις; see Justin). These transubstantiations are proved by a
philosophical exposition of matter and form, potentiality and actuality; at
this point Aristotle had already to be brought forward to furnish the necessary
proof. The paradox was held to be not really so paradoxical. The body of the
Logos, it was affirmed, itself consisted of bread; the bread was virtually
(δυνάμει) the body etc. But more important than these dreadful expositions of a
pharmaceutical philosophy was the close connection which Gregory formed by means
of them between the Eucharist and the Incarnation. He was the first, so far as I
know, to do this. The older Fathers also, indeed, while by the eucharistic body
they understood the word and the life, always regarded the Incarnation as the fundamental condition, which alone made that
use of it possible. But since they did not entertain the idea of the real body
of Christ, the Incarnation and Eucharist—apart from some attempts by
Athanasius—still remained unconnected.
It was otherwise with Gregory. For him the transformation of the consecrated
bread into the body of Christ was the continuation of the process of the
Incarnation. “If the existence of the whole body depends on nourishment while
this consists of food and drink; if, further, bread serves for food, and water
mixed with wine for drink, and if the Logos of God, as has been already proved,
is united (συνανεκράθη) in his character as God and Logos with human nature,
and, having entered our body, produced no different or new constitution for
human nature, but rather sustained his body by the usual and fitting means and
supported life by food and drink, the food being bread; then, just as in our
case, he who sees the bread to some extent perceives the human body therein,
because when the bread enters the latter it becomes part of it, so in that case
the body which conceals God within it, and which received the bread is to a
certain extent identical with the bread . . . for what is characteristic of all was
also admitted regarding the flesh of Christ, namely, that it was also supported
by bread, but the body was by the residence in it of the Divine Logos
transformed (μετεποιήθη) to a divine sublimity and dignity. We accordingly are
now also justified in believing that the bread consecrated by the word of God is
transformed into the body of the God-Logos. For that body was also virtually
bread, but was consecrated by the residence in it of the Logos, who dwelt in the
flesh. Accordingly as the bread transformed in that body was invested with
divine energy we have the same thing happening here. For in the former case the
grace of the Word sanctified the body which owed its existence to, and to a
certain extent was, bread, and similarly, in the present instance, the bread, as
the apostle says, is made holy by God’s Word (Logos) and command; not that it is
first changed into the body of the Logos by being eaten, but that it is at once
transformed into his body by the Logos (by its consecration) in accordance with
the saying of the Logos, ‘This is my body’.” Gregory argues similarly as
regards the wine and blood, and
then continues: “Since then that flesh which received God also received this
portion (wine, blood) into its substance, and God made manifest by that means
interfused himself in the perishable nature of men, in order that by communion
with deity the human might be deified; therefore he implants himself in all who
have believed in the dispensation of grace, by means of the flesh whose
substance consists of both wine and bread, condemning himself to the bodies of
believers, so that by union with that which is immortal man also might become a
participator in immortality. And these things he grants to the power of the
blessing, having therefore transformed the nature of the phenomena
(Ἐπεὶ οὖν καὶ τοῦτο τὸ μέρος [wine, blood] ἡ θεοδόχος
ἐκείνη σὰρξ πρὸς τὴη σύστασιν ἑαυτῆς παρεδέξατο, ὁ δε φανερωθεὶς
Θεὸς διὰ τοῦτο κατέμιξεν ἑαυτὸν τῇ ἐπικήρῳ τῶν ἀνθρώπων φύσει,
ἱνα τῇ τῆς θεότητος κοινωνίᾳ συναποθεωθῇ τὸ ἀνθρώπινον, τούτου χάριν
πᾶσι τοῖς πεπιστευκόσι τῇ οἰκονομίᾳ τῆς χάριτος ἑαυτὸν ἐνσπείρει
διὰ τῆς σαρκός ἧς ἡ σύστασις ἐξ οἴνου τε καὶ ἄρτου ἐστὶ, τοῖς σώμασι
τῶν πεπιστευκότων κατακρινάμενος, ὡς ἂν τῇ πρὸς τὸ ἀθάνατον
ἑνώσει καὶ ὁ ἄνθρωπος τῆς ἀθανασίας μέτοχος γένοιτο. Ταῦτα δὲ
δίδωσι τῇ τῆς εὐλογίας δυνάμει πρὸς ἐκεῖνο μεταστοιχειώσας τῶν
φαινομένων τὴν φύσιν). It was henceforth impossible for any other theory
to outbid this one, which followed the practice. It is the foundation for all
farther developments, especially the liturgical, and is responsible for
nominally Christian heathenism. It sprang from Gregory the “spiritualist”, the
disciple of Origen! It explains why all purer science necessarily ceased. No
independent theology could long hold its ground side by side with such an
intoxicating speculation.Catech. magna 37, Steitz X., pp. 435-446. For the rest, Gregory did not teach
transubstantiation in the later Western sense. According to him only the form (εἶδος)of
the elements, not the substance, was changed. His theory is therefore rightly
described as one of transformation. Nor was he quite clear about the relation of
the eucharistic to the real—transfigured—body. He did not entertain the idea
of a complete identity, but only of a qualitative unity. The consecrated
elements were qualitatively identical with the body, which the Logos had employed as his organ.
Chrysostom, on the contrary, spoke of a complete identity, and did not shrink
from the boldest and most repugnant expressions. “In proof of his love he has
given us the body pierced with nails, that we might hold it in our hands and eat
it; for we often bite those whom we love much.”Hom. 24 in 1 ep. ad. Cor. c. 4. “Christ permits us to glut
ourselves on his flesh.” Chrysostom won't remove our horror of cannibalism by spiritualising the rite. “In order then that the disciples might not be afraid,
he drank first, and thus introduced them undismayed into the Communion of his
mysteries; therefore he drank his own blood.” “Reflect, that the tongue is the
member with which we receive the awful sacrifice.” “Our tongue is reddened by
the most awful blood.” “He has permitted us who desire it not merely to see, but
to touch and eat and bury our teeth in his flesh, and to intermingle it with our
own being.”Hom. de beato Philogono 3; see Steitz X., pp. 446-462, from whom also the
above quoted passages are taken. The fact that at the same time the benefit contained in the Lord’s
Supper is described as being perceived by the mind, a νοήτον, hardly affects
the result, for of course the body, however real, of a God is a νοητόν. Like
Gregory, Chrysostom speaks of a refashioning and transforming (μεταρρυθμίζειν
and μετασκευάζειν) of the elements, which Christ, the Holy Ghost, effects
through the priest by means of the invocation—not of the words of institution
which do not constitute the medium among the Greeks. Very instructive, moreover,
is the reference to the Incarnation. “The Church sees the Lord lying in the crib
wrapped in swaddling-clothes—an awful and wonderful spectacle; for the Lord’s
table takes the place of the crib, and here also lies the body of the Lord, not
wrapped in swaddling-clothes, but surrounded on all sides by the Holy Ghost.”
Chrysostom, accordingly, went decidedly farther in this point also than Gregory,
with whom he agreed in the assumption of an essentially corporeal effect of the
participation.Compare also the offensive expressions of Theodoret (Interpret. in cant.
cantic. C. 3, Opp. II., p. 89 Schulze):
οἱ τοίνυν ἐσθίοντες τοῦ νυμφίου τὰ μέλη καὶ πίνοντες
αὐτοῦ τὸ αἷμα τῆς γαμικῆς αὐτοῦ τυγχάνουσι κοινωνίας. But the same author
writes (Dial. Inconfus.): οὐδὲ γὰρ μετὰ τὸν ἁγιασμὸν τὰ μυστικὰ σύμβολα τῆς
οἰκείας ἐξίσταται φύσεως. μένει γὰρ ἐπὶ τῆς προτέρας οὐσίας καὶ τοῦ σχήματος
καὶ τοῦ εἴδους καὶ ὁρατά ἐστι καὶ ἁπτά, οἷα
καὶ πρότερον ἦν.
To Dionysius, who was thoroughly Neoplatonic, the ethical central notion
consists in mystical union [= θέωσις (deification) = ἀφομοίωσις (likeness)
+ ἕνωσις (union)]. The complicated “hierarchies” in heaven and in the
Church—“purifying, illuminating, perfecting” = deacons, priests, and
bishops—act as intermediaries. This they accomplish by the mysteries which
likewise are graded; to the bishops is reserved the consecration of the
priests, the consecration of the anointing oil and of the altar. So the Lord’s
Supper, as in the case of Cyril of Jerusalem, is no longer treated apart; it has
its place along with five other mysteries. Dionysius was enabled to evolve a
mystical doctrine dealing with each mystery by a close examination of its ritual
performance. A deeper sense is given to each little detail; it has a symbolical
significance; “symbolical” is indeed not a strong enough term. There is really a
mystery present; but this conception does not prevent the expert in mysteries
from after all regarding everything as the covering of a single inner process:
the return of the soul from multiplicity to unity, from finitude and disunion to
the ocean of the divine being. The Eucharist which accompanies and completes the
process contributes to that which was begun in baptism. The liturgical
performance is rendered symbolical in every part. Moreover, the consecrated
elements are themselves treated as symbols. The realistic view of Chrysostom is
not found in Dionysius. The realism consists, so to speak, in the fixity and
integrity of the liturgical performance. Otherwise it is true of the Lord’s
Supper, what Dionysius says generally of all mysteries: “The majority of us do
not believe in what is said regarding the divine mysteries; for we only see
them through the sensible symbols attached to them. We ought to strip the
symbols off and behold them by themselves when they have become naked and pure;
for thus seeing them we should revere the spring of life pouring into itself,
both beholding it existing by itself and being a kind of single force, simple,
self-moved, self-acting, not abandoning itself, but furnishing the science of all sciences, and
ever itself seen by itself.”Dionys. ep. 9, I ed. Corder (1755) I., p. 612:
Ἀπιστοῦμεν οἱ πολλοὶ τοῖς περὶ
τῶν θείων μοστηρίων λόγοις· θεώμεθα γὰρ μόνον αὐτὰ διὰ τῶν προσπεφυκότων αὐτοῖς
αἰσθητῶν συμβόλων. Δεῖ δὲ καὶ ἀποδύντας αὐτὰ ἐφ᾽ ἑαυτῶν γυμνὰ καὶ καθαρὰ
γενόμενα ἰδεῖν· οὕτω γὰρ ἂν θεώμενοι σεφθείημεν πηγὴν ζωῆς εἰς ἑαυτὴν χεομένην
καὶ ἐφ᾽ ἑαυτῆς ἑστῶσαν ὁρῶντες καὶ μίαν τινὰ δύναμιν, ἁπλῆν, αὐτοκίνητον αὐτοενέργητον,
ἑαυτὴν οὐκ ἀπολείπουσαν, ἀλλὰ γνῶσιν πασῶν γνώσεων ὑπάρχουσαν, καὶ
ἀεὶ δι᾽ ἑαυτῆν ἑαυτὴν
θεωμένην. And it is characteristic that it was precisely
the consecration of the monk which constituted the highest mystery. Nothing but
the tradition of the Church prevented Dionysius ranking it actually above the
Eucharist. Dionysius does not discuss the Eucharistic sacrifice at all.Mönchsweihe de eccles. hierarch. I. 6, Abendmahl l.c. I. 3, pp. 187-198; on
Dionysius’ whole teaching on the Sacraments, see Steitz XI., pp. 216-229.
The following period was set the task of combining the crass realism of Gregory
of Nyssa and Chrysostom with the ritualism of Dionysius, without at the same
time wholly destroying the hidden spiritual element which depreciated all rites
in comparison with the inner feeling and exaltation. But from the beginning of
the fifth century conceptions of the Eucharist were very decidedly influenced by
the Christological differences. If the conception of the Eucharist was connected
with that of the Incarnation, then it could not be a matter of indifference to
the former, whether in the latter the two natures were held to be fused in one
or to remain separate. Monophysites and Orthodox, however, had always been and
remained of one mind regarding the Lord’s Supper. Cyril argued over and over
again from the Lord’s Supper in support of the Incarnation and vice versa, and
it was strictly due to him that the Church learned the connection between the
two and never lost it. Even Leo I. can discuss it.Ep. 59. Nay, the incorruptibility of
the Eucharistic body was now accepted without question, while this view, when
applied to the Incarnation, was called, at least in later times,
Aphthartodoketism. Cyril had no fixed doctrinal formula for the Lord’s Supper;
he did not go so far as Chrysostom.On the doctrine of the Lord’s Supper as held by Theodore, Theodoret,
Nestorius, and Pseudo-Chrysostom, see Steitz XII, pp. 217-435. Theodoret can be
described with most reason as a believer in the symbolical character of the rite.
Yet on the other hand it was maintained in the school of Theodore, in order to
separate deity and humanity in Christ, that in the Lord’s Supper the humanity of
the Redeemer is received. This was very stoutly and acutely opposed by Leontius
(in Mai, Vet. Script. nova coll. VI., p. 312) and that as a deification of man. But since the body was to him, because of the one
nature made flesh (μία φύσις σεσαρκωμένη), God’s body, it was in the
full sense of the term “life-giving” (ζωοποιός). Accordingly he also
maintained that it was not, as Nestorius taught, the body of a man that lay on
the altar, but the body of God.Ep. 12 ad Cœlest. When we partake of the flesh of Christ, he
implants it in us; he does not thereby become man in us—this mystical inference
is rejected,—but our body is transformed and becomes immortal. We do not yet
find in Cyril, however, the contention that the real body of Christ is present
in the eucharistic body; it is rather only an operative presence that is meant;
the eucharistic body is identical in its effects with the real.On Cyril, see Steitz XII., pp. 235-245. Nilus held the same view, l. c., pp. 245-248. It was the
strict Monophysites who could bring the eucharistic and the earthly body quite
closely together, because they also held the earthly body to be imperishable;Anastasius Sinaita made experiments to refute them, demonstrating that the
consecrated host actually did decay; Steitz XII., pp. 215, 271 f.
while the Severians still kept the two apart. But even the strict Monophysites
did not, so far as is known, advance beyond identity in operative power.Steitz XII., pp. 248-256. The
decisive step was taken in the age of the orthodox renaissance under the shield
of Aristotle, accordingly by the scholastics of the sixth century. Here we have
above all and first to name Eutychius, Patriarch of Constantinople in the time
of Justinian. He based his view “on the conception derived from the system of
Dionysius, that the cause exists by itself apart from its effects, but
multiplies itself potentially in them and enters wholly into each, and proved
that the ascended body abides complete [in substance] and undivided in itself
[in heaven], and yet is received completely by each communicant in the portion
of bread dispensed to him.” Eutychius teaches a real multiplication of one and
the same body of Christ in its antitypes—for as such he still describes the consecrated elements; but this
multiplication is not one of substance, but of power. At any rate the separate
existence of the eucharistic body side by side with the real is here for the
first time given up.Steitz XII., pp. 214, 256-262. Even before this, Isidore of Pelusium had demonstrated
that the eucharistic body passed through the same stages of deification (θέωσις)
as the real. “It is partaken as capable of suffering and mortal; for it is
broken and is bruised by our teeth; yet it is not destroyed, but is transformed
in the communicant into the immortal body.”Steitz XII., pp. 215, 262 ff.
John of Damascus settled this question also.On the mystics before him and after Dionysius, and their in part significant
modification of the ideas of Dionysius under the influence of Aristotle, see
Steitz. XI., pp. 229-253. How closely the Trinity, Incarnation, and Eucharist
were conceived to be connected, in the 7th century, may be seen from the
Confession of Macarius of Antioch at the sixth Council, Mansi XI., p. 350 sq. In the 13th chapter of Book IV. of
his system of doctrine he gave a theory of the mysteries—Baptism and the Lord’s
Supper—based on that of Gregory of Nyssa, but at the same time he was the first
to perfect the conception of the identity of the eucharistic and the real body
of Christ. John begins with the corruption of humanity and the Incarnation. From
the latter we obtain the new birth and the twofold food, that we may become
sons. and heirs of God. The birth and food required to be spiritual as well as
corporeal, for we are both. As regards the food, he himself in the last night
ate the ancient passover, and then gave the New Testament. God is all powerful
and creates by word and spirit. As he sent forth the light, as his spirit formed
a body from the flesh of the virgin and without seed, so the same spirit,
falling like rain on the field, changes bread and wine into the flesh and blood
of Christ; an analogy drawn from the process of nourishment as in Gregory of
Nyssa. We may ask here as Mary did: How can that be? And we must once more
answer: The Holy Spirit comes upon it. And in fact God has taken for his
purpose the commonest things that we through the common and natural may be
transplanted into the supernatural. But he now writes: “The body is truly made
one with the deity, the body which came from the holy virgin,
not that the body which was assumed comes down from heaven, but the very bread
and wine are transformed into the body and blood of God. And if you ask how this
happens, it is enough for you to hear that it is by the Holy Spirit, just as the
Lord also by the Holy Spirit assumed flesh for himself and in himself.”Σῶμά ἐστιν ἀληθῶς ἡνώμενον θεότητι, τὸ ἐκ τῆς ἁγίας παρθένου σῶμα, οὐχ
ὅτι τὸ ἀναληφθὲν σῶμα ἐξ οὐρανοῦ κατέρχεται, ἀλλ᾽ ὅτι αὐτὸς ὁ ἄρτος καὶ οἶνος μέταποιοῦνται
εἰς σῶμα καὶ αἷμα Θεοῦ. εἰ δὲ τὸν τρόπον ἐπιζητεῖς, πῶς γίνεται, ἀρκει σοι
ἀκοῦσαι, ὅτι διὰ πνεύματος ἁγίου, ὥσπερ καὶ ἐξ τῆς ἁγίας θεοτόκου διὰ πνεύματος
ἁγίου ἑαυτῷ καὶ ἐν ἑαυτῷ ὁ κύριος
σάρκα ὑπεστήσατο. In
what follows the view is expressly rejected that it is a different body of
Christ that is in question: there are not two bodies, but one. Further: “The
bread and wine are not types of the body and blood of Christ; not so, but the
very body of the Lord deified.”Οὐκ ἔστι τύπος ὁ ἄρτος καὶ ὁ οἶνος τοῦ σώματος καὶ αἵματος Χριστοῦ· μὴ
γένοιτο, ἀλλ᾽ αὐτὸ τὸ σῶμα τοῦ
κυρίου τεθεωμένον. The bread of the communion is not simple bread,
but is united with the deity; it has accordingly two natures. The body united
with the deity is, however, not one nature, but the one is that of the body, the
other that of the deity combined with it, so that the two together constitute
not one nature but two. Only the not yet consecrated elements, moreover, are to
be called “antitypes”; in this way Basil also used the word (!). The mystery,
however, is called “participation” because through it we possess a share in the
deity of Jesus, but “communion” first, because we have communion with Christ,
and secondly, because by the holy food we are united with one another, one body
of Christ, members in his body, and therefore of one another. Therefore we have
anxiously to watch lest we “participate” with heretics, or allow them to
“participate” with us. Finally, it is still to be noticed that, according to
John, the sacred food was not subject to the natural processes in the body.
This is the classical doctrine of the Lord’s Supper in the Greek Church up to
the present day. By the Holy Ghost bread and wine are received into the body of
Christ. The eucharistic body is that which was born of the virgin, not, however,
by a transubstantiation, as if the body of Christ descended suddenly from heaven and took the place of the elements, but by transformation
and assumption, just as in the Incarnation. The bread-body is received
into the real body and is thus identical with it.Steitz XII., pp. 216 f., 295-286. That is the last word of the
Greek Church—only now was the mystery perfect. Only now was the real presence of
the true body originated, the doctrine which the Churches of to-day, except the
Reformed, wrongly assign to antiquity, nay, to the Apostolic age itself. It is
true that Scholastics and Mystics have taught much that was original on the
Lord’s Supper in the Greek Churches since John; spiritualism also was not
abolished; but the history of dogma can give no place to these individual
pronouncements.See Steitz XIII., pp. 3-66. The two controversies about the Lord’s Supper of
1155 and 1199 are relatively the most important. The sacrificial character and the reference to the crucifixion,
which are so strikingly neglected by John, were again made prominent in after
times.The magical view of the Lord’s Supper is also seen in the practice of
children’s communion, which first attested by Cyprian (by Leucius?), became the
rule in the East, after infant Baptism had been established. Participation in
the Lord’s Supper was even held to be absolutely necessary; so already Cyprian,
Testim. III. 25. See the Art. “Communion of Children” by v. Zerschwitz in
Herzog’s R.-Encykl., 2nd ed. The physical and liturgical miracle was never, however, so logically
analysed or reduced to the categories of being and phenomenon, substance and
accident, in the Greek Church as in the West. Attempts at this were made; but
they never obtained any far-reaching importance in the official doctrine. The
second Nicene Council of A.D. 787 took its stand on the conception of John. The
last exclamations of the assembled Fathers were: “Whoever does not confess
that Christ, on the side of his humanity, has an unlimited form, let him be
anathema. May the memory of Germanus (of Constantinople) and of John (of
Damascus) endure for ever.”See Mansi XIII., p. 398 sq. and Hefele III., p. 473. On the present doctrine
and practice of the Greek Churches as regards the Eucharist, see Gass, Symbolik,
pp. 252-277.; Kattenbusch l.c. I., p. 410 ff. There as also in the Index of
Hefele’s Conciliengesch. (esp. Vol III. under “Abendmahl”, “Messe”) we
obtain information also as to the numerous detailed decisions bearing on the
rite (leavened bread, etc.); compare Heineccius, Abbildung der alten and neuen
griechischen Kirche, 1711.
§ 2. Christianity of the Second Rank.
There existed in Christendom, ever since there was a doctrina publica, i.e.,
from the end of the second century, a kind of subsidiary religion, one of the
second rank, as it were subterranean, different among different peoples, but
everywhere alike in its crass superstition, naïve doketism, dualism, and
polytheism. “When religions change, it is as if the mountains open. Among the
great magic snakes, golden dragons and crystal spirits of the human soul, which
ascend to the light, there come forth all sorts of hideous reptiles and a host
of rats and mice.” Every new religion invigorates the products of the ancient
one which it supersedes. In one aspect of it we know very little of the “Christianity” of the second rank, for it had no literary
existence;Yet some of the apocryphal Gospels, Acts of the Apostles, Apocalypses, etc.,
come under this head. in another we are thoroughly familiar with it; for we only need to set before us,
and to provide with a few Christian reminiscences, the popular conditions and
rites with which Christianity came in contact in different provinces,The works of Usener and Dieterich (Νεκυια, Leipzig, 1893) are valuable. as also
the tendencies, everywhere the same, of the superstitious mob, tendencies inert
in the moral sphere, exuberant in the realm of fancy. Then we have this
second-class Christianity. It consisted in worship of angels—demigods and
demons, reverence for pictures, relics, and amulets, a more or less impotent
enthusiasm for the sternest asceticism—therefore not infrequently strictly
dualistic conceptions—and a scrupulous observance of certain things held to be
sacred, words, signs, rites, ceremonies, places, and times. There probably never
was an age in which Christendom was free from this “Christianity”, just as
there never will be one in which it shall have been overcome. But in the fully
formed Catholic Church as it passes over into the Middle Ages, this Christianity
was not only dragged along with it as a tolerated, because irremovable, burden,
but it was to a very large extent legitimised, though under safeguards, and
fused with the doctrina publica. Catholicism as it meets us in Gregory the Great
and in the final decisions of the seventh
Council, presents itself as the most intimate union of Christianity of the first
order with that subterranean, thoroughly superstitious, and polytheistic “Christianity”; and the centuries from the third to the eighth mark the stages
in the process of fusion, which seems to have reached an advanced point even in
the third and was yet reinforced from century to century to a most extraordinary
extent.
It is the business of the historian of the Church and of civilisation to
describe these developments in detail, and to show how in separate provinces the
ancient gods were transformed into Christian saints, angels, and heroes, and the
ancient mythology and cultus into Christian mythology and local worship. This
task is as aesthetically attractive as that other which is closely allied to it,
the indication of the remains of heathen temples in Christian Churches. The
temple of Mithras which became St. George’s Church, proves that St. George was
Mithras; in St. Michael the ancient Wotan had been brought to life again, just
as Poseidon in St. Nicholas; the different “mothers of God”, who were honoured
with all sorts of sacred offerings—one preferred fruits, another animals—only
show that Demeter, Venus, Juno, and countless other great mothers and holy or
unholy virgins, had merged in the one mother.—The provincial calendars and
various “Church Years” conceal significant reminiscences from the old heathen
times. Here, however, we are only interested in the questions of principle, how
far all this had forced its way into the doctrina publica, and how it was
possible for that religion, whose strong point had once been a horror of idols,
to admit this stuff as something sacred.
As regards the second question, the points of contact existed in the doctrina
publica itself. The following may have been the most important. In the first
place, the doctrina had been constructed by the aid of Greek and Roman
intellectual culture and philosophy. These, however, were connected by a
thousand ties with mythology and superstition, which were not got rid of by
assigning a “noumenon” to everything. We need only recall the single instance
of Origen to see that the father of free and spiritual theology was at the same time the patron of
every superstition that would admit of receiving the least grain of spiritual
contents. Secondly, the doctrina publica sanctioned the Old Testament. Before
this, indeed, and even to some extent in the time of the conflict with
Gnosticism great pains had been taken to prove that the Old Testament was a
Christian book, and to allegorise all its ceremonial features. But the power of
interpretation had weakened more and more in comparison with the strength of the
letter. What a wealth was embraced in the book of material drawn from the most
varied stages of religious history! This material was sacred. No one indeed now
got circumcised, or offered bloody sacrifices, or refrained from eating pork,
but what did that signify if everything else gradually came somehow or other to
be accepted? From the third century the Church needed infinitely more than a
doctrina publica; it needed a sacred constitution, holy priests and a holy
ritual. The Old Testament from which pretty nearly anything can be legitimised
also legitimised this. Thus, side by side with revelation in the form of sacred
doctrine, there arose an indefinitely increasing mass of sacred things which
could be justified from the Old Testament alone. For its sake the old strict
exclusion of the literal meaning of the book and of its ceremonies was
abandoned, slowly indeed, but surely. At first the attempt was made to proceed
circuitously, and to attribute the ceremonial decrees to the Apostles, because
men were still unwilling to appeal directly to the Old Testament commands; but
they then became bolder, and finally felt no scruple about using the Old
Testament down to matters of detail, the special points of the Temple ritual—the
cherubim being cited, for example, in support of the right to worship pictures.
Thirdly, the sacred rites of Baptism, and especially of the Eucharist, offered
points of contact for the intrusion of Christianity of the second rank into
official Christianity. The public doctrine had already, at a very early date,
treated and regarded these rites as mysteries in the ancient sense. Thus the
door was thrown wide open to the inrush of everything of the character of a
mystery, magic, liturgical miracles, and fetishes. Fourthly, devil, and angels
had played a great part even in primitive Christianity. The official doctrine,
however, at first paid comparatively little heed to them; yet they had
always employed the imagination even of the most enlightened. Round these
traditions the popular conceptions now gathered, and the doctrina publica was
almost defenceless against them. When in the fourth and fifth centuries the
masses streamed into the Church, it was not in a position, in spite of
catechetical instruction, to exercise any control over them, or to examine the
(mental) luggage of those desiring admission. Nay, more, the monks, who in the
same period had with such extraordinary rapidity obtained full charge of piety,
moved in this world of demons and angels, and cherished the ancient mythology
under a Christian name. To live in the sphere of pure and impure spirits, to be
visited, refreshed, strengthened by the former, and to be tempted and assailed
by the latter, soon was held to be a sign of a heroic Christianity; and to this
the official doctrine had to accommodate itself. Besides the cultus, men
obtained their edification from a pious light literature whose dualism and
exotic character might lead the critic to assign it wrongly to the Gnosticism of
the second century.To the monks there fell as a rule in the East the role of mediators between
Christianity of the first and second rank. They perhaps contributed most
strongly to the transference of catchwords of the former into the latter, and of
the spirit of the latter into the former. But the Church was perhaps even more strongly influenced by
the Neoplatonic doctrine of spirits. In devoting itself to a lofty intuition,
and, like the Gnostics of old, seeing between God and the world hosts of graded
moons (angels) who as the “heavenly hierarchy”—in reality as cosmical powers
—reduced the many to the one, this doctrine legitimised the superstitious and
barbarous conceptions of demigods and genii. The one God, whom the people had
never understood, threatened to disappear, even in the views of refined
theologians, behind the whole complicated intermediaries who appeared more
tangible and therefore more trustworthy. Who can wonder that now the cultured
Christian, if a mystic, also preferred in his religious difficulties to resort
to these courts rather than to turn directly to God? If the supreme God had
appointed and set these courts between himself and his world, then it would
be presumption and aimless effort to ignore them. Only the strict ascetic might
venture that. But he also would rather dwell in fancy in the magnificent,
beautifully ordered world of spirits, where the golden buckets ascend;The Manichæans held a similar doctrine. he
would rather picture the fulness and variety of the immortal life than dwell for
ever on the desolate and terrifying thought of the One, who was so
incomprehensible, that not even his Being could be conceived.
Fifthly, as a residuum of the idea that all Christians were “saints”, and that
the Church possessed apostles, prophets, and spiritual teachers, the conviction
had remained that there had been a Heroic Age, and that those who had then won a
name for themselves were “saints”. They were added to the Patriarchs and Old
Testament Prophets, and they continued to receive successors in the martyrs and
great ascetics. The most cultured theologians had already set up theories of the
power of these heroes to intercede with God, and of their special relation to
Christ. The anniversaries of the birth or death of the saints were celebrated,
and thus they offered themselves in the most natural way to take the place of
the dethroned gods and their festivals. They fell into line with the angelic
powers, and were held to be more trustworthy than the latter. Among them Mary
came to the front, and the course of the development of dogma specially favoured
her, and her alone. A woman, a mother, made her appearance in proximity to the
deity; and thus at last it became possible to include in Christianity the
recognition of that which had been most foreign to primitive Christianity—homage
paid to sex, the sacred, the divine, in a female form. The Gospel to the Hebrews
had already, indeed, made the Lord say, “My mother the Holy Ghost”; but this
thought was yet sexless, so to speak, and was besides never made use of in the
great Church. Mary now became the mother, the bearer, of God.
Sixthly, from the earliest times the Christians had looked on death as holy; it
was the birth-hour of the true life; for in this world life meant for the
Christians to practise dying, and to have died was to live in immortality. Accordingly, everything
connected with blessed death, had already been touched by the breath of
immortality. The martyrs exhaled this breath; therefore their very bones were
more precious than gold or jewels. The worship of the dead began early, and only
a few opposed it. The heathen use of fetishes and amulets revived in the cultus
of the dead and of relics; in this form it was destitute of the aesthetic charm
which antiquity knew how to give to its amulets and little sanctuaries, and for
this reason the refined taste of enthusiastic Epigoni rose in disgust against
the veneration of bones and corpses (see Julian’s attacks). But the Christians
satisfied themselves from the contrast between the sensuous appearance and its
religious value that their faith was unique and elevated. since it found the
divine in the very dust and fragments of death. Therefore they were certain of
not being heathen in revering those amulets and relics; for heathenism sought
and found its sacred things in the bloom of life, but Christianity in death.
With the service of the relics was most intimately connected the veneration of
the saints, and the two led to the veneration of pictures and idols.
For, seventhly, the doctrina publica, as has been shown in our whole account,
contained to an increasing extent the impulse to transform the μάθησις
(doctrine) into mysteries; this impulse it followed continually in the treatment
of the Eucharist. But in doing so, it opened up the way to the boundless desire
to enjoy the holy everywhere and with the whole five senses, and it then obeyed
this desire itself. The Lord’s Supper became the centre of an ever extending
circle of material sacred things which could be seen, heard, tasted, smelt, and
touched. The religious was much more closely connected with the material than
with the moral. That, however, meant the relapse to religious barbarism and the
worship of images. This might be transfigured in poetry—everything now showed a
trace of God; it could even be spiritualised pantheistically—God is the world,
and the world is the deity revealed; but within Christianity it was nothing but
apostasy. But further, the senses which seek to perceive and therefore do
perceive that which is holy, become dull and blind in presence of that which is
actually perceptible, and dazzle the reason. The reason became
accustomed to a fabulous world of wonders, and more and more lost all rational
standards. Even the most cultured Fathers from the fifth century ceased to be
capable of distinguishing between the real and unreal; they were defenceless
against the most absurd tales of the miraculous, and lived in a world of magic
and enchantment. Then there once more emerged practices which date from the
earliest age of civilisation. Soothsaying, auguries, examination of sacrifices,
inquiries at oracles of every sort:— they had lost their name and their ritual,
but they were now revived in all that was essential as Christian, though in new
forms. Bibliomancy, questioning the Bible like a book of oracles, arose. Synods
at first denounced it, but even great doctors of the Church favoured the evil
habit. Ordeals, which were by no means originated by the Germans, came into
vogue. Two clerics of North Africa were suspected of a scandalous act; both
denied the charge; one must have been guilty; Augustine sent them over sea to
the grave of S. Felix of Nola. There they were to repeat their assertions;
Augustine expected that the saint would at once punish the liar. At the sixth
Council a Monothelite offered to prove the truth of his confession by writing it
and placing it on the breast of a dead man, when the dead would rise up. The
Fathers of the Council accepted the test. In cases of sickness questions were
addressed to this or that saint; the patient slept in his chapel; on certain
days lodging in the chapel was more effective than on others, etc., etc. The
sources of the fifth to the eighth century contain hundreds of such cases; not
only did the foolish multitude take part in them, but, as the above passages
have shown, the spiritual leaders themselves. The impulse to mystagogy, and the
misguided craving to feel the proximity of the deity, without being or becoming
a new man, were to blame for this decline and fall. Only two points can be
cited. First, the better Christians still continued to seek and find an object
of thought (νοητόν) in the thousand liturgical sacred things, the thought and its
envelopment interchanged with each other in an attractive play. Thus these men
defended themselves against the charge of worshipping idols. Secondly, the
honour to be assigned to idols was and continued to be
uncertain; it was not equal to that of God or of Jesus Christ or to the
authority of Holy Scripture, and one might even finally disown them; any one
might confine himself to the doctrina publica, and privately interpret in his
own way its sensuous and magical portions, if only he did not attack them. But
the poor common people knew nothing of this secret privilege of the learned, nor
might they share in it. And even scholars were themselves burdened with an
immense amount of stuff to which they had to dedicate their piety. It is the
same to-day. The pious regard which is required by the whole complex of
ecclesiasticism, intimately interwoven as it is with nationality, restricts the
capacity to win independent power in religion, and to take earnestly and
devoutly what is really earnest and holy. No religion gains anything through
time; it only loses. If a hurricane does not pass over it and purify it again
and again, it gets stifled in its own withered foliage. No hurricane has yet
swept over the Churches of the East. And yet they possess in the Gospel, which
they too read, an element of movement which perhaps in some future time will
bring life to the dry bones.
On the worship of angels, see Vol. III., Chap. IV. and Schwane, Dogmengeschichte
II., pp. 299-328. The seventh general Synod decided that angels must also be
portrayed because they were finite in form, and had appeared to many in a human
shape. The theologoumenon of Dionysius, who was not the first to teach it,
concerning the nine choirs of angels, obtained general acceptance. The
conception of the manifold guardian ministry of the angels became more and more
important. Even Schwane confesses here: “the doctrine that every man possessed
such a guardian spirit appears to have been allied to the old heathen idea of
genii, but was also founded on Holy Scripture” (p. 315). The worship and
invocation of angels became established; but the Church held in principle to the
position that the angelic cultus was not identified with the worship of God.On the extension of angel-worship we have an interesting bit of evidence as
early as the fourth century in Didymus, De trinit. II. 7, p. 250 (ed. Mingarelli):
Διὸ μετὰ τὰς ἐκκλησίας καὶ οἶκοι εὐκτήριοι τῷ Θεῷ τῆς προηγορίας ὑμῶν (scil. of the angels)
ἐπώνυμοι, ᾧ εὐάρεστος ξυνωρὶς ἀρχαγγέλων, οὐκ ἐν μόναις ταῖς πόλεσιν,
ἀλλὰ καὶ στενωποῖς ἰδίᾳ καὶ οἰκίαις καὶ ἀγροῖς ἱδρύθησαν, χρυσῷ καὶ ἀργύρῳ ἢ καὶ
ἐλέφαντι κοσμηθέντες· ἴασίν τε οἱ ἄνθρωποι καὶ εἰς τὰ ἀπωτέρω τῆς ἐνεγκαμένης
αὐτοὺς χωρία τὰ ἔχοντα οἷον ὡς πρυτάνια ἐπιτευγμάτων τὰ εὐκτήρια προβεβλημένα,
οὐκ ὀκνοῦντες καὶ πέλαγος διαλαβεῖν ἢν δέοι μακρόν . . . ὡς πειραθησόμενοι πλείονος
εὐνοίας μὲν τῆς περὶ τὴν πρεσβείαν ἀπὸ ὑμῶν, μετουσίας δὲ τῆς τῶν φιλοτιμουμένων
ὑπὲρ τοῦ εὖ ἀγαθῶν παρὰ
τοῦ Θεοῦ.
In reference to the Saints, Cyril says in his fifth mystagogic catechism (c. 9); “Then we also remember those who have already fallen asleep, first the
Patriarchs, Prophets, Apostles, and martyrs, that God through their prayers and
intercession may accept our supplication.” So also Augustine. This circle was
extended after the fifth century by the addition of holy bishops, monks, and
nuns. The power of the Saints to intercede was always the reason why honour and
invocation (τιμὴ καὶ ἐπίκλησις) were due to them. The ancient little martyr-chapels of the saints
now became great Churches. The complete apotheosis of the saints was denied in
principle. The offerings brought on the anniversaries of Saints and Martyrs were
always meant for God. But the connecting of the service of the Saints with the
eucharistic sacrifice gave the former an extraordinary value. Banquets were
regularly held on their anniversaries—a genuinely heathen custom, and in vain
did men like Ambrose, Augustine, and Gregory of Nazianzus inveigh against them.
The ideas of the communion of the Saints, and its typical import—every class
gradually obtained its Saint—were certainly very valuable, and in this sense the
worship of the Saints was not entirely unjustifiable; but the harm was greater
than the benefit. The worship of God suffered, and crass superstition was
introduced, especially in connection with the relics. This was first perceived
by the Gallican priest Vigilantius who had witnessed the gross disorder
prevalent at the sacred sites of Palestine,Jerome c. Vigilant. and ep. ad Riparium. Vigilantius (end of the fourth
century) went to the roots of the worship of the Saints with his criticism, not
only disputing the power of their intercession, but denying its existence, since
the Saints were not yet in heaven with Christ. Against him Jerome maintained (c.
Vigil. 6) a “ubique esse” of the saints, Apostles, and Martyrs, since they were wherever
Christ was. Augustine also, who refers to similar contentions, showed that the
Saints continued to have the power and the will to participate in earthly
things. Vigilantius had rightly perceived the danger of an actual fusion of the
service of God and of the Saints, and his attack resulted, at least, in a
sharper distinction being drawn in theory. This was also, however, done by the
Greeks; they reserved worship (λατρεία) to God, and described the veneration of
the Saints, in language already used by Cyril of Alexandria, as a becoming
honour (τιμὴ σχετική).Worship was more and more paid to the saints as ascetics and workers of
miracles. Men wished to receive front the miracle-workers what they praised in
the ascetics; for the worship was not platonic, but was always covetous. The
great patterns for biographies of ascetics were the Life of Anthony by
Athanasius, and the Lives of the Egyptian monks by Jerome. These were followed
in the West by the saintly novels on Martin of Tours by Sulpicius Severus, and
the Egyptian Tales of Johannes Cassianus. Comprehensive works soon appeared in
the East, of which the φιλόθεος ἱστορία of Theodoret, the Historia Lausiaca of
Palladius, and the corresponding sections of Sozomen’s Church History, deserve
special mention. The ἀποφθέγματα of Macarius are uniqne. The biographies of
saints and martyrs of the Jacobites, Copts and Abyssinians are, thanks to a
gloomy and desolate fancy, particularly repulsive. We need only here mention the
collection (Simeon Metaphrastes) and the ritual use of the biographies (Menaen, Synaxarien, etc.).
Most offensive was the worship of relics.On the differences between East and West in the cultus of the relics, see
Sdralek, Art. Reliquien in Kraus, Realencyklop. der Christl. Alterthümer. It flourished to its greatest extent
as early as the fourth century, and no Church doctor of repute restricted it.
All of them rather, even the Cappadocians, countenanced it. The numerous
miracles which were continually wrought by bones and relics seemed to confirm
their worship. The Church therefore would not give up the practice, although a
violent attack was made upon it by a few cultured heathens, and besides by
Manichæans. Moreover, in the Church itself a scanty opposition arose here and
there. The strict Arians (Eunomians) appear to have been more backward about
this worship (c. Vigil, 8), and Vigilantius assailed the worshippers of relics,
with Julian-like acuteness, though he was moved by the thought of the divine
worship in spirit and truth. He called the adorers of relics “suppliants to
refuse and servants of idols.” He would have nothing to do with the lights
kindled before relics, the praying and kissing, or the pomp with which they
were surrounded (c. 4). But that did as little good as his unsuccessful attacks
on pilgrimage to the holy sites of Palestine. Men continued to seek the living
among the dead, and soon it was enjoined as an universal command—and first in
the West—that every altar must have its relics; see Canon 17 of the 6th Synod of
Carthage, and Canon 2 of a Parisian Council in Hefele III., p. 70. The altar was
no longer merely the table of the Lord, but at the same time the memorial of
some Saint or other. Yet in France it was still necessary for a long time to
defend the practice against Vigilantius who had obtained no ally in Augustine,
although that great theologian well knew that God required a spiritual service.On the continued influence of Vigilantius in France, see the tractate of
Faustus of Reji de symbolo (Caspari, Quellen IV., p. 273); “Ut transeamus ad
sanctorum communionem. Illos hic sententia ista confundit, qui sanctorum et
amicorum dei cineres non in honore debere esse blasphemant, qui beatorum
martyrum gloriosam memoriam sacrorum reverentia monumentorum colendam esse non
credunt. In symbolum prævaricati sunt, et Christo in fonte mentiti sunt, et per
hanc infidelitatem in medio sinu vitæ locum morti aperuerunt.”
In the East, after Constantine Copronymus had attacked the relics along with the
images, their worship was expressly enjoined by the seventh Synod; see the
transactions at the fourth and seventh sittings (Hefele III., pp. 466, 472) as
also the seventh Canon of the Council: “As every sin is followed by others in
its train, the heresy of the iconoclasts dragged other impieties after it. They
have not only taken away the sacred pictures, but they have abandoned other
usages of the Church, which must now be renewed. We order therefore that relics
be deposited with the usual prayers in all temples which have been consecrated
without possessing any. But if in future a bishop consecrates a Church not
having relics he shall be deposed.” On the worship of saints and relics in the
modern Greek Church, see Gass, Symbolik, p. 310 ff., Kattenbusch l.c. I., p.
465 f. Along with relics and pictures the sign of the cross—this from an early
date: see even Justin—the volume of the Gospels, the eucharistic vessels and
many other things were held to be especially holy. On the cross and the form in
which it was to be made, on which great stress is placed, see Gass, p. 184 f.
Mary takes the first place among the saints. She came into
notice even in the first three centuries.See Vol. I., p. 258; II., p. 277. So early began the legends and
aprocryphal narratives that dealt with her; her place in the Symbol next the
Holy Spirit insured a lofty position to her for all time. Pierius, Alexander of
Alexandria, and Athanasius, already called her mother of God, and her virginity
was maintained before, during and after the birth, the birth itself being
embellished with miracle, as in the case of the Gnostics. But Mary obtained her
chief, her positively dogmatic significance from the fact that the dogma of the
Incarnation became the central dogma of the Church. Even the arguments of
Irenæus are in this respect very significant (Mary and Eve); but it was only
from the fourth century that the consequences were drawn. It would lead us too
far to give here a history of mariolatry even in outline.A good review is given by Benrath, “Zur Gesch. der Marienverehrung”,
re-printed from the Theol. Studien and Kritik., 1886. A list is given in it of
Catholic literature, in which the works of Marraci, Passaglia, Kurz (1881),
Scheeben (1882), and von Lehner (1881, also a 2nd ed.) are especially
noteworthy. Art. “Maria” by Steitz in the R.-Encykl., Rösch, Astarte Maria
(Stud. u. Krit., 1888, pp. 265-299). Kattenbusch, l.c. I., p. 464 f. The orthodox Fathers
of the Greek Church in the fourth century were still comparatively reserved.
Ambrose and Jerome, above all, in their controversy with Jovinian, initiated the
Church in the worship of Mary.Jovinian, so passionately handled by Jerome, had, in keeping with his
depreciatory view of virginity in general, denied among other things the
perpetua virginitas of Mary. But other Western writers, like Bonosus and
Helvidius, held the same view, and found supporters in their own time in
Illyria. Bonosus held heterodox views, besides, of the person of Christ (compare
the Art. on him in Herzog’s R.-Encykl.). Ambrose who exerted so strong an influence upon
Augustine is especially to be mentioned as patron of this worship. He taught
that Mary took an active share in the work of redemption, and already applied
Gen. III., 3 to the holy virgin. In his time, again, the fables about Mary,
which had long been in existence, began to be recognised as authoritative in the
Church. All that had been sung in her praise by extravagant Latin, Greek, and
Syrian poets and novelists, was consolidated into a kind of doctrine. It was
believed as early as the end of the fourth century that Mary had not died,
but had been removed from the earth by a miracle. Yet the Arabian Collyridians,
who presented her with offerings of bread-cakes, as if she had been a goddess,
were anathematised (Epiph. H. 78). The Nestorian controversy brought Mary into
the centre next Christ. She was the rock from which was hewn the deified body of
the God-Logos. Nestorius cried in vain to Cyril, and with him to the whole
Church, “Don't make the virgin into a goddess”; at Ephesus Cyril exalted her for
ever in the Catholic Church above all creatures, above Cherubim and Seraphim,
and set her at the right hand of the Son. He started the permutatio nominum by
which everything held true of the Son might be said to a great extent of the
mother, because without her there would have been no God-man. She now really
became a factor in dogma, which cannot be said of any saint or angel; for the
name “she who bore God” (bride of the Holy Spirit) was thoroughly meant. It may
be said in many respects that the orthodox now taught regarding Mary what the
Arians had taught regarding Christ; she was a demi-god mediating between God
and men. John of Damascus summarised the Greek theory in De fide orth. III., 12
and in the three homilies devoted to Mary. “The name ‘Bearer of God’ represents
the whole mystery of the Incarnation. The Holy Spirit purified Mary with a view
to the conception.” John adopted the whole mass of legend up to the Ascension.
Her share in the work of redemption is strongly emphasised; her body remained
uncorrupted. Yet it is noteworthy that John was much more cautious in his
dogmatic work than in his homilies.
The Synod of A.D. 754, hostile as it was to saints and pictures, did not venture
to interfere with mariolatry; indeed it expressly avowed its orthodoxy on this
point; but that was not enough for the opposition. Theodorus Studita described
the iconoclasts as opponents of the worship of Mary—see his ἐγκώμιον εἰς τὴν κοίμησιν
of Mary; and it was only by the Synod of 787 that feeling in the East
was satisfied. But in spite of all the extravagances with which she was
honoured—the successive rise of numerous festivals, the annunciation, birth,
death, reception, introduction into the temple—she is only recognised after all
in Greek dogmatics as the great patroness and intercessor
for men. There is not a word of her having been free from the stain of
original sin. It has been rightly said that she soon took a much more
independent position in Western piety. “The prayers to Mary in the Greek
Euchologion have a very uniform tone, because they dwell persistently on the
desire for support and help.” (Gass, l.c. p. 183). In a word, although she is
also called “Lady” by the Greeks, she is not the “Queen” who rules Christendom
and the world, and commands in heaven. She is not the “Mother of sorrows”; that
itself gives a different meaning to the feeling in the two Churches. But the
superstition which is practised among the masses in connection with her pictures
is perhaps worse in the East than in the West.
The distinctive character of the Greek Church was most clearly expressed in the
worship of pictures, in the form in which it was dogmatically settled after the
controversy on the subject.On the controversy about images, see Mansi XII.-XIV., and the works of John of
Damascus, Theodore Studita, Theophanes, Gregory Hamartolus, Cedrenus, Zonaras,
Constantine Manasses, Michael Glycas, Anastasius and others. Works by Goldast
(1608), Dallaeus (1642), Maimbourg (1683), Spanheim (1686), Walch (Vol. X. of
the Ketzergesch.), Schlosser (1812), Marx (1839), Hefele (Concil. Gesch. III.
2, p. 366 ff.; IV. 2, p. 1 ff.), Schenk, Kaiser Leo III. (Halle, 1880). On the
relation of Armenia to the image-controversy, see Karapet Ter Mkrttschian, Die
Paulikianer (Leipzig, 1893), p. 52 ff., and there also the part on the
controversies and the history of the sects, p. 112 ff., etc.; see especially
the K.-Gesch. of Hergenröther. Gass, Symbolik, p. 315 ff. Kattenbusch l.c. I.,
p. 467 ff., and the monograph by Schwarzlose, Der Bilderstreit, ein Kampf der
griechischen Kirche um ihre Eigenart and ihre Freiheit, 1890. There had been pictures from early times,
originally for decorative purposes, and afterwards for instruction, in the
grave-yards, churches, memorial chapels, and houses, and fixed to all sorts of
furniture. Opposition had existed, but it came to an end in the Constantinian
age. The people were to learn from the pictures the histories they depicted;
they were looked on as the books of the unlearned.But at the same time, some ranked the pictures much higher than exegesis, as
is shown by the interesting letter of Bishop David of Mez-Kolmank on images and
drawings to John Mairogomier (translated by Karapet, l.c., p. 52): . . . “This
sect arose after the time of the Apostles, and first appeared among the Romans,
wherefore a great Synod was held at Cæsarea, and the command was given to
paint pictures in the House of God. These painters became arrogant, and sought
to have their art placed above all other ecclesiastical arts. They said: “Our
art is light, for, while few read the Holy Scriptures, it enlightens equally old
and young.” This and other passages by Armenius show, besides, that there were
“iconoclastic heretics” long before the Emperor Leo. The Marcionites
(Paulicians) also rejected pictures and crosses. At the same time the
picture was to adorn holy places. But still another interest gradually made
itself felt, one that had formerly been most strenuously resisted by early
Christianity. It is natural for men to desire relics and images of venerated
beings, to withdraw them from profane use, and to treat them with deep devotion.
Christianity had originally resisted this impulse, so far as anything connected
with the deity was concerned, in order not to fall into idolatry. There was less
repugnance, however, to it, when it dealt with Christ, and almost none from the
first in the case of martyrs and heroic characters. From this point the
veneration of relics and pictures slowly crept in again. But from the fifth
century it was greatly strengthened, and received a support unheard of in
antiquity, through the dogma of the incarnation and the corresponding treatment
of the Eucharist. Christ was the image (εἰκών) of God, and yet a living being,
nay, a life-giving spirit (πνεῦμα ζωοποιόν); Christ had by the incarnation
made it possible to apprehend the divine in a material form, and had raised
sensuous human nature to the divine: the consecrated elements were εἰκόνες of
Christ and yet were his very body. These ideas introduced thought to a new
world. It was not only the Areopagite and the mystics who saw in all consecrated
finite things the active symbol of an eternal power, or perceived the
superiority of the Christian religion to all others in the very fact that it
brought the divine everywhere into contact with the senses. They merely raised
to the level of a philosophic view what the common man and the monk had long
perceived, namely, that everything secular which has been adopted by the Church
became, not only a symbol, but also a vehicle of the sacred. But amid secular
things the image, which bore as it were its consecration in itself, appeared to
be least secular. Pictures of Christ, Mary, and the saints, had been already
worshipped from the fifth
(fourth) century with greetings, kisses, prostration, a renewal of ancient pagan
practices. In the naïve and confident conviction that Christians no longer ran
any risk of idolatry, the Church not only tolerated, but promoted, the entrance
of paganism. It was certainly the intention to worship the divine in the
material; for the incarnation of deity had deified nature (φύσις). A brisk
trade was carried on in the seventh and beginning of the eighth century in
images, especially by monks; churches, and chapels were crowded with pictures
and relics; the practice of heathen times was revived, only the sense of beauty
was inverted. It was not fresh life that seemed fair, but, though a trace of the
majestic might not be lacking, it was the life consecrated to asceticism and
death. We do not know how far artistic incapacity, how far the dogmatic
intention, contributed to the Byzantine ideal of the saints. “Authentic”
pictures were in existence, and numberless copies were made from them. By their
means, monkish piety, engaged in a stupid staring at sacred things, ruled the
people, and dragged Christianity down to deeper and deeper depths.
But this monkish piety, which prevailed from the Bishops down, had become more
and more independent in relation to the State. None of his successors had
mastered the Church, like Justinian; and it was the aim of the iconoclastic
emperors to reduce it to complete subjection to the State, to make it a
department of the State. They sought at the same time to have a State Church
into which they could force the sects, Jews and Mohammedans, without imposing
what was most obnoxious to them, that which made official Christianity into
heathenism —the worship of images. They meant therefore to decide what was
Christian, and how the cultus ought to be framed, and in doing so they were
aided by the fact that it could be shown without any difficulty that the worship
of images was something relatively novel and alien. We cannot say more; for they
themselves were violent and rude barbarians, military upstarts, who depended on
the sword. They had abandoned the idea of the Church as the chief support of the
empire; it was to be the chief servant. Instead of priests they had soldiers.
They merely wished that the Church should not give trouble, and that it
should be possible in any given case to make whatever use of it the State might
require. Image-worship may look like religious barbarism; but it was associated
with all the spiritual forces still possessed at that time in Christendom. The
iconoclastic imperial power was much more barbarous, though we have to admit
that Constantine Copronymus possessed brilliant gifts as a ruler. However, the
emperors found bishops who made common cause with them, and it cannot be denied
that some of these had religious motives for attacking the images. Here and
there the hostility of the Jews and of Islam may have set them thinking about
the matter; others sought for means of winning or conciliating the Mohammedans.
Their opponents described the Arabians as the teachers of the iconoclastic
emperors.
In A.D. 726 Leo the Isaurian took the matter in hand.Schwarzlose (l.c., p. 36 ff.) has anew examined the origin of the
controversy, in order to determine the external causes. But the matter has not
yet been made clear. The following points fall to be considered. (1) Lesser
reactions against the worship of images, which proceeded from the bosom of the
Church even before the outbreak of the controversy, but which were only locally
important. (2) Accusations by the Jews that the Christians ran counter to the
prohibition of images in the Old Testament; the intervention of an Arabian Khalif, A.D. 723 (Jezid II.), against the Christian worship of images and of
Mary (influenced by Judaism?); influence of the Jews on Leo the Isaurian (?).
(3) A theological iconoclastic party in Phrygia, gathered round the Bishop of
Nacolia [on this Schwarzlose, as it seems to me rightly, lays particular
stress]; this party perhaps took its stand on ancient Montanistic and Novatian
reminiscences—the Paulicians are also said to have been inconoclasts; Leo’s
contact with the above party in his time of military service. (4) The resolve of
the Emperors no longer to depend for support on the spiritual power of the
Church, but on the army, yet on the other hand to perfect the imperial
papacy—after the pattern of the Khalif: βασιλεὺς καὶ ἱερεύς εἰμι. Karapet,
l.c., lays stress on the part played by Islam, but will have nothing to do with
Jewish influences. The Emperor wished to play the same part as the Khalif. A general opposition at
once arose. “The king must not decide concerning faith”
(μὴ δεῖν βασιλέα περὶ πίστεως λόγον ποιεῖσθαι). This general idea accompanied the whole dispute. From
the days of Maximus Confessor, the leaders of the Greek Church insisted on the
independence of the Church in relation to the State, and the Roman Bishops
supported them in their efforts. They were for that very reason on the side of
image-worship, just as, conversely, Charlemagne and his Franks were averse
from it. At the same time the influence of other motives than those of
ecclesiastical politics should not be denied.Reuter, Gesch. der relig. Aufkläring in MA. I., p. 10 ff. It was perhaps the greatest and
the least expected crisis ever experienced by the Byzantine Church.On the external course of the controversy in detail, see Schwarzlose, l.c.,
p. 51 ff. The issue deprived it of any further independent history, of middle ages, or of a modern
era. The image-worshippers, with the Pope at their head, replied to the imperial
edict by referring to express divine statutes, to the Labarum of Constantine,
and to the great Fathers of the fourth century, who had taught that the worship
passed from the image to its prototype.A passage from the works of Basil was especially important (δι᾽
εἰκόνος ἡ γνῶσις τοῦ ἀρχετύπου γίνεται); but Funk (Quartalschr., 1888) has shown that
while Basil certainly uttered this saying, his meaning was different from that
of the later image-worshippers; by εἰκών he meant Christ himself to whom the
worship passed. They appealed to a picture at Paneas of which Eusebius had spoken, but above all to the incarnation of the Logos. “Had
God not become man, we would not portray him in a human form.” The prohibitions
of the Old Testament signified nothing to the contrary; for idols are only
pictures of things which do not exist. We do not worship idols like the golden
calf. He who makes use of the Old Testament in the Jewish fashion and charges
the Church with idolatry is a reprobate Jew. Besides, Israel had possessed
divine images of its own; it only refused to value them—Moses’ rod, the golden
pitcher, the cover of the ark etc.; had it worshipped these, it would not have
fallen down before idols. All sculpture made in the name of God was venerable
and holy.Gregory II. Ep. ad German. in Mansi XIII., p. 91 sq. These were the most important arguments.
But the Emperor appointed a Patriarch favourable to him in Constantinople, and
sought to get the Pope of Rome into his power. The latter, in his letters to himMansi XII., pp. 959 sq., 975 sq.
defending the images, emphasized the points, first, that there were χειροποίητα
(images made with hands) which had been prompted by God, and were therefore
sacred and, secondly, ἀχειρποίητα (not made with hands),
as e.g., the picture which Christ had sent to Abgar. The latter, the
ἀχειροποίητα, played a great, indeed the decisive, role in the Church of
the East. Moreover, we see from the Pope’s letters that the imperial edict not
only affected image worship as the veneration of idols, stones, walls, and
boards, but also the veneration of martyrs as polytheism, and that the military
Emperor plumed himself on his likeness to Josiah (Hezekiah). Thereupon the Pope
wrote him that the dogmas of the Church were the affair of Bishops and not of
the Emperor; as the former might not interfere in civil matters, so neither
might the latter in ecclesiastical. The Emperor replied that he was at once
Emperor and Priest. But Gregory was not to be dismayed; his second letter was
even more forcible than his first. John of Damascus, securely protected by a
Khalif, also raised his voice in three apologies on behalf of the images.Opp. ed. Lequien I., pp. 305-390; see Langen, Joh. von Damasc., p. 129 ff.
Schwarzlose (l.c., pp. 202-223) has described very thoroughly the theology of
the supporters of images. On the third of the Damascene’s apologies, see l.c.,
p. 103 ff., on the spurious letter to the Emperor Theophilus, p. 109 ff. In
these the adoration of images is made to form an integral part of the dogmatic
theory of the Incarnation. We adore the Creator who became a creature; with him
is inseparably connected the purple garment of the body. Therefore, while God
himself cannot be portrayed, the incarnate God can. The Mosaic law only forbade
the ‘adoration of service’ (προσκύνησις λατρείας), but not adoration
(προσκύνησις) in general. Images are visible forms representative of the
invisible; the Son alone indeed is a perfect (identical) copy; but other images
are also connected with the subject they portray, and from eternity one of every
creature has existed in the presence of God. Gregory and John have a very great
deal in common in their arguments, so that we see clearly how dependent the
former was on Greek writers,Apparently this opinion is not yet sufficient. Following doubts already
expressed by Semler, Rössler, Malfatti, and Duchesner, Schwarzlose (l. c., p.
113 ff.) has brought forward reasons worth considering for holding that
Gregory’s two letters in their present form cannot have come from the hand of
Gregory II. Interpolations have been inserted by a Greek. but not only is the whole subject more thoroughly
treated in John, but it is more strictly based on dogmatics. He even goes so
far as to see in the rejection of images Manichæism, the contempt of matter
which the God-Logos had hypostatically united with himself. We find a frightful
confusion of ideas in an apparently simple and solid argument. All dogma,
wherever John lays his hands on it, culminates in the images. The doctrines of
the Holy Ghost, of death, unction and the cross, all require this worship.
But the freedom of the Church from the State was also strongly emphasised by the
subject of the Khalif, so that once more the parallelism with Gregory’s letters
is striking, so much so as almost to cast doubt on the genuineness of the latter
or of John’s apologies. It was the prerogative not of Emperors but of Councils
to control Church affairs. The power of binding and loosing had been granted not
to Emperors, but to Apostles, Bishops, and Doctors. In the second address John
assails the Emperor still more sharply. At the same time, he now maintains that
the Church is governed by the written and unwritten institutions of the Fathers; the worship of images belongs to the latter. It was difficult to produce proof
from tradition, and many patristic passages could be instanced against it. Hence
“unwritten” tradition. The adoration of the cross and of relics was always
embraced in the defence, and even the Old Testament analogy was cited in its
support. In the third address it is again declared that adoration is due only to
God and the body united with the Deity, and that the incarnate God is alone to
be portrayed. Then the abandonment of Scriptural evidence for images is made up
for by an indirect proof. Here it occurs to the apologist, that in fact all the
catchwords of orthodox dogma do not exist in the Bible. Next, we have a detailed
philosophy of images: the Son is the perfect resemblance of God, and the Holy
Ghost of the Son. Images are the ideas of things; man is the likeness of God;
the word is the image of thought; recollection of the past and representation
of the future are images. Everything is an image, and the image is everything.
The saints themselves are worshipped in their pictures. This is followed by the
treatment of the Eucharist, next by a long section on the degrees of worship; it
is abasement in presence of the object revered.
To this is appended the mention of the curative shadow of the Apostles, the
handkerchief, and the boys who ridiculed Elisha. Thus we are led up to relics,
saints, and pictures, the crib,. Golgotha, the cross, nails, sheets,
swaddling-clothes, and vesture, and again to books of the Gospels, sacred
vessels, candlesticks and crosses etc. in the Church. Even the adoration of
princes is recalled. Numerous patristic passages, some of them forged, are
quoted.
After the death of Leo, and the overthrow of an anti-emperor supported by those
friendly to images, the son of the former, Constantine Copronymus, carried out
his father’s policy with an iron hand. He summoned the general Synod, already
planned by his father, to Constantinople A.D. 754. Three hundred and
thirty-eight bishops assembled, but the Patriarchs were absent. Archbishop
Theodosius of Ephesus presided.Schwarzlose (l.c., pp. 76-101) has well described the iconoclastic party and
its whole system. “The iconoclasts rejected the religious use and adoration of
pictures, because not only according to their view were they contrary to Scripture, tradition, and dogma, but also seduced the Church into heresy and
heathenism.” The proceedings are only in part known, through
those of the seventh general Council.Mansi XIII., p. 205 sq. In the decision (ὅρος) of the Synod
Christianity is abruptly contrasted with idolatry, but the veneration of images
is idolatry. There were hardly many Bishops, who could or dared use such
language honestly or from the heart. The majority played the hypocrite from
dread of the emperor in declaring that the veneration of images was a work of
Satan, introduced into the Church of the pure doctrine, in order to seduce men
from the lofty adoration of God, or in describing painting as the sinful art by
which the incarnation of Christ was blasphemed. But it sounds strangest of all
to hear that these Bishops charged the image worshippers at once with
Nestorianism and Eutychianism. They were Nestorians since it was of course only
possible to represent the humanity of Christ, and thus his divinity and
humanity were sundered; and they were Eutychians in so far as they sought at the
same time to represent his divinity and accordingly confounded it with his
humanity. The only image allowed—and this is an
important declaration—were the bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper. Starting
from the prohibition of the portrayal of Christ, images in general were argued
against. Further, Christianity rejected along with heathenism not only
sacrificial, but pictorial, worship. The saints live with God; to recall them
to earthly life by means of a dead art was blasphemy. Men ought to continue to
worship and invoke them, but to condemn their pictures. No reference seems to
have been made to relics. We have now a series of excellently chosen passages
from the Bible and the Fathers. In conclusion, stringent penalties were attached
to the worship of images, and a string of anathemas crowns the whole. “We also
believe that we speak apostolically and have the Holy Spirit.” They had in fact
uttered fine propositions, and used words which had ceased for centuries to be
heard so distinctly in the Greek Church; but did they themselves believe in
these words?
They were under the yoke of the Emperor. The clergy obeyed when the decrees were
published; but resistance was offered in the ranks of the monks. Many took to
flight, some became martyrs. The imperial police stormed the Churches, and
destroyed those images and pictures that had not been secured. The iconoclastic
zeal by no means sprang from enthusiasm for divine service in spirit and in
truth. The Emperor now also directly attacked the monks; he meant to extirpate
the hated order, and to overthrow the throne of Peter. We see how the idea of an
absolute military state rose powerfully in Constantinople, how it strove to
establish itself by brute force. The Emperor, according to trustworthy evidence,
made the inhabitants of the city swear that they would henceforth worship no
image, and give up all intercourse with monks. Cloisters were turned into
arsenals and barracks, relics were hurled into the sea, and the monks, as far as
possible, secularised. And the politically far-seeing Emperor at the same time
entered into correspondence with France (Synod of Gentilly, A.D. 767) and sought
to win Pepin, History seemed to have suffered a violent rupture, a new era was
dawning which should supersede the history of the Church.
But the Church was too powerful, and the Emperor was not
even master of Oriental Christendom, but only of part of it. The orthodox
Patriarchs of the East (under the rule of Islam) declared against the
iconoclastic movement, and a Church without monks or pictures, in schism with
the other orthodox Churches, was a nonentity. A spiritual reformer was wanting.
Thus the great reaction set in, after the death of the Emperor (A.D. 775), the
ablest ruler Constantinople had seen for a long time. This is not the place to
describe how it was inaugurated and cautiously carried out by the skilful policy
of the Empress Irene,See Phoropulos, Εἰρηνη ἡ Ἀθηναια αὐτοκρατειρα Ῥωμαιων. Μερος á ann
769-788. It is important that the iconoclastic emperors belonged to Asia Minor, while Irene was Athenian. cautiously, for a generation had already grown up that
was accustomed to the cultus without images. An important part was played by the
miracles performed by the re-emerging relics and pictures. But the lower classes
had always been really favourable to them; only the army and the not
inconsiderable number of bishops who were of the school of Constantine had to be
carefully handled. Tarasius,Heikel (Helsingfors, 1889) has published in Greek for the first time the vita
Tarasii, written by Deacon Ignatius. the new Patriarch of Constantinople and a
supporter of images, succeeded, after overcoming much difficulty, and especially distrust in Rome and the East, after also removing the excited army, in bringing
together a general Council of about 350 bishops at Nicæa, A.D. 787, which
annulled the decrees of A.D. 754.A first attempt to hold a Synod failed A.D. 786, since the majority of the
bishops were still adverse, and were supported by the army. The proceedings of the seven
sittingsSee Mansi XIII., pp. 992-1052. The quotations in the Libri Carolini furnish
many problems. are of great value, because very important patristic passages have been preserved
in them which otherwise would have perished; for at this Synod also the
discussions turned chiefly on the Fathers. The decision (ὅρος) restored
orthodoxy and finally settled it. The first six Synods with their anathemas and
canons were first confirmed, and it went on: “We decide with all precision and
fitness to set up, along with the form of the precious and life-giving cross, the august and holy images made with colours or of
stone or other suitable material, in the holy churches of God, on sacred vessels
and garments, on walls and tablets, in houses and on the streets: both the image
of our Lord and God and Saviour Jesus Christ, and of our undefiled Lady, the
holy mother of God, and of the august angels, and all saintly and pious men;
for the prototypes being constantly seen represented in images, the spectators
are excited to remember and long for them, and to bestow reverence and due
veneration on the images, not indeed the true worship according to our faith
which is due to God alone; but (as it becomes us) to make an offering of
incense and lights in their honour to the form of the precious and life-giving
cross, to the holy Gospels, and the other sacred erections, as was the pious
custom of the ancients; for the honour paid to the image passes to the prototype;
and he who adores the image adores in it the being or object portrayed.”Ὁρίζομεν σὺν ἀκριβείᾳ πάσῃ καὶ ἐμμελείᾳ παραπλησίως τῷ τύπῳ τοῦ τιμίου
καὶ ζωοποιοῦ σταυροῦ ἀνατίθεσθαι τὰς σεπτὰς καὶ ἁγίας εἰκόνας, τὰς ἐκ χρωμάτων
καὶ ψηφῖδος καὶ ἑτέρας ὕλης ἐπιτηδείως ἐχούσης ἐν ταῖς ἁγίαις τοῦ Θεοῦ ἐκκλησίαις,
ἐν ἱεροῖς σκεύεσι, καὶ ἐσθῆσι, τοίχοις τε καὶ σανίσιν, οἴκοι τε καὶ ὁδοῖς· τῆς τε τοῦ
κυρίου καὶ Θεοῦ καὶ σωτῆρος ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ εἰκόνος, καὶ τῆς ἀχράντου δεσποίνης
ἡμῶν τῆς ἁγίας θεοτόκου, τιμίων τε ἀγγέλων, καὶ πάντων ἁγίων καὶ ὁσίων ἀνδρῶν·
ὅσῳ γὰρ συνεχῶς δι᾽ εἰκονικῆς ἀνατυπώσεως ὁρῶνται, τοσοῦτον καὶ οἱ ταύτας θεώμενοι
διανίστανται πρὸς τὴν τῶν πρωτοτύπων μνήμην τε καὶ ἐπιπόθησιν, καὶ ταύταις
ἀσπασμὸν καὶ τιμητικὴν προσκύνησιν ἀπονέμειν, οὐ μὴν τὴν κατὰ πίστιν ἡμῶν ἀληθινὴν
λατρείαν, ἢ πρέπει μόνῃ τῇ θείᾳ φύσει· ἀλλ᾽ ὃν τρόπον τῷ τύπῳ τοῦ τιμίου
καὶ ζωοποιοῦ σταυροῦ καὶ τοῖς ἁγίοις εὐαγγελίοις καὶ τοῖς λοιποῖς ἱεροῖς ἀναθήμασι,
καὶ θυμιαμάτων καὶ φώτων προσαγωγὴν πρὸς τὴν τούτων τιμὴν ποιεῖςθαι, καθὼς καὶ
τοῖς ἀρχαίοις εὐσεβῶς εἴθισται· ἡ γὰρ τῆς εἰκόνος τιμὴ ἐπὶ τὸ πρωτότυπον διαβαίνει·
κἀὶ ὁ προσκυνῶν τὴν εἰκόνα, προσκυνεῖ ἐν αὐτῇ τοῦ ἐγγραφομένου
τὴν ὑπόστασιν.
Just as at Trent, in addition to the restoration of mediæval doctrine, a series
of reforming decrees was published, so this Synod promulgated twenty-two canons
which can be similarly described. The attack on monachism and the constitution
of the Church had been of some use. They are the best canons drawn up by an
Œcumenical Synod. The bishops were enjoined to study, to live simply and be
unselfish, and to attend to the care of souls; the monks to observe order,
decorum, and also to be unselfish. With the State and the Emperor no compromise was made; on the contrary, the demands of Maximus
Confessor and John of Damascus are heard, though in muffled tones, from the
canons.See the Canons 3, 6 and 12. Theodorus Studita a few years later triumphantly
asserted the famous 3rd Canon: “Any choice of a bishop, priest or deacon
emanating from a secular prince is invalid.” Still, though the Byzantine Church possessed in the next period an
abbot—Theodorus StuditaSee Thomas, Theodor von Studion, Leipzig 1892.—who championed, as none but a Nicholas or Gregory
could, the sovereignty over princes of God’s law and the Church, it did not win
freedom and independence. However, the repeated and for decades successful
attempts made by military Emperors in the ninth century to get rid of the
image-worship which had only brought defeat to the State, were finally
frustrated.The superstition indulged in by the image-worshippers is shown by the epistle of
Michael the Stammerer to Ludwig the Pious (Mansi XIV., p. 399); see Hefele IV.,
p. 40. The great Theodore maintained the orthodox cause unflinchingly
against Leo the Armenian and Michael the Stammerer. Their successor Theophilus
was a relentless foe to images and the monks. Then came an Empress, Theodora,
who finally restored the worship. This took place at the Synod held at
Constantinople A.D. 842. This Synod decreed that a Feast of Orthodoxy
(ἡ κυριακὴ τῆς ὀρθοδοξίας) should be celebrated annually, at which the victory
over the iconoclasts should be regularly remembered. Thus the whole of orthodoxy
was united in image-worship.See also the decision of the 8th general Synod, sessio X. (Mansi XVI., p. 161).
An Oriental Christian—an Armenian, but in this question all Orientals are
agreed—writes at the present day: A Christianity which is stunted and disguised
in pictorial forms, if it belongs to the Church, i.e., if it is determined by
the history and the spiritual genius of a people, is much stronger and more
justified than any conceptions coloured by sectarianism or rationalism, however
much these may appeal to modern taste (Karapet l. c., p. 116).
In this way the Eastern Church reached the position which suited its nature. We
have here the conclusion of a development consistent in the main points. The
divine and sacred, as that had descended into the sensuous world by the
incarnation, had created for itself in the Church a system of material,
supernatural things, which offered themselves for man’s use. The theosophy of
images corresponded to the Neo-platonic conception, connected with that of the Incarnation, of the one unfolding
itself in a plurality of graded ideas (original types) down to the earthly. The
theme had, as the image-worshippers said, been already touched on by Basil (“the knowledge of the prototype comes through the
image”: δι᾽ εἰκόνος ἡ γνῶσις τοῦ ἀρχετύπου γίνεται); Gregory of Nazianzus (“it is the nature of the image to
be a copy of the prototype and of what is said”:
αὕτη εἰκόνος φύσις μίμημα εἶναι τοῦ ἀρχετύπου καὶ οὗ λέγεται);
the Areopagite (“truly visible images are the seen [representatives] of the unseen”
ἀληθῶς ἐμφανεῖς εἰκόνες εἰσὶ τὰ ὁρατὰ τῶν
ἀοράτων); Theodoret (“sin alone has no copy”) and others.See passages in Gass, p. 319 f. All that had been
wanting was a correct understanding and a bold carrying out of the truth. And
lastly, that nothing be left out, Aristotelian scholasticism found its account
here also. It had been maintained long ago, and supported by reference to the
pictures “not made with hands” (ἀχειροποίητα), that not painting, but the
tradition and law of the Church created the types—see also the decision of the
seventh Council. But Theodorus Studita went still further.See Opp. Theodori ed. Sirmond T.V. Here we have collected the Antirrhetic.
(I.=III.) c. Iconomachos, Confutatio Poematum Iconomachorum, Quæstiones
propositæ Iconomachis, the Capita VII. adv. Iconom., and the Ep. ad Platon. de
cultu ss. imag. The two books of epistles (l.c.) contain abundant material
regarding the images. To him the picture was almost more important than the correct dogmatic formula; for in his view the
relation of the copy to the original was a necessary one, and there was complete
identity in so far as while the material was different, the form (the
hypostasis) was the same. Theodore maintained that the material was indifferent,
but that in the form of the authentic pictures one possessed the real Christ,
the real Mary, and the real saints. They all bore their prototype in themselves,
and this prototype was independent of the personal impress; it went on
imprinting itself from picture to picture, at first spontaneously—for these men
caught at the absurdity of images not made with hands (εἰκόνες ἀχειροποίητοι),
then through the artist, if he reproduced the type faithfully.The chief passages are collected in great abundance and are well arranged by
Sirmond T.V. sub voce “Imagines” in the index.
With this science of images composed of superstition, magic and scholasticism we
may fitly close the development. The
Greek Church has almost entirely excluded plastic representations, and its
practice of art has, in consequence of the ban placed on it by the “authentic”
picture, never been anything but stunted. No one can deny that the
image-worshippers had some justification in their controversy with the
iconoclasts; and for Greek Christianity, as it was, image-worship was a vital
question. But in the great conflict waged for a century by the Byzantine Church
with the State, not only did its distinctive character, but its freedom, depend
on the issue. Great monks had tried to educate the Church up to the idea of
freedom. In the fight to retain its character it was victorious; but in that
for liberty it succumbed.
CHAPTER V.
Appendix.—Sketch of the History of the Genesis of the Orthodox System.
Origen had drawn up a system of Christian theology based on the four principles,
God, the world, freedom, and Holy Scripture, and depending on the old Catholic
Church doctrine. It is the only original scientific system ever produced by the
Greek Church. The conception of a scientific system of truth is in itself
philosophical; it has not come from religion which consists rather in faith in
revelation. But the science of the time had conceded a lofty place within itself
to this very belief in revelation, and, on the other hand, it was an innate
instinct of the Christian faith to give an account of itself.
Origen’s undertaking and the manner in which he carried it out contained as many
repellent as attractive features for his Christian contemporaries and the
future. As a whole it held its ground only in the narrow circle of friends and
followers;Theognostus, Origen’s disciple, made a new attempt at constructing a system,
see Vol. III., p. 96. but its effects were nevertheless incalculable. If Origen had recast the whole
faith (Pistis) into a science (Gnosis) the immediate consequence, by no means
intended by him, was that some of his gnostic (theological) propositions were
introduced into the faith, and that conversely others were amended in accordance
with the language of the antignostic Catholic Kerygma. The system was thus
dislocated, and with good reason; for it was a system, simply because in spite
of its scrupulous regard for the Bible, history, and freedom, it had transformed
history into a natural process. In opposing the notoriously heterodox points of
the system—the pre-existence of souls, pre-temporal
fall of souls, eternal creation of the world, the doctrine of the transfigured
body, and Apokatastasis—an attack was made, if not always consciously, on its
principles which became conspicuous in these points. For the above doctrines
were not appendages which could be deleted; they rather expressed most clearly
the fundamental thought of the system, that God is all in all, and that the
doctrine of the Church was dealing with wholly inadequate symbols in concerning
itself with the conceptions of the creation of the world in time, the historical
fall and redemption, the judgment, and a twofold final destiny. Men desired
science, and there was, as in all ages, only one science; then it was simply
that which Origen had represented. But at the same time none would abandon the
traditional tenets as absolutely valid truths, partly in the interest of
conservatism, partly because it was vaguely felt that scientific theology did
not do justice to the distinctive character of Christian faith. That was the
dilemma; but in one point all thinkers were agreed with Origen, viz., that the
final aim of faith and of the theology accompanied by asceticism, was
participation in the knowledge and consequently the life of the Deity. They were
all intellectualists, even, so far as we are acquainted with them, the earliest
opponents of Origen, including Methodius.Besides him the earliest opponents—after Demetrius—were Peter of Alexandria
and Eustathius of Antioch. Pamphilus and Eusebius wrote against Origen’s
enemies. And theology brought about in the
case of nearly all of them a loss to faith incalculable in its consequences—the
fading of moral responsibility and of the conception of the judgment. No doubt
the “Judgment” was maintained as before, and that against Origen; but the
thought had lost and continued more and more to lose its all-commanding position
in doctrine.
At the beginning of the fourth century,See the details in Vol. III., pp. 121-162. Christianity was, again in consequence
of the theology, on the point of disruption. Eusebius has himself admitted the
danger in the outward organisation, and it was a result of the cleavage in
thought. Bishops spoke authoritatively in the East who had learned from Origen
all sorts of ideas that put the doctrine of the Church in danger of running to seed. A compact school was in the
field that, while it considered itself very scientific and genuinely biblical,
yet without knowing or intending it, secularised Christianity. Constantine on
the one hand, and Athanasius on the other, saved Christendom. Athanasius was no
follower of Origen; he was more akin to Irenæus. In giving the central place to
the thought of Christ’s essential unity with God, and in carrying it out, he
also set the theology of the future, as it seems, on a new, or rather on the old
Irenæan basis. But he was no theologian, or, better, he ceased to be one from
the moment when he perceived the central significance of the above conception of
faith. He hardly touched, let alone solved, the problem of correlating it with
all the other results of contemporary knowledge, with the whole of natural
theology. He had enough to do in showing that a conception still alien, at any
rate to the majority, and clothed in an unfamiliar word, was scriptural,
traditional, and fundamental, and in obviating objections. A kind of system was
rather constructed by the strict Arians—Aëtius and Eunomius—by means of
Aristotelian philosophy. Every professed system up till past the middle of the
fourth century was heterodox, with the sole exception of that of Marcellus; but
while he made a bold front against the whole doctrine of Origen, he seemed to
fall into long refuted errors. His fate itself proves that one thing, in whose
assertion orthodox and Arians were agreed, was already inseparably bound up with
the Christianity of the cultured, viz., the Neo-platonic doctrine of God and his
revelation. The one party—the Arians—might supplement it with Aristotelianism,
the other might give the widest scope to the conception of salvation embodied in
Jesus Christ, but in the above fundamental thought both were agreed, and the
common veneration of Origen is proof of this.On Arians and orthodox, see Chap. I. Cyril’s catechisms show the
procedure followed in the catechetic instruction of the cultured. They are based
on the Symbol, and its separate points are proved from Scripture. Agreement with
Scripture is sufficient; it also guarantees, so to speak, the unity, or,
better, it suppresses the craving for strict unity. Revelation, as contained in
the oracles of Scripture, was to satisfy all wants. The catechist did not indeed renounce rational argument in
support of separate points of doctrine, but he did not offer anything like a
system. On the other hand, traditionalism and the mysticism of the cultus were
already strongly marked. Nor was the latter unconnected with Origen; on the
contrary, no theologian of early times did so much to further it as he.
The transference of Athanasius’ thought into the scientific theology, i.e., into
Origenism, was the work of the Cappadocians. Among them Gregory of Nyssa was the
most thorough adherent of Origen. Though not without some reservations, yet it
can be said that he represented the fundamental conception of Origen.The reservations are, certainly, not unimportant. If Gregory also shared
Origen’s starting-point, viz., the antithesis of the spiritually divine and the
sensuous, yet he had a more distinct grasp of the notion of creation, and
attempted to understand the sensuous as a necessary side of human nature.
Finally, however, he also regards the whole development explored by Christian
theology as a cosmical process; only the process does not appear so manifest as
in Origen, who besides had also, judging from Clement of Alex., introduced ideas
alien to it. His
“Great Catechism” is the only writing of the fourth century which can be
compared to the work “De principiis”; but it contains a much narrower range of
ideas, and is by no means, even in Gregory’s own view, a complete work on
dogma.Everything in the “Great Catechism” is rational. The author begins by
expounding the doctrine of the Trinity as the just mean between Jewish
monotheism and heathen polytheism. He also shows that it occurs in the Old
Testament (c. 1-4). Then follows the account of the doctrine of the Incarnation
(c. 5-32), which forms the subject proper of the Catechism. It is treated from
the most varied sides; the reason, nature, and result of the incarnation are
discussed. It is proved from the essential attributes of God as well as the
state of men; and it is shown that on the one hand it corresponds to the
goodness, justice, wisdom, and power of God, and on the other presupposes the
condition of evil, death, and freedom in man. Christ became man for all, but he
is the physician only for the virtuous. The old question why he appeared so late
is also (c. 29) discussed. The conclusion is taken up with expositions of
Baptism, the Last Supper, and faith, which constitute the new birth, i.e.,
virtuous life (c. 33-40). Origen’s conceptions, though grouped round a new
centre in that of Athanasius, run through the whole; this is still more
conspicuous in some of the other writings by the same author. Next to the Cappadocians, Didymus of Alexandria is to be named as a
disciple of Origen. It was of immense importance that, just before complete
traditionalism settled on the Church, these men took up the cause of theological
science in Origen’s sense, further, that at this very time men were found in the West to communicate the views of the Cappadocians
and Didymus to their native land, and, finally, that the Byzantine Church never
ventured to condemn the works of the Cappadocians—of Gregory of Nyssa. The last
is especially a fact which cannot fail to excite astonishment; but what would
have been left to the Greek Church from the sixth century down, if to the
condemned doctors of the Church and their writings we had further to add the
main works of Gregory of Nyssa. Since, however, the Church has steadily
acknowledged the orthodoxy of the Cappadocians,The Cappadocians were always held to be the foremost among theologians. Thus
Theodore of Studion says (Antirrhet II. adv. Iconom., p. 123, edit. Sirmond.):
καὶ δὴ ἀκουσόμεθα τῶν κορυφαιοτάτων πατέρων, Γρηγορίου μὲν τοῦ θεολόγου . . .
Βασιλείου δὲ τοῦ μεγάλου, and of the former (Iamb. 67, p. 766):
Βρονθῶν τὰ θεῖα
τῇ βοῇ τῶν δογμάτων, Ἠχήσας ὄντως τὴν ὑπουράνιον, μάκαρ· Καὶ πάσας ἀπρὶξ
μωράνας τὰς αἱρέσεις, Τον κόσμον ἐστήριξας ἐν τοῖς σοῖς λόγοῖς.
From the sixth century Gregory of Nyssa put his admirers in a precarious
position by his manifestly heterodox doctrines. They were hushed up; yet their
author is not placed by the Greeks of to-day on quite the same high level as
Basilius and Gregory of Nazianzus. Origen himself has after all
been always looked at as only half a heretic. Up to the present day the members
of the two Catholic Churches do not know exactly how they ought really to regard
him. He has remained a thorn in the flesh of the Church.
At the close of the fourth century it was settled that the dogmas of the Trinity
and the Incarnation constituted the faith; for they were most intimately
connected, and the former was fixed in terms of the Incarnation. The great
Apollinaris, a systematic theologian and besides an opponent of Origen’s method,
and the Cappadocians established this conviction. By this means an immense gain
was made on the one hand, but on the other not much; for what good did it do to
confess these doctrines, as long as it was possible by means of philosophy to
furnish very different versions of them, or while the infinite number of other
tenets, which fell within the range of theology and required absolutely to be
discussed in terms of the Symbol or of Holy Scripture, were destitute of any
fixed form? We must again, or, rather still conceive the state of matters during
the whole of the fourth century on to its close as being mutatis mutandis the
same as when Gnosticism flourished, though a consensus of opinion was not wanting in the Church.
There was no recognised conception of the nature of the Incarnation, after the
bold and sanguine attempt of Apollinaris had been rejected as heretical, and the
hundred and one “doctrines” which floated round the Trinitarian and
Christological dogma were as fickle and uncertain as the waves of the sea. It
was not known what belonged to the “faith”, whether to include psychology, or
natural science. Everything offered itself, and nothing could be declared
indifferent without danger; it was uncertain, too, in what form it did belong
to faith. No one knew how the Bible was to be interpreted, whether literally, or
typically, or spiritually; no form of interpretation could be wholly accepted
or wholly rejected. It was not known what was to be expected in a future state;
and as much doubt prevailed about the beginning as about the end of things.
Conceptions still existed of God, the earth, heaven, Christ, the glories of
Paradise and the horrors of the judgment, like those prevalent among the old
“Saints” of the second century, and they were firmly held with less sanctity,
but the same fanaticism, by the new saints, the monks.
On the other hand, both among monks and others, conceptions existed such as
Origen cherished from which the many-coloured pictures and dramatic scenes had
disappeared: men believed in eternal worlds, the original affinity of the human
spirit with God, in the one unfolding itself into the many, and the many
necessarily returning into the one. And in the fourth century Christians, and
even clerics, went beyond Origen. To them the coverings and masks into which he
had transformed the realistic doctrines of the Church were still more
transparent. A man was now a Christian because every one was or was becoming one; but he would not cease being a philosopher. It was hardly necessary to come to
terms with the doctrine of the Trinity, for, one or two points being set aside,
it was held to be correct, rational, and Platonic. The Incarnation caused
greater difficulty, but the Cappadocians themselves had shown how it could be
under-stood rationally. A still further step was taken; the humanity assumed by
God was dealt with in a free and easy manner. Speculation found plenty of
expedients by which to pare down the paradox and to reduce it to the level of the intelligible.
But once one had formulated, somehow or other, his assent to the Trinity and
Incarnation he was really free and could apply Greek learning (Ἑλληνικὴ
παιδεία) as much as he pleased to Christian truth, interpreting its myths.Nothing is more instructive here than the study of the noble Synesius.
Thousands must have held the same views as he at the transition from the fourth
to the fifth century; but few possessed the honesty of this Bishop or the
clearness of his mind; see above all his letter to his brother Euoptius, when
confronted by the question whether he should or should not accept the bishopric
offered him. He was then still a Neoplatonist, and, though he afterwards
modified his views to some extent, he never ceased to be one. But he openly
declared that while he would not give up science, he would accept outwardly the
mythical wrapping (τὰ δ᾽ ἔξω φιλομυθῶν), since the people did not endure
the clear light.—Even at the end of the fourth century, Church Fathers found it
necessary to oppose the idea first broached by Celsus, that Christ had borrowed
from Plato. Moreover, there were Christianised philosophers who succeeded by an artifice in
uniting the sublimest spiritualism with superstition; they inculcated a
ritualistic immanence of the pneumatic in material, if consecrated, things, and
transformed the whole world and history into a descending series of types and
symbols, which appeared at the same time as effective vehicles of the divine.
Creation was the evolution of the one into a world of ideas, symbols and
types—every potency being the copy of a higher, and the pattern for a lower one;
and redemption was completed in the mysteries of thought and the cultus, which
led from type to type, from potency to potency, up to the all-embracing One.
Thus Iamblichus had taught; Neoplatonic philosophers of the fourth and fifth
centuries followed him, and as they were in a position to conserve heathen
mythologies and cults by this view, Christians transferred the conception and
method to Christianity. To them the Incarnation no longer appeared as an
isolated paradox; it was a special instance, or the verification, or necessary
result, of the cosmical process. The great Unknown, who probably belonged to
Alexandria, and who is called Pseudo-Dionysius, “in an elaborate conception of
the world, smuggled into the Greek Church and its theology the Neoplatonism into
which the other doctors of the Church had only dipped timidly, (?) and on this
foundation he constructed his theory of the heavenly hierarchy, and its copy,
the hierarchy of the Church.”Steitz, Jahrhb. XI., p. 195. Dionysius
seems to be a realist in the sense of the Church; he lets everything
realistic stand; but it is all in fact simply a wrapping; nothing is and
nothing happens which is not self-evolved in the process of the Cosmos. At the
same time it is unmistakable that, though the form by which it is expressed is
not satisfactory, the nature of the good is perceived—it consists in inner union
with God.On the system of Dionysius, see Steitz l.c., pp. 197-229. The fundamental
thought of Dionysius is the absolute transcendence of God; but God is to him, at
the same time, absolute causality; as causality he still stands outside of the
world (the many), but yet the forces emanating from him can on the other hand be
regarded as a self-reduplication (πολλαπλασίαζεσθαι). Thus the attempt was
made to combine the thought of the transcendence of the One with Pantheism. This
One is force and movement in virtue of the ἔρως (ἀγάπη) dwelling in it, and
thus it issues from itself in order to return to itself. This emanation,
however, is identical with the fixing of προορισμοί and παραδείγματα;
i.e., the finite conceived as pure forms exists from eternity in God himself,
nay, treated and conceived as one, it is himself. In him and belonging to him
the forces are always immaterial, undivided, identical. From the standpoint of
God, accordingly, the whole process of the world is simply pure self-movement;
but viewed from beneath it is one of unfolding, division, and descent, and again
of ascent, unification, and return to the One. We must always maintain both,
rest and movement, transcendence and immanence, unity and multiplicity. To this
correspond the kataphatic and the apophatic theologies. The former descends from
God to things in order from the effects to draw conclusions as to the absolute,
inexhaustible, nature of the One. The latter rises from things to God, in order
to deny regarding him all that may be conceived, and to find him exalted above
the antithesis of error and truth, of not-being and being. The latter is to
Dionysius the more appropriate, but the two methods ought not to contradict each
other; for the Deity is placed even above the antithesis formed by the
statements of the apophatic and kataphatic theology. In his fifth Epistle,
Dionysius says (I., p. 594, ed. Corder): ὁ θεῖος
γνόφος ἐστὶ τὸ ἀπρόσιτον φῶς—how often since that has been repeated by
mystics!—ἐν ᾧ κατοικεῖν ὁ Θεὸς λέγεται· καὶ ἀοράτῳ γε ὄντι διὰ τὴν ὑπερέχουσαν φανότητα
καὶ ἀπροσίτῳ τῷ αὐτῷ διὰ τὴν ὐπερβολὴν τῆς ὑπερουσίου φωτοχυσίας, ἐν τούτῳ
γίγνεται πᾶς ὁ Θεὸν γνῶναι καὶ ἰδεῖν ἀξιούμενος αὐτῷ τῷ μὴ ὁρᾷν μηδὲ γινώσκειν,
ἀληθῶς ἐν τῷ ὑπὲρ ὅρασιν καὶ γνῶσιν γιγνόμενος.
The thought of God’s transcendence was the decisive point. To the unmoved mover
every spirit, nay, everything in its own way strives to rise. “A nameless longing passes
through all the veins of nature;” God himself comes not nearer but men can force
themselves up to him. Evil consists in being separated from hum; it is a pure
negation; it does not exist in relation to God for it is a negative in the
sphere of the many, which yet in view of God constitute a non-material unity: it
is the unnatural, that which does not correspond to the nature of the various
beings and things, each taken in its distinctive character. In so far as these
are, they are good; but in so far as they are not what they ought to be, they
contain evil in themselves. It remains obscure, however, how they cannot he what
they ought. Is it due to the
multiplication in itself, or to an unknown hindrance? In any case the good is
union with God. At this point begins the most characteristic work of Dionysius,
its mystical and scholastic feature. This union, like everything else, has its
stages; it is consummated by purification, illumination, and perfecting. As the
sun dispels darkness, then fills everything with light, and brings it to
perfection, so also does the Deity. And everything in the Cosmos contributes to
this process; it is the object and agent of redemption; it is a universe of
symbols which lead to God, but which cannot be entirely transcended in this
world; for we only see through a mirror in a dark saying. The process itself is
no pure process of thought; thinking is only its accompaniment; it is a process
of the action of being upon being; therefore the symbol and the rite which offer
themselves to the feeling of the soul that is passive and yields itself up to
them. Accordingly we have, at the close, the passive intuition, in which man no
longer participates in anything external, is no longer conscious of anything
positive, but negativing all things, loses himself in the inscrutable. Yet
there is no negation from which it would not be necessary to separate the Deity
by a ὑπέρ; the imagination must cast anchor before the portals of the
inscrutable and incomprehensible. The purifying, illuminating, and perfecting
rites are imparted to men by the heavenly and ecclesiastical hierarchies. But
between these and the Deity Dionysius has placed the Church doctrines of the
Trinity and the Incarnation. The former has been outwardly treated orthodoxly on
the whole, yet in such a way that it after all merely assumes the form of a
Trinity in revelation i i.e., the persons are regarded as the first stages in
the multiplication of the Deity which is continued in the heavenly hierarchy;
however, this way of looking at the matter is disguised from view. As regards
the Incarnation, the system has naturally no room for it; for regard for the
transcendence of the Deity prevents it from recognising any incarnation, and in
consequence of his immanence the whole process of the Cosmos itself is the materialising and manifestation of the Deity in the world. Yet the Incarnation
is maintained; but, since this was impossible, it is not made the central point,
but serves as the foundation of various speculations, and the illustration of
valuable thoughts. The result of the Incarnation in Jesus is conceived as a
raising of human nature to its highest power, and not properly as a fusion of
two natures (yet we have the expression: καινὴ θεανδρικὴ ἐνέργεια); for even in
the manifestation of Jesus the Deity remains concealed and incomprehensible.
Like all symbols and phenomena the Incarnation is in a certain sense a
disguising of the Deity. With Jesus Dionysius also connects a few realistic
Church doctrines as to redemption, victory over the demons, and θεογενεσία;
but the Incarnation really is the representation of God’s unfolding of himself
in general. As regards the actual redemption of individuals the main stress is
placed in this system on the two hierarchies and the mysteries. These
hierarchies are genuinely Neo-platonic. The heavenly was formed by the graded
choirs of angels (Triads, see Vol. III., Chap. 4) which themselves consecrated
severally by the higher, consecrate severally the lower; the historical Christ even had his place among them. The
ecclesiastical hierarchy consisted of the bishops, priests, and deacons; and the
means which acted from beneath upwards were the six mysteries (see Chap. IV.).
In the work on the ecclesiastical hierarchy these mysteries are minutely
explained. Every openly heterodox opinion is, as generally, once more avoided. “The Areopagite has given the Church an exposition of all the mystic rites, such
as it had not possessed till then, in which every act of the cultus has its
peculiar, deeper reference and secret meaning. His exposition attaches itself in
form to Christian dogma, and could therefore serve as a pattern to the Church
theologians of the following centuries. As regards the matter, indeed, the case
is different; for the Christian dogmas themselves merely appear as the dress of
Neo-platonic ideas, to which the inflexible form offers a stubborn resistance.” It was of inexpressible importance that
from and after the sixth century the writings of the Unknown, which also
betrayed the influence of Aristotle, were held to be the works of an Apostolic
personage. Neoplatonism and the mysticism of the Cultus were thus declared to be
part of classic Christianity.
The representatives of the “common sense” of the Church at the end of the fourth
century were quite aware of the
heterodoxies which existed in spite of, and side by side with, the confession of
the Trinity and Incarnation; some of them indeed were themselves not content
with the generally received doctrine. They desired a God with eyes, ears and
limbs, a resurrection of the identical body, and a visible glorious kingdom of
Christ at the end of the world. Even an exceedingly cultured exegete like
Apollinaris made common cause with them in the last point. A founder was sought
for heterodoxies; it was impossible to blame Manichæism for everything.
Ἑλληνικὴ παιδεία was held to be the culprit, and therefore also Origen, the
man who was said, not without reason, to have introduced it into Christian
theology. A passionate opposition was raised in Egypt among the Scetian monks,
and in Palestine where Origen had many admirers. It was, above all, the narrow
but honest Epiphanius who saw in Origen the father of Arianism and many other
heresies. The comprehensive chapter against him in the former’s Panarion (H. 64)
is the first polemical writing we possess of ecclesiastical traditionalism
against Origen; it is by no means unskilful; it does not confine itself to
details, but disputes e fundamento the title to a place in the Church of a
theology such as Origen offered.H. 64 c. 73; Σύ, Ὠριγένη, ἀπὸ τῆς Ἑλληνικῆς παιδείας τυφλωθεὶς τὸν νοῦν
ἐξήμεσας τὸν ἰὸν τοῖς πειθεῖσί σοι, καὶ γέγονας αὐτοῖς εἰς βρῶμα δηλητηρίου, δι᾽ ὧν
αὐτὸς ἡδίκησαι ἀδικήσας τοὺς
πλείους. The “Expositio fidei catholicæ ecclesiæ”
appended to the Panarion shows, indeed, the complete inability of Epiphanius to
give an account of the faith; it loses itself as usual in irrelevant
discussions, and the positive contents are extraordinarily scanty. But the
attack on Origen (compare also the somewhat earlier “Ancorates”)
opened the first great controversy over the question whether
scientific theology as understood by Origen was legitimate or not. Walch has
described the history of this controversy with his usual thoroughness. It is
acknowledged how disagreeably the action of Epiphanius disturbed the circle of
Origen’s monkish admirers, who were congregated in Palestine under the
protection of the like-minded John, Bishop of Jerusalem. The dream that one
might be both a pillar of the Church and a theologian like Origen was
dissipated. Jerome preferred to remain a pillar and to abandon Origen. After his
desertion and his betrayal of his friend Rufinus, he became the father of the “science of the Church.” To some extent he is a type of this “science” up to the
present day. It lives on fragments of the men whom it declares to be heretics.
It accepts just as much from them as circumstances permit, and retains of the
old what it can maintain with decency. It cultivates a little literalness, a
little allegory, and a little typology. It attacks all questions with a parade
of freedom from prejudice; but anything inconvenient it surrounds with a
thousand invented difficulties. It is proud of its free-thought in matters of no
importance, and hides itself finally, when hot pressed, behind a brazen stare.
It characterises its friends as “well-disposed”, homines boni, and slanders its
opponents. Where evasion is no longer possible, it states the inexorable
historical fact as a major premise; to this it adds a minor taken from its
prejudices, and then it solves the syllogistic problem by the aid of piquant
conceits.For a parallel to this characterisation compare Luther, Vom Papstthum zu Rom
wider den hochberühmten Romanisten zu Leipzig (Weimarer Ausgabe, Vol. VI. 304):
Lieber Romanist, wer hat daran gezweiffelt, dass das alt Gesetz and seine
Figuren mussen ym Neuen erfullet werden? man durfft deiner Meisterschaft
hirynnen nichts Aber hie soltestu dich lassen sehen and beweysen deine hohe
Kunst, das die selb Erfulling durch Petrum odder denn Bapst gescheh: Da
schweygestu wie eiu Stock, da zu reden ist, and schwetzist da nit not zu redenn
ist. Hastu dein logica nit bass gelernet? Du probirst die minores, die niemant
anficht, and nympst fur gewiss die minores, die ydermann anficht, and
schleussist was Du wilt. It can be incredibly frivolous and again pedantically learned, just
as it suits. Only one question does not occur in its catechism, and it is always
hard to drive it home, viz., what is historical truth? That is the science of—Jerome.
Epiphanius’ breach with John led to the intervention of the Alexandrian Bishop
Theophilus, who, at the time, still refused to yield to the “anthropomorphists”, and adhered to Origen’s party. Rome also took part in the
dispute which, settled as between the bishops, broke out anew between the two
scholars. Rufinus was only able to defend Origen’s orthodoxy by the doubtful
assumption that “heretics” had corrupted his works But that helped neither him
nor Origen. Origen was condemned and Rufinus censured in Rome in A.D. 399 by the
ignorant Anastasius. The errors charged against Origen (see Hieron. ad Pammach.)
were, a subordinationist doctrine of the Trinity, the doctrine of the
preexistence of souls and their condemnation to enter into bodies, the view of
the future conversion of the devil and the demons, the interpretation of the
skins in Gen. III. to mean the body, the spiritualising of the doctrine of the
resurrection of the body, the explanation of Paradise as spiritual, and the too
extensive use of the allegorical method, etc. Not only, however, did Rome
renounce Origen, but Alexandria also. Theophilus saw that his power in Egypt
would be shaken if he did not rely upon the masses of stupid and fanatical
Coptic monks, the anthropomorphists, in whose circles a material God was
defended in doggerel rhymes, and the ancient apocalyptic literature was greedily
read. Theophilus wheeled round, abandoned, and that with strong personal
feeling, the admirers of Origen among the monks, and, with the approval of Rome,
hurled his anathemas against him. Jerome, ever on the alert to blot out the
stain that attached to him from having once venerated the great theologian,
translated into Latin Theophilus’ slanderous Easter epistle against Origenism,
although he must have seen through its calumnies. In Constantinople, however,
the fight waged by Theophilus against his former friends, the Nitrian monks, was
followed by that agitation of which Chrysostom was a victim. It was the first
violent attempt of the Alexandrian Patriarch, who by his alliance with the
masses had won a secure position in his own diocese, to get possession of the
Constantinopolitan patriarchate, the capital, and whole Church of the East.
Meanwhile it was only in the West that the influence of
Origen was really deeply shaken by these endeavours. Jerome persuaded the
Western Church that Origen was the father of Pelagianism; Vincentius of Lerinum
held him up as an example along with Apollinaris and other heretics; Leo I.
considered him a heretic, and Gelasius insisted that Jerome’s criticism should
be maintained in dealing with his works.The so-called decree of Gelasius, which obtained a far-reaching importance in
the West is also otherwise important from the condemnation it passed on the
whole of earlier Christian literature. The orthodox Church was determined to
vilify and then to bury its own past in order to maintain undisputed the fiction
that it had always remained the same. Orthodoxy held its ground unshaken as
regards all the points of doctrine touching on the dogmas of the Trinity and
Incarnation, which in the West were hardly ever subjects of controversy. Jerome
now became the standard theologian and exegete. Everything ancient and
distinctive, even where it did not lie in the direction of Origenism,
disappeared more and more in the West. The Western Church became the Church of
Jerome; but it became also—to its lasting benefit—the Church of Augustine (see Vol. V.).
It was different in the East. The transformation of the controversy about Origen
into a conflict between two great Patriarchs, in which Origen was soon lost
sight of, and the rehabilitation, belated indeed, of Chrysostom, favoured the
impugned reputation of the great theologian. But even apart from this, his
influence was too deeply rooted to be upset by a single bishop, no matter how
powerful. His individuality represented the Ἑλληνική παιδεία, with which men would not dispense. They
were willing to recognise the dogma of the Church, i.e., the doctrines of the
Trinity and Incarnation; but they sought besides freedom to interest themselves
in (theological) science. The Church History of Socrates shows the undiminished
influence of Origen—see above Vol. III., p. 146 and elsewhere; even before
Socrates, the celebrated Evagrius of Pontus had sturdily defended him, and
Sozomen himself, monkish and narrow as he was, was no opponent of Origen. The
outbreak of the Nestorian and Monophysite controversies as to the nature of the
Incarnation soon thrust everything else into the background, and procured for Origen’s cause a temporary peace.
It is fitting that we should here take a glance at the Patriarchate
of Antioch and its neighbouring territories. The circumstances there
were wholly peculiar. The East swarmed with old and new sects. All sorts betook
themselves thither, and,. beside the official Christianity only to be met with
in Greek cities, there existed an assortment of the most varied Christian
communions. Even in the fifth century the Bishops had to face conflicts there
which had almost died out in Rome, Byzantium, and Alexandria, as early as the
third century. Therefore the Bishops living in or sprung from that quarter still
possessed the lofty conviction that they were constantly fighting the battles of
the Lord, and hastening from victory to victory. Nestorius, Theodoret, and
others plume themselves in their correspondence with their Western brethren on
their merits as antagonists of heretics;The later antignostic writings and compendiums, those of Ephraem, Epiphanies,
Theodoret, Esnik, etc., are all, in so far as they are not mere extracts from.
older works, from the East. Mohammedans, besides the later Nestorian and
Jacobite scholars, confessedly turned their attention to the Christian sects
still existing in the East, to one of which Islam owes the best of its teaching.
Theodoret is full of self-praise over his actions, and sports them over and over
again to prop up his imperilled orthodoxy. In Ep. 81 (IV., p. 1141, ed. Schulze) he writes:
κώμας ὄκτω τῆς Μαρκίωνος καὶ τὰς πέριξ κειμένας, ἀσμένας πρὸς τὴν ἀλήθειαν ἐφοδήγησα·
ἄλλην κώμην Εὐνομιανῶν—we see that the sects are
tabulated according to their
origin—πεπληρωμένην καὶ ἄλλην Ἀρειανῶν τῷ φωτὶ τῆς θεογνωσίας προσήγαγον.
καὶ διὰ τὴν θείαν χάριν οὐδὲ ἓν παρ᾽ ἡμῖν αἱρετικῶν ὑπελείφθη ζιζάνιον. Ep. 145 (IV., p. 1246) he tells how he fought
steadily against Greeks, Jews, Arians, Eunomians, Apollinarians, and Marcionites
ibid, p. 1252: πλείους ἢ μυρίους τῶν τοῦ
Μαρκίωνος πείσας προσήγαγον τῷ παναγίῳ
βαπτίσματι. In Hæret. fab. I. 20 he records that he had confiscated
more than 200 copies of the Diatessaron. even Chrysostom was their inexorable
enemy. As a matter of fact, the continuance of these conflicts was of vast
consequence to the whole Church. Gnosticism and Manicheism dogged the steps of
the Eastern Bishops, and compelled them to adhere strictly to the ancient regula
fidei with its antignostic impress. They could not, as in Alexandria and
Constantinople, confine their interest to the Incarnation. They had to defend
the doctrine, point by point, in its whole extent,. and were thus prevented from
casting themselves into the arms of one transcendent idea. They were pious after
the monkish fashion, like the Egyptians; nay, their Bishops outdid those of
Egypt in asceticism; they were not less realistic in what belonged to the Cultus than the rest; they were as much to the
front when it was necessary to defend an old doctrine. But their scientific
theologians—Palestine stands by itself—were not followers of Origen, and in
their fights with heretics they could not use his teaching. They used a more
liberal and, again, a more rational, a less flighty, exegesis, and a sober
philosophy. Both these were given them by Lucian, and it was, lastly, one and
the same school which extended from Lucian to Theodoret, and stretched far
beyond the latter into the Christian schools of the Persian kingdom.
The character and significance of this school have been discussed above in
various chapters—see especially Vol. III., ch. 3. It sharply contested Origen’s
hermeneutics, but did not vilify the great man. Its own exegetical and
biblical-theological method, with some admirable features, indeed, omitted, and
a little of the literal and allegorical added, gradually became, in consequence
of its appropriateness and thanks to the influence of Chrysostom, the ruling
one. And the use of Aristotelian philosophy in the Antiochene school was an
indication for the future. But the ablest of the Antiochenes finally came under
censure on account of his Christology, and, over and above his Christology, he
was charged with various heresies, especially Pelagianism. In fact, his whole
system, and he possessed a system to a greater extent than any other after
Origen, was a rational one; it was natural theology without any
transcendentalism. He is therefore a source of great difficulty to the Church up
to the present time; it declines to go further in condemning him than the fifth
Council, indeed it only recognises conditionally the censure of the “chapters”.
Theodoret’s work is without the boldness of Theodore, his anthropology and his
doctrine of grace as well as his Christology approximating to the traditional
teaching. Among other things, he appended to his compendium of heretical fables a fifth book, “θείων
δογμάτων ἐπιτμή” (an epitome of divine dogmas), which must be
described as the first attempt at a system after Origen, and which apparently
exercised great influence on John of Damascus. This “epitome” has a lofty
significance. It combines the Trinitarian and Christological dogma with the
whole circle of the doctrines connected with the symbol. It reveals an attitude
as markedly biblical as it is ecclesiastical and rational. It throughout
observes the “just mean”. It is almost complete, the Last Supper being omitted,
and it especially takes realistic Eschatology once more into account.Theodoret discusses (1) the First Principle and the Father, (2) the Son, (3)
the Holy Spirit and the divine names, (4-9) creation, matter, ions, angels,
demons, and man, (10) providence, (11-15) the Incarnation, and that in general
as well as in reference to separate points of doctrine, e.g., the assumption of
a real body of a soul, and generally of the complete human nature, and the
resuscitation of this nature, (16) the identity of the just and beneficent God,
(17) God is the author of both Testaments, (18) Baptism, (19) the resurrection,
(20) the judgment, (21) the promises, (22) the second advent of Christ, (23)
Antichrist, (24) virginity, (25) marriage, (26) second marriage, (27-29)
fornication, penitence and continence. It has
adopted none of the obnoxious doctrines of Origen, and yet he himself is not
treated as a heretic.Theodoret has not introduced him into his catalogue of heretics. An actual system this epitome is not; but the consistent
sobriety and lucidity in the discussion of details, and the careful biblical
proof lend to the whole a stamp of unity. It could not yet indeed give
satisfaction, firstly, because of the personality of its author, and, secondly,
because there was an entire absence of mysticism and Neoplatonism from his
doctrinal conception.
In the second half of the fifth century everyone was occupied with the decree of
Chalcedon. Cyril of Alexandria, the Christologian whom bishops and monks had
understood best, had to reconquer his whole influence side by side with the
creed of Chalcedon. The only two great theologians whom the Eastern Church has
possessed—Origen and Theodore, the former a follower of Plato, the latter of
Aristotle, both biblicists though in very different ways,—were discredited, but
not condemned. It was on the soil of Palestine, and among the monks there, that
admiration for Origen came into collision with that for Theodore. We are well
informed as to the living spiritual movements in the cloisters of Palestine at
the beginning of the sixth century. Origenism experienced a regular renaissance,
although it had never died out.Walch l.c., p. 618 ff.; Möller in the R.-Encykl. XI., p. 512 f.; Loofs, Leontius, p. 274 ff.; Bigg, l.c. Its “peculiar doctrines”, which had sprung from
rational mysticism, were in particular taken up again, or at least declared to be arguable. The Cappadocians were
appealed to in support of their validity. Origenism was defended under very
different shades. There was an extreme right, and even pillars of orthodoxy were
found on this side,Leontius, as Loofs has shown. and there was a left, which surpassed even Origen in
daring. He led some of his admirers over to the Areopagite and the
Neo-Platonists. The works of the Unknown were brought out, studied, and, as it
appears, edited. Some went the length of undisguised Pantheism, like Stephen bar
Sudaili, or the author of the book of Hierotheus, “On the hidden mysteries of
the Deity.”See the analysis of this extraordinarily interesting work, not yet printed, in
Frothingham’s Stephen bar Sudaili, 1886, p. 92 f.; the writer ably calls
attention also to the connection with the renaissance of Origenism. No Gnostic of the second century had erected a nihilistic
philosophy on the ground of Christianity so boldly as this writer.Frothingham rightly says, p. 49 f.: “His system was openly pantheistic, or, to
speak more philosophically, Pan-nihilistic; for, according to him, all nature
even to the lowest forms of animal creation, being simply an emanation from the
Divinity-Chaos, finally returns to it; and, when the consummation has taken
place, God himself passes away and everything is swallowed up in the indefinite
chaos, which he conceives to be the first principle and the end of being and
which admits of no distinction.” The contents of the five books are according to
Fr. as follows: I.—On God, the Universal Essence and distinct existences.
II.—The various species of motion, the ascent of the mind towards God, during
which it must endure the sufferings of Christ. III.—The resurrection of the
mind, the vicissitudes of its conflict with the powers of evil, and its final
identification with Christ. IV.—The mind becomes one, first with Christ, then
with the Spirit and the Father, and finally becomes absorbed. V.—All nature
becomes confounded with the Father; all distinct existence and God himself passes away; Essence alone remains.
But the admirers of Origen met with opponents in Palestine, not only among the
dull herd of monks and the traditionalists, but also among the adherents of the
sober science and Christology of Theodore of Mopsuestia. And, in addition, there
was rising up a new power, Aristotelian scholasticism, which took possession of
the monophysite as well as the orthodox dogma, but only concluded a firm
alliance with the latter, through Leontius, the great opponent of Nestorianism
and of Theodore—see above, p. 232 f. The Antiochene school was smitten with its
own weapons. The great dogmas of the Church, hallowed by age, seemed to receive their sanction from the re-invigorated
rated Aristotelianism, because they were peculiarly adapted for dialectical
treatment. Thus the age of Justinian shows the Church of the East in a state of
the liveliest spiritual agitation. All the great powers of the past,
Neoplatonist and Aristotelianism, Origen and Theodore, were again living forces; a new combination was drawing near, and all efforts to stifle by conciliar
decrees the living spirit in the Church seemed to have been vain. But the
movements were but limited in extent and energy; the “new combination” was in
truth the death of real science—a thinking which started in the middle of its
subject, and for which that which was alone worth reflection was held to be
beyond the range of discussion. Trifling monks, who excommunicated and denounced
each other, talked big; and there sat at Constantinople an emperor who, himself
a theologian, thirsted for the fame of creating a uniform science as well as a
uniform belief. The dispute of the Palestinian monks and the scholasticism of a
theologian like Leontius gave him his chance. The Emperor did not need to
publish an edict requiring the followers of Origen and Theodore to annihilate
one another; they took care of that for themselves. The spectacle of the two
“sciences”, of Origen and the Antiochenes, tearing each other to pieces, in the
age of Justinian, has something tragi-comical about it, recalling the tale of
the two lions. The fifth Council confirmed this, after the Emperor had himself,
in his epistle to Mennas, declared, and Vigilius—with other Patriarchs—had
repeated, the condemnation of Origen. The fifteen anathemas against Origen,Compare with this the ten anathemas in the epistle to Mennas and the Vitæ
Sabæ, Euthymii and Cyriaci, Loofs l.c., p, 290 f. on
which his condemnation at the Council was based, contained the following points.
(1) The preexistence of souls and Apokatastasis; (2) the doctrine of the upper
world of spirits, their original equality, and their fall; (3) the view that
sun, moon, and stars belonged to this world of spirits, and had also fallen;
(4) the doctrine that the differences in the bodies of the spirits was a
consequence of this fall; (5) the opinion that the higher spirits become lower
ones, or men, and vice versâ; (6) Origen’s doctrine of creation, and that it
was not accomplished by the Trinity; (7) the Christology
which taught that Christ became for all grades of spirits—each in its own
form—that which he had become for men through the Incarnation, so that he
assumed different bodies and received different names; (8) the contention that
the Logos was only to be called Christ by a misuse of language (καταχριστικῶς),
that accordingly a distinction was to be drawn between them; (9) the opinion
that not the Logos, but a creaturely mind (νοῦς) which he had assumed became
man; (10) the assertion of the spherical and ethereal form of the
resurrection-body, and of the annihilation of the material body; (11) the
interpreting of the judgment to mean this annihilation, and the view that at the
end of the world there would only exist non-material nature (spirit); (12) the
view that the Logos united with every man and spirit as he had done with the vouc he had assumed: heresy of the Isochristians who appealed to Origen, see,
besides, Methodius; (13) the assertion of the similarity of the νοῦς, called
Christ, to all other rational beings; (14) the view of the ultimate cessation of
all plurality of persons and of multiplicity of knowledge (gnosis), the
doctrine of reversion to unity and of apokatastasis; (15) the view of the
identity of the pretemporal with the final life of spirits.
Since the “Three Chapters” were condemned at the same time, Origen and Theodore
were both got rid of.The religious policy of Justinian and the fifth Council had accordingly the
same significance for the (orthodox) East as the so-called Gelasian decree for
the West. In the former as in the latter history was extinguished and theology fettered. The latter found more energetic defenders than the
former; but the majority of his admirers held aloof. The fact that the
Augustinian West took up his cause best shows that we must not over-value this
championship. The condemnation of the “peculiar doctrines” of Origenism meant
much more. Henceforth buoys were laid down, which marked off the Neo-platonic
channel in which men moved under the guidance of the “apostolic” Dionysius.
Origen’s doctrines of the consummation, and of spirits and matter might no
longer be maintained. The judgment was restored to its place, and got back even
its literal meaning. The mysticism of the Cultus was carried continually further; it received a new impetus; but it adhered much more closely to
tradition. The anti-gnostic regula fidei was finally restored, and the great
cultus-mystic of the seventh century not only respected it, but worked within
its lines. Maximus Confessor held the same relation to the Areopagite, as did
the Cappadocians to Origen, and Theodoret to Theodore.See on him the Art. of Wagenmann in the R.-Encykl. and Steitz XI., p. 209; on
the Cultus-mystics Sophronius of Jerusalem and Germanus of Constantinople, see
Steitz XI., pp. 238 f. and 246 f. But he was not only a
mystic; he was also a scholastic and dialectician. There were no longer any
theologians who reflected independently “de principiis.” God, the world,
freedom, Christ, and Scripture were no longer the first principles, but,
instead, the fixed doctrines regarding them drawn from tradition. Science took
for granted the foundations guarded by the Church, and passing to the upper
story went on building there. A latent free thought, indeed, still remained. If
everything was symbolical and figurative, then, no matter how closely the
spiritual might be combined with the material, the idea could not perish that
the theologian who was in a position to grasp the subject matter did not require
figures. While mysticism and scholasticism might not shrink from a figurative
philosophy in the most daring sense of the term, they could not stifle the view
that took every sort of figure and all history as a covering, nor could they
blame the self-criticism of the Christian who was ashamed of being confined in
this body.The saying is due to Porphyry who has used it of Plotinus (Vita I.):
Πλωτῖνος ὁ φιλόσοφος
ἐῴκει μὲν αἰσχυνομένῳ ὅτι ἐν
σώματι εἴη.
For learning (μαθήσις) the Cappadocians (the two Gregorys, next to them
Athanasius and Cyril) were regarded as the principal authorities; for mystagogy
(μυσταγωγία), the Areopagite and Maximus; for philosophy, Aristotle; and for
homiletics (ὁμιλία), Chrysostom. The man, however, who embraced all that, who
had transferred the scholastic dialectic method, which had been brought by
Leontius to bear on the dogma of the Incarnation, to the whole sphere of the
“divine dogma” as that had been fixed by Theodoret, was John of Damascus.
Through him the Greek Church gained the orthodox system, but not the Greek Church alone. John’s work was no less
important to the West.See Bach, Dogmengesch. des Mittelalters I., p. 49 ff. Bach begins with good
reason, pp. 6-49, with Dionysius and Maximus. “He was the cope-stone of antiquity and the transition
to a new age, because his writings, translated into Latin, became confessedly a
foundation of the mediæval theology of the West.” He was above all a scholastic.
To him each difficulty was but an incitement to split up notions artificially,
and to find a new one to which nothing in the world corresponds except that very
difficulty which the new notion was meant to remove. John even put the
fundamental question of mediæval science, that as to nominalism and realism;
and he solved it by a modified Aristotelianism. All doctrines were in his view
given already; he took them from findings of the Councils and the works of
recognised Fathers. He held it to be the task of science to edit them. In this
way the two chief dogmas were introduced into the circle of the doctrines of the
old antignostically interpreted Symbol. A very modest use was made of the
allegorical explanation of Holy Scripture. The letter ruled wholesale, at any
rate much more thoroughly than in the case of the Cappadocians. In consequence
of this, natural theology was shut out from sight; it was hedged round by
extremely realistic Bible narratives confidingly accepted.Yet the rational method was by no means given up; on the contrary, it was
retained; see, e.g., the rational arguments for the Trinity, I. 6, 7. But the most serious
fact was that the close connection which in Athanasius, Apollinaris, and Cyril
of Alexandria had united the Trinity and Incarnation, or dogma in general, with
the thought of salvation, was completely loosened. This process had begun with
the Council of Chalcedon, and John had a mass of dogmas which it was necessary
to believe; but they had ceased to be clearly subordinate to a uniform
conception of their purpose. The object which dogma once served as the means
remained; but the means had changed. Instead of dogma, we have the Cultus, the
mysteries, into which Book IV. enters (IV. 17-25 are to be regarded as
appendices). In consequence of this the system is destitute of inner vital
unity.The plan of the work is as follows: Book I. discusses the Deity, the Trinity
and the attributes of God; Book II. the creation, angels, paradise, and
man, giving an elaborate psychology; Book III. the Incarnation, the two natures, and Christology—see above,
Chap. 3, conclusion; Book IV. continues the Christology up to
Chap. 8 and then discusses—very characteristically—baptism, including the
μῦρον, faith, the sign of the cross and faith, adoration towards the East, the
mysteries (the Eucharists), Mary the mother of God and the genealogy of Christ,
the veneration of the saints and their relics, pictures and, only then,
Scripture. To the chapter on Scripture a series of chapters are appended
containing hermeneutical rules for the exposition of Scripture, dealing with the
statements regarding Christ—where we have a precise distinction made between the
τρόποι of the hypostatic union—those concerning God in his relation to evil, the
apparent existence of two principles, the law of God, and the law of sin and the
Sabbath. The conclusion consists of chapters on virginity, circumcision—the
position of these headings is reversed—on Anti-Christ and the resurrection. It is really
not an account of faith, but of its presuppositions, and its unity depends on
the form of treatment, the high antiquity of its doctrine, and Holy Scripture.
The dogmas had become the sacred inheritance from the classic antiquity of the
Church, but they had, as it were, fallen to the ground. The worship of images,
mysticism, and scholasticism ruled the Church. The two latter bore much fair
fruit in after times; for the spirit which strives towards God cannot be stifled
by anything, and is capable even of constructing a restricted science. But the
history of dogma came to an end in the Greek Church a thousand years ago, and
its reanimation cannot easily be conceived. A reformation could only set in in
the cultus. The adoption of a few Catholic or Protestant theologumena in later
catechisms and books of doctrine has hitherto been without effect, and will in
the future hardly obtain any.
Independent theology had been extinguished in the churches of the East; but
alongside these churches there arose all the more energetically, from the
seventh century, the sects, old enemies in new forms, Marcionites (as
Paulicians) and Manichæans, and in addition many other curious bodies, the
necessary products of religious movements among tribes falling into barbarism,
and but little trained by the Church. On the shaping of the dogmas of the Church
these sects exerted not the slightest influence; and for that very reason they
do not belong to the history of dogma.Besides the old researches of Engelhardt (1827), Gieseler (1829, 1846, 1849),
see now Döllinger, Beitr. z. Sectengesch. des Mittelalters (1890) and Karapet
Ter Mkrttschian, Die Paulikianer (1893).
Again, this history has nothing to say about the scientific life of the
Byzantine Church, or the many theories and disputes which arose out of it, and,
on the other hand, from mystical speculations; for all that had little or no
effect on dogma. No doubt an isolated theological question was decided at this
or that Synod; or individual theologians elaborated in a praise-worthy fashion
theological conceptions, as e.g., in reference to the crucifixion of Christ,
atonement, and substitution; no doubt another rather important dispute—the
Hesychastic controversy—agitated the Church in the fourteenth century; but
dogma, and to some extent the Church itself, remained ultimately unaffected. For
centuries the intellectual work of the Church consisted in the development of
Church legislation, and its theologians either wrote on exegesis, history, and
biography, following traditional patterns, or composed ascetic books.
Finally, to the history of dogma belongs neither the development of the schism
with the West, nor the silent process, in which the Eastern Church has taken
over, since the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, a great deal from the
ecclesiastically more vigorous West. Apart from the “filioque” discussed
above, the development of the schism was not determined by dogmatic factors, and
the silent processCompare as to this Kattenbusch, Vergleichende Confessionskunde I. passim. The
general intellectual life in Eastern Rome is best discussed in the excellent
work of Krumbacher, Gesch. d. Byzant. Litteratur, München, 1891. which lasted up to the end of the seventeenth century, and
to which the Church owes, e.g., the settling of its Canon of the Bible, the
doctrine of the seven sacraments, a kind of doctrine of transubstantiation, a
more certain doctrine of purgatory, development of the doctrines of sin and
grace, a more sharply defined theory and practice of the sacrament of penance
etc., has come to an end at a time when we have accurate knowledge, and will
perhaps never be fully explained. The only definite dogmatic interests shown in
it are anti-protestant.