The Greek and Eastern Churches/Part 1/Division 1/Chapter 8

2777589The Greek and Eastern Churches — Part 1, Division 1, Chapter 8
Later Christological Controversies
Walter Frederic Adeney

CHAPTER VIII

THE LATER CHRISTOLOGICAL CONTROVERSIES

(a) Evagrius; Mansi, ix. x.; Theophanes, Chronographia; Anastasius, Historia.
(b) Gibbon, chap, xlvii.; Dorner, The Person of Christ, Div. ii. part i.; Ottley, The Incarnation, part vii.; Hefele, History of Councils, Eng. trans., vol. iv.

I. The death of Anastasius and the accession of the rough soldier Justin (a.d. 518) put an end to the Monophysite prosperity, and with the withdrawal of the Henoticon also brought the separation from communion with Rome to an end. Except in Egypt, which remained Monophysite, the work of reunion was comparatively easy. The result was a triumph for the papacy and a strengthening of the power of Rome in the Church.

In April 527 Justin's nephew, Justinian, was associated in the government of the empire, and in August he became sole emperor by the death of his uncle. He was a man of simple, frugal habits, most industrious, and very decided in his adhesion to the decision of Chalcedon—proving his orthodoxy in the usual way—by persecuting the heterodox. One of the most important of Justinian's actions marks a further stage in the suppression of paganism. In the year 531 he closed the schools of philosophy at Athens, where the Neo-Platonists, the most determined enemies of Christianity, were teaching. This was the end of the faded glory of ancient Athenian culture. The same year Justinian enacted that all pagans and heretics should be excluded from civil and military offices. According to Procopius, one result of his drastic measures was that some of the ancient sect of Montanists in Phrygia shut themselves up with their wives and children in their churclies, set fire to the buildings, and perished in the flames.[1]

Justinian's consort, the beautiful and facinating Empress Theodora, has come down to history as a woman of utter depravity, to be classed with a Messalina or a Lucretia Borgia; but this scandal is solely owing to the account of her which Procopius left in his secret history, published after his death, according to which she was a notoriously vicious actress when she married the staid emperor.[2] Nothing that the same writer published during his lifetime brings the slightest reproach against her moral character, nor has any evidence been adduced to support the charges contained in the posthumous work. It appears that her name has suffered all these years from a gross libel due to wicked spite, or at best, to the inventions of a prurient imagination, Theodora was hated by the orthodox party on theological grounds; and yet none of the bishops whom she opposed ventured to breathe a word against her reputation. Surely that is strong evidence for the defence. There is no doubt that she had been an actress. But the real charge against her was that she was a zealous Monophysite. As patroness of the heretics, she was able to secure her friends some advantages while the attention of the government was distracted by the Gothic invasion of Italy and the consequent troubles that enveloped the empire.

Meanwhile the interminable theological controversy was entering on a new sphere in the discussion concerning "The Three Chapters."[3] This title is given to a formulated series of accusations—(1) against the person and writings of Theodore of Mopsuestia; (2) against the writings of Theodoret in opposition to Cyril; and (3) against the letter of Ibas of Edessa, a friend of Nestorius, addressed to the Persian bishop Maris. It was cleverly argued that the real objection to the council of Chalcedon was not occasioned by its doctrinal statements, but was found in its approval of these men, who, it was asserted, were tainted with Nestorianism. Justinian accepted the convenient suggestion, and published an edict condemning the accused writers—one more of the many imperial acts of interference with fine questions of doctrine in the Church. The Eastern bishops, with their usual subserviency, for the most part submitted to the emperor's decree. The Westerns, especially the Africans, together with the Pope Vigilius, with their customary spirit of independence, refused to sign it. Thereupon Vigilius was summoned to Constantinople, where he was detained for about seven years, during the first of which Theodora died. At length the pope so far submitted as to secretly promise Justinian that he would condemn "The Three Chapters." But when a synod of Western bishops was got together they could not be brought to a similar compliance. The emperor then issued a long profession of faith which he commanded the pope and his bishops to sign. This was an inordinate act of despotism, and poor Vigilius, in spite of his submission earlier, felt compelled to resist, and even threatened excommunication against all who should yield. But the vacillating pope was no Hildebrand, and when soldiers were sent to arrest him he crept under the altar, whence he was being dragged out by his hair and beard when the outcries of shame from the people stopped the outrage, and he was allowed to escape to Chalcedon.

Meanwhile summonses were out for a general council, which met at Constantinople in May 553, attended by 165 bishops, including all the patriarchs of the East, but only five African bishops. This council, known as the Fifth General Council, condemned "The Three Chapters."[4] Vigilius, who had excused himself from attending, was terrified into submission to the decision of the council, after which he was permitted to return to Rome; but the miserable man died on the way, at Syracuse (a.d. 555) The bishops of Italy, Illyria, and Africa broke off from Rome because of the action of Vigilius, some of the churches they represented remaining aloof for nearly half a century.

The council of Ephesus in its severe condemnation of Nestorianism had prepared the way for Eutyches, and so for Monophysitism; the council of Chalcedon—acting under the influence of Rome—had condemned Eutychianism and thus apparently rather favoured its opposite, Nestorianism. Now the pendulum swung again. Undoubtedly this second council of Constantinople indicated a partial reaction against the council of Chalcedon, and a partial movement in the direction of Monophysitism. But it had more important issues in consolidating the Eastern Church and the authority of the emperor over it in opposition to the pretensions of Rome and the claims of the pope. This, and not the doctrinal decision, may be taken as the real note of the so-called "Fifth General Council."

On one side the Monophysite position was now advanced a further stage. Eutyches, the originator of the whole movement, had maintained that Christ's body was not as our body; that the transformation of the human nature in its combination with the Divine affected the body as well as the soul. Similarly, Dioscurus had asserted that it would be profane to speak of the blood of Christ as of the same substance with anything merely natural. In the later period Timothy Ælurus had held that Christ's humanity was different from ours. This was going further than Apollinarianism, further than Patripassianism, a long way on towards Docetism. But a new quarrel broke out among the Monophysite refugees at Alexandria in regard to this question. It was Julian of Halicarnassus who now especially developed and emphasised the doctrine of the incorruptibility of the body of Christ. He taught that it was insensible to natural passions and weaknesses, in opposition to Severus, the ex-patriarch of Antioch, who maintained that the body of Christ was corruptible up to the resurrection, after which it became incorruptible. Julian contended that it underwent no change at the resurrection. His professed object was not to minimise the actual sufferings of Christ, but, as he argued, to exalt our conception of the great condescension of One who was naturally not liable to suffering in willingly accepting it for the sake of the redemption of the world.

The discussion might have come and gone as an innocent pastime of the refugees, if it had not been for a high-handed act of interference in another quarter. As if he had not enough to occupy his attention in the great crisis of the empire brought on by his Gothic wars, Justinian, always ready to meddle in Church affairs, plunged into this new dispute. While under the influence of Theodora, on whom he doted with an uxorious husband's infatuation for a sprightly young wife, he had yielded concessions to the Monophysites; after her death (a.d. 548) he had treated them more coldly; but in his later days he had again begun to favour them. Julian's views represented extreme Monophysitism, and Justinian adopted those views. He went so far as to issue an elaborate statement affirming the incorruptibility of our Lord's body, which he required the bishops to accept. Here was an emperor's creed to be forced upon the Church by the power of the State, an intolerable piece of tyranny! If this were submitted to, it would be just to say that while the bishop of Rome was pope of the Western Church, the emperor was pope of the Eastern Church. In fact this action went beyond the normal papal pretensions. Even popes left it for councils to decide the creed of the Church; but Justinian was usurping the function of an œcumenical council. Moreover, he was doing this in face of an exceptionally divided ecclesiastical condition among his subjects. Not only was he siding with those whom the majority of his people regarded as heretics, but, in regard to a point on which those heretics were divided, he was taking a side, and that the side of the extremists. The emperor followed up his doctrinal statement with coercive measures; for a despot's requirement of a creed is an edict; it has the force of law. He deposed Eutychius the patriarch of Constantinople for refusing compliance with the imperial theology. He threatened the noble Anastasius, patriarch of Antioch,[5] but assailing him, as Evagrius says, "like some impregnable tower.[6] The timely death of the emperor (a.d. 565) put an end to further proceedings.

Now, in order to understand the policy of Justinian in this matter, we must not credit the vacillating emperor with theological bigotry. The key to the imperial policy in the long Monophysite dispute is to be sought in statecraft. Before this last piece of presumption the emperor had repeatedly interfered in the doctrinal disputes of the Church, and more than once he had ventured on making his own will known concerning one side or the other. Several of his predecessors had set him an example for such actions. But in the main the imperial aim throughout had been what we should call to-day an Erastian comprehensiveness. In the West Justinian saw huge limbs of his empire being torn away by the Goths; in the opposite direction he had to watch the rival power of Persia, ever on the alert to snatch, at his Eastern provinces; and now he had his subjects divided among themselves by a bitter feud. The orthodox found it an easy and congenial task to thunder anathemas against the heretics; they felt no compunction in cutting them off from the Church. But the penalty of the close union of Church and State now obtaining in the Greek world was that this action was perilously like cutting them off from the State also, and so manufacturing rebels. No sovereign could take kindly to such a wilful disruption; in the perilous times of Justinian it would be simply suicidal. Thus his policy naturally tended to the reconciliation of the Monophysites. In the earlier part of his reign he had assembled leaders of both parties with a view to their coming to an agreement. It was an abortive conference; such conferences usually are abortive when the question is doctrinal, however useful they may be when it is practical. It is true that the emperor's last action was not conciliatory; it was to throw the apple of discord afresh among his people. Plainly this was a mistake. Justinian often acted foolishly. But his aim had been to bring even the extreme Monophysites into the communion of the main body of the Church. The blunder, of course, was that for this purpose he was attempting to convert this main body of the Church to an extreme form of the heresy in question. That is like ordering a whole line of troops to change its pace to the time of the awkward squad which is out of step.

Justinian is best known to-day by the codification of Roman law which bears his name. It does not fall within our province to discuss that grand achievement which determined the character of European jurisprudence for all future ages. But it should be noticed that ecclesiastical laws take their place in the system side by side with civil and legislative. Some of these laws date from the time of Constantine onward; others are new edicts promulgated by Justinian himself. But the bulk of the code consists of old laws handed down from ancient times. This fusion of civil and ecclesiastical legislation is a sign not only of the close identification of Church and State now obtaining in the empire, but also of the absolute supremacy of the latter over the former in the Eastern provinces of the empire. The spirit of independence in the West and the rival power of the popes kept the same tyranny out of the papal provinces. Perhaps this is the best thing that can be said for the papacy, and it is a very great and honourable thing to be able to say. If it had not been for the popes—especially the two greatest popes, Leo and Gregory—Western Christendom would have been in imminent danger of sharing the fate of Eastern Christendom, the whole Church crouching subservient at the footstool of the emperor. And yet this must not be said without qualification. While the popes were the chief champions of the Church's independence, the spirit of the Teuton in the West was very different from the spirit of the Eastern Greek and Armenian. Luther would have been equal to defying an imperial pope in his palace by the Bosphorus.

II. The Monothelete controversy, even more wearisome and unprofitable than the Monophysite discussions, of which it was a continuation and a new refinement, belongs chronologically to the second division of the history, that which opens with the advent of Mohammedanism and other factors of mediævalism. Nevertheless, it is essentially a patristic subject; its roots are altogether in the past; it has no relations with the special problems of the new age. Logically, therefore, and in the classification of subjects, it must have its place in this first division as the last flickering flame of theological thought lingering after the blaze of light that distinguished the age of the great Fathers had faded away. Since here at length the long series of discussions about the nature of Christ comes to an end, it will be most fitting to see this conclusion of patristic Christology before passing on to other subjects.

The Monophysites had contended that there was only one nature in Christ, the human and the Divine being fused together. Practically this meant that there was only the Divine nature, because the two did not meet on equal terms, and the overwhelming of the Finite by the Infinite left for our contemplation only the Infinite. Thus the Monophysite Christ was an Infinite Divine Person, who had drawn into His being our human nature, when He condescended to be born of Mary, and who had appeared under this veil of humanity, but who in His own consciousness and activity possessed and exercised all the faculties and powers of Divinity, and these only, not any borrowed from the human nature which He had completely absorbed and assimilated. This in fact, if not in verbal statement, was the ultimate issue of the Monophysite position.

Now we must regard the Monothelete contention as historically a branch of the Monophysite. But it appeared as an irenicon, as a happy compromise granting to the orthodox their main requirements and yet opening a door for the heretics. According to this view Christ did possess two natures. He was not only of two natures, combining in His person the human and the Divine. He remained in two natures; that is to say, He retained the two natures subsequent to the act of incarnation, all through His earthly life, and even after the resurrection, although that event resulted in a change in the condition of His body. But, according to the Monothelete, these two natures were so harmonised and blended in their co-operation that there was only one will in Christ, and that, of course, the Divine will.

At first, however, the notion of the wills was not raised, and the controversy began with the question as to whether we are to affirm "one activity,"[7] or "two activities,"[8] as operative in Christ. Sergius, the patriarch of Constantinople, states that he and Cyrus the bishop of Phasis were consulted by the Emperor Heraclius about this question, showing that whatever had been its source it was now much interesting the emperor's mind. True to the traditional ecclesiastical policy of his predecessor, but with more vigour in the execution of it, Heraclius was anxious to establish a modus vivendi between the Monophysites and their opponents. Thus from the first Monotheletism appears as a political movement. It was the energetic Heraclius' proposed compromise for bringing together the two parties whose bitter mutual antagonism he saw to be a menace to the State. Sergius worked well to further his master's object. First, he had a synod to fortify him for his enterprise; then he made good use of a collection of sayings of the Fathers supposed to favour the view of the one energy or operation, which was attributed to Mennas, patriarch of Constantinople under Justinian. At the third council of Constantinople (a.d. 680) this document was proved to be a forgery; the Roman legates pointed out a discrepancy of date, and the monk who had written it was discovered, dragged before the assembly and compelled to confess his guilt. But at its first appearance it was unquestioned. When Heraclius asked Sergius to supply him with testimony from the Fathers to the doctrine of the one activity, the patriarch sent him this precious fabrication. Cyrus also stood by the emperor and was rewarded by being promoted to the patriarchate of Alexandria (a.d. 630). Thus the two most influential patriarchates of the East were now in the hands of supporters of the new doctrine. But it was not to remain unchallenged.

The great opponent of the Monothelete heresy was the monk Sophronius, who proved to be the ablest and most vigorous controversial theologian of his age, and who has since been classed with Athanasius and Cyril as one of the chief champions of the faith. It was no light matter to lead the opposition, not only against the patriarchates of Constantinople and Alexandria, but also against the imperial government. Sophronius had to undertake his crusade in opposition to the united forces of Church and State. Nevertheless he fearlessly accepted the challenge which Cyrus flung down, and fought well for the opposing position. Cyrus selected for his watchword a phrase in the pseudo-Dionysius writings.

These writings, consisting of four treatises followed by some letters, were attributed in an uncritical age to St. Paul's convert, Dionysius the Areopagite. But we find no reference to them earlier than a conference at Constantinople in the reign of Justinian during the course of the Monophysite dispute (a.d. 532), when they were brought forward in favour of the heretical position. They cannot be much older than this period. If Cyril of Alexandria had known of them, surely he would have made use of the excellent weapons he could have found among them, exactly suited to his purpose. But when once in circulation, they were eagerly read and before long they were made use of by all parties in support of their several contentions. In course of time they came to take a high place in the estimation of the Church, so that we must regard them as among the chief formative influences that issued in mediaeval theology. In the West the papacy fed and fattened on them; and there scholasticism drew from them its root ideas. In the East they profoundly affected the final shaping of orthodoxy under the hands of the last of the Fathers, John of Damascus. The pseudo-Dionysiac writings are of a mystical character, and in them we find Christian theology intermingled with Neo-Platonic thought.[9]

Cyrus's watchword, borrowed from "Dionysius," was the phrase "one Divine-human activity."[10] Sophronius thought this a dangerous expression detracting from the humanity of Christ and bringing back the old error of Apollinaris. When Cyrus showed him a document asserting this single activity in Christ, Sophronius was so deeply moved that he flung himself at the patriarch's feet beseeching him by the sufferings of Christ not to impose such teaching on the Church. But his entreaty had no effect; the new position was welcomed with enthusiasm by a number of Monophysites, who thus became reconciled to the Church. It would seem for the moment that the policy of Heraclius was proving itself to be brilliantly successful. But this was only the beginning of the contest. The new Athanasius was not to be daunted. Finding his appeal to Cyrus of no avail, Sophronius went to Constantinople and laid an urgent plea before Sergius. This patriarch, an abler politician than his brother of Alexandria, saw the danger of the situation. The wand of peace was being converted into a battle standard. Accordingly Sergius endeavoured to suppress the controversy. At the same time he expostulated with Sophronius for hindering the return of thousands now separated from the Church, with so much earnestness that the good man promised to remain silent. But when three or four years later he was made patriarch of Jerusalem, Sophronius did not consider the seal of silence any longer binding on him. The situation was entirely altered. In his position of influence he felt it his duty to speak out. So he gathered a synod which pronounced definitely for two wills and two activities. Unfortunately he stated the result of this decision in such a lengthy, bombastic document, that, before he could get copies of it sent round to the leading bishops, Sergius was able to present his views to the Pope Honorius, who never suspected the cloven hoof, and in his simplicity pronounced in favour of the essential Monothelete position. The pope's view was that there were two natures, each working its own way—therefore not with only one activity—but still under the control of one will.

This brings us to the second stage of the controversy. Never did a pope commit himself to heresy with a more innocent intention. But in point of fact not only did Honorius fall into what the Church was afterwards to condemn as a heresy; he even originated this heresy in the final shape which it assumed. Hitherto there has only been a question of one activity. Now, Honorius introduces the idea of the one will. Sophronius only lived two or three years after this; but shortly before his death, since the Mohammedan invasion then prevented him from leaving Palestine, he led Stephen the bishop of Dore to the site of Calvary, and there solemnly adjured him by the sufferings of Christ and the prospect of the final judgment to go to Rome and never rest till he had obtained from the apostolical See a condemnation of the doctrine of the single will in Christ.

In the year 638 Heraclius followed the unfortunate example of his predecessors and attempted to settle the theological dispute by imperial authority. At the suggestion of Sergius he issued an edict entitled Ecthesis[11]—an Exposition of the faith. This was intended as a pacific regulation. It forbade the use of the word "activity"[12] in connection with the whole subject, and expressly prohibited the assertion of two activities as leading to the idea of two wills, which might be contrary one to the other. Thus it was distinctly Monothelete; it took the notion of the one will for granted. The Ecthesis was approved by councils at Constantinople, under Sergius and his successor Pyrrhus, and at Alexandria, under Cyrus—which was to be expected since these were now the two Monothelete centres. The other two Eastern patriarchates—which would have taken the opposite view—were silent. An awful calamity had overtaken them. The cities of Antioch and Jerusalem were now both in the hands of the Arabs; the Mohammedan wave of conquest had swept over Syria and Palestine. The new pope John condemned the document. Thus the papacy was purged of heresy. Then Heraclius was alarmed. These were not times for quarrelling with so powerful a man as the chief personage in the West. The one object of his ecclesiastical policy had been the consolidation of his empire in face of the devastating flood of Mohammedanism. The irony of history is rarely more apparent than in this dividing of Christendom on fine and yet finer points of doctrine at the very moment when its very existence is at stake. It is like the suicidal folly of the Jews at Jerusalem in carrying on civil war among themselves while the Roman legions were at their gates. Heraclius saw the danger and wrote at once to the pope disowning the unfortunate edict and throwing the blame of it on poor Sergius.

Ten years later (a.d. 648) Constantine iv., the grandson of Heraclius, issued another mandatory document which was called the Type,[13] that is to say, the model of faith.[14] This was less theological than the Ecthesis, and entirely neutral in tone. It forbade further discussion on the question of one will or two wills, and commanded all parties to be satisfied with the statements of Scripture and the decrees of the five general councils. It then formally repeated the Ecthesis; and it concluded with a scale of penalties for disobedience—degradation for clerics, confiscation of goods for laymen of the upper classes, flogging for those of lower station. The tyranny of this forcible silencing of discussion was quite in harmony with the methods of the empire.

Undoubtedly it was high time that some final step was taken if interference by the State was to be submitted to at all. Theodore the pope of Rome excommunicated Paul the patriarch of Alexandria. Paul retaliated by overthrowing the altar of the papal chapel at Constantinople and insulting the pope's envoys. The next year Theodore died, and Martin, one of these envoys, was elected to succeed him. The new pope summoned a synod at Rome, since known as the "First Lateran Council," which condemned Monotheletism, anathematised the leading supporters of the heresy, and denounced " the most impious Ecthesis," and "the most impious Type." For this Martin was arrested by the emperor's Western representative, the Exarch, carried off to Constantinople, rudely handled, and flung into prison more dead than alive. After suffering six months incarceration, and being subject to repeated trials, the pope was banished to Cherson in the Crimea, where he died (a.d. 655).[15] The next most prominent opponent of Monotheletism was Maximus, a member of a noble family. He and two other champions of the orthodox cause were dragged from Rome to Constantinople, first punished by having their tongues and right hands cut off, and then driven into exile.

At last this disastrous controversy was brought to a close by a decision of the sixth general council—the third council of Constantinople—which the Emperor Constantine Pognatus assembled in the imperial city on the 7th of November, a.d. 680. Its proceedings were conducted with unusual decency and impartiality. The emperor presided during most of the sessions, and when he happened to be absent the presidential chair was left unoccupied. This council condemned Monotheletism, and even anathematised Pope Honorius for sanctioning "the impious doctrines" of Sergius. The heresy enjoyed a temporary revival during the brief reign of the adventurer Philippicus, who publicly burnt the original copy of the Acts of the Council. But his death was followed by its rapid extinction. After this it only lingered on among the Maronites of Lebanon till they came under the protection of the papacy, with which they are now in alliance. Originated with the sole object of establishing peace and union, it had been a source of discord from first to last. The reason of its failure is palpable. It was an olive branch presented on the point of a sword. Such a peace-offering could only provoke war.

  1. Procopius, Hist. Arc. 11. An authority to be taken with some suspicion; but in the present case there does not seem to be good reason to doubt his terrible story.
  2. Hist. Arc. 9.
  3. Τρία κεφάλαια.
  4. Mansi, ix. 376; Evagrius, ii. 38.
  5. According to Evagrius, "a man most accomplished in Divine learning," "accessible and affable," yet "so strict in his manners and mode of life, as to insist on very minute matters, and on no occasion to deviate from a staid and settled frame, much less in things of moment," etc. (Hist. Eccl. iv. 40).
  6. Ibid.
  7. μία ἐνέργεια.
  8. δύο ἐνέργειαι.
  9. Migne, Patrol. Gr. iii., iv.; Westcott, "Dionysius the Areopagite," Contemp. Review, May 1867; Kanakis, Dionys. der Areop., nach seinem Character als Philosoph (Leipz. 1881); Möller in "Herzog."
  10. μία θεανδρικὴ ἐνέργεια.
  11. Ἔκθεσις τῆς πίστεως.
  12. ἐνέργεια.
  13. ὁ τύπος περὶ πίστεως.
  14. Mansi, x. 1030.
  15. There is a graphic account of Martin's cruel sufferings in the letter of an unnamed writer, entitled Commemoratio eorum quæ sæviter, etc.