On the Objective Reality of God's Presence

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On the Theotokos

I have struggled with formatting in Blogger long enough. So going forward my posts will just be a link to a Google Doc that has the content of my meditations. Today I want to share these meditations: On the Theotokos.

A Review of “The Great Church in Captivity: A Study of the Patriarchate of Constantinople from the Eve of the Turkish Conquest to the Greek War of Independence”

Sir Steven Runciman’s The Great Church in Captivity: A Study of the Patriarchate of Constantinople from the Eve of the Turkish Conquest to the Greek War of Independence is an amazing compendium of information about a place and time that few other books cover. Due to the scarcity of extent historical records kept by the Patriarchate itself, the author combed through “reports and accounts of foreign diplomats, churchmen, and travellers” in order to piece together the history of the Great Church, as the Greeks called the Patriarchate of Constantinople, after the fall of the city to the Ottoman Turks (viii). With thirty pages of bibliography (the majority of which are books not in English) and innumerable footnotes, the author’s meticulous scholarship shines throughout the book. The text is divided into two “books”.

Book I

Book I covers the conditions of the Great Church on the eve of the Turkish conquest. Chapter 1 provides a general background of the Orthodox Church, highlighting differences between it and the Western Church, and explaining their historical development. It also lists the events that naturally divide the history of the Byzantine Empire into four epochs.

Chapter 2 covers two aspects of the visible structure of the Orthodox Church: the hierarchy and monasteries. In the section on hierarchy, it covers the development of the doctrine of the apostolic succession of bishops, the function of ecumenical councils, the development of the Pentarchy as well as the distinction between autonomous and autocephalous churches. Then it covers the rules for electing and deposing bishops, metropolitans, and patriarchs as well as the types of organizations these leaders maintained. In the section on monasteries, it covers the legal code governing them, the role they played during doctrinal controversies, and the special place in the Byzantine heart for monastics--sometimes even above the hierarchy.

Chapter 3 covers the evolution of the complex power relationship between the Byzantine Emperor and the Patriarch of Constantinople, who generally speaking was the second highest ranking official after the emperor. The pattern established at Nicaea continued until the Latin conquest, which precipitated a constitutional crisis of succession for both roles. The author defends the position that Byzantium was essentially a democracy and thus not liable to the charge of Caesaropapism.

Chapter 4 has two parts. The first part covers the relationship between the Byzantine emperor and Christians not in his dominion--both those living under infidel Turkish rule as well as those living in independent Orthodox states. The second part covers the Emperor’s attempt toward rapprochement with the Pope in order to secure military help from the West against the Turks. This includes the histories of the councils of Lyon and Florence

Chapter 5 covers the educational system of the empire, which in contrast to the West was under State instead of Church patronage. Then it covers different schools of philosophy in Byzantium, their leaders, and their interactions with the apophatic theology of Orthodoxy. Then it discusses the rehabilitation of the word Hellene and the natural development of Hellenism as the emperor ceased to be a “supra-national potentate” (120).

Chapter 6 traces the development of Orthodoxy’s theology of mysticism and the paradox of deification when the Deity is apophatically unknowable. The resolution comes by distinguishing between the unknowable essence of God and the energies of God that are knowable through prayer. The chapter continues with the history of Hesychasm and the Palamite controversy and closes with the institution of starets in Russia. Chapter 7 briefly summarizes the condition of the Empire right before Constantinople fell to the Turks in 1453.

Book II

Book II describes the situation of the church under the Ottoman Sultans and is divided into twelve chapters. Chapter 1 covers the new pattern of governance that emerged, where the Patriarch of Constantinople became the Ethnarch of the Orthodox milet under the Muslim Sultan. As such he became a civil as well as religious leader, and the organization beneath him required an increasing number of lay officials. Despite the misery that accompanied the fall of the city, the Orthodox milet were given a constitution that allowed them to increase in material prosperity.

Chapter 2 documents how the condition of the Orthodox milet degraded over time. The later Sultans converted Orthodox churches into mosques, required bribes to allow the construction of new churches, required a tribute for the ratification of every Patriarchal election, and required yearly tributes, which led to the Patriarchate’s mounting indebtedness and its increasing subservience to rich members of the laity who could help to cover expenses. The corruption of absolute impotence led Greeks to replace mutual loyalty with intrigue for survival.

Chapter 3 covers the sad state of education under the Turks. Constantinople had a Patriarchal Academy for basic priestly training, but Greeks generally had to leave the Ottoman Empire to study anything scientific, with the University of Papua near Venice being the destination of choice. Provincial priests relied on nearby monasteries to become just literate enough to perform the Mysteries.

Chapter 4 covers the relationship between the Papacy and the Orthodox under the Turks. About 45 years after the council of Florence, the Orthodox Patriarchs convened to legally repudiate it. Jesuits responded by reaching out to the Greeks by starting schools for them in both Latin and Ottoman lands. Over time some Orthodox bishops submitted to the Pope, either publicly or privately, but the common folk continued to resist steadfastly Papal overtures.

Chapter 5 covers the early Lutheran attempts at dialogue with the Orthodox. Luther himself being ambivalent about the Greeks, his successor Melanchthon dispatched the first letter to Patriarch Jeremias of Constantinople in 1559, presenting the Confession of Augsburg as the symbol of their faith. After a couple rounds of back and forth, Jeremias ended the dialogue in 1581.

Chapter 6 covers the lively history of Cyril Lucaris, first a Patriarch of Alexandria and later of Constantinople. Through Jesuit intrigue, his strongly anti-Roman and pro-Calvinist Confession of Faith scandalized the Orthodox, and incurred for him anathematization and multiple depositions while alive and strong condemnation after his repose.

Chapter 7 covers the early history of interactions between Anglicans and Orthodox. They began with chaplains of British embassies in Constantinople. Later, Greek students came to universities in England. Later, a series of Greek bishops visited England. Under the assumption that intercommunions was possible, Anglican divines tried to pin down the Orthodox on their beliefs. Due partly to the Orthodox not wanting to offend their hosts and partly to the apophatic nature of Orthodox theology, Anglicans lost interest after multiple failed attempts.

Chapter 8 covers the evolving relationship between the powers in Moscow and Constantinople. Moscow began to view itself as the Third Rome since the fall of Constantinople. The secular and religious leaders in Moscow began upgrading their titles over time: Moscow’s Prince become Tsar, the “Christian Emperor for all Christians in the whole world” (331), and Moscow’s Metropolitan went from being suffragan to the Patriarch of Constantinople to being a Patriarch in his own right.

Confronted with the friendly overtures of Protestants and the attacks of Rome, the Orthodox needed a way to express their beliefs in categories that Westerners could understand. Chapter 9 documents these attempts. Peter Moghila’s Orthodoxa Confessio Fidei, the Confession of Dositheus, and the Oros by Cyril of Nicaea are three examples, but only local councils ever approved them, so they lack ecumenical weight.

Chapter 10 introduces the Phanariots, a Greek moneyed-nobility “closely knit by common aims and interests and by intermarriage, but open to newcomers” (362). They dominated the lay organization of the Patriarchate, paid its debts, and intrigued on its behalf at the Sublime Porte. They controlled the autonomous principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia. Through their influence, Greeks came to control Orthodoxy in non-Greek lands.

Chapter 11 covers the events leading up to the start of the Greek War for Independence in 1821. By the 18th century the Ottoman Empire’s “administrative machinery was beginning to run down” (391), and even the historically virtuous village priests and monks were becoming corrupt. Many from peasant to Phanariot were joining secret societies called Klephts that fomented revolt again the Turks. The Patriarch, as servant of the Sultan, enjoined the populace to submit to the Sultan, but to no avail. At the start of the war, the Sultan considered the Patriarch in breach of contract and executed him, two metropolitans, twelves bishops, and most Phanariots (406).

Chapter 12 conclude the books by documenting the condition of the Patriarchate after the Greek War for Independence. His powers were curtailed. He was a Greek but with sworn loyalty to the Sultan, even if at war with the independent Kingdom of Greece. He continued to push Hellenism instead of Orthodoxy by trying to keep the Bulgarian Church in subjection to Greek hierarchs and encouraging nationalistic feuds between monasteries on Mt. Athos. After the establishment of the Republic of Turkey, he was reduced to “merely the chief bishop of a dwindling religious community in a secular state” (407).

From this reader’s perspective, really the only negative feature of the book was the repeated implication that the Orthodox under the Turkish yoke practiced obscurantism and rejected the “opportunity to revivify their whole attitude to religion” that Protestants offered them (319). This reader felt that the systemic lack of educational opportunities under the Turkish yoke produced a historical context where real communication between the parties just could not occur, and that the Orthodox need not be blamed for intentionally sabotaging the communication.

On the Great Schism: Causes and Core Issues

Introduction

The schism between the sees of Constantinople and Rome is the sad result of years of increasing estrangement. The year 1054 AD is memorable because it was then that the bishops of the respective sees excommunicated each other, but that event was really just a trough in a relationship whose troubles began centuries earlier. Furthermore, the exact ramifications of the event in 1054 took centuries to realize. This paper will first briefly explore the historical factors that led to their gradual estrangement and then drill down on the two doctrinal issues at the core of the schism: the papal claims of universal jurisdiction and the papal support of the filioque clause.

Historical Factors

In a sense, the gradual estrangement between Rome and Constantinople makes complete historical sense. In a day without the Internet and airplanes, the 850 miles between the cities made them worlds apart. There are four factors that especially contributed to the estrangement: distance, language, heresy, and politics. Because of the distance, the dispatch of letters took weeks or months and slowed down two-way communication. Dispatching legates was an alternative, but legates might overstep their mandate (Hussey 76), be unable to act because the situation upon arrival was so different from that specified in their original mandate (83), or even be imprisoned as the bearer of bad news (61). With respect to language, the bishop of Rome spoke Latin, and the bishop of Constantinople spoke Greek. Thus, all communication had to go through intermediary translators, who might suppress unpalatable parts of the message (46), or do such a poor job that the resulting translation almost “perpetuated those very errors which it sought to eradicate” (49). Beside the vagaries of translation, the Greek side actually disdained the Latin language as being barbarian (77) and perhaps even incapable of expressing fine theological distinctions (179). With respect to heresy, iconoclast emperors had plunged the see of Constantinople into heresy for more than a hundred years, which degraded the trust between the sees (67).

With respect to politics, there were three expressions of this. One was the fact that from the seventh century onward, Syria, Palestine, and Egypt (18), and later North Africa and Spain (31) came under Muslim rule, which sometimes absolutely obstructed communication between patriarchal sees (46). The second was the fact that the Balkans, which were the midpoint between the sees of Rome and Constantinople, at first fell to Avar and Slav invaders, impeding communication (32), and later become the center of a jurisdictional dispute between the two sees (81-82). Lastly, from the standpoint of the Byzantine Emperor, Charlemagne’s arrogation of the title “Emperor” with papal support in 800 AD challenged the universal claims of Constantinople and sowed seeds of jealousy that between the two sees (53-54).

Core Doctrinal Issues

Papal Claims of Universal Jurisdiction

Having looked at the historical factors that contributed to the schism, we now turn to the doctrinal issues, starting with papal claims to universal jurisdiction. The Pope had from antiquity been accorded primacy of honor in Christendom (126). However, with the transfer of the Imperial capital to Constantinople, the relationship between the bishops of Old and New Rome became complicated. Should that primacy be transferred to the bishop of the new capital? The Second Ecumenical Council tried to resolve this with its 3rd Canon: “The Bishop of Constantinople, however, shall have the prerogative of honour after the Bishop of Rome; because Constantinople is New Rome” (Schaff 178), with which Rome agreed although the other patriarchs were irritated. However, the Fourth Ecumenical Council revised this position in its 28th Canon: “The bishop of New Rome shall enjoy the same honour as the bishop of Old Rome, on account of the removal of the Empire” (Schaff 289), which Rome refused to accept (Hussey 27). In practice, peace was maintained by granting the Pope the right to confirm the election of other patriarchs (18) and declare the ecumenicity of a council (27) in exchange for the Emperor’s having the right to confirm the election of the Pope (21). The canons of the Council of Trullo; however, really pushed the issue. The 33rd canon re-asserted the equal dignity of Constantinople: “[W]e decree that the see of Constantinople shall have equal privileges with the see of Old Rome, and shall be highly regarded in ecclesiastical matters as that is, and shall be second after it” (Schaff 382). Not only this, but the canons of Trullo insisted on obedience, under pain of clerical deposition and laical excommunication, to certain canons that the Pope rejected (Hussey 26).

The Patriarch of Constantinople and the Emperor often sought the Pope’s confirmation of a decision but not necessarily with the presupposition that a rejection of the decision would reverse it. Sometimes out of courtesy to Rome, they would allow the Pope to make a decision only to ignore it (Hussey 77). For example, during the Photian schism, the Pope deposed and laicized Patriarch Photius of Constantinople (76), to which Photius responded by convening a council that deposed and anathematized the Pope (78). Things like this occurred with some regularity but reconciliation always eventually followed.

In the mid-eleventh century, Papal insistence on jurisdiction over affairs in the East intensified. A series of letters were exchanged between the Pope, the emperor, and Cerularius, the patriarch of Constantinople. Cerularius chided the Pope for minor liturgical differences and closed the Latin churches in Constantinople. The Pope claimed to be the head and mother of the churches and took offense at the patriarch referring to himself as the Ecumenical Patriarch. The East insisted that the Pope was only the first among equals (133) and that the Church was rightly governed through the Pentarchy and ecumenical councils (135). In the end, legates of the Pope delivered a Papal bull of excommunication for Cerularius (133), and Cerularius anathematized the authors of the bull (135). Normal relations actually continued for a while, but later history in the Crusades showed that the papal claims to universal jurisdiction actually created irreconcilable differences between it and Constantinople (136).

Papal Support of the Filioque Clause

Regarding the second doctrinal issue, the Second Ecumenical Council set forth a creed that said this: “I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father, who with the Father and the Son is worshipped and glorified.” The Latin-speaking West over time began to insert the word filioque, which means “and from the Son”, into the text after “who proceeds from the Father” when they chanted the Creed. The seeds of this controversy go back to Augustine, who wrote: “We find that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Son also … Therefore He so begat Him [the Word] as that the common Gift should proceed from Him also, and the Holy Spirit should be the Spirit of both.” (Augustine 216). By 589 AD, a local council in Toledo acknowledged that the filioque was already in common usage in the West (Walker 164). The first known Eastern reaction to this introduction was in 649 AD at a local council in Rome, where the Eastern representatives chided Pope Martin I for its presence in the Creed in parts of the West (Hussey 20). At the council of Frankfort in 794 AD, Charlemagne officially approved the use of the filioque in his empire, prompting Pope III in 808 AD to warn Charlemagne against tampering with the Creed (Ware 54). Thus, up until beginning of the 9th century, the Pope and the Eastern Patriarchs still had an uneasy agreement.

When German missionaries started evangelizing toward the East into Bulgaria, bringing the filioque with them, the Pope while still not using the filioque himself, gave his full consent to its use in Bulgaria (Ware 54). This prompted Photius Patriarch of Constantinople to take action in 867 AD, writing the other Eastern Patriarchs to denounce the filioque not only as a western innovation without sanction from an ecumenical council but more importantly as a heresy since it admitted of two principles in the Godhead (Hussey 78). In 879 AD at a council in Constantinople with papal legates, all sides agreed not to change the Creed by inserting the filioque (84). However, in 1014 AD the Pope finally succumbed to Germanic pressure, and at the coronation of Henry II at Rome, the filioque was sung in the Creed, and Rome has retained it in its Creed ever after.

In a sense, the controversy around the filioque clause could be subsumed under the topic of universal papal jurisdiction because it is just one of many examples of unilateral decisions made by the Pope. Later Orthodox theologians have noted that it is possible to give an Orthodox interpretation to the phrase if it understood as referring to the temporal mission of the Holy Spirit instead of His eternal procession (Ware 213). But even so, from the Orthodox point of view, the Pope should not have at first allowed, and then encouraged, and then later adopted the filioque without sanction from an Ecumenical Council, and the fact that he did flows naturally from his claims to universal jurisdiction. In addition to the filioque, there have been other dogmas that the Pope has unilaterally introduced, including purgatory, the immaculate conception of Mary, and papal infallibility. In my opinion, the Orthodox Church, while having the fullness of the faith, simultaneously has a type of poverty while its Elder Brother, the bishop of Rome, is in schism, and I pray nearly every day that Pope Francis will take the kenotic initiative and renounce the claim to universal jurisdiction, which action would do so much toward the cause of restored communion between East and West.

Works Cited

Augustine. Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Volume 3. Ed. by Philip Schaff. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Web. http://www.ccel.org/ccel/schaff/npnf103.i.html

Hussey, J. M. The Orthodox Church in the Byzantine Empire. Oxford: Clarendon, 1990.

Schaff, Philip. Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Volume 14. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Web. http://www.ccel.org/ccel/schaff/npnf214.i.html

Ware, Timothy. The Orthodox Church. New York: Penguin, 1997. Print.

Walker, Williston. A History of the Christian Church. New York: Scribners, 1959.

On the First Period of Iconoclasm in 8th Century Byzantium

Introduction

The eighth and ninth centuries were a tumultuous time in the Byzantine Empire because of the iconoclast controversy. Beginning with the Chalce Episode of 726 AD under emperor Leo III and continuing with ebbs and flows until the final restoration of icons in 843 AD under emperor Michael III’s regent Theodora, the controversy led to the expropriation of property; the destruction of cultural artifacts; and the deposition, exile, excommunication, and abuse of people. This post will explore the historical background and development of the controversy up until the first restoration of icons in 787 AD.

Historical Background

The roots of the controversy lay in the marked intensification of the cult of the icon in the late sixth and seventh centuries. The earliest church used symbolic rather than figural representations in their art in order to avoid idolatrous associations. By the fourth century, there was a growing sense that material objects, such as the relics of martyrs, were infused with holiness, in which those who venerated it could participate. When this sentiment combined with the contemporaneous cult of the imperial portrait, the veneration of religious portraits was the natural outcome, as documents from the early fifth century establish (Hussey 30). By the sixth century, palladian qualities were attributed to icons, which certainly met a felt need of peasants and soldiers coping with the instability that resulted from the loss of large parts of the Empire to Muslims, Lombards, and Slav (31 - 32). By the seventh century, apologists explained that icons of saints could bring the beholder into indirect contact with God because the saints who were the prototypes of the icon had successfully reflected the image of God, and thus icons of them still reflected this divine image (32).

Long before the 8th century, there was opposition to this evolving understanding of the icon. The early 4th century Spanish Synod of Elvira urged caution in the use of icons. Eusebius of Caesarea (d. 339/340 AD), Epiphanius of Cyprus (d. 403 AD), and a sect within the Armenian Church all expressed doubts about the veneration of icons. Anxiety about the “popular use—and abuse—of icons” (43) grew as “superstitious practices associated with icons” increased (33). Sadly, Hussey does not cite examples of these abuses and superstitious practices. Regardless, the rhetoric against icons during this time period focused on the Second Commandment and the Christian emphasis on worship in spirit and truth rather than on later Christological arguments (33-34).

Development

What specifically motivated Leo III’s iconoclast policy is hard to pin down. In his earlier military career, he certainly had contact with Muslims, who were strictly opposed to icons, and cross-fertilization of ideas might have occurred (34). Then there is also the potential Jewish influence (35). Then there were the vocal iconoclast behaviors of three bishops in Asia Minor, who indirectly blamed the emperor for not stemming the out-out-control use of icons (36). Walker cites two more motives: 1) a desire to take power away from the predominantly iconophilic monasteries, which were exempt from state taxes, soldiers, and public servants, and 2) a desire to make the Church acceptable to his dualistic army recruits (148). Whatever the complex of motives, the catalyst seems to have been a volcanic eruption in 726 AD, which many interpreted as the expression of God’s displeasure at the use of icons, because it was in the same year that he took his first official iconoclast action by removing the mosaic image of Christ above the Chalce entrance to imperial palace complex (Hussey 37). Then in 730 AD, he issued an imperial decree for the destruction of the icons of saints. The implementation of this decree resulted in the destruction of altar furniture and cloths and the removal of valuable reliquaries. Whether at this stage iconophiles were abused is lost to history. Also, at this point in the controversy, the rhetoric still focused on the violation of the Second Commandment (38). In 731 AD Pope Gregory III responded by excommunicating the iconoclasts, and Leo answered by removing Sicily, Calabria, and Illyricum from the Pope’s jurisdiction, thus deepening the split between East and West (Walker 149).

John of Damascus, who died in 749 AD, wrote On Holy Images, the classic defense of icons on Christological grounds. He argued that whereas before the Incarnation, God was undepictable, after the Incarnation He was depictable and thus the depiction of Christ in icons is appropriate. Furthermore, because God became matter in order to work out salvation, it is proper to venerate matter, through which this salvation was wrought, and thus the veneration of icons is appropriate (Damascene 15 - 16).

The iconoclast movement became more theologically sophisticated and violent under the theologically minded Emperor Constantine V. He convened the council of Hieria-Blachernae in 754 AD in order to elicit synodal support for his iconoclast policy. Episcopal representation was strong, but there was no patriarchal representation. Assuming their synod would become the Seventh Ecumenical Council, the bishops moderated the emperor’s extreme views to be consistent with the previous six Ecumenical Councils. At the same time, they responded to John of Damascus’ Christological defense of icons by laying out Christological arguments against the veneration of icons:

1. Icons circumscribed an uncircumscribable Godhead, confused the two natures of Christ, and thus violated the Fourth Ecumenical Council,
2. Icons divided the human and divine natures of Christ and thus violated the Third Ecumenical Council,
3. The only valid image of Christ is the Eucharist, and
4. The only valid image of a saint was his ethical representation in the life of a believer (Hussey 40-41).

Now having the formal ecclesiastical condemnation of icons, iconophiles could be punished as heretics through either laicization or excommunication. The implementation of this ruling resulted in intensified looting of sacred buildings, imprisonment, expropriation of monastic properties, and the public ridicule of offenders (42).

With the death of Constantine V in 755 AD, the persecution of iconophiles tapered off (43). By 780 AD the emperor was ten-year-old Constantine VI, whose regent mother was the flagrant iconophile Irene, who used her influence to bring about the first restoration of icons (44). This was complicated by three factors:

1. By virtue of Pope Gregory’s excommunication of iconoclasts, the Eastern church was in schism from the West,
2. By virtue of the Council of Hieria-Blachernae, iconodulism was still officially a heresy in the East, and
3. The majority of the clergy by this point of time were either iconoclast bishops or those ordained by them.

The solution to the crisis was to convene a general council, for which formerly iconoclast Patriarch Paul IV penitently called before retiring. Then, his successor Tarasius accepted the patriarchate only on condition of calling a general council (45). The first attempt at a general council in Constantinople failed in 786 AD when imperial guards backed by iconoclast bishops stopped the proceedings. The next year another council convened in Nicaea, including delegates from Pope Hadrian. This council, recognized by posterity as the Seventh Ecumenical Council accomplished a number of things:

1. It reconciled the Eastern Church with the Pope,
2. It decreed that formerly iconoclast bishops who repented would not be degraded as long as there was no proof that they had abused iconophiles, and
3. It repudiated the pretensions of the Council of Hieria-Blachernae by condemning as heretical the tenets of iconoclasm. Most importantly, it laid out definitively the Orthodox iconophilic position:
1. That there is a qualitative distinction between λατρεία, which is the honor that belongs to the Creator alone, and προσκύνησις, which is the relative honor shown to holy objects including icons and
2. That the relative honor given to an icon passes to the icon’s prototype (47-48).

Conclusion

The iconoclast controversy did not just disappear away after Nicaea II. Many monastics, most notably Theodore Studites, were resentful of the leniency Tarasius showed toward repentant bishops, creating a rift in the iconophile party. This weakened its efforts to root out the iconoclastic heresy (55), leading to its resurgence in the ninth century albeit in less harsh form (58). It was not until 843 AD under Emperor Michael III’s regent mother Theodora that the iconophile party was finally able to assume and retain power indefinitely in an event called the Sunday of Orthodoxy (63). Thus concluded a colorful segment of Byzantine history that was formative for Orthodox belief and practice: The final Christological controversy was settled by the final and seventh Ecumenical Council, and the veneration of icons was firmly established in daily life (67).

Works Cited

Damascene, John. St. John Damascene on Holy Images. London: Baker, 1898. Web. http://www.ccel.org/ccel/damascus/icons.i.iv.html#i.iv-Page_15

Hussey, J. M. The Orthodox Church in the Byzantine Empire. Oxford: Clarendon, 1990.

Walker, Williston. A History of the Christian Church. New York: Scribners, 1959.

On Alexandria and Antioch: A Comparison of Two Schools of Theology

Introduction

Alexandria and Antioch were the second and third most important cities in the Roman empire after Rome. Not surprisingly they also became centers of Biblical exegesis and theology in the early centuries of the Church. Throughout the Christological controversies of the first five centuries, the two cities were like poles representing two different approaches to the questions at hand. At the heart of the matter was the place that Greek philosophy could play in theology. On the one hand the Church leaders in the West and Asia Minor (including Antioch) distrusted Greek philosophy because of their battle with Gnosticism; on the other hand Church leaders in Alexandria followed in the footsteps of the Alexandrian Jewish philosopher Philo, who combined Plato and Judaism, by combining Plato and Christianity. This difference of approach combined with the simultaneous political rivalry for importance in the empire set the stage for a competition between the Alexandrian and Antiochian schools of theology. This post compares and contrasts the two schools in two different stages: 1) the period preceding and including the First Ecumenical Council and 2) the period preceding and including the Third and Fourth Ecumenical Councils.

Preceding and Including the First Ecumenical Council

Alexandria

Alexandria had a catechetical school at least as early as 185 AD, the first recorded leader of which was Pantænus, a converted Stoic philosopher. Little is directly known about his theological slant (Walker 72). His student and successor Clement, who died around 215 AD was also a presbyter in the Alexandrian church. Clement saw the divine Logos as the source of all intelligence and morality regardless of race. Whether using philosophy for the Greeks or the Law for the Hebrews, the divine Logos used both as a tutor to bring them to Christ. For Clement, although the divine Logos truly was incarnate in Jesus Christ, the actual events of the earthly life of Jesus generally lacked significance apart from the fact that He taught the knowledge of God, which is the highest good, so that His disciples could attain His same blessedness (73).

Clement’s pupil and successor Origen was by far the most influential of all leaders in the Alexandrian school in terms of breadth, depth, and quantity of output; the size of his reader base both while living and extending beyond his death; as well as the perfection of interpreting Christianity in terms of Hellenic philosophy. The tool he used to accomplish this was the allegorical interpretation of Scripture, with which the Alexandrian school became synonymous, and which effectively allowed Origen to read whatever he wanted into the Scriptures. The allegorical method posited three layers of meaning to a passage corresponding to the tripartite composition of man (flesh, soul, spirit), with the “spiritual” meaning being the really important one and by which only perfect people could be edified (75). Because he did not think in the rigid categories of later Orthodoxy, Origen’s writings could easily be quoted by either side in controversies. For example, he simultaneously spoke of Christ as eternally generated and yet a “second God” and a “creature.” Also, Christ is the mediator through whom all Creation came into being, including the highest of all creatures the Holy Spirit (76). Later Orthodoxy’s Logos Christology found a great defender in Origen, but because of his belief in the soul’s pre-existence and the visible universe’s purpose as a place of punishment for those who sinned in their pre-existence, he fell of out of favor in later generations (77).

The last two leaders in the early Alexandrian school were Alexander, bishop of Alexandria from around 312 AD to 328 AD (107), and his successor Athanasius, bishop on and off between 328 AD and 378 AD (109). For them, the divinity of Christ was crucial because it was the only way to guarantee salvation. Unless it was genuine Godhead that had became a man, then there would be no basis for mankind thereby to experience divinization (110).

Antioch

The early leaders of the Antiochian school were Paul of Samosata, Lucian, Arius, and Eusebius of Nicomedia. Paul was bishop of Antioch from around 260 AD to 272 AD. He was a Dynamic Monarchian, which held that Jesus was the Son of God by adoption only. The man Jesus was inspired by an impersonal Logos and fell in love with God, effecting a moral but not essential union with God. After his resurrection, Jesus received a delegated kind of divinity (69). Lucian, a presbyter who taught in Antioch from around 275 AD to 303 AD, died as a martyr in 312 AD. Although his views are lost to history, we can assume that they are similar to his more well-known pupils Arius and Eusebius of Nicomedia (97). Arius moved to Alexandria, where he was a presbyter under Bishop Alexander, conflict with whom led to the Arian controversy. Arius and Eusebius of Nicomedia followed Origen’s lead that Christ was a created being. Further, in the incarnation, the Logos entered a human body replacing the human spirit, thus making Christ neither fully God nor fully man (107).

Period Preceding and Including the Third and Fourth Ecumenical Councils

Having established in the First and Second Ecumenical Councils that the Son of God and the Holy Spirit were of one essence with the Father, the next point that needed to be clarified was what it means that the Son of God “was made a man”. In this controversy, the difference between the Alexandrian and Antiochian schools became quite manifest. The Alexandrian school emphasized the unity of Christ to the point that to some it appeared that His divinity practically absorbed his humanity. The Antiochian school emphasized the integrity of each of his divine and human natures to the point that to some it appeared that there were practically two separate beings contained within him. In this section, we will look at the main players in each of the two schools (131).

Alexandria

In the latter Alexandrian school, there are four main personages at which to look: Apollinaris, Cyril, Dioscurus, and Eutyches. Apollinaris, who died around 390 AD, was in agreement with Athanasius that unless Christ was perfectly divine, our salvation was in jeopardy. His solution to the composition of Christ was as follows: Jesus had a human body and soul, but his reasoning spirit was replaced by the divine Logos. Although the Second Ecumenical Council condemned this formulation, with slight modification it became the Orthodox position, namely that Jesus still had a human mind but that his center or subject was the divine Logos (132). Cyril was the patriarch of Alexandria from 412 AD to 444 AD. In Alexandrian fashion, his position was that God-made-flesh was born, died, and consumed in Holy Communion, thus protecting our ability to become partakers of the divine nature but allowing Christ little more than an impersonal humanity centered in the divinity (134). The popular and ancient title Theotokos for the Virgin Mary, meaning “bearer of God”, was a very natural way to encapsulate this view. Dioscurus succeeded Cyril as the patriarch of Alexandria in 444 AD and appears mainly concerned with advancing his authority than clarifying Christology. Eutyches, an archimandrite of Constantinople, protecting the divinity of Christ, unfortunately, at the expense of his full humanity, posited this: “I confess that our Lord was of two natures before the union [i.e., the incarnation], but after the union one nature”, and was condemned at the Fourth Ecumenical Council (138).

Antioch

Besides the emphasis on the integrity of the human and divine natures in Christ already mentioned, the latter Antiochian school differed from that of Alexandria in a number of ways. First, its philosophy was Aristotelian rather than Platonic. Second, its dominant model of salvation was not theosis; rather, it was Christ as the “second Adam” and the significance of the reality of his temptations and sufferings as a human. Thirdly, the members of its school favored the simple grammatical, historical approach to Biblical exegesis as opposed to the Alexandrian bent toward allegory (133).

The leading players in the latter school of Antioch where Diodorus and his three pupils Chrysostom, Theodore of Mopsuestia, and Nestorius. Diodorus, who died in 394 AD, was a longtime presbyter in Antioch and later bishop in Tarsus. Similar to Paul of Samosata earlier, Diodorus taught that in Christ were two persons in moral rather than essential union. The union could be compared to the marriage of a man and wife (133). Diodorus was condemned at a local council in 499 AD (Kelly 302). Chrysostom, who lived from around 345 AD to 407 AD, served as a deacon and presbyter in Antioch before becoming bishop of Constantinople. He did not contribute much to the Christological struggles of the time; instead, he perfected the Antiochian school’s literal approach to exegesis by crafting practical homilies on Christian living (Walker 130). Theodore was bishop of Mopsuestia until his death in 428 AD. He admitted that there was only one person in Christ, but could not really explain how this was compatible with his other views that resembled those of his teacher. Theodore was posthumously condemned at the Fifth Ecumenical Council (143). Nestorius like Theodore only admitted one person in Christ (133). However, his nemesis Cyril of Alexandria accused him otherwise and took offense at Nestorius’ hesitancy to use the title Theotokos, leading to Nestorius’ condemnation at the Third Ecumenical Council (136). With teacher and fellow pupils all condemned by history, it is almost amazing that Chrysostom escaped unscathed as a member of the Antiochian school. Apparently, enraging the empress for her extravagance kept him busy from making statements that later generations might consider heretical (130).

Conclusion

The schools of Alexandria and Antioch were influential during the first centuries of the Church but had very different points of view. The leaders of the Alexandrian school were Platonic and allegorical. Their understanding of salvation as theosis created a tendency toward viewing Christ’s divinity as subsuming his humanity. The leaders of the Antiochian school, on the other hand, were Aristotelian and literal. Their understanding of salvation as stemming from an intimate conjunction of the Logos with the man Jesus created a tendency toward viewing Jesus Christ as the conjunction of two separate beings. In the battle between the two schools and their episcopal sees for power, there was sometimes as much political intrigue as there was a concern for theology. In the end, through the course of the Third through the Fifth Ecumenical Councils, the school of Antioch was effectively condemned, and the formulation of Cyril of Alexandria became the Orthodox Christology (143).

Works Cited

Walker, Willison. A History of the Christian Church. New York: Scribners, 1959.
Kelley, J.N.D., Early Christian Doctrines, revised ed, San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1978.

On the Development of Monasticism Up To and Including St. Benedict of Nursia

The institution of monasticism had a profound historical influence upon the whole Church--East and West. Although many contemporary Christians might be inclined to consider monasticism as, at best, culturally irrelevant in the modern world or, at worst, spiritually harmful, a look at its early development reveals that it certainly met a felt need of the time and still has the potential to speak positively to the world today. This paper will explore the three things: 1) the initial impetus behind monasticism, 2) its development in the East, and finally 3) its development in the West.

The Initial Impetus Behind Monasticism

From the time of the apostles until the end of the second century, the perpetual risk of persecution and martyrdom had the effect of keeping the Church relatively pure: Members of the Church were “experiential Christians” (Walker 94). The first half of the third century AD, however, was a period of considerable toleration toward Christianity. Although still illegal, it was, generally speaking, the object of only sporadic and short-lived persecutions until 248 AD because the Roman emperors were preoccupied with other matters (79). A rapid increase in converts from heathen religions accompanied this relative peace. At the same time, the fact that the Second Coming of Jesus had not yet occurred caused many to realize that the Final Judgment was not as imminent as previously assumed, and spiritual vigilance thus dwindled. All of these factors came together to encourage worldliness in the Church. As more and more nominal Christians populated public worship, it provoked a real identity crisis in the Church: It went from conceiving of itself as a “communion of saints” to an “agency for salvation”, and the standards for Christian behavior were relaxed. Obviously, this change of affairs was not satisfactory to everyone (94-95).

Church leaders had long observed an apparent distinction in Scripture between requirements and advice. The requirements were those rules binding on all Christians, but the advice was for the serious disciples of Christ. The advice centered around voluntary poverty and voluntary celibacy. For example, Jesus did not tell all disciples to sell everything and give the proceeds to the poor, but he did tell one man that if wanted to be “perfect,” he should so do (Matthew 19:21). Similarly, Jesus observed that there are those who “have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 19:12). In 1 Corinthians 7, St. Paul lays out an argument for the relative greater beatitude of those who choose not to marry over those who do marry. Given that church leaders such as Hermas, Tertullian, and Origen all acknowledged this distinction between a lower and higher morality, more and more of those dissatisfied with worldliness in the Church began to follow not just the requirements but also the advice. And herein the seeds of monasticism were sown (95). Initially, this ascetic ideal was still pursued while integrated with society, for example, an order of holy virgins attached to a church. However, it was not long before the increasing formalism of public worship and the lack of supply of recent martyrs as role models led to a demand for spiritual heroes who possessed a vital and personal relationship with God. And thus the monastic vocation was birthed (125).

The Development of Monasticism in the East

St. Anthony the Great, a Coptic born around 250 AD, was the first to respond to the monastic impulse. In 270 AD he gave away all his possessions. Fifteen years later, he became a hermit in the Egyptian desert, living in the severest self-denial until his repose around 356 AD. He overcame the flesh through constant prayer. Soon more and more people imitated his example, filling the deserts of Nitria and Scetis in Egypt. Some were absolute hermits; others lived in small groups. Because this was originally a lay movement, there was little ecclesiastical accountability at this time and sometimes a danger of practicing self-denial for the sake of self-denial (125-126).

St. Pachomius, born around 292 AD, converted to Christianity around age 20. At first he lived as a hermit, but soon realized its potential for unhealthy excesses. He set up the first Christian monastery in Tabennisi, Egypt, around 315 AD. Here the brothers lived in a close-knit community having regularly assigned work, regular hours of worship, and similar dress and cells for lodging. This form of a common ascetic life under the supervision of an abbot is known as cenobitic monasticism--in contrast to the eremitic monasticism of hermits--and it greatly improved the monastic ecosystem. By his death in 346 AD, Pachomius had established ten such monasteries, including ones for women (126).

Eremitic and cenobitic monasticism both flourished side-by-side and were exported from Egypt to the rest of the Roman Empire. Especially in Syria, the eremitic form became quite popular and extravagant. St. Simon Stylites, who lived on top of a pillar for 30 years until his death in 459 AD, is a famous example of extreme Syrian asceticism. In Asia Minor, however, it was cenobitic monasticism that especially blossomed under the leadership of St. Basil the Great, who lived from 330 AD to 379 AD. He like Pachomius advocated a common life of work, prayer, and Bible reading. In addition, however, not only did he require outreach in care for orphans and widows, he also actively discouraged the eremitic lifestyle (126).

The Development of Monasticism in the West

As a quirk of history, St. Athanasius the Great, bishop of the eastern see of Alexandria was the catalyst for spreading monasticism to the West because two of his five separate banishments were to western lands, where he spread the knowledge of St. Anthony the Great. Monasticism initially received a mixed welcome in the West. Through the efforts of St. Martin of Tours, it spread to France in 362 AD, and by the end of the fourth century, through the examples of Jerome, Ambrose, and Augustine, monasticism was well established in the West. Similar to in the East, the first western monks were all laymen. However, Eusebius, bishop of Vercelli, who died in 371 AD, was the first to set the precedent of requiring all clergy attached to his cathedral to live as monks, thus altering its original nature as a lay movement (126).

While Syria was known for its extreme asceticism, in the West, early monastics had little consistency in ascetic fervor, and sometimes were quite lax. Things began to improve under St. Benedict of Nursia (in modern Italy), who was born in 480 AD. He became a hermit in 500 AD, and similar to Pachomius before him, went on to start a cenobitic monastery in 529 AD with an explicit written Rule of life. This monastery became the mother monastery of a network of monasteries that consciously follow his Rule. Benedict’s Rule reflected a deep understanding of human nature. He skillfully combined moderation and good sense with respect to food, manual labor, and discipline to create a system that although strict was accessible to an average, earnest disciple. At the head of the monastery was the abbot who commanded absolute obedience, but who was required to consult the brothers for matters of common concern. The institution of the novitiate was started to give people a chance to try out the monastic lifestyle before taking vows. Worship was the center of life and structured around seven daily offices. Idleness being the chief evil to avoid, work and study assignments were prescribed, leading to Benedictine monasteries becoming centers of industry and scholarship (127).

The Rule of St. Benedict spread slowly, first to England and Germany. France did not buy in until the seventh century. Monks spread civilization and Christian faith by often being the first to settle in a region, followed later by a town near the monastery. And during the war-ravaged Middle Ages, these monasteries were often the only places of refuge (128).

Although geographically situated in the West, the monasticism of Ireland and Scotland came directly from the East rather than through St. Benedict and thus retained a distinctly eastern flavor until the Roman Church solidified control over the region in the eighth century. Until that time, it fully retained its eastern mystical and extreme ascetical bent. Celtic monks also exuded missionary and scholarly fervor, which continued even after the Roman introduction of the Rule of St. Benedict (128).

Conclusion

Monasticism has had a fascinating history across regions and religions. Christian monasticism was initially a response to the general decay in the piety and fervor of the average Christian when persecution decreased. This was expressed by following Christ’s advice and embracing voluntary poverty and celibacy. Historically, this ascetic ideal was pursued in three stages: 1) asceticism while still integrated with society, 2) solitary asceticism by hermits, and later 3) communities of ascetics living a common life under an abbot. Christian monasticism started in Egypt with St. Anthony the Great and was refined by both Sts. Pachomius the Great and Basil the Great. After it spread to the West through St. Athanasius the Great, it was refined there by St. Benedict of Nursia. Since the Second Coming still has not yet happened and there is still chronic decay of Christian piety, it seems to this author that there is still a place for monasticism in the Church, and begs prayers while he tries to discern what this means for him personally.

Works Cited

Walker, Willison. A History of the Christian Church. New York: Scribners, 1959.