The Byzantine Fathers

All quotations are from pages 5 and 11 of the Harvard Gazette of October 1, 1982, written by George H. Williams, Hollis Professor of Divinity Emeritus, Harvard Divinity School and Edward Louis Keenan, Dean of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences, Harvard University and "placed upon the records" at the Harvard Faculty of Divinity Meeting on September 16, 1982.

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"Archpriest Professor Georges Vasilyevich Florovsky (1893-1979), pre-eminent theologian of Orthodoxy and historian of Christian thought, ecumenical leader and interpreter of Russian literature… died in Princeton, New Jersey in his 86th year" on August 11, 1979.

Born in Odessa in 1893, Fr. Florovsky was the beneficiary of that vibrant Russian educational experience, which flourished toward the end of the 19th century and produced many gifted scholars. His father was a rector of the Theological Academy and a dean of the Cathedral of the Transfiguration. His mother, Claudia Popruzhenko, was a daughter of a professor of Hebrew and Greek. Fr. Florovsky’s first scholarly work, "On Reflex Salivary Secretion," written under one of Pavlov’s students, was published in English in 1917 at the last issue of The Bulletin of the Imperial Academy of Sciences.

In 1920, with his parents and his brother Antonii, Fr. Florovsky left Russia and first settled down Sophia, Bulgaria. He left behind his brother Vasilii, a surgeon, who died in the 1924 in famine, and his sister Claudia V. Florovsky, who became a professor of history at the University of Odessa. In 1921 the President of Czechoslovakia, Thomas Masaryk, invited Fr. Florovsky and his brother Antonii to Prague. Fr. Florovsky taught the philosophy of law. Antonii later became a professor of history at the University of Prague.

In 1922, Georges Florovsky married Xenia Ivanovna Simonova, and they resettled down Paris where he became cofounder of St. Sergius Theological Institute and taught there as a professor of patristic (1926-1948). In 1932, he was ordained a priest and placed himself canonically under the patriarch of Constantinople.

In 1948, he came to the United States and became a professor of theology at St. Vladimir’s Theological Seminary from 1948 to 1955 and a dean — from 1950. From 1954 to 1965, he was a professor of Eastern Church History at Harvard Divinity School, an associate of the Slavic Department (1962-1965), and an associate professor of theology at Holy Cross Theological School (1955-1959).

"Although Fr. Florovsky’s teaching in the Slavic Department [at Harvard University] was only sporadic, he became a major intellectual influence in the formation of a generation of American specialists in Russian cultural history. His lasting importance in this area derives not from his formal teaching but from the time and a thought he gave to informal "circles" that periodically arose around him in Cambridge among those who had read The Ways of Russian Theology [then only in Russian], for decades — a kind of "underground book" among serious graduate students of Russian intellectual history, and had upon discovering sought him out that he was at the Divinity School. During a portion of his incumbency at Harvard… patristic and Orthodox thought and institutions from antiquity into 20th century Slavdom flourished. In the Church History Department meetings, he spoke up with clarity. In the Faculty meetings, he was remembered as having energetically marked book catalogues on his lap for the greater glory of the Andover Harvard Library! In 1964, Fr. Florovsky was elected a director of the Ecumenical Institute founded by Paul VI near Jerusalem." Active in both the National Council of Churches and the World Council of Churches, Fr. Florovsky was Vice President-at-Large of the National Council of Churches from 1954 to 1957.

"After leaving Harvard, Professor Emeritus Florovsky taught in Slavic from 1965 to 1972 Studies at Princeton University, having begun lecturing there already in 1964; and he was visiting lecturer in patristic at Princeton Theological Seminary as early as 1962 and then again intermittently after retirement from the University. His last teaching was in a fall semester of 1978/79 at Princeton Theological Seminary."

"In the course of his career, Fr. Florovsky was awarded of honorary doctorates by St. Andrew’s University… Boston University, Notre Dame, Princeton University, the University of Thessalonica, St. Vladimir’s Theological Seminary, and Yale. He was a member or honorary member of the Academy of Athens, the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, the British Academy, and the Fellowship of St. Alban and St. Sergius."

Fr. Florovsky personified the cultivated, well-educated Russian of the turn of the century. His penetrating mind grasped both the detail and depth in the unfolding drama of the history of Christianity in both eastern and western forms. He was theologian, church historian, patristic scholar, philosopher, Slavist, and a writer in comparative literature. "Fr. Florovsky sustained his pleasure on reading English novels, the source in part of his extraordinary grasp of the English language, which, polyglot as he was, he came to prefer above any other for theological discourse and general exposition. Thus, when he came to serve in Harvard’s Slavic Department, there was some disappointment that he did not lecture in Russian, especially in his seminars on Dostoyevsky, Soloviev, Tolstoy, and others. It was as if they belonged to a kind of classical age of the Russian tongue and civilization that, having been swept away as in a deluge, he treated as a Latin professor would Terrence or Cicero, not presuming to give lectures in the tonalities of an age that had vanished forever."

Fr. Florovsky’s influence on contemporary church historians and Slavists was vast. The best contemporary multi-volume history of Christian thought pays a special tribute to Fr. Florovsky. Jaroslav Pelikan of Yale University, in the bibliographic section to his first volume in The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, writes under the reference to Fr. Florovsky’s two works in Russian on the Eastern Fathers: "These two works are basic to our interpretation of Trinitarian and Christological dogmas" (p. 359 from The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition: 100-600). George Huntston Williams, Hollis Professor Emeritus of Harvard Divinity School, wrote: "Faithful priestly son of the Russian Orthodox Church…, Fr. Georges Florovsky — with a career-long involvement in the ecumenical dialogue — is today the most articulate, trenchant and winsome exponent of Orthodox theology and piety in the scholarly world. He is innovative and creative in the sense wholly of being ever prepared to restate the saving truth of Scripture and Tradition in the idiom of our contemporary yearning for the transcendent."

Author’s Preface (1978).

These four volumes on the Eastern Fathers of the fourth century and the Byzantine fathers from the fifth to eighth centuries were originally published in 1931 and 1933 in Russian. They contained my lectures given at the Institute of Orthodox Theology in Paris from 1928 to 1931 and were originally published in Russian more or less in the form in which they were originally delivered. They therefore lacked exact references and appropriate footnotes. Another reason for the omission of reference material in the 1931 and 1933 publications is that the books were originally published at my own expense and strict economy was therefore necessary. In fact, their publication was only the result of the generous cooperation and help of friends. These English publications must be dedicated to their memory. The initiative of the original publication was taken by Mrs. Elizabeth Skobtsov, who became an Orthodox nun and was later known under her monastic name of Mother Maria. It was she who typed the original manuscripts and she who was able to persuade Mr. Iliia Fondaminsky, at that time one of the editors of the renowned Russian review, Sovremennye Zapiski [Annals Contemporariness], to assume financial responsibility. Both these friends perished tragically in German concentration camps. They had been inspired by the conviction that books in Russian on the Fathers of the Church were badly needed, not only by theological students, but also by a much wider circle of those concerned with doctrinal and spiritual vistas and issues of Eastern Orthodox Tradition. Their expectation was fully justified: the volumes in Russian were rapidly sold out and were warmly appreciated in the general press.

When I began teaching at the Paris Institute, as Professor of Petrology, I had to face a preliminary methodological problem. The question of the scope and manner of Patristic studies had been vigorously debated by scholars for a long time. (There is an excellent book written by Fr. J. de Ghellinck, S.J., Patristique et Moyen Age, Volume II, 1947, pp. 1-180.). The prevailing tendency was to treat Petrology as a history of Ancient Christian Literature, and the best modern manuals of Petrology in the West were written precisely in this manner: Bardenhewer, Cayre, Tixeront, Quasten, adherents to this school of thought, made only sporadic reference to certain points of doctrine but their approach was no doubt legitimate and useful. However, another cognate discipline came into existence during the last century, Dogmengeschichte, or the school of the history of doctrine. Here, scholars were not concerned so much with individual writers or thinkers but rather with that can be defined as the "internal dialectics" of the Christian "mind" and with types and trends of Christian thought.

In my opinion, these two approaches to the same material must be combined and correlated. I have tried to do precisely this with the revision of some of the material for the English publications. I have written some new material on the external history and especially on the ecumenical councils. However, in essence Petrology must be more than a kind of literary history. It must be treated rather as a history of Christian doctrine, although the Fathers were first of all testes veritatis, witnesses of truth, of the faith. "Theology" is wider and more comprehensive than "doctrine." It is a kind of Christian Philosophy. Indeed, there is an obvious analogy between the study of Patristic and the study of the history of Philosophy. Historians of Philosophy are as primarily concerned with individual thinkers as they are interested ultimately in the dialectics of ideas. The "essence" of philosophy is exhibited in particular systems. Unity of the historical process is assured because of the identity of themes and problems to which both philosophers and theologians are committed. I would not claim originality for my method, for it has been used occasionally by others. Nevertheless, I would underline the theological character of Petrology.

These books were written many years ago. At certain points, they needed revision or extension. To some extent, this has been done. Recent decades have seen the rapid progress of Patristic studies in many directions. We now have better editions of primary sources than we had forty or even thirty years ago. We now have some new texts of prime importance: for example, the Chapters of Evagrius or the new Sermons of St. John Chrysostom. Many excellent monograph studies have been published in recent years. However, in spite of this progress I do not think that these books, even without the revisions and additions, have been made obsolete. Based on an independent study of primary sources, these works may still be useful to both students and scholars.

Georges Florovsky September 1978.

Chapter one
The Source of Byzantine Theology

It is not at all easy to distinguish the borders between periods in the fluid and unbroken element of human life. Moreover, the incommensurability of successive historical cycles is quite manifestly revealed. New life themes come to light, new forces start to make themselves felt, new spiritual centres form. Someone’s very first impression is that the late fourth century signifies some indisputable boundary in the history of the Church, in the history of Christian culture. Someone may conditionally define this boundary as the beginning of Byzantinism. The Nicene era closes the previous epoch, and a new epoch begins in any case: if not with Constantine (d. 337), then with Theodosius (emperor 379-395). It attains its zenith, its acme under Justinian (emperor 527-563). The failure of Julian the Apostate (332-363, emperor from 361 to 363) testifies to the decline of pagan Hellenism, but only its decline, not its eradication.

The epoch of Christian Hellenism has begun; it is a time when people try to construct Christian culture as a system. And this is a time of painful and intense spiritual struggle. In the disputes and disquiet of earlier Byzantinism, it is not difficult to identify a common fundamental characteristic theme. This is the Christological theme, which is at the same time the theme of a man. Someone can say that what was really being discussed in these Christological disputes was the anthropological problem, for it was a dispute over the Saviour’s humanity and receives human nature over the sense of how the Only-Begotten Son and the Logos [or Word] and thus over the sense and limit of human life and activity. It is perhaps precisely for this reason that Christological disputes attained such an exceptional poignancy and dragged on for three centuries. In them, there were revealed and laid bare, a whole multitude of irreconcilable and mutually exclusive religious ideals. These disputes ended with a great cultural and historical catastrophe — the great defection of the East. Almost all of the non-Greek East broke away, dropped out of the Church, and retired into heresy. If one accepts the late fourth century as a boundary, as the end of one epoch and the beginning of Byzantine theology proper, then more is involved, for Byzantine theology not only cannot be properly understood without understanding the theological controversies of the fourth century, without understanding the legacy of the fourth century. There is more. The legacy, which Byzantine theology was to inherit, cannot be understood properly without an understanding of the entire legacy, which it inherited. And there is a special concern, for Byzantine theology — indeed Byzantium itself — has been understood but little in the West.

For several reasons, Western Christianity somehow keeps pace even if inadequately with some of the Greek or "Byzantine" fathers of the fourth century — in a strictly historical sense Byzantine theology begins in 330, in that year when the city of Byzantium was inaugurated, was christened Constantinople, "New Rome." Those theologians writing in Greek after the year 330 can indeed be considered "Byzantine" theologians. However, as the decades and centuries flow onward the Latin West appears incapable of keeping abreast with the vital work of Byzantine theologians. True is there is usually a small circle of persons in Rome who have contact and some knowledge of Byzantine or Eastern theology but this circle is limited and their knowledge fragmented. It was a sore tragedy for the history of Christianity, for the life of the united Church, that this drift took place. There were certainly political and cultural reasons for the drift, and, often, the blame can be placed on Byzantium. Nevertheless, in the realm of the Church, in the realm of theological thought, in the realm of vital issues, concerning the essence of the faith such a drift should never have occurred. In modern terms, someone could say that Byzantium and Byzantine theology has had — and largely still has — a "bad press" among Western Christians. Moreover, included in this "bad press" is not only an atmosphere of contempt for the Byzantine East but also a grave ignorance and lack of understanding. Byzantine theology was engaged in a struggle for the preservation of the truth — it was engaged in vital theological issues just as St. Athanasius and as the Cappadocian fathers in the fourth century were. Western Christians kept abreast with the thought of St. Athanasius and the Cappadocians, but it must be regrettably acknowledged that even that knowledge is not complete, that somehow ineluctably a curtain partially closes and prevents Western Christians from dealing with and understanding the totality of the thought of St. Athanasius and the Cappadocians.

It is not only a brief survey of the salient elements of fourth century Eastern theology necessary for a proper understanding of Byzantine theology but also necessary an overview of certain patterns of thought in the earlier Patristic era. And it is almost scandalous that even a brief overview of Christological thought in the New Testament is a prerequisite for an understanding of Byzantine theology precisely to demonstrate that Byzantine theology is organically related to the original deposit of the truth of the faith, that Byzantine theology is, as it was, a Biblical theology and not a fabrication of sophistry, that Byzantine theology was dealing with burning issues of the Christian faith and of Christian life. The beginning of Byzantinism is not the beginning of a new Christianity. Rather, it is the legitimate heir of the legacy of the New Testament, of early Christianity, of the Apostolic Fathers, of the Fathers of Church.

The Christological and Trinitarian definitions of the Council of Chalcedony, — moreover, of all the definitions of the seven Ecumenical Councils — are not the result of philosophical intrusions into the Biblical vision of God but rather — and precisely — the explication of what was originally revealed, of what was originally deposited, of what was experienced by the earliest Christians: that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of the Living God, that Jesus was both true God and True Man, the God-Man, that God is God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.

The rationalism and, as it was, the arrogance of the eighteenth and nineteenth century scholars of the New Testament created more an exercise in exegesis than exegesis of the New Testament. And it has made the understanding of Byzantine theology even more distant to Western Christians. If the Christ of the New Testament is one and the same with the Christ of Byzantine theology in its ultimate victory over heretical thought and if the Christ of the New Testament has been misrepresented by schools of New Testament thought in the eighteenth and nineteenth century, some carrying over to the twentieth century, then the possibility of misunderstanding Byzantine theology is heightened, is increased. For this reason, it is necessary to present textual material from the New Testament precisely as a legacy inherited by Byzantine theologians, a task that should not be necessary and that would not have been necessary in most periods of the history of Christianity. The twentieth century has witnessed largely a reverse of this position — a considerable body of twentieth century scholarship on the New Testament has again discovered that the definitions of the Ecumenical Councils correspond to that truth present ab initio. There is no intention to present any comprehensive study of the New Testament. Moreover, there is no intention to present an exhaustive and comprehensive analysis of the Christology of the New Testament. Only some texts from various writers of the New Testament will be presented. These texts consist of those, which are explicit, and those, in which many do not discern the Christological implications. It is merely a sampling, merely an overview to set the basis of the background, the core of the foundation, in which and from which Byzantine theology worked. Moreover, it must not be forgotten that the Byzantine theologians were always conscience of being the heirs of the apostolic faith, heirs of the theology of the New Testament and the theology first delivered. They saw a continuous and cohesive link and bond between them and the earliest theology of the Church, between them and the Incarnation, Life, Death, Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus Christ, the eternal Only-Begotten Son of the Father. The very fact of the existence of the Christological controversies in Byzantium testifies that it was a vibrant and creative theological life rather than an ossified one. It is true that they also saw themselves as preservers of that faith once delivered, but in the very process of preserving that original deposit, they are of necessity creative.

Chapter Two.
The Legacy of the New Testament.

The Witness of the New Testament.

The profound existential mystery of the earliest Christians has often been lost sight of- from the womb of Judaism, from a matrix of Hebraic thought whose most sacred principle was the oneness of God, a monotheism distinct from the pagan ethos of polytheism at that timeframe this source of Hebraic monotheism came the Apostles. Yet they could not deny what they had witnessed: they had lived among Jesus and this Jesus was God yet not God the Father, this Jesus was man yet not merely a man. Chalcedonian Christology is present already with the Apostles. Indeed, for the Hebraic Peter, John, and Paul to write as they did about Jesus was blasphemy from the perspective of the strict monotheism of Judaism, from the sacred Hebraic principle of the transcendence of Yahweh.

And what did these sons of Judaism write about Jesus? It is sufficient to recall just a portion of what they wrote. In Philippians 2:6-11 St. Paul writes, "ος εν μορφή θεού υπάρχων ούχ άρπαγμoν ήγήσατο το eιναι ίσα θεώ αλλά εαυτόν έκένωσεν μορφήν δούλου λαβών, εν όμοιώματι ανθρώπων γενόμενος και σχήματι ευρεθείς ώς άνθρωπος έταπείνωσεν εαυτόν γενόμενος υπήκοος μέχρι θανάτου, θανάτου δε σταυρού, διό και ό θεός αυτόν ϋπερύψωσεν καί έχαρισατο αύτω το όνομα το υπέρ πάν δνομα, ίνα εν τω ονόματι Ιησού πάν γόνυ κάμψη επουρανίων και επιγείων καί καταχθόνιων, και πάσα γλώσσα έξομολογήσηται οτι κυρίος Ιησούς Χριστός εις δoξaν θεού πατρός." ["Who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. Moreover, being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross. Therefore, God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name, which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father"].

In Colossians 1:15 ff, St. Paul writes that Jesus "εστίν είκών του θεού του αοράτου, πρωτότοκος πάσης κτίσεως, οτι εν αύτω έκτίσθη τα πάντα εν τοις ουρανοίς καί επί της γης, τα ορατά καί τα αόρατα, είτε θρόνοι είτε κυριότητες είτε όρχαί είτε έξουσίαι’ τα πάντα δι αυτού καί εις αυτόν έκτισται καί αυτός εστίν προ πάντων καί τα πάντα εν αύ — τω συνέστηκεν.” ["He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or authorities — all things were created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together"]. This text of course will be used by the Arians, but the point here is to present only some material from the New Testament expressions about Jesus to demonstrate that Patristic and Byzantine theology did not invent the teaching that Jesus was unique — truly God and Truly Man. In Colossians 2:9, St. Paul writes ["in him the whole fullness of the Godhead dwells bodily."] In II Corinthians 4:4, St. Paul writes that Christ ["the image of God."] In I Corinthians 8:6, St. Paul writes that "yet for us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord Jesus Christ, through whom all things are and through whom we exist." The author of I Timothy writes (3:16), "Great indeed, we confess, is the mystery of our religion: He was manifested in the flesh…"

In Hebrews (1:2-3), there is explicit language: "God..., who… in these last days has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world." — "He reflects the glory of God and bears the very stamp of his hypostasis, upholding all things by his word of power."

What is noteworthy about the epistles in the New Testament is that even without such explicit texts as those mentioned above the Divinity and Humanity of Christ are present. It comes through clearly in the very use of language, in the very names and titles given by the writers to Jesus Christ, in the very activity of Jesus Christ as Lord, as Redeemer, as the Risen One, as the Judge, as the Creator. It is not an exaggeration to say it is astonishing that any reader can fail to see the picture of Christ as it unfolds in the epistles of the New Testament. The same can be said about the Holy Spirit as the description of the activity and interrelationship of the Spirit and Son with the Father that is impossible to hide.

The same applies to the Synoptic Gospels, although the form and presentation of the portrait of Jesus differs somewhat in each of the Synoptic and from the Gospel of St. John. The very beginning of the Gospel of St. Mark proclaims Jesus as the Christ; some manuscripts contain "the Son of God." The baptism of Jesus proclaims, "Thou art my beloved Son; in thee I was well pleased." Jesus is portrayed as having an authority — hitherto not known, an authority of teaching, which astounds the people. The demonic spirits recognize him: "I know who you are, the Holy One of God." An astonishing feature, one that almost passes us by, one that we pay little attention to, is the fact that Jesus forgives sin: "My son, your sins are forgiven." The spiritual, existential and ontological significance of this text resides in the question: who has the power to forgive the sins of another person, sins not even committed against the one forgiving? Yet there are two reactions to this; the same two reactions we find at many of the "hard sayings" of Jesus: one is that it is great blasphemy; the other is that it somehow belongs to the very character and nature of Jesus, and that leads to the inescapable conclusion that only God can forgive sins. Already, with the act of forgiving sins, we experience, are caught up in, the mystery of Jesus as God — "Why does this man speak thus? It is blasphemy! Who can forgive sins but God alone?" (2:7). He completely violates the law of the Sabbath by healing on the Sabbath, exclaiming, "The Son of man is Lord even of the Sabbath." The implications are theologically significant. Here, as elsewhere, Jesus refers to himself as the "Son of man" and the "Lord," the implications of which, though perhaps lost on modern man, were not lost on those present. The titles "Son of man" and "Lord" had vast theological significance for the Jews. A relationship with God the Father is also expressed: "For whoever is ashamed of me and of my words… of him will the Son of man also be ashamed, when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels" (8:38). The Gospel of St. Mark includes a description of the Transfiguration: "and he was transfigured before them, and his garments became glistening, intensely white, as no fuller on earth could bleach them." And the voice of God the Father is mentioned in this context: "This is my beloved Son." Theologically significant is also the episode of the receiving children: "Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me; and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me." By itself, this text places one within the realm and atmosphere of the Councils of Nicaea and Chalcedon. Such texts tend to be overlooked christologically because of the more explicit Christological texts elsewhere in the New Testament. There is a strong statement contained within Jesus’ question to the man who called him "Good Teacher" — "Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone" (10:18). This text does not disclaim Jesus’ Divinity; rather, it affirms it in a most intriguing way. In this same Gospel of St. Mark, Jesus says that "the Son of Man also came… to give his life as a ransom for many." Again, he refers to himself by the theologically meaningful term of "Son of Man" and places the life of the "Son of Man" in a stereological context. With all the references to his Divinity, Jesus responds to the question of which is the greatest commandment by reasserting the monotheism of Judaism: "The first is, ‘Hear, Ο Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.” The implication is interesting. The Gospel of St. Mark also includes words not uttered by a mere man: "Take, this is my body… This is my blood of the New Covenant, which is poured out for many." When asked by the High Priest if he is the Christ, the Son of the Blessed, Jesus answers with "I am!" In this same Gospel, the centurion proclaims, "Truly this man was the Son of God." It is the Gospel of St. Mark that is usually singled out as the Gospel, which lacks evidence of the Divinity of Christ, as the Gospel in which Jesus is portrayed as a Man — indeed, to some, a great prophet and religious leader; nevertheless, not as God and man. However, the totality of the textual evidence does not lead to that conclusion. The texts quoted above are but examples. It is not to be forgotten that in the Gospel of St. Mark the titles of "Son of Man," "Son of God," "Lord," and "Son of David" are used, the meaning of which was obvious for the Jews of that time.

In the Gospel of St. Matthew, the baptism of Jesus contains the similar account as in the Gospel of St. Mark; that is, a voice from heaven identifies Jesus: "This is my beloved Son, in whom I was well pleased" (3:17). The description of the temptation of Jesus contains interesting elements. The devil addresses Jesus with "If you are the Son of God" (4:3-6). Jesus responds twice with "You shall not tempt the Lord your God" and "You shall worship the Lord your God." The text is, of course, open to more than one interpretation but the fact remains that one interpretation, consistent and contextual, is that Jesus refers to himself as the "Lord your God." One aspect of a text from the Beatitudes is striking (5:11): "Blessed are you when men reproach you and persecute and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely for my sake." The pivotal expression here is for my sake. What person could have the virtue or power or capability of placing another into the category of "blessed" because the evil committed was "for his sake?" It is precisely outside the normal realm of moral and ethical values; it hinges precisely on the unique nature of this person. Hebrew Scripture had a sacred value for the Jews of that time — indeed as it still does. Yet Jesus, knowing that sacred value, speaks with such authority that he is able to reinterpret that Scripture in a rather scathing manner. Repeatedly Jesus exclaims, "You have heard it said… but I say to you." This by itself implies much. Another astonishing example is found in 7:21. In this text Jesus identifies himself as "Lord," asserts his power of judgment over the kingdom of heaven, and explicitly links his judgment with the will of his Father: "Not every one who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven." In this Gospel, as in the Gospel of St. Mark, the demons know who he is: "What have you to do with us, Ο Son of God?” In this Gospel, there is also the striking act of forgiving the sins of others; sins, which would not be His prerogative to forgive if they were not directed against Him: "Take heart, my son; your sins are forgiven" (9:2). And what is the reaction? "This man is blaspheming." Had Jesus been a mere man, this accusation would have been accurate according to Hebraic law. In 11:27, we confront a text, which is strikingly similar to the content of the Gospel of St. John: "All things have been delivered to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son." An accusation brought against Jesus at his trial was what he had to say about the Temple, for the Temple was holy. In 12:6, Jesus says that "something greater than the Temple is here," and there is the reference is to himself. In 14:33, "those in the boat" proclaim, "Truly you are the Son of God." The Gospel of St. Matthew is often seen as the "Gospel of the Church," but the very reason for this is not merely the occurrence of the word εκκλησία (16:18; 18:17) but the very ecclesiology is founded upon Christology, upon the confession of St. Peter, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” It is only because of Peter’s confession that Christ utters the famous Petrine statement — the foundation of the Church is an ontological impossibility without this Christological confession. As in the Gospel of St. Mark, so also here there is a description of the Transfiguration (17:2 ff): "And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his garments became white as light… He was still speaking, when lo, a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, ‘This is my beloved Son, in whom I was well pleased’." A hint of Jesus’ consubstantiality with both God and Man is indicated in 18:5 in the text relating to children: "Whoever receives one such child in My Name receives me." This text is impregnated with deep theological meaning. Another text, which is more indicative but still not explicit, though its theological meaning, is clear and found in Jesus’ discourse on "The Great Judgment" (25:31-46). Here, Jesus clearly refers to himself as the "Son of Man" coming in glory. Here, Jesus’ consubstantiality with God the Father and with mankind is the overarching theme. "Come, Ο blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me." In answering, those perplexed because they had never done these things to or for Jesus, Jesus exclaims as "King," "Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me." Judgment and entrance into the kingdom of heaven is predicated on the consubstantiality of Jesus with all humanity — to the "least of my brethren." They are "blessed of the Father" because the Son of the Father judges. Nicaea and Chalcedon are implicit even in such a seemingly remote text. In this Gospel also, there is the description of the institution of the Eucharist (26:26 ff.): "Take, eat; this is my body… Drink of it, all of you, for this is my blood of the New Covenant, which is poured out for the forgiveness of sins." Here, the forgiveness of sins is not restricted to Jesus’ forgiveness of one individual’s sins but it is a universal, a cosmic forgiveness through his redemptive and life-giving death and resurrection. As the patristic writers point out again and again, no man is capable of such an ontological and existential redemptive activity — it is can only be accomplished by God. Caiaphas, the High Priest, says to Jesus at his trial, "I adjure you by the living God, tell us if you are the Christ, the Son of God." Skilfully, Jesus acknowledges it and adds, "But I tell you: hereafter you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming on the clouds of heaven." With this "confession," Caiaphas, tearing his clothes, exclaims, "He has uttered blasphemy. Why do we still need witnesses? You have heard his blasphemy" (26:63-65). And what is often forgotten is that Caiaphas was right if Jesus was not God. The final command by Jesus in the Gospel of St. Matthew is explicitly Trinitarian: "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit…"

Many of the texts presented above from the Gospel of St. Mark and the Gospel of St. Matthew are repeated in the Gospel of St. Luke. Approximately, 350 of 661 verses are taken from the Gospel of St. Mark; approximately, 325 verses come from the Gospel of St. Matthew. There is no need to repeat these texts. Approximately, 548 of the 1149 verses in the Gospel of St. Luke are Lucan. In the Annunciation in the first chapter, Jesus is called the "Son of the Most High," "holy," and "the Son of God." Simeon refers to Jesus as "salvation" (2:30). There are interesting implications in Jesus’ statement that the "Son of Man is the Lord of the Sabbath" (6:5). There is an identity with the Father in 9:26 and 10:16. In 10:18, Jesus declares that he was present when Satan fell: "I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven."

In the Gospel of St. John, Christ is explicit about his relationship with God the Father. Even here, however, a "high Christology" exists even if the explicit statements were withdrawn, for again, it is the activity of Jesus and the language used to describe this activity, which leads to certain inescapable conclusions. But the explicit texts do exist. In the Prologue we read, English translations do not capture the dynamism of the Greek — especially of the Greek verbal structures and of the dynamic inner relationship between the Father and the Son expressed by the Greek προς τον θεόν, the dynamism of which the Old Slavonic preserved by translating προς by “k"]. "In the beginning was the Logos, and the Logos was with God, and the Logos was God. This one, the Logos, was in the beginning with God. All things became through him; and without him, not one thing became, which has become. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness overtook it not… He was the true light, which enlightens every man coming into the world. He was in the world and the world became through him, and the world knew him not. He came to his own, and his own people received him not… And the Logos became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, the glory as of an Only-Begotten from the Father, full of grace and of truth." In his Prologue St. John mentions both the inner life and nature of God ad se and the οικονομία οf God’s life ad extra, the oikonomic activity of God in relation to the world.

In what can be considered the Prologue to I John we read something characteristic of that which is contained in the Prologue to the Gospel of St. John — "He who was from the beginning, whom we have heard, whom we have seen with our eyes, whom we have looked upon and touched with our hands — concerning the Logos of life. And the life was manifested, and we have seen and we bear witness and we announce to you the life eternal, which was with the Father and was manifested to us — Whom we have seen and we have heard, we announce also to you in order that you also may have fellowship with us. And indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ." In the same Epistle of I John (2:23; 24) the interrelationship and equality of the Father and the Son are linked: "Everyone who is denying the Son has neither the Father; he who is confessing the Son has also the Father. Let remain in you what you heard from the beginning. If what you heard from the beginning remains in you, you will remain in the Son and in the Father." And further in the same Epistle (4:9) the thoughts of the Gospel of St. John echo: "By this the love of God was manifested toward us because God has sent his Only-Begotten Son into the world in order that we might live through him."

The Gospel of St. John is replete with not only explicit statements about the relationship of God the Father and God the Son but also with those interesting formulations of language and usage that often reveal more than the explicit texts. It is sufficient to recall the numerous "I am" — sayings: "I am the bread of life;" "I am the living bread;" "I am from above;" "I am not of this world;" "…you will know that I am;" "before Abraham became I am;" "I am the light of the world;" "I am the door;" "I am the good shepherd;" "I am the Son of God;" "I am the resurrection and the life;" "I am the way, the truth, and the life;" "I am the true vine" — these "I am" sayings are striking.

Striking also are the "I" sayings, the sayings in the first person singular, the "I/verb" sayings of Jesus. A few examples are enough — "I will raise up [the Temple] in three days;" "I shall give water… welling up into eternal life;" "I who speak to you am he [the Messiah];" "I have food to eat of which you know not;" "as I hear, I judge;" "I do not receive glory from men;" "I have come in my Father’s name;" "I have come down from heaven;" "I will raise him up at the last day;" "I shall give bread for the life of the world [and that bread] is my flesh;" "I live because of the Father;" "I testify [of the world] that its works are evil;" "I know him, for I have come from him;" "I shall be with you a little longer, and then I go to him who sent me;" "I know whence I have come and whither I am going;" "I alone do not judge, but I and he who sent me;" "I bear witness to myself, and the Father who sent me bears witness to me;" "You will die in your sins unless you believe that I am he;" "I do nothing on my own authority but speak thus as the Father taught me;" "I speak of what I have seen with my Father;" "I came forth and have come from God;" "I honour my Father, and you dishonour me;" "I do not seek my own glory; there is One seeking and judging;" "I know the Father;" "I lay down my life that I may take it again;" "I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it again; I have received this commandment from my Father;" "I give [my sheep] eternal life;" "I said ‘I am the Son of God;’ " "I am in the Father [and the Father is in me];" "And I if I am lifted up out of the earth, will draw all men to myself; "I have come as light into the world, that everyone believing in me may not remain in darkness;" "I came not that I might judge the world but that I might save the world; he who is rejecting me and not receiving my words has the one judging him — the word, which I spoke, that will judge him in the last day;" "I did not speak on my own authority but the Father who has sent me, he has given me the commandment of what I may say and what I may speak;" "Father, I desire that they also… may… behold my glory, which thou hast given me in thy love for me before the foundation of the world" — "I go to prepare a place for you;" "I will come again and will take you to myself; "I am in the Father and the Father in me;" "I go to the Father;" "I will pray the Father, and he will give you another Counsellor, that he may be with you forever, even the Spirit of Truth;" "I will not leave you desolate;" "because I live, you will live also;" "I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you;" "I came from the Father and have come into the world;" "I am leaving the world and going to the Father;" "I am not alone, for the Father is with me;" "I have overcome the world."

Striking also are the "My/Mine" Sayings — "My hour has not yet come;" "My Father’s house — you shall not make it a house of trade;" "My food is to do the work of him who sent me;" "My Father is working still, and I am working;" "he who is coming to me by no means hungers, and he who is believing in me by no means will ever thirst;" "My Father’s will is that everyone seeing the Son and believing in him may have life eternal;" "he who is eating my flesh and drinking my blood has life eternal;" "My flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink;" "My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me;" "You know neither me nor my Father; if you knew me, you would know my Father also;" "My Father glorifies me, of whom you say that he is your God;" "My sheep hear my voice… my Father has given them to me;" "In my Father’s house are many rooms;" "the Father dwells in me;" "he who loves me will be loved by my Father;" "My peace I give to you;" "My Father is the vinedresser;" "By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit;" "My Father’s commandments I have kept;" "He who hates me, hates my Father also;" "[The Spirit of truth] will glorify me, for he will take what is mine and declare it to you;" "All that the Father has is mine;… he will take what is mine and declare it to you;" "all mine are thine, and thine are mine;" "Thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee;" "My kingship is not of this world;" "I am ascending to my Father."

It is difficult to imagine anything more explicit than what Jesus says in the following texts. In the Gospel of St. John (10:30) he declares that "I and the Father — we are one." The response in verse 33 is clear: "The Jews answered him: we do not stone you because of a good work but because of blasphemy; because you, being a man, make yourself God." The oneness with the Father is explicitly stated again in 17:11: "that they may be one, even as we are one." The thought continues in 17:21: "that they may all be one, even as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that thou has sent me." In 5:18 we read, "This was why the Jews sought all the more to kill him, because he not only broke the Sabbath but also called God his Father, making himself equal with God." In 17:5, Jesus refers to his existence with the Father before the creation of the world: "and now, Father, glorify thou me with thyself with the glory, which I had with thee before the world was."

The personhood of the Holy Spirit is present also throughout the New Testament. It is enough to recall the texts of "the sin against the Holy Spirit," the command to "baptize in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit," the "breathing of the Holy Spirit upon the Apostles," the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, the conception of Jesus by the power of the Holy Spirit. The nature and work of the Holy Spirit in the theology of St. Paul is indeed extraordinarily deep and rich. It is enough to recall what Christ says of the Holy Spirit. In the Gospel of St. John (16:13 ff), we read, "When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own authority, but whatever he hears he will speak, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, for he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine; therefore I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you." In 15:26, the inner nature of the Holy Trinity is glimpsed: "But when the Counsellor comes, whom I shall send to you from the Father, who proceeds from the Father, he will bear witness to me." And in 14:26, the Holy Spirit teaches and evokes memory: "But the Counsellor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you."

This brief overview presents Jesus in the fullness of his Divinity. We have — for the purpose at hand — deliberately excluded texts dealing with Messianic prophecies, for the Messiah in Hebraic thought was not necessarily God; excluded also are the numerous miracles because the performance of a miracle does not necessitate the Divinity of the performer. The vast and rich body of material from the parables were of necessity excluded. And further, it was not considered necessary to demonstrate the humanity of Jesus. It is however noteworthy that St. John is very careful to demonstrate both the Humanity and Divinity of Jesus Christ. That is precisely why he emphasizes die flow of water and blood at the crucifixion. Already in the time of the composition of the Gospel of St. John, there were doubters of both the Humanity and the Divinity of Jesus.

Such, however, is the glimpse we gather from a brief presentation of Jesus in the New Testament. This view of Jesus is the same as that of Byzantine theology — it is the same as that of the Council of Nicaea, the same as the Council of Chalcedon. The link is organic and the Byzantine theologians are exceedingly, yet naturally, aware of their inner, organic link with apostolic Christianity, with.the very earliest of Christian thought.

The Source of the New Testament

Thus, far, concentration has been on the New Testament’s image of Jesus but there is something, which precedes something the reality of which is the foundation of the Church: there were no New Testamental writings for the earliest Christians and yet they possessed the fullness of the truth and faith of Christianity. On the day of Pentecost, the Church was born and yet there was no New Testament in a written form. For decades, there were no Gospels, as we know them today. It would not be a theological exaggeration to assert that the Church would be the Church in her fullness even if it did not possess the New Testament. For many raised on the Reformational principal of sola scriptura this may seem a radical — even heretical — statement. But the fact is that we do possess the New Testament and, as such, it is a part of the sacred history of Christianity. But there was a time when the Church did not possess this corpus of inspired writing and yet the Church existed in her fullness, Christians experienced the truth of the faith in all its fullness. The historical fact, the historical reality is that the Church existed before anything was written, that the Church preceded the existence of the New Testament, that it was the Church precisely, which gave birth to the New Testament and it was the Church out of which the New Testamental writings emerged and the Church, which determined ultimately, which of these writings would be accepted as canonical. The authority of the writing and the authority of acceptance was the Church. Christian faith is centred on Christ. The mystery of God become man is the holy truth of the Church. Christianity is Christ — our entire religion stands or falls with belief in Christ. The sermons of Christ and those of the first apostles were the living "word," which first planted the seed of faith — long before a Christian literature existed. Hence, this literature did not produce faith but was the product of faith. As Karl Adam has correctly observed, "It is missionary literature. And thus, the most superior source of Christianity is not the word of the Bible, but the living word of the Church’s proclamation of faith. Even if the Bible did not exist, a Christian religious movement would be conceivable." But without the firm support of the written documents, of the New Testament, the faith would constantly be in danger of obscuring the abundance of concrete detail "in the unique and mighty experience of Christ." But the Church would have been capable of conveying the faith to us even without the written documents, as it did in the beginning. St. Paul writes in I Corinthians 11:23: "For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you."

The historical reality is the fact that God through the Church provided us with the New Testament and hence there is an obvious and sacred purpose in that gift. The New Testament is the revelation of and about God. But, at the same time, revelation is always a Word addressed to man, a summons and an appeal to man. The highest objectivity in the hearing and understanding of Scripture is achieved through the greatest exertion of the creative personality, through spiritual growth, through the transfiguration of the personality, which overcomes in itself "the wisdom of the flesh," ascending to "the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ" (Ephesians 4:13). From man it is not self-abnegation, which is demanded, but a victorious forward movement, not self-destruction but a rebirth or transformation. Without man, Revelation would be impossible — because no one would be there to hear and God would then not speak. And God created man so that man would hear his words, receive them, and grow in them and through them become a participator of "eternal life." "And the Logos became flesh and dwelt among us… and we have beheld his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth" (John 1:14). The way of life and light is open. And the human spirit has anew become capable of hearing God completely and of receiving his words.

Revelation and the Language of Dogma

The unalterable truths of experience can be expressed in different ways. Divine reality can be described in images and parables, in the language of devotional poetry and of religious art — the Church preaches this way even now in her liturgical hymns and in the symbolism of her sacramental acts. That is the language of proclamation, the language of prayer and of mystical experience, the language of kerygmatic theology. But there is another language, the language of comprehending thought, the language of dogma. Dogma is a witness of experience. The entire pathos of dogma lies in the fact that it points to Divine Reality, — in this, the witness of dogma is symbolic. Dogma is the testimony of thought about what has been seen and revealed, about what has been contemplated in the experience of faith — and this testimony is expressed in concepts and definitions. Dogma is an "intellectual vision," a truth of perception. One can say that it is the logical image, a "logical icon" of Divine Reality. And at the same time, a dogma is a definition — that is why its logical form is so important for dogma; that "inner word," which acquires force in its external expression. This is why the external aspect of dogma — its wording — is so essential.

Dogma is by no means a new Revelation. Dogma is only a witness. The whole meaning of dogmatic definition consists of testifying to unchanging truth, truth, which was revealed and has been preserved from the beginning. Thus, it is a total misunderstanding to speak of the "development of dogma." Dogmas do not develop; they are unchanging and inviolable, even in their external aspect — their wording. Least of all is it possible to change dogmatic language or terminology. As strange as it may appear, one can indeed say that dogmas arise, dogmas are established, but they do not develop. And once established, a dogma is perennial and already an immutable "rule of faith" — ό κανών της πίστεως. Dogma is an intuitive truth, not a discursive axiom, which is accessible to logical development. The whole meaning of dogma lies in the fact that it is expressed truth. Revelation discloses itself and is received in the silence of faith, in silent vision — this is the first and apophatic step of the knowledge of God. The entire fullness of truth is already contained in this apophatic vision, but truth must be expressed. Man, however, is called not only to be silent but also to speak, to communicate. The silentium mysticum does not exhaust the entire fullness of the religious vocation of man. There is also room for the expression of praise. In her dogmatic confession, the Church expresses herself and proclaims the apophatic truth, which she preserves. The quest for dogmatic definitions is therefore, above all, a quest for terms. Precisely because of this, the doctrinal controversies will be a dispute over terms. One will have to find accurate and clear words to describe and express the experience of the Church.

This is necessary because the truth of faith is also the truth for reason and for thought — this does not mean, however, that it is the truth of thought, the truth of pure reason. The truth of faith is fact, reality — that which is. In this "quest for words" human thought changes, the essence of thought itself is transformed and sanctified. The Church indirectly testifies to this in rejecting the heresy of Apollinarius. Apollinarianism is, in its deepest sense, a false anthropology, it is a false teaching about man, and, therefore, it is also a false teaching about the God-Man Christ. Apollinarianism is the negation of human reason, the fear of thought — "it is impossible that there be no sin in human thoughts" — St. Gregory of Nyssa, Contra Apollinarium II, 6, 8: I, 2. And that means that human reason is incurable — that is, it must be cut off. The rejection of Apollinarianism meant therefore the fundamental justification of reason and thought. Not in the sense, of course, that "natural reason" is sinless and right by itself but in the sense that it is open to transformation, that it can be healed, that it can be renewed. And not only can but also must be healed and renewed. Reason is summoned to the knowledge of God. The "philosophizing" about God is not just a feature of inquisitiveness or a kind of audacious curiosity. On the contrary, it is the fulfilment of man’s religious calling and duty, not an extra-achievement, not a kind of opus supererogatorium but a necessary and organic moment of religious behaviour. And for this reason, the Church "philosophized" about God — "formulated dogmas which fishermen had earlier expounded in simple words" [from the service in honour of the Three Hierarchs]. The "dogmas of the Fathers" again present the unchanging content of "apostolic preaching" in intellectual categories. The experience of truth does not change and does not even grow; indeed, thought penetrates into the "understanding of truth" and transforms itself through the process.

In establishing dogmas, the Church expressed Revelation in the language of Greek philosophy — or if preferable, the Church translated Revelation from the poetic and prophetic language of Hebrew into Greek. That meant, in a certain sense, a "Hellenization" of Revelation. But in reality, it was a "Churchification" of Hellenism. This theme has been discussed and disputed too much already. Here, it is essential to raise only one issue. The Old Covenant has passed. Israel did not accept the Divine Christ, did not recognize him, or confess Him, and "the promise" passed to the Gentiles. We must acknowledge this basic fact of Christian history in humility before the will of God. The "calling of the Gentiles" meant that Hellenism became blessed by God. In this, there was no "historical accident" — no such accident could lie therein. In the religious destiny of man, there are no "accidents." The fact remains that the Gospel is given to us all and for all time in the Greek language. It is in this language that we hear the Gospel in all its entirety and fullness. That does not and cannot of course mean that it is untranslatable — but we always translate it from the Greek. And there was precisely as little "chance" or "accident" in this "selection" of the Greek language — as the unchanging proto-language of the Christian Gospel — as there was in God’s "selection" of the Jewish people — out of all the people of antiquity — as "His" People. There was as little "accident" in the "selection" of the Greek language as there was in the fact that "salvation comes from the Jews" (John 4:22).

We receive the Revelation of God as it occurred. And it would be pointless to ask whether it could have been otherwise. In the selection of the "Hellenes," we must acknowledge the hidden decisions of God’s will. The presentation of Revelation in the language of historical Hellenism in no way restricts Revelation. It rather proves precisely the opposite — that this language possessed certain powers and resources, which aided in expounding and expressing the truth of Revelation.

The words of dogmatic definitions are not "simple words," they are not "accidental" words, which one can replace by other words. They are eternal words, incapable of being replaced. This means that certain words — certain concepts — are eternalized by the very fact that they express divine truth. But this does not mean that there is an "eternalization" of one specific philosophical "system." To state it more correctly — Christian dogmatic itself is the only true philosophical "system." Dogmas are expressed in philosophical language but not at all in the language of a specific philosophical school. Indeed, one can speak of a philosophical "eclecticism" of Christian dogmatic. And this "eclecticism" has a much deeper meaning than one usually assumes. Its entire meaning consists of the fact that particular themes of Hellenic philosophy are received and, through this reception, they change essentially — they change and are no longer recognizable because now, in the terminology of Greek philosophy, a new, a totally new experience is expressed. Although themes and motives of Greek thought are retained, the answers to the problems are quite different, for they are given out of a new experience. Hellenism, for this reason, received Christianity as something foreign and alien, and the Christian Gospel was "foolishness" to the Greeks — έθνεσιν δε μωρίαν (I Corinthians 1:23).

Usually we do not sufficiently perceive the entire significance of this transformation, which Christianity introduced into the realm of thought. Partially, this is because we too often remain ancient Greeks philosophically, not yet having experienced the baptism of thought by fire. And in part, on the contrary, because we are too accustomed to the new world-view, retaining it as an "innate truth" when, in actuality, it was given to us only through Revelation. It is sufficient to point out just a few examples: the idea of the createdness of the world, not only in its transitory and perishable aspect but also in its primordial principles. For Greek thought, the concept of "created ideas" was impossible and offensive. And bound up with this was the Christian intuition of history as a unique — once-occurring — creative fulfilment, the sense of a movement from an actual "beginning" up to a final end, a feeling for history, which in no way at all allows itself to be linked with the static pathos of ancient Greek thought. And the understanding of man as person, the concept of personality, was entirely inaccessible to Hellenism, which considered only the mask as person. And finally, there is the message of Resurrection in glorified but real flesh, a thought, which could only frighten the Greeks who lived in the hope of a future dematerialization of the spirit. These are just some of the new vistas disclosed in the new experience of Christianity. Hellenism, forged in the fire of a new experience and a new faith, is renewed, is transformed. These are the presuppositions and categories of a new Christian philosophy, a new philosophy enclosed in Church dogmatic.

Revelation is not only Revelation about God but also about the world, for the fullness of Revelation is in the image of the God-Man, in the fact of the ineffable union of God and Man, of the Divine and human, of the Creator and the creature — in the indivisible and unmerged union of God and Man in Jesus Christ.

The path to Chalcedon is present in the New Testament. It is precisely the Chalcedonian dogma of the unity of the God-Man — despite what we shall see as great imprecision in the language of the councils and in the language of the "Fathers" —, which is the true, decisive point of Revelation, of the experience of faith and of Christian vision. Modern man is in general very critical of the definition of the Council of Chalcedon. It fails to convey any meaning to him. The "imagery" of the creed is for him nothing more than a piece of poetry if anything at all. The whole approach, I think, is wrong. The "definition" of Chalcedon is a statement of faith and therefore cannot be understood when taken out of the total experience of the Church. It is precisely for that reason that I have included an overview of the statements about Christology in the New Testament and it is precisely for that reason that an overview of the Christological thought of the early centuries must be presented as a background not only for Chalcedon but also for the whole of Byzantine theology.

The definition of the Council of Chalcedon is, in fact, an "existential statement." It is, as it was before, an intellectual contour of the mystery, which is apprehended by faith. Our Redeemer is not a man, but God himself. Here, lies the existential emphasis of the definition of Chalcedon and of the work of Byzantine theology accepted by the Church. Our Redeemer is one who "came down" and who, by "becoming man," identified himself with men in the fellowship of a truly human life and nature. Not only was the initiative Divine but the "captain of our salvation" was a Divine Person. The fullness of the human nature of Christ means, as we shall see, precisely the adequacy and truth of this redeeming identification. God enters human history and becomes an historical person. This sounds paradoxical. Indeed, there is a mystery. But this mystery is a revelation — the true character of God is disclosed in the Incarnation. God was so much and so intimately concerned with he destiny of man — and precisely with the destiny of every one of "the little ones" — as to intervene in person in the chaos and misery of the lost life. God is therefore not merely an omnipotent ruling of the universe from an august distance by divine majesty. Rather, there is the Divine kenosis, a "self-humiliation" of the God of glory. There is a personal relationship between God and Man.

There is an amazing coherence in the body of the traditional doctrine of Christ — from the earliest Christians to the New Testament to the Councils and to the positive contributions of Byzantine theology. True, the definitions of the Council of Nicaea and the Council of Chalcedon will cause a sore disruption in the Church, for not only is truth preserved and defined but also there is an imprecision in the human language used by the councils, an imprecision that gravely wounded the body of the Church. But the truth was there, the truth was defined. It can be apprehended and understood only in the living context of faith, by a personal communion with the personal God. Faith alone makes formulas convincing; faith alone makes formulas live, for Christ is not a text but a living Person and He abides in his body, the Church.

It may seem ridiculous to modern man to suggest that we should accept and preach the doctrine of Chalcedon "in a time such as this." Yet it was precisely that this doctrine, already contained on the pages of the New Testament and could change the whole spiritual outlook of modern man, that reality to which this doctrine bears witness. It brings man a true freedom. The Christological disputes of the past are unfortunately continued and repeated in the controversies of our own age. Modern man, deliberately or subconsciously, is tempted by the Nestorian extreme — modern man does not take the Incarnation in earnest, he does not dare to believe that Christ is a Divine Person; he wants to have a human redeemer, one assisted by God. Modern man is more interested in the human psychology of the Redeemer than in the mystery of Divine love precisely because, in the last resort, he believes optimistically in the dignity of man.

On the other extreme, we have in our age a revival of "Monophysite" tendencies in theology and religion — man is reduced to complete passivity and is allowed only to listen and to hope. The present tension between "liberalism" and "neo-orthodoxy" is in fact a re-enactment of the old Christological struggle, albeit on a new existential level and in a new spiritual guise. Unless a wider vision is acquired, the conflict will never be settled or solved. In the early Church, the preaching was emphatically theological. The New Testament itself is a theological book. Neglect of theology, of the theology of the God-Man, is responsible both for the decay of personal religion and for that sense of frustration which dominates the modern mood. The whole appeal of the "rival gospels" in our time is that they offer some sort of pseudo-theology, a system of pseudo-dogmas. They are gladly accepted by those who cannot find any theology in the reduced Christianity of "modern" style, by those who have been cut off from the organic Christology of the New Testament, of the definitions of the Councils, and of the work of the Eastern and Byzantine Fathers.

I have often a strange feeling. When I read the ancient classics of Christian theology, the fathers of the Church, I find them more relevant to the troubles and problems of my own time than the production of modern theologians. The fathers were wrestling with existential problems, with those revelations of the eternal issues, which were described and recorded in Holy Scripture. It is precisely the Chalcedonian dogma of the unity of the God-Man, which is the true, decisive point of Revelation, of the experience of faith, and of the Christian vision.

A clear knowledge of God — that for which Byzantine theology was striving and striving to protect — is impossible for man if he is committed to vague and false conceptions of the world and of himself. That is precisely why St. Athanasius’ distinction between creation and generation is as important as a prelude to, as a background for, as a legacy received by Byzantine theology. There is nothing surprising about a false conception of the world leading to an unclear knowledge of God, for the world is the creation of God and therefore if one has a false understanding of the world, one attributes to God a work, which God did not create — one therefore casts a distorted judgment on God’s activity and will. In this respect, a true philosophy is necessary for faith. And, on the other hand, faith is committed to specific metaphysical presuppositions. Dogmatic theology, as the explanation of Divinely revealed truth in the realm of thought, is precisely the basis of a Christian philosophy, of a sacred philosophy, of a philosophy of the Holy Spirit.

Dogma, a word disliked by modern man, presupposes experience, and only in the experience of vision and faith, does dogma reach its fullness and come to life. And dogmas do not exhaust this experience, just as Revelation is not exhausted in "words" or in the "letter" of Scripture. The experience and knowledge of the Church are more comprehensive and fuller than her dogmatic pronouncement. The Church witnesses too many things, which are not in "dogmatic" statements but rather in images and symbols. Dogmatic theology can neither dismiss nor replace "kerygmatic" theology. In the Church the fullness of knowledge and understanding is given but this fullness is only gradually and partially disclosed and professed. In general, the knowledge in this world is always only a "partial" knowledge, and the fullness will be revealed only in the Parousia — άρτι γινωσκω εκ μέρονς — "Now I know in part," (I Corinthians 13:12). This "incompleteness" of knowledge results from the fact that the Church is still "in pilgrimage," still in the process of "pilgrimage." The Church witnesses the mystical essence of time, in which the growth of mankind is being accomplished according to the measure of the image of Christ. Nevertheless, this "incompleteness" of our knowledge here and now does not weaken the authentic and apodictic character of the Church. The definition of Chalcedon is precisely a definition of that truth, which we do here and now possess. Without the definitions of the Ecumenical Councils, always following the fathers and Holy Scripture, that truth, which was revealed in the God-Man, Jesus Christ, would be distorted, would threaten our redemption, indeed, would strike at the very core and heart of the ontological reality of redemption. These definitions are a vital part of that truth, which we do possess and Byzantine theology’s contribution to the definitions and to the elucidation of the definitions of the truth of the God-Man is vital to the life of the Christian faith.

Chapter 3
Preservation of the Legacy

If the teaching about Christ in the New Testament is so clear, a fundamental question arises. Why were all the historical struggles over Christology? Why the divisions, why the disruptions, why the apparent damage to the Body of Christ, the Church? Why was such controversy over that which was the cornerstone of our very redemption? It is a legitimate question. It must never be forgotten that we are warned again and again in the New Testament to guard the faith, to beware of false teachers, to hold fast to that which we have received. It is a constant theme expressed in a variety of ways throughout the New Testament. II Timothy 4:3-4 warns that "the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own likings, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander into myths." Colossians 2:8 warns, "See to it that no one makes a prey of you by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the universe, and not according to Christ." In I Timothy 1:3-4; 6-7 we read, "that you may charge certain persons not to teach any different doctrine, nor to occupy themselves with myths and endless genealogies, which promote speculations rather than the divine training that is in faith… certain persons by swerving from these have wandered away into vain discussion, desiring to be teachers of the law, without understanding either what they are saying or the things about, which they make assertions." In I Timothy 6:3 ff. we read, "If any one teaches otherwise and does not agree with the sound words of our Lord Jesus Christ and the teaching, which accords with godliness, he is puffed up with conceit, he knows nothing; he has a morbid craving for controversy and for disputes about words…" In the same chapter, Timothy is exhorted, "O Timothy, guard what has been entrusted to you. Avoid the godless chatter and contradictions of what is falsely called knowledge, for by professing it some have missed the mark as regards the faith." In II Peter 2:1 ff. we read, "There will be false teachers among you, who will secretly bring in destructive heresies, even denying the Master." Similar warnings occur in the epistles and the Gospels of the New Testament. It is clear that already in the earliest days of the Christian Church there were divisions that the truth had to be preserved and guarded from the very beginning.

Christ encourages his disciples that the Holy Spirit will guide them into all truth (John 16:13), and the implication is that, though truth is present, though truth has been revealed and given, "all" aspects of truth will be explicated under the guidance of the Holy Spirit in the Church.

And the very created nature of man allows for the possibility of corrupting that which has been revealed. But the promise that the truth shall be preserved by the Holy Spirit reveals that, despite controversy and dispute already present within the early life of the Church, theological work is still to be active in the ongoing life of the Church — the explication and definition of the redemptive activity of the God-Man.

The Church is "Apostolic" indeed. But the Church is also "Patristic." She is intrinsically "the Church of the Fathers." There are, as it was before, two basic stages in the proclamation of the Christian faith. "Our simple faith had to acquire composition." There was an inner urge, an inner logic, an internal necessity, in this transition from kerygma to dogma. Indeed, the teaching of the Fathers and the dogma of the Church are still the same "simple message," which has been once delivered and deposited, once forever. But now it is, as it was before, necessary for this "simple message" to be in order properly and fully articulated.

The main distinctive mark of Patristic and Byzantine theology is its "existential" character if we may borrow this current neologism. The Fathers theologized, as St. Gregory of Nazianzus puts it, "in the manner of the Apostles, not in that of Aristotle" — αλιευτικώς ουκ αριστοτελικως (Homily 23, 12). Their theology is still a "message," a kerygma. Their theology is still "kerygmatic theology" even if it is often logically arranged and supplied with intellectual arguments. The ultimate reference is still to the vision of faith, to spiritual knowledge and experience. Apart from life in Christ, theology carries no conviction and if separated from the life of faith, theology may degenerate into empty dialectics, a vain polylogia, without any spiritual consequence. Patristic and Byzantine theology is existentially rooted in the decisive commitment of faith. It is not a self-explanatory "discipline," which could be presented argumentatively, that is αριστοτελικως, without any prior spiritual engagement. In the age of the theological strife and incessant debates, which we will be discussing, the Fathers — especially the Cappadocian Fathers — formally protested against the use of dialectics, of "Aristotelian syllogisms," and endeavoured to refer theology back to the vision of faith. Patristic and Byzantine theology could be only "preached" or "proclaimed" — preached from the pulpit, proclaimed also in the words of prayer and in sacred rites, and indeed manifested in the total structure of Christian life. Theology of this kind can never be separated from the life of prayer and from the exercise of virtue. "The climax of purity is the beginning of theology," as St. John Klimakos puts its — τέλος· δε αγνειας ύπόθεσις θεολογίας (Scala Parodist, grade 30).

On the other hand, Patristic and Byzantine theology is always, as it was, "propaedeutic," since its ultimate aim and purpose is to ascertain and to acknowledge the Mystery of the Living God, to bear witness to it, in word and deed. "Theology" is not an end in itself. It is always but a way. Theology, and even the "dogmas," presents no more than an "intellectual contour" of the revealed truth, and a "noetic" testimony to it. Only in the act of faith is this "contour" filled with content. Christological formulas are fully meaningful only for those who have encountered the Living Christ, and have received and acknowledged Him as God and Saviour, and are dwelling by faith in Him, in His body, the Church. In this sense, theology is never a self-explanatory discipline. It is constantly appealing to the vision of faith. "What we have seen and heard we announce to you." Without this "announcement" theological formulas are empty and of no consequence. For the same reason these formulas can never be taken "abstractly," that is, out of total context of belief. It is misleading to single out particular statements of the Fathers and to detach them from the total perspective in which they have been actually uttered, just as it is misleading to manipulate with detached quotations from the Scripture. A dangerous habit "to quote" the Fathers; is, to quote their isolated sayings and phrases outside of that concrete setting in which only they have their full and proper meaning and are truly alive. "To follow" does not mean just "to quote" the Fathers. "To follow" the Fathers means to acquire their "mind," their phronema.

The name of "the Fathers of the Church" is usually restricted to the teachers of the ancient Church. And it is currently assumed that their authority depends upon their antiquity, upon their comparative nearness to the "primitive Church," to the initial age of the Church. Already St. Jerome had to contest this idea. Indeed, there was no decrease of "authority" and no decrease in the immediacy of spiritual competence and knowledge in the course of Christian history. In fact, however, this idea of "decrease" has strongly affected our modern theological thinking. In fact, it is too often assumed, consciously or unconsciously, that the Early Church was, as it was, closer to the spring of truth. As an admission of our own failure and inadequacy, as an act of humble self-criticism, such an assumption is sound and helpful. But it is dangerous to make of it the starting point or basis of our "theology of Church history," or even of our theology of the Church. Indeed, the Age of the Apostles should retain its unique position. Yet it was just a beginning. It is widely assumed that the "Age of the Fathers" has ended. Accordingly, it is regarded just as an ancient formation, "antiquated" in a sense and "archaic."

The limit of the "Patristic Age" is variously defined. It is usual to regard St. John of Damascus as the "last Father" in the East and St. Gregory the Dialogos or Isidore of Seville as "the last" in the West. This periodization has been justly contested in recent times. Should not, for example, St. Theodore of Studium be at least included among "the Fathers?" Mabillon has suggested that Bernard of Clairvaux, the Doctor Mellifluous, was "the last of the Fathers, and surely not unequal to the earlier ones."

Actually, it is more than a question of periodization. From the Western point of view, "the Age of the Fathers" has been succeeded and indeed superseded by "the Age of the Schoolmen," which was an essential step forward. Since the rise of Scholasticism, "Patristic theology" has been antiquated, has become actually a "past age," a kind of archaic prelude. This point of view, which is legitimate for the West, has been most unfortunately accepted also by many in the East, blindly and uncritically. Accordingly, one has to face the alternative. Either one has to regret the "backwardness" of the East, which never developed any "Scholasticism" of its own. Or one should retire into the "Ancient Age," in a more or less archaeological manner, and practice what has been wittily described recently as a "theology of repetition." The latter, in fact, is just a peculiar form of imitative "scholasticism."

And often it is suggested that the "Age of the Fathers" has ended much earlier than St. John of Damascus. Very often one does not proceed further than the Age of Justinian or the Council of Chalcedon. Was not Leontius of Byzantium already "the first of the Scholastics?" Psychologically, this attitude is quite comprehensible, although it cannot be theologically justified. Indeed, the Fathers of the Fourth century are impressive and their unique greatness cannot be denied. Yet the Church remained fully alive also after Nicaea and Chalcedon. The current overemphasis on the "first five centuries" dangerously distorts theological vision and prevents the right understanding of the Chalcedonian dogma itself. The decree of the Sixth Ecumenical Council is often regarded as a kind of an "appendix" to Chalcedon, interesting only for theological specialists, and the great figure of St. Maximus the Confessor is almost completely ignored. Accordingly, the theological significance of the Seventh Ecumenical Council is dangerously obscured and one is left to wonder why the Feast of Orthodoxy should be related to the commemoration of the Church’s victory over the Iconoclasts. Was it not just a "ritualistic controversy?" We often forget that the famous formula of the Consensus quinquesaecularis [Agreement of Five Centuries], that is, actually, up to Chalcedon, was a Protestant formula, and reflected a peculiar Protestant "theology of history." This restrictive formula was too inclusive to those who wanted to be secluded in the Apostolic Age as much as it seemed to be. The point is, however, that the current Eastern formula of the "Seven Ecumenical Councils" is hardly much better if it tends, as it usually does, to restrict or to limit the Church’s spiritual authority to the first eight centuries, as if "the Golden Age" of Christianity has already passed and we are now, probably, already in an Iron Age, much lower on the scale of spiritual vigour and authority. Our theological thinking has been dangerously affected by the pattern of decay, adopted for the interpretation of Christian history in the West since the Reformation. The fullness of the Church was then interpreted in a static manner, and the attitude to Antiquity has been accordingly distorted and misconstrued. After all, it does not make much difference whether we restrict the normative authority of the Church to one century, or to five, or to eight. There should be no restriction at all. Consequently, there is no room for any "theology of repetition." The Church is still fully authoritative as she has been in the ages past, since the Spirit of Truth quickens her now no less effectively than in the ancient times.

One of the immediate results of our careless periodization is that we simply ignore the legacy of Byzantine theology. We are prepared, now more than only a few decades ago, to admit the perennial authority of "the Fathers," especially since the revival of Patristic studies in the West. But we still tend to limit the scope of admission, and obviously "Byzantine theologians" are not readily counted among the "Fathers." We are inclined to discriminate rather rigidly between "Patristic" — in a more or less narrow sense — and "Byzantinism." We are still inclined to regard "Byzantinism" as an inferior sequel to the Patristic Age. We have still doubts about its normative relevance for theological thinking. Now, Byzantine theology was much more than just a "repetition" of Patristic theology. Neither was that which was new in it of an inferior quality in comparison with "Christian Antiquity." Indeed, Byzantine theology was an organic continuation of the Patristic Age. Was there any break? Has the ethos of the Eastern Orthodox Church been ever changed at a certain historic point or date, which, however, has never been unanimously identified so that the "later" development was of lesser authority and importance if of any?

Chapter 4.
The Earliest Christian Writers.

The Church’s Struggle with two Extreme Views of Jesus.

One of the earliest confrontations over the nature of Christ was the Church’s encounter with two extreme views, two very different views, two views, which Gregory Dix refers to as the Syrian and Hellenistic. There were points of agreement even with these two groups — they believed that God was one and that Jesus was God’s Messiah. We witness this encounter already in the Gospel of St. John, for there we are aware that the author is fighting on two fronts. One group is not convinced that Christ is in the full sense Divine. The other group cannot grasp the full humanity of Christ. For one group Jesus is a mere man; for the other Jesus the Christ is a divine apparition. Against the former the Gospel of St. John addresses the words: "but these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in his name" (20:31). Against the other group, believing that God appeared on earth in human form but without any actual flesh and blood, the Gospel of St. John directs these words: "But one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water. He who saw it has borne witness — his testimony is true, and he knows that he tells the truth — that you also may believe" (19:34-35).

There exists independent knowledge of these two heretical schools of thought. One is represented by a Jewish-Christian sect known as the Ebonite. In short, they taught that Jesus was a mere man who scrupulously observed the Law of Judaism and became the Messiah. The opposite extreme was represented by the Docetists. The term comes from the Greek δοκειν [to seem]. Serapion of Antioch (fl. 200) was the first to mention the Docetists by name — δοκηται. Docetism is much more a tendency, an attitude, than a unified doctrine or a unified group. The numerous Gnostic sects will all contain within their system the Docetist heretical tendency. In brief, the Docetists viewed the humanity and the sufferings of the earthly Christ as apparent rather than real. St. Justin Martyr refers to them as those "who claim that Jesus Christ did not come in flesh but only as spirit, and revealed an appearance — φαντασίαν — of flesh.” What is significant is that these two heretical schools of thought embrace two different views of Christology and these two different views are pointedly challenged already by the Christology of the Church as evidenced in the Gospel of St. John. One overemphasizes the manhood of Christ; the other overemphasizes the Divinity of Christ. Here, already, we see, though in a different historical context and in a different doctrinal context, the two emphases, which will be present later in a more sophisticated form in Nestorianism and Monophysitism — in terms of emphases, not of doctrinal content. No one but Harnack applied the term Adoptionists to the Ebonite and the term "Pneumatic" to the Docetists. The early Christian writers are constantly challenging these two tendencies.

The early Christian writers have the tendency to explicate God in His οικονομία, ad extra, in his revelatory self-disclosure and not to reflect at length on the nature of God in and of itself — ad se. To understand God in his revelatory self-disclosure is not incorrect but it is one-sided and ultimately inadequate. The understanding of the inner life of God is not only also necessary but it must presuppose the explication of God’s self-revelation, of God’s relation to the created world. From an historical perspective, from an understanding of the living reality in which the early Christian writers found themselves, their oikonomic approach is understandable. But because of this tendency, because of the lack of balance between a theology of God in himself and a theology of God in his relation to created existence, and because of imprecision in terminology certain problems inevitably occur — conflicting tendencies of Christological and Trinitarian thought arise already in the late second and third century. The theological breakthrough comes in a forceful presentation only with St. Athanasius. It is sufficient to call attention to that aspect of the early Christian writers, which reflects the understanding of Christ as God and hence provides the common ground for the definitions of the Ecumenical Councils, especially the Council of Chalcedon — Jesus Christ as fully God and fully Man.

St. Clement of Rome

St. Clement of Rome’s First Letter to the Corinthians is one of the oldest extra-Biblical documents of the Church. It was probably written in 96 or 97. The letter is primarily a pragmatic document, an exhortation to the Corinthian Church to obey the "rule of tradition," the deposit, which the apostles received from the Lord Jesus Christ — oι απόστολοι ήμιν ενηγγελισθησαν από τον κνρίον Ιησον Χριστον, Ιησους ό χριστός από τον θεον έξεπέμφθη. ό Χριστός ουν από τον Θeov, και oι απόστολοι από του Χριστου έγένοντο ουν άμφότερα εντάκτώς εκ θελήματος θεου (42). But it is clear that the entire pragmatic exhortation of this letter is based upon, assumes, the Divinity of Christ. This is all the more significant when one considers the "Judaistic and Stoic tone" of his letter. He writes (7): "We ought to… turn to the glorious and sacred rule of our tradition. Let us observe that which is good, that which is pleasing and acceptable to Him who made us. Let us fasten our eyes on the blood of Christ and let us realize how precious it is to his Father because it was shed for our salvation and it brought the grace of repentance to the whole world." This text speaks of cosmic redemption and connects the redemptive work of Christ to his Father. Implicit in this text is the fact that "his Father" refers to a unique relationship between Father and Son and not a general Fatherhood of God with all men, precisely because no man is capable of shedding blood that will redeem and bring the "grace of repentance" to the entire world. In chapter 21, St. Clement repeats the same idea: "Let us reverence the Lord Jesus Christ whose blood was given for us." In chapter 12, he writes similarly, "By the blood of the Lord, redemption was going to come to all who believed and hoped…" In chapter 49, the same idea is expressed but this time with an emphasis that may have reference to the Docetists: "Jesus Christ, our Lord, gave his blood for us, his flesh for our flesh, and his life for ours."

In chapter 16, St. Clement refers to "the Lord Jesus Christ" as "the sceptre of God’s majesty." Referring to God as Father, Creator, and Master of the universe, St. Clement writes, "He poured forth his gifts on them all but most abundantly on us who have taken refuge in his compassion through our Lord Jesus Christ, to who be glory and majesty forever and ever." Again, there is the connection between God the Father and Creator and "our Lord Jesus Christ." He then attributes eternal glory and majesty to "our Lord Jesus Christ," something that does not cohere if Jesus is not Divine — indeed, it would be bordering on blasphemy. In general, throughout the letter, St. Clement centres everything on Christ — the expression εν Χριστώ and the expression δια Ιησού Χρίστου are repeated often in the letter.

St. Clement refers to Christ as the image or mirror or reflection of God the Father: "This is how… we found our salvation, Jesus Christ, the high priest of our offerings… Through him we fix our gaze on the heights of heaven. In him, we see the mirror of God’s pure and transcendent face. Through him, the eyes of our hearts are opened. Through him, our foolish and darkened comprehension wells up to the light. Through him, the Master has willed that we should taste immortal knowledge." In this chapter (36), St. Clement continues with explicit thought: "For, because he reflects the splendour of God, he is as superior to the angels as his title is more distinguished than theirs... But of his Son, this is what the Master said: "You are my Son: today I have begotten you." Here, St. Clement clearly states that Christ is not of the angelic order, that he is the "begotten Son" of the Father. St. Clement distinguishes between his human descent — το κατά σάρκα — and, implicitly, his Divine nature. In this pragmatic, moral, non-speculative letter one encounters a “high” Christology precisely because it is the basis and presupposition of the Christian faith and of all that St. Clement writes from a moral perspective, of keeping the laws and commandments — νομοι και προστάγματα — of Christ.

In this early Christian document the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are mentioned throughout, although from the perspective of their oikonomic activity. Nevertheless, that the Father is God, that the Son is God, and that the Holy Spirit is God is a presupposition of St. Clement’s thought — θeoς και ό κύριος Ιησούς Χριστός και το τπευμα το άγιον (46 and 58). But it is not only in the explicit statements that one finds an affirmation of the Holy Trinity. Rather, it is in the language, context, and thought-structure that a belief in the Holy Trinity is exhibited in St. Clement’s letter.

St. Ignatius of Antioch

The commonly accepted seven letters of St. Ignatius in their shorter form are exceedingly important documents in the history of Christian theology. They were written before 107, the commonly accepted time of his martyrdom in Rome. His letters are therefore an undisputed witness to the faith of the early Church. Those who find the definitions of the Ecumenical Councils difficult to accept will encounter difficulty with the thought of St. Ignatius. Again, it must be noted that these are not theological treatises but rather letters written by St. Ignatius, the bishop of Antioch, on his way to Rome to be thrown to the wild beasts. They are in a very real sense existential letters written by one about to die, existential letters, which just happen to touch on theological subjects as well as moral ones. Indeed, it was the so-called "developed doctrine" contained in St. Ignatius’ letters, which caused some Protestant theologians to question their authenticity until Lightfoot and Harnack established the authenticity of the seven epistles. It was especially the 1885 edition by Lightfoot, which established permanently the authenticity of the seven letters in their Greek shorter versions.

In his Letter to the Ephesians (7), St. Ignatius writes, "There is only one physician — of flesh yet spiritual, born yet uncreated God become man, true life in death, sprung from both Mary and from God first subject to suffering and then incapable of it — Jesus Christ our Lord." He is God Incarnate. In the same letter, he writes (18-20): "For our God, Jesus the Christ, was conceived by Mary, in God’s plan being sprung forth from both the seed of David and from the Holy Spirit. He was born and baptized that by His Passion he might sanctify water… for God was revealing himself as a man to bring newness of eternal life. What God had prepared was now beginning. Therefore, everything was in confusion because the destruction of death was being executed." "The New Man Jesus Christ… is Son of man and Son of God." In his Letter to the Romans he writes that Jesus Christ is the "only Son of the Father" and he is the Father’s thought — γνώμη.

In his Letter to the Magnesians, St. Ignatius writes of the co-eternality of Jesus Christ (6): "…Jesus Christ, who was with the Father from all eternity and in these last days has been made manifest." The union of the Father and Son is explicitly stated (1): "I desire that they confess the union of Jesus with the Father." "The Lord was completely one with the Father and never acted independently of him" (7). "Make speed, all of you, to one temple of God, to one altar, to one Jesus Christ, who came forth from the one and only Father, is eternally with that One, and to that One is now returned" (7). "God is one… he has revealed himself in his Son Jesus Christ, who is his Logos issuing from the silence" (8).

In his Letter to the Trallians, he poignantly describes the reality of the humanity of Jesus: "Be deaf, then, to any talk that ignores Jesus Christ, of David’s lineage, of Mary, he was truly — άληθΰς- — born, ate, and drank. He was truly persecuted under Pontius Pilate. He was truly crucified and died in the sight of heaven and earth and of the powers of the nether world. He was truly raised from the dead, the Father having raised him, who in like manner will raise us also who believe in him — his Father, I say, will raise us in Christ Jesus, apart from whom we have no true life" (9).

He writes more forcefully in his Letter to the Smyrnaeans, "I extol Jesus Christ, the God who has granted you such wisdom… Regarding our Lord, you are absolutely convinced that on the human side he was actually sprung from David’s line, Son of God according to God’s will and power, actually born of a virgin, baptized by John and actually crucified for us in the flesh, under Pontius Pilate and Herod the Tetrarch. We are part of his fruit, which grew out of his most blessed Passion. And thus, by his resurrection, he raised a standard to rally his saints and faithful forever, whether Jews or Gentiles, in one body of his Church — ένόησα υμάς κατηρτισμένους εν άκινήτω πίστει, ώσπερ καθηλωμένους εν τω σταυρω τον κυρίου Ιησού Χρίστου σαρκί τε και πνεύματι και ήδρασμένους εν αγάπη έν τω αιματι Χρίστου, πεπληροφορημένους εις τον κυρίου ημών, αληθώς οντα εκ γένους Δαβιδ κατά σάρκα, υιόν θεού κατά θέλημα και δύναμιν θεού, γεγενημένον αληθώς εκ παρθένου, βεβαπτισμένον υπό Ιωάννου, ίνα πληρωθη πάσα δικαιοσύνη υπ αυτού, αληθώς επί Ποντίου Πιλάτου και Ηρωδου τετράρχου καθηλωμένον υπέρ εν σαρκί, αφ ου καρπού ημείς, από του θεομακαρίτου αυτού πάθους, ίνα άρη σύσσημον εις τους αιώνας δια της αναστάσεως εις του αγίους και πιστούς αυτού είτε εν Ίουδαίοις είτε εν έθνεσιν εν ένί σώματι της εκκλησίας αυτού He truly suffered, just as he truly raised himself. It is not as some unbelievers say, that his Passion was a sham. Those are they, who are a sham! For myself, I am convinced and believe that even after the resurrection he was in the flesh. Indeed, when he came to Peter and his friends, he said to them, Take hold of me, touch me and see that I am not a bodiless phantom.’ And they at once touched him and were convinced, clutching his body and his very breath. For this reason, they despised death itself, and proved its victors. Moreover, after the resurrection he ate and drank with them as a real human being, though even then he and the Father were spiritually — πνευματικώς — one.” In this same letter he writes that Jesus Christ is Perfect Man — τέλειος.

In his Letter to Polycarp, St. Ignatius writes, "You must not be panic-stricken by those who have an air of credibility but who teach heresy. Stand your ground like an anvil under the hammer." He refers to Jesus Christ as the "Timeless, the Unseen, the One who became visible for our sakes, who was beyond touch and passion, yet who for our sakes became subject to suffering, and endured everything for us" (3). These are indeed a collection of powerful and explicit statements on the reality of the full humanity and the full Divinity of Jesus Christ. It is, as it was, a preamble to Chalcedon already at the turn of the first century. It is not an exaggeration to claim that his expressions foreshadow the later doctrine of άντίδοσις των ιδιωμάτων.

Such are some of St. Ignatius’ explicit comments on Christology. If one looks carefully at what he writes about the Eucharist, the hierarchy of the Church, the unity of the Church and the Church’s unity with the unity of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, a deeper and even more vital Christology obtains. Everything, for example, that he writes about the Eucharist becomes meaningless without his belief in the Divinity of Christ. The Church is the "place of sacrifice" — θυσιαστήριοι — and the Eucharist is θυσία. He writes in his Letter to the Ephesians (19-20): "Meet together in common — every single one of you — in grace, in one faith and on Jesus Christ (who was of David’s line in his human nature, son of man and son of God) that you may obey the bishop and presbytery with undistracted mind; breaking one bread, which is the medicine of immortality, our antidote to ensure that we shall not die but live in Jesus Christ forever." In his Letter to the Philadelphians (3) he writes, "Take great care to keep one Eucharist. For there is one flesh of our Lord Jesus Christ and one cup to unite us by his blood; one sanctuary, as there is one bishop, together with the presbytery and the deacons." And in his Letter to the Smyrnaeans, he writes (8), "All of you follow the bishop as Jesus Christ followed the Father and the presbytery as the Apostles. Respect the deacons as the ordinance of God. Let no one do anything that pertains to the Church apart from the bishop. Let that be considered a valid Eucharist, which is under the bishop or one whom he has delegated. Wherever the bishop shall appear, there let the people be, just as wherever Christ Jesus may be, there is the Catholic Church."

This is the first written use, which has come down to us of the term "Catholic" Church. The word "catholic" means in Greek "universal" but the conception of catholicity cannot be measured by its world-wide expansion — "universality" does not express the Greek meaning exactly. Καθολική comes from καθ’ ολου, which first of all means the inner wholeness, not only of communion and in any case not of a simple empirical communion. Καθ’ ολου is not the same as κατά παντός. It belongs not to the phenomenal and empirical, but to the nominal and ontological plane. It describes the very essence and not the external manifestations. If "catholic" also means "universal," it certainly is not an empirical universality but rather an ideal one: the communion of ideas, not of facts, is what is meant. St. Ignatius’ use of the word is precisely this. This word gives prominence to the orthodoxy of the Church, to the truth of the Church in contrast with the spirit of sectarian separatism and particularism. He is expressing the idea of integrity and purity.

Grillmeier correctly observes that St. Ignatius foreshadows the later definitions of the Ecumenical Councils. Grillmeier writes that from "Christ’s Godhead and manhood… there arises the antithetic, two-member formula, so well loved in the later history of the dogma of Christ," which emphasizes the distinction between the Divine and human nature in the one Lord. Grillmeier presents an antithetical schematic from St. Ignatius: σαρκικός και πνευματικός; γεννητός και άγγένητος; εν άνθρωπω… θeoς; εν θανάτω… ζωή αληθινή; και εκ Μαρίας… και εκ θeov; πρώτον παθητός… και ποτε απαθής… εστίν Ίησοΰς Χριστός ό Κύριος ημών.

There is a tendency among some scholars to assume that if something is not mentioned in a text, the author had no knowledge of it. This is a fundamentally erroneous presupposition and hence an erroneous methodology. The assumption of this methodological approach or perspective misses the prime reality — a living Church was already in existence since Pentecost and that living Church knew the deposit about, which they preached, knew the tradition, which they had received and continued to impart in their missionary activity. Again, the statement by Karl Adam is significant: "Even if the Bible [the New Testament] did not exist, a Christian religious movement would be conceivable." Indeed, not only conceivable but it actually existed without the New Testament as we know it for decades. And during that time, the Apostolic and Sub-Apostolic Church flourished with and in the fullness of faith. St. Ignatius is an excellent example of this precisely because his seven occasional letters were written so early and especially because of what he has to say about the "documents," "the archives." In his Letter to the Philadelphians, St. Ignatius writes (8): "When I heard some people saying, ‘If I do not find it in the original documents, I do not believe it.’" Here, the essence of the dispute was that the Old Testament, the Bible for the early Christians in its Greek Septuagint version, was the reference point of validity. The New Testament is not the criterion, precisely because it was still in process in the days of the early Church and it was certainly not used as a canonical authority in the earlier days of the life of St. Ignatius. It is the reality of the living Church, which gives rise to the New Testament and it is the Church, which determines the "canon" of the New Testament — there were numerous writings circulating, which claimed apostolic authorship and it was the Church, which determined, which of those were authentic. St. Ignatius then makes a statement, which confirms how the early Church understood its reality, its faith, its tradition, its authority: "To my mind it is Jesus Christ who is the original documents. The inviolable archives are his Cross and Death and his Resurrection and the faith that came by him." St. Ignatius needs no written "documents," needs no written "archives." The historical, existential, and ontological reality of the God-Man Jesus Christ and his redemptive work is the truth of the faith — he is oral "document" of the living God. He knows of this through the tradition, through that which was delivered, through the deposit, which was preserved and handed down in its original purity of content and fullness.

It is historically interesting to take even a casual look at St. Ignatius’ occasional, ad hoc, non-systematic, hastily written letters, for in these seven brief letters St. Ignatius just happens to touch on many of the basic principles of the faith of the living Church, a faith not recorded in a "document" but a faith that has been preserved and delivered faithfully from Christ to the Apostles to the episcopate. The main purpose of all seven letters is two-fold: it is to urge unity and also to convince the churches to which he writes not to interfere with his desire for martyrdom, his desire to "imitate the Passion of Christ God." And yet we find in these brief pages a rather broad Christian theology in skeletal form. The reality of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit is mentioned (in "Son, Father, and Spirit;" "to Christ, to the Father, and to the Spirit;" the Spirit "comes from God;" "the most High Father and Jesus Christ, his only Son"). He has no hesitation to speak of grace and deeds, of a justification by grace and one of deeds, implying an existential understanding of the synergistic relationship between grace and spiritual freedom, between grace and "works." And from the totality of his seven brief letters, it is clear that everything is a gift from God. It is also clear that man participates in this gift, in his salvation. St. Ignatius also has no hesitation in speaking about predestination, election, and freedom. They all cohere for him in one theological vision. For him there is no tension between predestination and freedom. This is not a result of his inability to see a potential theological problem. Rather it is natural, instinctive, intuitive, and apostolic understanding of the vision of salvation, a salvation which comes from God and in which man participates, a salvation which is a gift but one, which must be received.

St. Ignatius speaks equally of the spiritual nature and the external structure of the Church — the bishops, presbytery, deacons (the "bishops reflect the mind of Jesus Christ;" the Church has a unique "intimacy" with Jesus Christ, as Jesus Christ has with the Father; the Church is "a choir, so that in perfect harmony and with a pitch taken from God," it "may sing in unison and with one voice to the Father through Jesus Christ"). Jesus Christ is our inseparable life — το αδιάκριτον ημών ζήν, without whom we have no true life — το αληθινόν ζήν ουκ εχομεν.

St. Ignatius’ stress on the "imitation of Christ" is a theme that will be repeated often in the history of Christian spirituality. His specific idea of the "imitation of the Passion of Jesus Christ" is expressed in vivid, fervid terms ("Let me be fodder for wild beasts — that is how I can attain to God. I am God’s wheat and I am being ground by the teeth of wild beasts to make a pure loaf for Christ;" "Come fire, cross, battling with wild beasts, wrenching of bones, mangling of limbs, crushing of my whole body, cruel tortures of the devil — only let me get to Jesus Christ!"). This has struck many as an exaggerated form of spirituality, as one of arrogance. Yet St. Ignatius is quite humble in this respect. For him the process of salvation is dynamic and he in no sense sees his desire as a superior spirituality ("I am only beginning to be a disciple;" — "I am going through the pangs of being born… Do not stand in the way of my coming to life").

He is ever conscious of the importance, the necessity of a spiritual solidarity among Christians ("I needed your coaching in faith, encouragement." — "Do not try to convince yourselves that anything done on your own is commendable. Only what you do together is right. Hence, you must have one prayer, one petition, one mind, one hope, dominated by love and unsullied joy — that means you must have Jesus Christ!"). He knows the pain he is to face, yet he is ever mentioning the God-given joy and the overflowing mercy of God. He is on guard against pride and boasting: "I keep my limits, lest boasting should be my undoing. For what I need most at this point is to be on my guard and not to heed flatterers. Those… are my scourge." He is fully aware that his desire is an "impetuous ambition" and this causes "all the more a struggle" within him. He exclaims that what he needs is "gentleness." For those who think his desire is extreme, it must be admitted that his attitude towards it is spiritually balanced: "I endure all things because he gives me the power who is Perfect Man."

St. Ignatius stresses that we must "not only be called Christians but we must be Christians." For him the Christian life was Christocentric, for through the God-Man all things come from the Father and return to the Father. The Christocentric emphasis of the Christian life is a constant motif in his letters — the constant mention of "the blood of Christ;" "love" as a hymn to Jesus Christ; the "mind of Christ" is "the Father’s mind;" "Jesus Christ is God’s knowledge;" the "Name" of Jesus is sacred; the Cross, the Passion, the Death, the Resurrection of Christ are the foundations of our "Hope," creating, through the Incarnation, the path to our redemption; "if we live in union with him now, we shall gain eternal life," we shall rise with him. Through "initiation" into the mysteries [sacraments], through faith, love, continual prayer, and fasting, we can have Christ "within us." And, through union with Christ, "in faith and love in the Son and Father and Spirit" we shall have "increasing insight" and we shall rise with him, for true freedom is only in union with the Risen Christ.

St. Ignatius highlights a basic theology of worship and sacramental, liturgical life. The Eucharist is for him "the medicine of immortality." He has, as is apparent, a developed theology of the unity of the Church. Conversely, he has a theological attitude towards heresy: "He who fails to join in your worship shows his arrogance by the very fact of becoming a schismatic… If then, those who act carnally suffer death, how much more shall those who by wicked teaching corrupt God’s faith for which Jesus Christ was crucified. Such a vile creature will go to the unquenchable fire along with anyone who listens to him."

A theology of faith and love weaves its way through his letters: "Your faith is what lifts you up; while love is the way you ascend to God… Faith is the beginning, and love is the end." The dynamism in the process of salvation is constantly emphasized: "For what matters is not a momentary act of professing, but being persistently motivated by faith."

St. Ignatius has an interesting theological insight into the spiritual importance of silence: "It is better to keep quiet and be real than to chatter and be unreal… He who has really grasped what Jesus said can appreciate his silence. Thus, he will be perfect: his words will mean action and his very silence will reveal his character."

The great exclamatory Easter hymn in the Byzantine liturgy Χριστός ανέστη εκ νεκρων, θανάτω θάνατον πάτησας — is adumbrated by St. Ignatius: Christ’s death is described as “the destruction of death.” This realism carries over to the sanctification of the material world in the theology of St. Ignatius: Christ’s baptism "sanctifies water" and the pouring of ointment on the Lord’s head passes on "the aroma of incorruption to the Church."

The deepest parts of the interior life of a person are not neglected in his thought: "all secrets are known and will be revealed." But repentance and forgiveness by the overflowing mercy of the grace of God are not neglected either: "The Lord forgives all who repent."

It is clear that the Church already at the time of St. Ignatius believed that marriage must be approved and blessed by the Church: "it is right for men and women who marry to be united with the bishop’s approval." Already there is implicit here the sacramental nature of marriage.

Simultaneous with his theology of the active Christian spiritual life of continual prayer, humility, love, faith, constant participation in the sacramental life of the Church, simultaneous with his theology of the "imitation of the Passion of Christ God" is a theology of the "social gospel." He places great stress on concern and care for widows, orphans, the oppressed, those in prison, those released from prison who are in need of help and guidance, those who are hungry and thirsty. His social concern extends to slaves who must not be treated "contemptuously." He even emphasizes the spiritual importance of "taking an interest in those to whom you talk."

This sketch of some of the subjects St. Ignatius just happens to address in his seven occasional letters reveals that he certainly had a grasp of the fullness of the Christian life and faith. The early date of these letters and their spontaneous, occasional nature cannot be overstressed. They are vital "documents" of a faith that was not rooted in "documents" or "archives" but rather rooted in the delivered tradition about the living person of Jesus Christ, divine and human, yet One Lord and One Eternally with the Father. It is not an exaggeration to point out that the definition of the Council of Chalcedon can is foreshadowed in general idea in the brief, occasional letters of St. Ignatius, letters, which predate 107.

St. Polycarp.

St. Irenaeus tells us that he sat at the feet of St. Polycarp, that St. Polycarp had been personally acquainted with St. John that St. Polycarp was consecrated bishop by the apostles — Tertullian claims by St. John— that St. Polycarp was held in great esteem, and that he was the last witness of the Apostolic Age. That he was held in great esteem is attested by his visit to Rome to discuss ecclesiastical matters with Pope Anicetus, especially the problem of the date of celebration of Easter. It was in Rome where St. Polycarp apparently met Marcion. Marcion, it is claimed, asked St. Polycarp if he recognized him whereupon St. Polycarp is recorded as having replied: "I recognize you as the first-born of Satan."

St. Polycarp was born about 70, consecrated bishop before 110, and died probably in 155 or 156. What is historically important is that St. Irenaeus claims that St. Polycarp wrote many letters, letters to Christian communities as well as to fellow-bishops. But of these "many letters" only one has come down to us. Once again we find ourselves in the reality of history, in that encounter of an age now past in which there was a vibrant, living faith and a busy exchange of letters, the nature of which we shall never have knowledge. But it can be safely assumed that whatever the content of those lost letters they would in no way give us a full knowledge of that living Christian faith that was active and complete, that faith, which prompted those letters. It is the deposit, the delivered faith, the handed down tradition, which is the catalyst of the letters. But we do possess one letter — St. Polycarp’s Letter to the Philippians.

The Letter to the Philippians is very brief and, again, it is an occasional letter. About that original, living deposit and that tradition which has been delivered St. Polycarp writes, "Let us turn back to the word delivered to us from the beginning… this is what we believed." The context in which St. Polycarp appeals to "the word delivered to us from the beginning" is in opposition to "false brethren," in opposition to those "who bear in hypocrisy the name of the Lord, who deceive empty-headed people." St. Polycarp becomes more concrete: "For whoever does not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is Antichrist, and whoever does not confess the testimony of the Cross is of the devil, and whoever perverts the sayings of the Lord to suit his own lusts and says there is neither resurrection nor judgment — such a one is the first-born of Satan" (7). And part of that "word delivered to us from the beginning" is to "hold steadfastly and unceasingly" to Christ "our Hope and our Pledge — άρραβών of righteousness,” to Christ “who bore our sins in his own body on the Cross, who committed no sin, on whose lips no guile was found," to Christ who "for our sakes endured everything that we might live in him." As with St. Ignatius, St. Polycarp can speak of the deeds of the Christian life, of the "works," so to speak, of righteousness and simultaneously know that all grace initiates with God through Christ — χάριτι έστε σεσωσμένoι ουκ eξ έργων, αλλά θελήματι θεον, δια Ίησου Χριστου [Letter to Ephesians 2:8 ff.].

And what is St. Polycarp’s theology of Christ? He writes, "May God and the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the Eternal High Priest himself, the Son of God, Jesus Christ, build you up in faith and truth and in all gentleness" (12). This Christological statement is quite consonant with the understanding of Christ in the New Testament documents and with the definitions of the later Ecumenical Councils. St. Polycarp upholds the concrete humanity of Jesus, the Divinity of Jesus Christ, and his eternality.

The Martyrdom of St. Polycarp

The Letter of the Church of Smyrna to the Church of Philomelium — and "to all those of the holy and catholic Church everywhere — is an important document in early Christian literature. It was written shortly after St. Polycarp’s martyrdom in probably 156. It too is brief and an occasional letter. When asked by the Proconsul to renounce Christ, St. Polycarp’s reply is: "For eighty-six years, I have served Christ, neither has He ever done me any harm. How then could I blaspheme my King who has saved me — τόν βασιλέα μου τον σώσαντά μe (9)? It is St. Polycarp’s last prayer that is of prime importance here. If the prayer is not precisely, as St. Polycarp delivered it, then it may contain much of what he did say. What is certain is that it reflects the "mind of the Church" at Smyrna and hence its content is important: "O Lord, God Almighty, Father of Thy beloved and blessed Son Jesus Christ, through whom we have received the perfect knowledge of Thee, God of angels and powers and all creation and of the entire race of saints who live in Thy presence. I bless Thee because Thou hast found me worthy of this day and hour that I may participate with the number of the martyrs in the cup of Thy Christ in die resurrection to eternal life both in soul and in body by virtue of the immortality of the Holy Spirit. May I be received in Thy presence this day as a rich and pleasing sacrifice, just as Thou, the true God incapable of falsehood, hast prepared and revealed in advance and consummated. For this and for everything I bless Thee, I glorify Thee through the Eternal and Heavenly High Priest, Jesus Christ, Thy beloved Son, through whom be glory to Thee together with Him and the Holy Spirit, both now and unto the ages to come. Amen" (14). The Christological and Trinitarian nature of this prayer is unambiguous. God is the Creator of all things. Through Jesus Christ, who is eternal, a "perfect knowledge" of God the Father has been revealed. Immortality is a gift of the Holy Spirit, and that is a resurrection of both body and soul. Absent here is the Platonic idea of the immortality of the soul by nature — and this is precisely the Christian teaching: the soul is not, as the Platonists held, immortal by nature but rather immortal by grace, by the free will and merciful gift of God. Glory is given to God the Father, God the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.

One other aspect of this letter deserves brief comment. It is the first time that we encounter the "veneration of the saints" in a document of this type in the early Church. Polycarp, the "apostolic and prophetic teacher and bishop of the Catholic Church in Smyrna," is now "crowned with the wreath of immortality." "Many," who knew St. Polycarp wanted "to have fellowship with his holy flesh." This is not described or portrayed as a novelty but rather as that which would be expected, as something natural. Indeed, it is fortuitous that the context affords the writer of the letter an explanation. The authorities hesitated to give the remains of St. Polycarp’s corpse to the Christians precisely because "Niceties, the father of Herod and brother of Alee" pleaded with the authorities "not to give up his body, ‘else,’ he said, ‘they will abandon the Crucified and begin worshipping this one’." This prompts the author of the letter to write that the opposition was "ignorant that we can never forsake Christ, who suffered for the salvation of the entire world of those who are saved, the blameless one for the sinners, nor can we ever worship any other. For we worship only One as Son of God, while we deservedly love the martyrs as disciples and imitators of the Lord because of their unsurpassable devotion to their own King and Teacher." Out of love for the man and out of respect for the body, which suffered for the sake of Christ the Christians in Smyrna "took up his bones, more precious than costly stones and more valuable gold, and laid them away in a suitable place. There the Lord will permit us… to gather together in joy and gladness to celebrate the day of his martyrdom as a birthday, in memory of those athletes who have gone before, and for the training and preparation of those yet to walk in their steps." Love, respect, joy, gladness, celebration, remembrance and memorial, a physical but holy relic from the real body of a real martyr to be used as a spiritual focus to train and to prepare others — these are the elements that comprise the love of the early Christians for the bodies of the saints. St. Polycarp "was not only a noble teacher but also a distinguished martyr, whose martyrdom all desire to imitate as one according to the gospel of Christ"

The Didache

The Didache, known in Greek under two titles — Διδαχή των δώδεκα αποστόλων [The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles] and Διδαχή τον κνρίον δια των δωδεκα αποστόλων τοις έθνεσιν [The Teaching of the Lord to the Gentiles through the Twelve Apostles], was put into its present form between 70 and 150. Indeed, some parts of it may be the earliest records we possess of early Christianity. The Didache does not offer us much Christological insight but we precisely should not expect this of any document from the early Church. The Christology was known, was delivered, and hence was a part — rather the base — of the Christian faith. It is because knowledge of Christ is assumed that no document must feel compelled to write on the subject. The Didache does, however, refer to Jesus — in an interesting context (16) — as "God’s Son."

The document is in essence a moral exhortation, an ethical outline of certain Christian teachings, which lead to "the way of life," presentations of "what these maxims" of life, of Christianity teach. Presumed is the foundation of the faith, the corner-stone, Christ, without whom there could be no Christian faith, for it is Christ who has revealed God’s saving will (10:2): ενχαριστουμέν σοι, πάτep αγιε, υπέρ τον αγίου ονόματος σου, ον κατεσκήνωσας εv ταις καρδίας ημών και υπέρ της γνώσεως και πίστεως αι αθανασίας, ης έγνώρισας ημιν δια Ίησου του παιδος σου. To walk in the "way of life" rather than the "way of death" the Christian sacraments are thought to be necessary. The Eucharist is a real sacrifice — θυσία — and it is referred to as spiritual food and drink — πνενματίκή τροφή και ποτόν. Only those who have been baptized are permitted "to eat and drink of the Eucharist, which is considered "holy." The Christological nature of the Eucharist is assumed, "We give thanks to Thee, our Father, for the Holy Vine of David, Thy child, which you have revealed through Jesus, your child… We give thanks to Thee, our Father, for the life and knowledge, which you have revealed through Jesus, your child." That there is no direct reference to the body and blood of Christ is not surprising, for again it must be emphasized that the early Christians certainly knew that the "cup" referred to the blood of Christ and that the bread — the broken bread, κλάσμα — referred to the body of Christ. Through the broken bread, the body of Christ, Jesus has “revealed” a certain and specific “life and knowledge" which is contextually clearly new. Elsewhere the author declares that "through Jesus" "knowledge and faith and immortality" have been "revealed." In contrast to the "food and drink" that God has given mankind, the author specifies "but to us you have given spiritual food and drink and eternal life through Jesus, your child." In context the "spiritual food and drink" is linked with "immortality." And in this sense, the idea is quite similar to St. Ignatius’ description of the Eucharist as "the medicine of immortality." Confession is required before partaking of the Eucharist. The inner connection between the Eucharist and Baptism is clear. Baptism is not just Christological but Trinitarian. Twice the author speaks of the Trinitarian nature of Baptism. "Now about baptism: this is how to baptize. Give public instruction on all these points, and then baptize in running water ‘in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.’ If you do not have running water, baptize in some other. If you cannot be in cold, then be in warm. If you have neither, then pour water on the head three times ‘in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.’ "

As in all early Christian literature, The Didache warns against the twisting of the faith, against false prophets — ψευδοπροφήτης. “Multitudes of false prophets and seducers will appear. Sheep will turn into wolves and love into hatred" (16. The preservation of the faith as it was received is stressed: "You must not forsake ‘the Lord’s commandments’, but Observe’ the ones you have been given, ‘neither adding nor subtracting anything.’ " This is the seriousness of the faith that they have received, the foundation of which is Jesus Christ. They must always be on guard against false teachers and, as is implied, false documents masquerading as Christian.

The Oldest Extant Christian Homily.

The oldest extant Christian homily has come down to us as The Second Letter of Clement. That it was not written by St. Clement of Rome is certain and even the ancients did not accept it as such. St. Jerome in his De viris illustribus (15) writes "that a second letter under Clement’s name circulates, but the men of antiquity did not acknowledge this as such." Eusebius in his Εκκλησιαστική Ιστορία (3, 38, and 4) informs us that there is "a second letter attributed to Clement but we do not have the same confidence of its acceptance as the other. We are not even certain if the ancient writers used it." Of all the scholarly conjectures on the origin, only two have much of a force. One view, shared by Lightfoot, Kruger, and Funk, is that it originated in Corinth. Another view, which has valid considerations, is that it originated in Alexandria. Harnack’s argument that it was a letter of Pope Soter (165-173) to the Church at Corinth is not well-founded. Where the homily originated is not an important issue — it is its content that is important. All that can safely be said of this valuable document is that it is a homily, not a letter, and that it was probably delivered in the first half of the second century. If it is a homily given in Corinth, then its connection with St. Clement’s Letter to the Corinthians is understandable but the textual linking of the two could have taken place in Alexandria also. It is known that it was included among the Scriptures by the Syrian Church. Whether this homily was delivered in 120, 130 or 150 is not important. What is important is that it is early, that it is a homily, and that it gained a good reputation in the early Church.

As a homily, it provides us with a glimpse of what the early Church preached to its flock. Here, on one occasion we encounter what was the reality of the early Church — that the Church knew its faith. In the course of the homily (14) the speaker reveals this when he says: "I do not suppose that you are ignorant that the living ‘Church is the body of Christ.’ " Explicit here is the fact that there was a body of truth once delivered, which the faithful knew. Although there is no necessity for the speaker to discuss Christology, the fact that there is mention of Christology is nothing more than the preacher’s occasional comments, comments, which whether spoken — or written in documents — were the very foundation of the Church. Christ is the "author of incorruptibility" — αρχηγός της αφθαρσίας, he has “willed our existence from nothing,” he has given us “light” and has “rescued us” from perishing. He took pity on us and “in his tenderness” he “willed to save that which was perishing." There is "no hope of salvation unless it comes" from Christ. Through Christ we "have come to know the Father of truth" and we must "think of Christ as God." Christ the Lord, who "saved us," "became flesh." The "living Church is the body of Christ," it has "existed from the beginning," and "was made manifest in the flesh of Christ." The Church, the "body of Christ" — if we participate in it through "the Holy Spirit" — will bring us to eternal life.

The essence of this homily is precisely what one would expect of a homily — a call to repentance and Christian living. We are urged to guard, to protect our baptismal gift, for baptism is the seal — σφραγίς — of our new life in Christ. Redemption has come. Man no longer must die. A totality of new life has come in Jesus Christ, new life here on earth through the reality of the Church, Christ’s body, and new life for eternity. "Our whole life was nothing else but death… we were encompassed in darkness and our eyes were full of great mist." But redemption has now been given by God, in Jesus Christ, and through the Holy Spirit. The objective reality of redemption is presented in brief glimpse, is ejected into the homily; and then, the emphasis as consonant with the essence of a homily is how we participate in this objective reality of redemption. We must "acknowledge him through whom we are saved" by our actions, by repentance and by living a "holy and upright life." The spiritual life is a contest, a struggle, a warfare and only those "who have struggled hard and competed well" will gain the victory of eternal life. "So while we are on earth, let us repent." "While we have an opportunity to be healed, let us give ourselves over to God, the physician… How? By repenting with a sincere heart" "Let us do the will of the Father who called us, so that we may have life." There is no pretension of superior spiritual life on the part of the preacher: "I too am a grave sinner and have not yet escaped temptation. I am still surrounded by the devil’s devices. But I am anxious to pursue righteousness. My aim is to manage at least to approach it." Here, is expressed that dynamic spiritual life so common in early Christianity — the spiritual life is a process, it is one in which intent, desire, and continual striving play a necessary, existential role in the ongoing path to salvation.

Much has been made about the fact that the preacher of this homily quotes a few times from the Gospel of the Egyptians. What must not be lost sight of is the fact that the quotations from the Gospel of the Egyptians are in essence the same as those found in the canonical Gospels. The quotations are consonant with the original deposit, with the tradition of the Church and not at variance with anything in the kerygmatic deposit.

The Letter of Barnabas

The Letter of Barnabas was in all probability not written by Barnabas, the disciple of St. Paul, whose name, originally Joseph, was given to him and, according to the Acts of the Apostles (4:36), means the "son of consolation" — υιος παρακλήσεως. What can be said concerning The Letter of Barnabas is that it was written between 70 and 138 and hence is one of the older documents of early Christianity. Regardless of what one thinks about his allegorical interpretation of the Old Testament, the fact remains that this letter was held in high esteem in the early Church. In the Codex Sinaiticus from the fourth century it is considered canonical. Origen refers to it as a catholic epistle — καθολική επιστολή. Eusebius in his Εκκλησιαστική Ιστορία refers to it first as spurious (3, 25) — εν τοισ νόθοις… ή φερομένη Βαρνάβα επιστολή — and then as doubtful — αντιλεγόμενα. Jerome in his De viris illustribus (6) considered it apocryphal — inter apocryphas scripturas. Still, the fact remains that it was highly regarded and used often — Clement of Alexandria quotes from it frequently.

The author stresses that he is not addressing anyone as a teacher but as one with them — ούχ ώς διδάσκαλος, άλλα ώς εις έξ υμών and πολλά θέλων γράφειν, ούχ ως διδάσκαλος. The central theological focus of the letter is the “New Law of our Lord Jesus Christ” — ό καινός νόμος τον Κυρίου ημών. It is a law without coercion — αvευ ζυγου άνάγκης ων — and it is a Sacrifice not made by human hands. "It is necessary for us to inquire very carefully into this matter of our salvation."

Christ is the "Lord of all the earth, to whom at the foundation of the world God said ‘Let us make man in our image and likeness.’ For the Scripture says concerning us, when [God the Father] speaks to the Son, Let us make man in our image and likeness’" (5, 5; 6, 11). Not only is the pre-existence of Christ taught but also his divine creative activity. And he will come again as Judge in divine omnipotence (15, 5).

He "manifested himself as the Son of God" in a non-Docetic sense: "the Son of God came in the flesh… He was about to be manifested and to suffer in the flesh." "The Son of God suffered that by his suffering he might win life for us. Let us believe that the Son of God could not have suffered except for our sakes." the Lord "delivered his body" to corruption and death with the purpose "of sanctifying us by the remission of our sins," with the purpose "of destroying death." He embraced his Passion "willingly" and through his redemptive work has made us "completely new," as though he had recreated us, "for you and I have actually been made completely new creatures." We have "entered into new life."

The Letter of Diognetus.

The Epistula ad Diognetum has been one of the puzzles of early Christian documents. It is in the form of a letter to a highly placed pagan, Diognetus. Nothing is known of the author and scholars have exercised much creativity in attempting to ascribe it to someone. In its present form it could very well be the work of two writers, Quadratus and Hippolytus. Authorship is not the important issue but rather content. The letter has been praised by many scholars as the single, most impressive document of early Christianity. It was written probably between 120 and 150.

Unlike the literature, which sprang from within the Christian Church to other Christians, this letter is written to a pagan. Hence, one would expect that distinctive doctrines of the Christian faith would be mentioned. And we are not disappointed. The heart of Christian faith is spoken: "It is not an earthly discovery that was committed [to the Christians]; it is not a mortal thought that they think of a worth guarding with such care; it is not merely human mysteries with, which they have been entrusted. On the contrary, it was really the Ruler of all, the Creator of all, the Invisible God himself, who from heaven established the truth and the holy, incomprehensible word among men, and fixed it firmly in their hearts. And, as might be assumed, he did not do this by sending to men some subordinate — an angel, or a principality, or one of those to whom the government of things in heaven is entrusted. Rather, he sent the Designer and Maker of the universe himself, by whom he created the heavens and confined the sea within its own bounds — him whose hidden purposes are carried out by all the elements of the world faithfully… He sent him by whom all things have been set in order and distinguished and placed in subjection… God sent him to men... He sent him out of kindness and gentleness... He sent him as God; he sent him as man to men. He willed to save man by persuasion, not by compulsion, for compulsion is not God’s way of working… he sent him in love, not in judgment. Yet he will indeed send him someday as our Judge… And when he had planned a great and unutterable design, he communicated it to his Child alone… he revealed it through his beloved Child and made known the things that had been prepared from the beginning… He had planned everything by himself in union with his Child… Then, when we had proven ourselves incapable of entering the Kingdom of God by our own efforts, the power of God made it possible for us to do so… O, the overflowing kindness and love of God toward man! God did not hate us or drive us away or bear us ill will. Rather, he was long-suffering and forbearing. In his mercy, he took up the burden of our sins. He himself gave up his own Son as a ransom for us — the Holy One for the unholy, the Innocent One for the guilty, the Righteous One for the unrighteous, the Incorruptible One for the corruptible, the Immortal One for the mortal. For what else could cover our sins except his righteousness? In whom could we, lawless and impious as we were, be made holy except in the Son of God alone? O, most sweet exchange! O, unfathomable work of God! O, blessings beyond expectation! The sinfullness of many is hidden in the One Holy and the holiness of One sanctifies the countless sinners… He sent his Only-Begotten Son… he showed the Saviour’s power to save even the powerless with the intention that… we should have faith in his goodness and look on him as Nourisher, Father, Teacher, Counselor, Healer, Mind, Light, Honour, Glory, Might, Life."

After this brief presentation of the Christian teaching of the redemptive work of Christ, the author turns to the subject of how one acquires, of how one appropriates, of how one takes hold of this faith. "If you too yearn for this faith, then first of all you must acquire full knowledge of the Father… And once you have acquired this knowledge, think with what joy you will be filled! Think how you will love him, who first loved you so! And when you love him, you will be an imitator of his goodness." Once again we encounter the "imitation of Christ," the constant motif in early Christian literature. "And do not be surprised to hear that a man can become an imitator of God. He can because God wills it."

St. Justin the Martyr.

St. Justin was born about 100 to 110 in Flavia Neapolis, the former Shechem in Palestinian Samaria and the present Nablus. The old city of Shechem had been razed to the ground by Vespasian in the Jewish war and rebuilt as the Graeco-Roman city of Flavia Neapolis. He tells us in his Dialogue with Trypho that he was a pagan in quest of truth, that he first was a Stoic, then a Peripatetic, and then a Pythagorean. He was deeply influenced by Plato when, according to his account in his Dialogue with Trypho (8), he had a discussion with an old man who gave him convincing reasons that Platonism could never strike to the heart of man and brought St. Justin’s attention to the Prophets. "When he had spoken these and many other things… he went away, suggesting that I pay attention to this. I have not seen him since then. But at once a flame was kindled in my soul and developed into a love of the prophets and of those men who are friends of Christ. I found this philosophy alone to be safe and profitable."

His conversion to Christianity might have taken place in Ephesus. Thereafter he spent the rest of his life explicating and defending the Christian faith, wearing always, as did Aristides, Athenagoras, Tertullian and other Apostolic Fathers, his philosopher’s cloak — τρίβώνιον or pallium, a threadbare cloak worn by philosophers and later by monks as a sign of severe study or austere life. During the reign of Antoninus Pius (138-161) St. Justin came to Rome and established a school there. St. Justin was beheaded probably in 165. The account of his death in the Martyriwn S. Justini et Sociorum is based on the official court transcript when Junius Rusticus was prefect (163-167) during the reign of Emperor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, the Stoic philosopher. The sentence pronounced against St. Justin and six other Christians reads: "Let those who will not sacrifice to the gods and yield to the command of the Emperor be scourged and led away to be beheaded in accordance with the law."

St. Justin wrote prolifically but only three of his works have come down to us — his two Apologies (which may be one work) and his Dialogue with Trypho, the oldest extant apology Against the Jews. We possess only fragments — often only a title — of the other works written by St. Jus tin. One book, to which he himself refers in his First Apology (26), was written against "all heresies" — Liber contra Omnes Haereses. Another, mentioned by Eusebius (4, 11) and used by St. Irenaeus, was in opposition to Marcion — Adversus Marcionem. Eusebius claims that St. Justin wrote a Psalter, of which nothing remains. He also wrote a Discourse against the Greeks, A Confutation (to the Greeks), On the Soul, On the Sovereignty of God, and On the Resurrection. Three substantial fragments of the latter were preserved in St. John Damascene’s Sacra Parallela. Several works have been attributed to St. Justin which most probably were not written by him — Cohortatio ad Graecos, Oratio ad Graecos, De Monarchia, Quaestiones et Responsiones ad Orthodoxos, Quaestiones Christianorum ad Gentiles, Quaestiones Graecorum ad Christianos, Confutatio Dogmatum Quorumdam Aristotelicorum, Expositio Fidei seu De Trinitate and Epistola ad Zenam et Serenum.

St. Justin is in dialogue with the pagan thinkers and hence it would be expected that he would touch upon most of the teachings of the Christian faith, unlike the earlier Christian documents, which were written within the Christian community and assumed knowledge of the faith on the part of the reader. St. Justin presents Christianity as a philosophy, as a reality of thought that embraces all of life and death, as the reality of philosophy. In his First Apology (5) he writes that the Logos "took form and became man, and was called Jesus Christ" The "truest God" is the "Father of righteousness," the "unbegotten and impassible God." Christians worship and adore him "and the Son who came from him… and the prophetic Spirit" (6). The Logos is Divine (10), "begotten by God" (12).

The historical Jesus is emphasized: "It is Jesus Christ who has taught us these things. He was born for this purpose and was crucified under Pontius Pilate, who was procurator in Judea in the time of Tiberius Caesar" (13). "Christ was born one hundred and fifty years ago under Quirinius, and taught what we say he taught still later, under Pontius Pilate" (46). He is "the Son of the true God himself… in the second place and the prophetic Spirit in the third rank." We follow the "only Unbegotten God through his Son," who "was begotten by God as the Logos of God in a unique manner beyond ordinary birth… he was "born of a virgin… he came among men as man… he was crucified" and "his passion" is "unique." He is God’s offspring (21) — γέννημα. “Jesus Christ alone was really begotten as Son of God, being his Logos and First-Begotten and Power, and becoming man by his will... for the reconciliation and restoration of the human race" (22-23).

St. Justin sharply denies that "Christ was a man, of human origin [who only] appeared to be God’s Son" (30). He is not only really called the Son of God but really is the Son of God (31). Christ is "the First-Begotten of God," the "First-Begotten of the Unbegotten God" (46 and 52) and is the Logos "of which every race of man partakes" (46). "For those who identify the Son and the Father are condemned, as neither knowing the Father nor recognizing that the Father of the universe has a Son, who being the Logos and the First-Begotten of God is also Divine.

In reference to baptism St. Justin writes, "They are brought by us where there is water and are made new — κοινοποιηθέντες — by the same manner of rebirth by, which we ourselves were made new, for they are then washed in the water in the name of God the Father and Master of all, and of our Saviour Jesus Christ, and of the Holy Spirit" (61). Baptism, he writes in his Dialogue with Trypho (19) is the washing for the remission of sins and unto regeneration can allow us the possibility of becoming perfect — τέλειον γίνεσθαι (Dialogue with Trypho, 8). In reference to the Eucharist St. Justin writes that "praise and glory" is given "to the Father of the universe through the name of the Son and of the Holy Spirit" (65). "This food we call Eucharist, of which no one is allowed to partake except one who believes that the things we teach are true, and has received baptism for forgiveness of sins and for rebirth, and who lives as Christ handed down to us, for we do not receive these things as common bread or common drink. But as Jesus Christ our Saviour being incarnate by God’s word took flesh and blood for our salvation, so also we have been taught that the food consecrated by the word of prayer, which comes from him, from which, our flesh and blood are nourished by transformation — κατά μεταβολής is the flesh and blood of that incarnate Jesus” (66). At the end of a service, they "bless the Maker of all things through his Son Jesus Christ and through the Holy Spirit" (67). It is significant that when St. Justin is discussing Christian worship, he writes that a sermon is delivered. Here, again we confront the communication within the Christian community and the content of the sermon is precisely the same as we have observed in the earlier Christian documents — it "urges and invites us to the imitation of these noble things" (67). This is precisely the living Christian faith, the life of active Christian striving, and the ethical and moral dimension of Christian teaching.

In his Second Apology (which may be a part of the First Apology) St. Justin declares that "to the Father of all, who is Unbegotten, no name is given… the words Father, and God, and Creator, and Lord, and Master, are not names but appellations coming from the goodness of his deeds and activity" (6). "And his Son, who alone is properly called Son, the Logos, who also was with him and was Begotten before he created and arranged all things by him, is called Christ because of his being anointed and because of God’s ordering all things through him" "But ‘Jesus’, his name as man and Saviour, also has significance, for he became man also" (6). "Christ… became the whole rational being, both body, and reason, and soul" (10). Christ is the "power of the ineffable Father and not the mere instrument of human reason" (10). Together with God the Father Christians "worship and love the Logos who is from the Unbegotten and Ineffable God and became man for our sakes so that, in becoming a partaker of our sufferings, he might also bring us healing" (13).

St. Justin has much to say about the nature of Christ in his lengthy Dialogue with Trypho. In brief, however, he writes (128) that "Christ is Lord and God, the Son of God" and Christ it is who brings the gospel from the Father to men but he "remains indivisibly and inseparably" with the Father. He is "begotten from the Father" with no division in the essence of the Father" and yet he is "numerically distinct" — και αριθμώ έτερον. He is the Only-Begotten Son (105) — ό μονογενής.

Athenagoras of Athens.

Athenagoras of Athens, the most lucid and eloquent writer among the Apologists, was most probably a pagan who converted to Christianity. Bossuet considered him the author "of one of the finest and earliest Apologies of the Christian religion." Almost nothing is known of his life except that he was an Athenian and considered himself "a Christian philosopher." St. Photius held that he was the same Athenagoras to whom Boethos, the Platonist, dedicated his work On Difficult Expressions in Plato (Bibl. Cod. 154 f.). He is mentioned by Methodius in De resurrectione (I, 36) and by Philip Sidetes in his lengthy Χριστιανική Ιστορία. About 177 Athenagoras wrote his Plea Regarding Christians — πρεσβεία περι των χριστιανών. Α second work, On the Resurrection of the Dead — περί αναστάσεως νεκρών — has been attributed to him and he was most probably the author.

Athenagoras is the first to write so penetratingly about the unity of God. "All philosophers, then, even if unwillingly, reach complete agreement about the unity of God when they come to inquire into the first principles of the universe" (7). God is "uncreated" and "eternal" (6). God is "uncreated, impassible, and indivisible. He does not therefore consist of parts" (8). God is the "Creator" (8). "I have sufficiently shown that we are not atheists since we acknowledge one God, who is uncreated, eternal, invisible, impassible, incomprehensible, and illimitable. He is grasped only by mind and intelligence, and surrounded by light, beauty, spirit, and indescribable power. By him, the universe was created through his Logos, was set in order, and is held together… Let no one think it stupid for me to say that God has a Son, for we do not think of God the Father or of the Son in the way of poets… But the Son of God is his Logos in idea and in actuality — εν ίδέα και ενεργεία. For by him and through him all things were made, the Father and the Son being one. And since the Son is in the Father and the Father in the son by the unity and power of the Spirit, the Son of God is the mind and Logos — νους και λόγος — of the Father” (10). The Son is “the first offspring of the Father. I mean that he did not come into being — ουχ ως γενόμενον, for, since God is eternal mind, he had his Logos within himself from the beginning, being eternally logical — άιδίως λογικός. Indeed, we say that the Holy Spirit himself, who inspires those who utter prophecies, is an effluence — άπόρροιαν — from God, flowing from him and returning like a ray of the sun. Who, then, would not be astonished to hear those called atheists who admit God the Father, God the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and who teach their unity in power and their distinction in rank? — την εν τη τάξει διαίρεσιν (10). Christians “are guided by this alone — to know the true God and his Logos, to know the unity of the Father with the Son, the fellowship of the Father with the Son, what the Spirit is, what union — ένωσις — exists between these three, the Spirit, the Son, and the Father, and what is their distinction — διαίρεσις — in union” (12).

Tatian the Syrian.

Tatian the Syrian’s conversion from paganism to Christianity is similar to a certain extent with that of St. Justin, who became Tatian’s teacher in Rome. Tatian found in Christianity the only true philosophy. Unlike St. Justin, who sees elements of truth throughout the world and in all cultures, Tatian has a narrow view of Christianity, — indeed, he despises all "culture," anything that is not Christian. His tendency for extremism has more in common with Tertullian than with his teacher, St. Justin, whom he calls a "most admirable man" — θαυμασιώτατος. He was probably born in Eastern Syria about 120. Nothing is known about his death. He broke with the Church and became the founder of a sect called the Encratites — έγκρατέις έγκρατηταί, έγκρατιται (“self-controlism”), a sect, which rejected marriage as a form of adultery, as a service to the devil. St. Irenaeus tells us that Tatian "apostatized" after the martyrdom of St. Justin and that, "puffed up with conceit," he fell into Gnostic heresy little different than that of Valentinus and, like Marcion and Saturninus, taught that marriage was corrupt (St. Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, 28). The Encratites survived well into the fifth century. They condemned the eating of any meat and the drinking of any wine. Because of their attitude toward wine they substituted water for wine in the Eucharist and were, accordingly, also known as the "Aquarii" and the "Hydroparastatae" — ύδροπαραστάται. The term “Encratites” was later used to refer to all Gnostic ascetic groups — the Manichees used this term for themselves. This practice of using water instead of wine in the Eucharist was condemned by Clement of Alexandria, Cyprian, and St. John Chrysostom — it was prohibited in 382 by Emperor Theodosius.

Two of Tatian’s works have come down to us — his Oration or Discourse to the Greeks and his "harmony" of the Gospels, his "out of four" or Diatessaron — το δια τεσσάρων εύαγγέλιον. Tatian’s Diatessaron was used in the liturgy of the Syrian Church for a long time, at least up to the fifth century when it was replaced by the four canonical Gospels. Tatian most probably wrote it originally in Greek; it was then translated into Syrian. Excavations at Dura Europos in Syria in 1934 uncovered a fourteen line fragment of the Greek text. The entire text can be reconstructed from the versions that exist in Latin, Arabic, and Franconian. St. Ephraem the Syrian wrote a commentary on the Diatessaron, which is extant in an Armenian translation. In these two extant works, there is not much of a trace of Gnosticism.

Christianity is a philosophy for Tatian — ή ημετέρα φιλοσοφία (31); ol βουλόμενοι φιλοσοφείν παρ ‘ήμιν άνθρωποι — but a philosophy with doctrines, with dogmas — δόγματα. God is the necessary foundation — ύπόστασις — of all being. No creature had as yet come into being. The Logos is not separate from God but belongs to God, is in God by essence. "He was all power, the necessary foundation of all things visible and invisible, with him were all things. The Logos himself was with him by the power of the Logos, was in him. And by his simple will the Logos issues forth. And the Logos, not issuing forth in vain, becomes the First-Begotten work of the Father. We know the Logos to be the beginning [or source] of the cosmos. But the Logos came into being by participation, not by abscission, for what is cut off is separated from the original but that which comes by participation… does not make him deficient from whom it is taken. For just as from one torch many fires are lighted but the light of the first torch is not lessened by the kindling of many torches, so the Logos, issuing forth from the logical power of the Father, has not divested of the logical power him who begat him" (5).

God is "ineffable," "perfect," "in need of nothing," "without beginning," but "the beginning of all things." He is "invisible," "impalpable," and the creator of all things (4). Matter is "brought into existence" by God (5). He will "resurrect" our bodies after "the consummation of all things" but "not as the Stoics affirm" with their "return of certain cycles, the same things being produced and destroyed for no useful purpose." Rather, the Christian resurrection is a "resurrection once for all" at which time "judgment" will be passed by "the Creator, God himself (6). From nothingness, we have come into existence. We shall die but "shall exist again" in a restored body. The Logos, "in imitation of the Father from whom he is Begotten, made man an image of immortality" so that man, participating in the Divine, might have immortality (7).

That Tatian was an extremist, that he left the Church to establish a "purer" form of Christianity seems indisputable. But to judge Tatian’s theology from his sole surviving theological work, his Discourse to the Greeks, is incorrect, unfair, and indeed impossible, precisely because this work is a very specific work, a very different work from all other early Christian documents. He has a special task to accomplish in this work and that he does extraordinarily well. His task is not to present Christian doctrine — indeed, he touches on the nature of God, on the Logos, on the Spirit, on the depth of created freedom, on the resurrection of the body and the immortality of the soul by grace, on the meaning of time and death, and on the coming judgment. But he touches on these subjects only parenthetically and only in relationship to his on-going commentary, which has a completely different purpose than the "Apologies" of other early Christians. Tatian is engaged in a heated dispute with not only pagan Greek philosophy but also with all of pagan Greek culture. His knowledge of his subject is impressive. Indeed, Tatian’s work is a rich source for knowledge of all phases of pagan Greek culture — it is a penetrating look at all aspects of that life, culture, and society. One feels oneself present, one obtains an insider’s glimpse into this society — its philosophy, its religious beliefs and practices, its laws, its literature, its insider gossip, its ranging attitudes, its public amusements, and its scandals. Herein is its uniqueness. And Tatian, though it is not necessary, tells us that this is an insider’s view: "The things I have thus set before you I have not learned at second hand. I have visited many lands. I have followed rhetoric, like you. I have been captivated by many arts… I wish to give you a distinct account of what I have seen and felt myself" (35).

Tatian does not explicate the Christian faith except on occasion. He is in dialogue. Indeed, it appears he is in dialogue with persons whom he knows. His main objective is to prepare them that the "barbarian" philosophy, which he has accepted, Christianity, should be given a hearing, especially in light of the fact that their entire culture is far inferior to this "barbaric" philosophy at which they scoff without knowing it. His logistical approach is to strike a serious blow to their entire culture so that they may be somewhat incapacitated, somewhat immobilized. And he strikes his blow in all directions and with that insider’s knowledge, which may cause them to reflect, that may cause them to wonder how Tatian, once one of them, has now found what he considers to be far superior, to be truth itself. In one instance, Tatian compares quickly: "One of you asserts that God is body, but I assert that He is without body. You assert that the world is indestructible, but I assert that it is to be destroyed. You assert that a conflagration will take place at various times, but I assert that it will come to pass once for all. You assert that Minos and Rhadamanthus are judges, but I assert that God himself is Judge. You assert that the soul alone is endowed with immortality, but I assert that the flesh also is endowed with it" (25). "The soul is not in itself immortal, Ο Greeks, but mortal. Yet it is possible for the soul not to die” (13).

Tatian admits that he has neglected to speak of the doctrines of Christianity in order "to discuss matters that demanded more immediate attention." He then immediately writes that "it is time I should attempt to speak concerning the doctrines [of Christianity]" (35) but then falls immediately back into his commentary on the total dimensions of Greek pagan culture. By his closing words, it appears that he intended to present himself to them, and at that time to discuss and to be examined on the teachings of Christianity: "Knowing who God is and what is his work, I present myself to you prepared for an examination concerning my doctrines" (42).

Those who expect to find a Christian theology miss the entire essence of this work. There is no mention of Christology except in the brief passages quoted above on the nature of God and the Logos. There is no mention or theology of the human and Divine nature of Christ precisely because the nature of this work does not require it. In his dialogue with the Greeks about their philosophy, religion, and culture, it is appropriate to speak briefly about the nature of God, of time, of the Logos. These are references to which they can relate. But if he began to present the deposit, the kerygma, the apostolic teaching, then that would be counterproductive. He has laid groundwork for future discussion and a mightily interesting one. No more can be expected from this fascinating work that allows us a first hand look into the wide-ranging aspects of Greek pagan society and life.

Serious judgment of Tatian’s theology from this work must be withheld. Indeed, there may be expressions at times, which can be interpreted in more than one way. But Tatian is writing a deeply personal and impassioned critique and does not intend to present his theology of the faith in any detail. He is not writing to a Christian community, he is not writing a traditional "apology" To the Pagans. Rather, he is engaged in a personal critique and intends to present himself for examination on Christian doctrines. Those who judge him or dismiss him on the basis of this work have missed the whole point of his critique. That he in essence says nothing about Christ becomes meaningless in context. That he was concerned about Christ, that he was focused on Christ becomes clear from his work on the Gospels. If he had no interest in the historical Christ would he have expended so much time to produce his "harmony" of the Gospels? But even in this work, Tatian does mention the Incarnation: "We do not act as fools, Ο Greeks, neither utter idle tales when we announce that God was born in the form of a man — εν άνθρωπου μορφή γεγονέναι. Ι call on you, who reproach us to compare your mythical accounts with our narrations" (21).

So he later fell as a prey to schism, and heretical ideas are not disputed. So did Tertullian and yet what Tertullian wrote on Christology and the Trinity remained a precious part of Church literature and the beginning of Latin theological expressions that obtained in the Latin Church.

Theophilus of Antioch.

Eusebius in his Εκκλησιαστική Ιστορία (4, 20) informs us that Theophilus was the sixth bishop of Antioch, after Peter, Evodius, Ignatius, Heron, Cornelius, and Eros. St. Peter, although in the list, is not considered a bishop but an apostle. It is clear from his writings that he was born of pagan parents near the Euphrates and that he received a typically Hellenistic education. It was only later in life that he studied the Scriptures of the Church seriously and then became a convert. All we know about his dates is that he flourished around 180.

He wrote works against Marcion and Hermogenes, catechetical lectures, commentaries on Proverbs and the Gospels, a historical work known to us only from his own references to it — περι ιστορίων, and a harmony of the Gospels. But the only work that has come down to us is his Ad Autolycum in three books.

Theophilus’ Ad Autolycum is an important work of early Christian literature. He is the first writer — from whom we have extant documents — to be explicit on a few important areas concerning Christianity. He is the first to write explicitly that the evangelists are θεοφόρητοι — divinely inspired as were the prophets (2, 22) and that St. Paul’s Letter to Romans and the work of/ Timothy are considered "the divine word" — διδάσκει ημάς ό θείος λόγος (3, 14). He is the first to use the word τρίας — Trinity — for the union of the three divine persons: “the three days, which were before the luminaries are types of the Trinity — τριάδος — of God and His Word and His Wisdom” (2, 15). Here, Theophilus uses the word Wisdom — σοφία — to refer to the Holy Spirit. But elsewhere he refers σοφία to the Son (2, 10). Theophilus is also the first to distinguish between the Logos ένδιάθετος and the Logos προφορικός — the Logos internal or immanent in God and the Logos uttered or emitted by God, a distinction in a terminology, which will have an important role to play in the explication of later Trinitarian thought.

The knowledge of God was revealed in the past by the prophets and is fulfilled and contained in the Gospel — και γαρ εγώ ήπίστουν τούτο εσεσθαι, αλλά νυν κατανόησας αυτά πιστεύω, άμα και επιτυχών ιεραις γραφαις των αγίων προφητών, οι και προειπον δια πνεύματος θεού τα προγεγονότα ώ τρόπω γέγονεν και τα ενεστώτα τίνι τρόπω γίνεται, και τα επερχόμενα ποία τάξει άπαρτισθήσεται. άπόδειξιν ούν λαβών των γινομένων και προαναπεφωνημένων ουκ απιστώ (Ι, 14). But Revelation is necessary precisely because the wisdom of the philosophers and poets is wisdom inspired by demonic forces (II, 8).

God is "ineffable," "indescribable," "incapable of being seen by the eyes of flesh," "incomprehensible," "unfathomable," "inconceivable," "without being," "unbegotten," "unchangeable," and "eternal" (I, 3). "For if I say He is Light, I name but his own work. If I call him Logos, I name but his sovereignty. If I call him Mind, I speak but of his Wisdom. If I say he is Spirit, I speak of his breath. If I call him Wisdom, I speak of his offspring. If I call him Strength, I speak of his power. If I call him Power, I speak of his activity. If I call him Providence, I speak of his goodness. If I call him Kingdom, I but mention his glory. If I call him Lord, I speak of him as Judge. If I call him Judge, I speak of him as being just. If I call him Father, I speak of all things as coming from him" (I, 3).

God is Creator, not a "Fashioner" of primeval matter. "Plato and those of his school acknowledge indeed that God is uncreated, and the Father and Maker of all things. But then they maintain that matter as well as God in uncreated and claim that it is coexistent with God. But if God is uncreated and matter uncreated, God is no longer, according to the Platonists, the Creator of all things, nor, according to their opinions, is the monarchy of God established… If matter too were uncreated, it also would be unalterable and equal to God, for that which is created is mutable and alterable but that which is uncreated is immutable and unalterable. And what great thing is it if God made the world out of existent materials? For even a human artist, when he gets material from some one, makes of it what he pleases. But the power of God is manifested in this, that out of the things that are not he makes whatever he pleases… out of things that are not he creates and has created things that are" (II, 4).

God, then, "having his own Logos internal — ένδιάθετον — begat him, emitting — προφορικός — him along with his own Wisdom before all things” (II, 10). “When God willed to make all that, he determined, he begot his Logos, uttered — προφορικοί — the First-Born of all creation, not himself being emptied of the Logos but having begotten the Logos and always conversing with the Logos" (II, 22).

It must be kept in mind that Theophilus is addressing only those questions raised by Autolycus — the invisibility of the Christian God, the faith in the resurrection, the name of Christian, and the question of the alleged inferiority of Christian Scripture to Greek philosophy and literature. The very nature of this work precludes a presentation of the entirety of the Christian faith. Theophilus addresses only those issues in common. It must not be forgotten that Theophilus was a bishop and that he wrote other works, which intrinsically would have dealt with the original deposit, with that which had been handed down.

Melito of Sardis.

Melito, bishop of Sardis in Lydia, was well-respected by his contemporaries. He flourished during the reign of Emperor Marcus Aurelius (161-180). Polycrates of Ephesus in a letter to Pope Victor (189-199) on the controversy over the date of Easter refers to Melito as one of the "great lights" of Asia. Very little is known of his life but he wrote prolifically, according to the list of his works given by Eusebius. Until recently, only fragments of some of his works had come down to us. He wrote an Apology on behalf of the Christians to Emperor Marcus Aurelius and more than twenty other works: On God Incarnate, On the Incarnation of Christ, On Christian Life and the Prophets, On the Church, On Hospitality, On Prophecy, On the Revelation of St. John, On Baptism, On Truth, On Faith and Christ’s Birth, On the Devil, On the Senses, On Creation, On the Lord’s Day, On the Faith of Man, On the Obedience of Faith, On the Soul and Body, two books On the Passover, and six books On the Law and Prophets, which contains the oldest list of the canonical books of the Old Testament — the preface of this is preserved by Eusebius. But until recently, only fragments of some of these works had come down to us.

His Homily on the Passion has been discovered in an almost complete form — εις τόπάθος. It is a powerful sermon written in a rich, rhythmic style that has an almost hypnotic aspect to it. The central theme is Christ’s destruction of death, the “slayer of man.” This theological hymn to the mystery of salvation emphasizes the Divinity and pre-existence of Christ. Christ is referred to as "our emperor or king" — υμών βασιλεύς, as God — θεος, as the Word or Logos — λόγος as Son — υιος, as the First-Born of God — ό πρωτότοκος τον θεον, as Lord — δεσπότης, as the King of Israel — ό βασιλεύς Ισραήλ, and quite oddly as Father — πατήρ. The reference to Father is in an important passage, which portrays the many activities of Christ: "For born as a Son, and led forth as a Lamb, sacrificed as a Sheep, buried as a Man, he rose from the dead as God, being by nature God and Man. He is all things. He is Law because he judges. He is Logos because he teaches. He is Grace because he saves. He is Father because he begets. He is Son because he is begotten. He is the sacrificial Sheep because he suffers. He is Man because he is buried. He is God because he arises. This is Jesus Christ, Whom the glory unto ages of ages belongs" (8-10). It is possible to interpret this complete identification of Christ with the Godhead as a form of what later would be known as Monarchian Modalism.

But such an interpretation is dangerous. It could be nothing more than rhetorical usage. To judge him on this one text is inappropriate, especially since he wrote so prolifically and those writings are no longer extant. But even in this homily he is more specific: "This is he who became flesh in a Virgin, whose bones were not broken upon the tree, who in burial was not corrupted by earth, who arose from the dead and raised man from the grave below to the heights of the heavens. This is the Lamb who was slain, this is the Lamb who was dumb, this is he who was born of Mary the fair ewe" (70-71). Elsewhere Melito writes that Christ "took flesh from the Virgin Mary" — εκείνον έτι σαρκωθέντα δια παρθένου Μαρίας (66). In his Homily he clearly affirms both the Divine and human in Christ — φύσει θεός ων και άνθρωπος. If the text conveyed by Anastasius Sinaita is authentic, then Melito introduced the word ουσία into Christology — θεός· γαρ ων όμον τε και άνθρωπος τέλειος ό αυτός τάς δύο αύτου ουσίας έπιστώσατο ημιν. Melito, knowing that the Church has received an original deposit, refers to the Church as the “reservoir of truth” — αποδοχειον της αληθείας(40).

Chapter Five.
St. Irenaeus of Lyons and
Clement of Alexandria.

St. Irenaeus of Lyons.

St Irenaeus of Lyons was probably born in Asia Minor between 125 and 145, perhaps in Smyrna — in his letter to the Roman presbyter Florinus St. Irenaeus tells us that in his early youth he had listened to the sermons of Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna: "When I was still a boy, I knew you, Florinus, in lower Asia, in Polycarp’s house… I remember the events of those days more clearly than those, which happened recently… so that I can speak even of the place in which the blessed Polycarp sat and disputed, how he came in and went out, the character of his life, the appearance of his body, the discourses, which he made to the people, how he reported his relationship with John and with the others who had seen the Lord, how he remembered their words, and what were the things concerning the Lord, which he had heard from them, and about their miracles, and about their teachings, and how Polycarp had received them from the eye-witnesses of the Logos of Life, and reported all things in agreement with the Scriptures. I listened eagerly even then to these things through the mercy of God, which was given me, and made notes of them, not on paper, but in my heart, and ever by the grace of God do I truly ruminate on them." This text is preserved by Eusebius in his Εκκλησιαστική ιστορία 5, 20. But the fact that St. Irenaeus was in Smyrna as a boy does not necessitate that he was born there.

St. Irenaeus is one of the most important theologians or Church writers of the second century. Some scholars consider him "the most important of the theologians" of the second century. Nygren in his Agape and Eros asserts that "Irenaeus is chief of the anti-Gnostic Fathers." The fact remains that his importance is enormous. It is not known why St. Irenaeus left Asia Minor and went to Gaul. One conjecture is that he accompanied St. Polycarp to Rome in 155, stayed for a while, and then from Rome went to Gaul. What is known is that through Polycarp St. Irenaeus was in contact with the Apostolic Age.

The first historical mention of St. Irenaeus is in the year 177. At that time he was a priest of the Church of Lyons [Lugdunum] under the elder bishop, St. Pothinus. A certain group of Christians coming from Phrygia had come to Lyons with the news that, according to the Phrygian prophets, the second coming of Christ was at hand. At this time, Pope Eleutherius (175-189) had been solicited to confirm the condemnations, which the bishops of Asia had passed on the Montanists. The Church of Lyons wrote a letter on this subject to the pope and entrusted it to St. Irenaeus who was to take it to Rome. The letter contained an excellent recommendation, as found in Eusebius: "We have asked our brother and companion Irenaeus to bring this letter to you, and we beg you to hold him in esteem, for he is zealous for the covenant of Christ." It was fortuitous for St. Irenaeus because while he was gone a persecution broke out in Lyons (177-178), one of the victims of which was St. Pothinus. On his return from Rome St. Irenaeus was chosen to succeed St. Pothinus as bishop.

St. Irenaeus became involved with Rome once again when Pope Victor I (189-198) took a strong stand against the Church of Asia Minor — Proconsular Asia, the metropolis of which was Ephesus — in the Paschal controversy. The Church in Asia Minor, following a tradition alleged to come from St. John, celebrated the feast of the Christian Passover, Easter, on the day of the Paschal full moon; whether that day fell on a Sunday or on any other day of the week. The rest of the Church, both East and West, celebrated the Christian Pascha on the Sunday following the Paschal full moon. The Church at Rome, as the capital of the empire, had Christians living or visiting there from all parts of the empire. The Christians from Asia Minor celebrated Easter according to their tradition in Rome. This created disharmony in the liturgical life of the Church but it was tolerated by five popes from about 118 to 165 — Xystus, Telesphorus, Hyginus, Pius, and Anicetus. It was this liturgical and calendrical issue, which was discussed in Rome in 155 by St. Polycarp and Pope Anicetus without a resolution of the problem. It appears that Pope Soter, who followed Anicetus, required all Christians in Rome to celebrate Easter simultaneously. But Pope Soter did not interfere with the custom in Asia Minor where that tradition continued. Pope Victor determined to bring uniformity to the entire Church. Such a step required the suppression of the custom of Asia Minor. It appears that Pope Victor sent letters from the Church of Rome to the metropolitans in Asia Minor requesting them to summon local councils to discuss the proper day for the celebration of Easter. That Pope Victor requested rather than commanded seems to be the meaning that Polycrates, bishop of Ephesus, attaches to the word rffiufoarein his letter to Pope Victor, although άξιόω can be used in the sense of “to require.” In compliance with the request from the Roman Church, councils were held in many provinces — in Palestine, in Asia, in Pontus, in Osrhoene, in Gaul and elsewhere. Pope Victor held his own council in Rome. The decision was unanimous — except for Polycrates’ province — that Easter should be celebrated on Sunday. It appears that Pope Victor, in communicating the result of his council to Polycrates, threatened to excommunicate the Church in Asia if they continued in their custom. Polycrates’ reply is historical interesting in shedding light on the attitude of other churches to Rome at this time; it is also defiant. Eusebius relates that Pope Victor then "endeavoured" to cut off the churches "of all Asia, along with their neighbouring churches, as heterodox, from the common unity." Eusebius also relates that Victor sent letters to the other churches proclaiming that the Church in Asia was "utterly — άρδην — separated from communion.” Victor received letters from other bishops exhorting him to pursue a policy of unity, peace, and love. Some of these letters sharply upbraid Victor. St. Irenaeus entered the conflict, admonishing Pope Victor. Eusebius relates that Irenaeus lived up to his name, for he was a real "peace" maker — ειρηνοποιός. After this incident St. Irenaeus is not heard about again — even the date of his death is unknown, although tradition fixes it about 202 or 203.

St. Irenaeus had a breadth of knowledge, a depth of faith, and a love and knowledge of Scripture. In addition to his Episcopal duties, he was, as Tertullian writes about him, "a curious explorer of all doctrines." He made it a kind of official duty to know all the heresies with the explicit purpose of refuting them so that the received faith, the faith from the tradition of the Apostles would triumph. He was highly educated and had read numerous Greek writers, both literary and philosophical. But he was not attracted to abstract speculation, precisely because he believed this to be the main source of Gnosticism, which at that time was ravaging Gaul as it was also ravaging Italy and the East. For him, the very fact of revealing the system of the Gnostics "was to vanquish them." In addition to his Episcopal duties and his writings, St. Irenaeus worked to spread Christianity in the provinces adjacent to Lyons. The Churches at Besangon and at Valence claim that St. Irenaeus was the first to announce the Gospel to them.

St. Irenaeus’ main work is έλεγχος και άνατροπή της ψενδονόμου γνώσεως — The Detection and Overthrow of the Pretended but False Gnosis, more commonly known as the Adversus Haereses. This work has been preserved not in its Greek original but in a Latin translation which was in circulation soon after the original Greek because not only St. Cyprian worked from it but also Tertullian. Fragments of the Greek original have been preserved by Eusebius, Hippolytus, and Epiphanius. From these three writers almost the entire text can be re-established. A literal translation of the fourth and fifth books exists in an Armenian translation and fragments also exist in Syrian translations. From Eusebius we knew that another work of his, the ejriSeifir τον αποστολικού κηpύγμaτο [The Demonstration of the Apostolic Teaching], had been written by St. Irenaeus but nothing more than the title was known until 1904 when the entire text was discovered in an Armenian translation. Only fragments exist of the other works by St. Irenaeus. Eusebius mentions a work called Περι έπιοτήμητς [On Knowledge], which he considers a "short but necessary book." A substantial fragment from his work On the Monarchy or How God is Not the Cause of Evil is preserved by Eusebius. This work was directed against Florinus, a former friend who had become a Gnostic. St. Irenaeus wrote another work against his former friend Florinus, the closing words from which are preserved by Eusebius — On the Ogdoad [of Valentinus]. The title of a letter St. Irenaeus wrote to Blastus, On Schism, is found in Eusebius. A fragment is extant in Syrian of a letter he wrote to Pope Victor requesting that he takes measures against Florinus and suppresses Florinus writings. Eusebius has preserved excepts from St. Irenaeus’ letter to Pope Victor on the Paschal controversy.

St. Irenaeus clearly enunciates both his position of "apostolic faith" and the Church’s Trinitarian faith early on in Adversus Haereses. "Now the Church, although scattered over the whole civilized world to the end of the earth, received from the apostles and their disciples its faith in one God, the Father Almighty… and in one Christ Jesus, the Son of God, who was made flesh for our salvation, and in the Holy Spirit… Having received this preaching and this faith… the Church, although scattered in the whole world, carefully preserves it, as if living in one house. She believes these things everywhere alike, as if she had but one heart and one soul, and preaches them harmoniously, teaches them, and hands them down, as if she had but one mouth. For the languages of the world are different but the meaning of the tradition is one and the same… For since the faith is one and the same, he who can say much about it does not add to it, nor does he who can say little diminish it… the real Church has one and the same faith everywhere in the world" (I, 10), "For we learned the plan of salvation from no others but from those through whom the gospel came to us, they first preached it abroad, and then later… handed it down to us in writings" (III, 1). How important the "received tradition" is for St. Irenaeus is clear when he discusses "the writings." The Gnostic heretics attack "the writings," saying they are "nor correct, or authoritative." St. Irenaeus then turns to his defence from the received and preserved tradition, a defence, which becomes the crucial test for orthodoxy and heterodoxy. He must present a specific defence because, as he writes, "what it comes to is that they will not agree with either Scripture or tradition" (III, 2). "The tradition of the apostles, made clear in the entire world, can be clearly seen in every church by those who wish to behold the truth. We can enumerate those who were established by the apostles as bishops in the churches, and their successors down to our time, none of whom taught or thought anything like their mad ideas. Even if the apostles had known of hidden mysteries, which they taught to the perfect secretly and apart from others, they would have handed them down especially to those to whom they were entrusting the churches themselves… But since it would be very long in such a volume as this to enumerate the successions of all the churches, I can by pointing out the tradition which that very great, oldest, and well-known Church, founded and established at Rome by those two most glorious apostles Peter and Paul, received from the apostles, and its faith known among men, which comes down to us through the successions of bishops, put to shame all of those who in any way... gather as they should not. For every church must be in harmony with [or resort to] this Church because of its outstanding pre-eminence, that is, the faithful from everywhere, since the apostolic tradition is preserved in it by those from everywhere" (III, 20). St. Irenaeus uses the Church of Rome as the example because it was founded by Peter and Paul and was hence apostolic, because it possessed some type of "pre-eminence" or primacy, and because it was visited, as the capital city of the empire, by Christians from everywhere and therefore possessed the existential reality of knowing the faith of those from all parts of the world, a faith, which was the same as that of Rome. He then continues by using the Church at Smyrna and the Church at Ephesus as further examples of the "apostolic tradition." "Since there are so many clear testimonies, we should not seek from others for the truth, which can easily be received from the Church. There the apostles, like a rich man making a deposit, fully bestowed upon her all that belongs to the truth, so that whoever wishes may receive from her the water of life" (III, 2). St. Irenaeus raises the vital issue addressed by St. Ignatius, the issue about, which Karl Adam has written — what if there were no Scriptures? "Even if the apostles had not left their writings to us, ought we not to follow the rule of the tradition which they handed down to those to whom they committed the churches?" St. Irenaeus gives an example of where this actually applies — among "many barbarian people" who follow the rule of tradition "written in their hearts by the Spirit without paper and ink." These Christians "diligently follow the old tradition." He then briefly summarizes the essence of this "old tradition:" "they believe in one God, maker of heaven and earth and of all that is in them, through Christ Jesus the Son of God, who on account of his abundant love for his creation submitted to be born of a Virgin, himself by himself uniting man to God, and having suffered under Pontius Pilate, and risen. Those who believe in this faith without written documents are barbarians… if anyone should preach to them the inventions of the heretics… they would at once stop their ears and run far, far away, not enduring even to listen to such blasphemous speech." It is, writes St. Irenaeus, "the old tradition of the apostles" that preserves them in the true faith.

St. Irenaeus describes how the heretical Gnostics taught about Jesus — "according to none of the views of the heretics was the Logos of God made flesh" (III, 11). "Some say that this Jesus… incarnate and suffered, and that he had passed through Mary like water through a tube. Others say that it was the son of the Demiurge, on whom the Jesus… descended. Others again say that Jesus indeed was born of Joseph and Mary, and that Christ who came from above descended on him, being without flesh and free from suffering… If one should read over all their credal statements, he would find that they always bring in the Logos of God and the Christ who is from above as without flesh and free from suffering. Some think that he was manifested as a transfigured man but say that he was neither born nor incarnate. Others say that he did not even take the form of a man, but descended like a dove on that Jesus who was born of Mary" (III, 11). "Vain also are the Ebionites, who do not accept in their souls by faith the union of God and man, but remain in the old leaven of human birth — not wishing to understand that the Holy Spirit came upon Mary, and the power of the Most High overshadowed her, and so what was born of her is holy and the Son of God Most High, the Father of all who thus brought about his Incarnation and displayed the new birth so that as we by the former birth were heirs of death, by this birth we should be heirs of life" (V, 3).

St. Irenaeus delineates the legitimate areas of theology in his Adversus Haereses. The "basic idea" remains the same — by this he means that the original deposit remains always one and the same. Theology consists of "working out the things that have been said," of "building them into the foundation of faith." This is done by "expounding the activity and dispensation of God for the sake of mankind," by "showing clearly" God’s long-suffering, by "declaring why one and the same God made some things subject to time, others eternal," by "understanding why God, being invisible, appeared to the prophets, not in one form, but differently to different ones," by "showing why there were a number of covenants with mankind," by "teaching the character of each of the covenants," by "searching out why God shut up all in disobedience that he might have mercy on all," by "giving thanks that the Logos of God was made flesh, and suffered," by "declaring why the coming of the Son of God was at the last times," by "unfolding what is found in the prophets about the end and the things to come," by "not being silent that God has made the forsaken Gentiles fellow heirs and of the same body and partners with the saints," and by "stating how this mortal and fleshly body will put on immortality, and this corruptible incorruption" (I, 10). Clearly St. Irenaeus does not consider this enumeration to be exhaustive and comprehensive. Rather, it is no more than a sketch, a guide of some of the areas in which speculative theology can be utilized. He himself discusses far more areas of theological concern.

God, for St. Irenaeus, is the Creator, the "Father of all," the "Source of all goodness." He is "simple, uncompounded, without diversity of parts, completely identical and consistent, beyond the emotions and passions" of created existence (II, 13). God as Creator gives existence to everything; creation was an act of his freedom, a free act, for "he was not moved by anything" (I, 1). God in his "greatness" cannot be known to man, he cannot be "measured" (IV, 20). It is God’s love, which brings man within the grasp of knowledge of God but this knowledge is limited, it is not knowledge of God’s "greatness" or his "true being." Our knowledge of God comes from the revelation of the Logos of God (IV, 20; III, 24). God is without need. He did not create because he had need of man and creation. Neither does he need our love, obedience, and service. God gives, confers, and grants (IV, 14).

God is "absolute and eternal." Creation is "contingent" and, being contingent, having their beginning in time, created beings "fall short of their maker’s perfection" (IV, 38). Akin to the thought of Theophilus of Alexandria and other Apologists, St. Irenaeus thinks of man at creation as "immature" — "being newly created they are therefore childlike and immature, and not yet fully trained for an adult way of life. And just as a mother is able to offer food to an infant, but the infant is not yet able to receive food unsuited to its age, so also God could have offered perfection to man at the beginning, but man, being yet an infant, could not have absorbed it" (IV, 38).

Not only is man’s participation in the redemptive work of Christ a process but the very plan of redemption is a process and — moreover, the very Incarnation, the reality of God becoming man, begins a process in the life of the God-Man that sanctifies every aspect and stage in the life of man. This is his well-known teaching of "recapitulation," of άνακεφαλαίωσις: There is no notion in the thought of St. Irenaeus of any form of passive holiness or passive righteousness. Everything is process, everything is dynamic, and everything is moving toward the goal of rebirth in Christ, of rebirth into incorruptibility, of rebirth into eternality, of rebirth leading to a vision and knowledge of God, of rebirth leading to transfiguration. The theme of the later Greek and then Byzantine fathers of the vision of God and of deification is also the thought of St. Irenaeus. As St. Irenaeus asks, what is the deification of created beings if not their participation in the divine life? Men will "see God in order to live; men will become immortal by the vision and will progress on the path to God" — per visionem immortales facti et peregrinantes usque in Deum. St. Irenaeus writes that "it is impossible to live without life, and the foundation or existence — ΰπαρξις — of life comes from participating — μετοχή — in God. To participate in God is to know — γιγνοσκειν — him and to enjoy his goodness” (III, 20). In the thought of St. Irenaeus everything is accomplished by God and by the will of God and yet man participates by a spiritually free acceptance of everything accomplished and revealed by God.

Since God is the cause of the being of all things, these created things, in order to participate in "incorruptibility," must remain "subject to God." Subjection and obedience to God conveys incorruptibility and "continuance in incorruptibility is the glory of eternity." "Through such obedience and discipline and training, man, who is contingent and created, grows into the image and likeness of the eternal God. This process the Father approves and commands; the Son carries out the Father’s plan, the Spirit supports and hastens the process — while man gradually advances and mounts towards perfection; that is, he approaches the eternal. The eternal is perfect and this is God. Man has first to come into being, then to progress, and by progressing come to manhood, and having reached manhood to increase, and thus increasing to persevere, and by persevering be glorified, and thus see his Lord. For it is God’s intention that he should be seen: and the vision of God is the acquisition of immortality; and immortality brings man near to God" (IV, 38). It has been observed and commented upon that St. Irenaeus taught in The Demonstration of the Apostolic Teaching (15) that man before the Fall was immortal by nature. What appears to be contradictory is not necessarily the case if one analyzes the two different perspectives from which St. Irenaeus was writing in the respective texts. The interpretation involves that important "if" in St. Irenaeus — if man had kept the commandments of God if man had remained subject to incorruptibility. But in his thought, it is clear that this "if" is completely speculative and theoretical, not real and existential. The very nature of created existence and the depth of spiritual freedom in his thought render this "if" existentially meaningless.

God, invisible by nature, reveals himself, manifests himself to man by the Logos, the principle of all manifestation. And here there is simultaneity and reciprocity of knowledge and vision, for the Logos reveals God to man while simultaneously revealing man to God. And the Logos has become man so that men might become gods (V, preface).

Eternally the Son is the "Only-Begotten" of the Father. "His Begetting" is "in truth indescribable… Only the Father knows who begat him, and the Son who was Begotten" (II, 28). "The Son always co-exists with the Father" (II, 30). The "Son of God did not begin to be" (III, 18). "Through the Son who is in the Father and who has the Father in himself, He Who Is has been revealed" (III, 6). "The Son is the measure of the Father because he contains the Father" (IV, 4). "All saw the Father in the Son, for the Father is the invisible of the Son, the Son the visible of the Father" (IV, 6).

"There is one God, who by his Logos and Wisdom made and ordered all things… His Logos is our Lord Jesus Christ who in these last times became man among men so that he might unite the end with the beginning, that is, Man with God" (IV, 20). "God became man and it was the Lord himself who saved us" (III, 21). "He united man to God… If he had overcome man’s adversary as man, the enemy would not have been justly overcome. If it had not been God, who granted salvation, we should not have it as a secure possession. And if man had not been united to God, man could not have become a partaker of immortality. For the mediator between God and man had to bring both parties into friendship and harmony through his kinship with both, and to present man to God and to make God known to man. In what way could we share in the adoption of the sons of God unless through the Son we had received the fellowship with the Father, unless the Logos of God made flesh had entered into communion with us?" (III, 18). "The Lord redeemed us by his blood and gave his life for our life, his flesh for our flesh, and poured out the Spirit of the Father to unite us and reconcile God and man, bringing God down to man through the Spirit, and raising man to God through his Incarnation" (V, 1).

The Holy Spirit, the "unction," is referred to constantly by St. Irenaeus not only in credal forms but in terms of his activity — the "Spirit prepares man for the Son of God," the "Spirit supplies knowledge of the truth," the "Spirit has revealed the oikonomiai of the Father and the Son towards man," the Spirit is the "living water" which the Lord pours forth.

Clement of Alexandria.

Clement of Alexandria was born, according to St. Epiphanius, in Athens probably about 150. His parents were pagans and he at some point converted to Christianity. To increase his knowledge of Christianity Clement wandered throughout Syria, Palestine, and Italy. Finally, in 180, his soul "found rest" under the famous teacher St. Pantaenus in Alexandria. Pantaenus had travelled extensively in Arabia before coming to Alexandria where he became the first known teacher at the famous Didascalia, the "school of oral teaching" — το της κατηχήσεως διδασκαλείον. The Didascalia, like the school of catechumens, was probably in existence from the very beginnings of the Alexandrian Church. In the middle of the second century the Didascalia became an important and vital school of theology and its heads were appointed and dismissed by the bishop of Alexandria. The Didascalia, unlike St. Justin’s school, which was more of a private school, was an "official school." The students or "auditors" came from throughout the empire — there were catechumens, idolaters, philosophers representing a variety of schools of philosophy, and Gnostics of all types. The mission of the Didascalia was to react to these different philosophies, especially the Gnostics. The polemical perspective of the Didascalia was anti-Gnostic. Pantaenus1 reputation as a teacher was one universally acclaimed, according to Clement and to Eusebius. That he wrote anything is doubtful, although Henri Marrou claims he is the author of the Letter to Diognetus.

Clement became Pantaenus’ student, then his associate and assistant. He became the successor to Pantaenus, probably about 200. One of his students was Origen, according to Eusebius, although some modern scholars, especially Munck disagree — they also dispute whether the Didascalia was anything more than a private school. A few years later Clement had to flee from Alexandria because of the persecution of Septimius Severus. Clement died in Cappadocia, never again seeing Alexandria, between 211 and 216. He was considered St. Clement by Christian writers of the early centuries.

We may know very little about Clement’s life but his character and personality come through quite vividly in his writings. He had a broad education — he possessed a good knowledge of philosophy, literature, mythology, and poetry and knew early Christian literature very well. His knowledge of the Bible and the post-apostolic literature, both orthodox and heretical, is exceedingly good. Clement realized that the Church had to be in dialogue with the world and that world was one of pagan philosophy and literature. For him all secular learning serves theology if approached correctly. He presented the Christian faith as a system of thought to the world at that time.

Clement’s three most important works are his Exhortation to the Greeks — Προτρεπτικός προς έλληνας his Tutor — Παιδαγωγός and his Stromata — Στρωματεις. One other work is extant. It is a "homily," preserved as a written work, on The Gospel of St. Mark 10:17-31, and entitled Who is the Rich Man Who is Saved — Τις ό σωζομενος πλουσιος. It is in this latter work that Clement maintains that richness as such does not exclude one from the Kingdom of God. Rather it is one’s attitude, for one must keep the heart from the desire for wealth and from any attachment to it. It is the passion, not the wealth that must be renounced.

His most important lost work is his commentary on and sketches of the writings of both — the Old and New Testament — including even all the disputed books, entitled Hypotyposeis — ύποτνπώσεις. Most of the extant Greek excerpts are preserved in Eusebiust. Other excerpts exist in the Pratum spirituale of John Moschus and in a Latin translation which goes back to the time of Cassiodorus (c. 540). St. Photius possessed in the entire Hypotyposeis in Greek and writes bitterly about it (Bibl. Cod. 109): "Correct doctrine is held firmly in some places but in other places he is carried away by odd and impious notions. He maintains the eternity of matter, produces a theory of ideas from the words of Holy Scripture, and reduces the Son to a mere creature. He relates incredible stories of metempsychosis and of many worlds before Adam. His teaching on the formation of Eve from Adam is blasphemous and scurrilous — and anti-Scriptural. He imagines that the angels had intercourse with women and begot children with them. He also writes that the Logos did not become man in reality but only in appearance. He has, it would appear, a fantastic idea of two Logoi of the Father, of which the inferior one appeared to men." Clement of Alexandria had a good reputation in Byzantium and for that reason St. Photius’ conclusion is that the work is not authentically that of Clement. And in this case St. Photius is probably correct because what he writes about Clement is not consonant with the extant works of Clement. He was no Docetist. Harnack has accused Clement, based on a text from the Hypotyposeis and from other texts, of actually believing in two Logoi, the originally existing Logos and the Logos who was the Son of God. Harnack has unfortunately misread Clement. There is in Clement no distinction between the λόγος ένδιάθετος and the λόγος προφορικός from an ontological perspective. His does distinguish between the two but only in the sense that the term λόγος προφορικός deprives the Son of the full majesty disclosed by the term λόγος ένδιάθετος. His idea is rather clear. The Logos is one and the same from eternity. But when the Logos is thought of only in his oikonomic activity and not in his eternal life there is a tendency to deprive the Logos of the full majesty of eternity. His point is precisely the opposite of Harnack’s interpretation. Clement’s central idea is that the Logos is eternally equal with but distinct from the Father and distinct precisely as the Son of the Father.

Other lost works are his Ecclesiastical Canon or Against the Judaizers, one fragment of which exists; his On Providence, a few fragments of which are extant; his Exhortation to Endurance or To the Recently Baptized, of which one fragment may be authentic; his Discourses on Fasting and On Slander, of which nothing is extant; his On the Prophet Amos, mentioned only by Palladius; and his Letters, of which none are extant.

Clement of Alexandria is in a very real sense the founder of speculative theology, the founder of Christian apologetics on a systematic basis. In this sense he is different from the Christian writers we have touched upon above and is quite different from St. Irenaeus, who was much more of a traditionally rooted writer and bishop. But Clement too believes in the deposit, in the oneness of the teaching of the Christian faith from the very beginning. "For just as the teaching is one, so also the tradition of the apostles was one" — μία ή πάντων γέγονε των αποστόλων ωσπερ διδασκαλία όντως δε και ή παράδοσις (Stromata 7, 17). "It is my view that the true Church, that which is really ancient, is one… For from the very reason that God is one, and the Lord is one, that which is in the highest degree honourable is praised as a result of its oneness, for it is an imitation of the one first principle. In the nature of the One, then, the one Church is one… Therefore, in substance and idea, in origin, in pre-eminence, we say that the ancient and Catholic Church is alone, gathering as it does into the unity of the one faith… in its oneness the pre-eminence of the Church, as the principle of union, surpasses all other things and has nothing like or equal to itself." Those who "pervert" the "divine words" have not the key but a counter key — ατικλεις — “by, which they do not enter in as we enter in, through the tradition of the Lord" (7, 17). Clement discusses at length the relationship between this tradition and Scripture. The Church has, as "the source of teaching," both the Lord and the Scriptures (7, 16).

Clement’s virtue is his courage, his fearless approach into dialogue with Hellenic philosophy and culture. He has been accused of the Hellenization of Christianity in the negative sense. A Christianity that is not Hellenized properly is not an authentic Christianity. But in this sense it is more proper to speak of the Christianization of Hellenism, which produced an authentically Christian Hellenization of Christianity. But Clement ventured into new terrain and to a great extent he was successful. For example, instead of rejecting Gnosticism in totality, Clement attempted to create a true, an authentic Christian "Gnosis." This allowed Christianity to utilize truth wherever it was found. In this regard Clement is close to St. Justin and in sharp opposition to Tatian. For Clement the beginning of philosophy is faith. To confront philosophy from a Christian perspective is to realize that all philosophy without Christ is vain and without foundation (Stromata 1, 20). Clement believed that faith and knowledge were harmonious and that the proper combination produced the perfect Christian and the true Gnostic. At times he may appear to wander too far into philosophy but his basic principle is that "faith is superior to knowledge and that faith is the criterion of knowledge" (Stromata 2, 4). Clement can write that philosophy possesses a pedagogical significance for every Christian who can rise above mere faith — ψιλη πίστις — to Gnosis. But at the same time this must be done “in accordance with the canon of the Church” — κατά κάνονα εκκλησιαστικον(Stromata 7, 7; 6, 15). For Clement faith in Revelation is necessary for salvation but that very faith points beyond itself, almost in Tillichian terminology, to the ultimate, which is Gnosis (Stromata 2, 2; 5, 1; 7, 10). Faith is the outward acceptance of God out of fear and respect (Stromata 2, 12; 5, 1; 7, 12). But the true Gnostic lives in "initiated vision" — εποπτική θεωρία — comprehending and apprehending salvation inwardly (Stromata 6, 10; 1, 2). Those who merely believe — απλώς πεπιστευκώς — require the purifications — καθάρσια — or the “minor mysteries” — μικρά μυστήρια — of the Church but the Gnostic needs the "great mysteries" — μεγάλα μυστήρια, the εποπτεία (Ρrotreptikos 1 ; 12 and Stromata 5, 11). Some scholars have sharply criticized Clement at this point because he seems to make a distinction between classes of Christians — on the one hand, there is the unsophisticated beginner who clings to the externalities of the faith; on the other hand, there is the advanced Gnostic Christian who beholds the mysteries of God and who abides in communion with God through a heart full of understanding. These critics detect a Stoic influence at this point, the Stoic discrimination of those who are advancing — προκοπτοντες. Such an interpretation, while observing a point correctly, interprets this not from within the early Christian exhortation to advance in Christian virtue, not from the perspective of the Biblical and early Christian call to perfection, call to striving, not from the inner dynamism of a realistic and existential struggle of spirituality, not from within the context of St. Paul’s running the race. Rather, these critics look back into the phenomenon of early Christian spirituality from the perspective of Reformation theology. It is not only unfair to evaluate Clement of Alexandria in such a perspective but it is also a revisionist approach to intellectual history. The New Testament stresses the dynamism of spiritual growth, from being "babes" in Christ to constant growth in the faith spiritually and intellectually.

For Clement the One God is beyond nature — έπέκεινα της ουσίας —and approached apophatically (Stromata 5, 11; 5, 12). He is the Creator. "If, then, abstracting all that belongs to bodies and things called incorporeal, we cast ourselves into the greatness of Christ, and thence advance into immensity by holiness, we may reach somehow to the conception of the Almighty, knowing not what he is, but what he is not. And form and motion, or standing, or a throne, or place, or right hand or left, are not at all to be conceived as belonging to the Father of the cosmos, although it is so written… The First Cause is not then in space but is above both space and time and name and conception…

No one can rightly express God fully. Because of his greatness he is considered the All and is the Father of the cosmos. No parts can be predicated to him. For the One is indivisible… infinite in his being, without dimensions, without any limits… And if we name God, we do not do so properly, whether we call him the One, or the Good, or Mind, or Absolute Being, or Father, or God, or Creator, or Lord. We speak not as if we supply a name but because of our lack of a name. We use good names so that the mind may have these as points of support in order not to err in other respects. Each name by itself does not express God but all names combined are indicative of die power of the Omnipotent. For predicates are expressed either from what belongs to things themselves or from their mutual relation. But none of these are admissible in reference to God. Nor is he apprehended by the science of demonstration, for it depends on primary and better known principles. But there is nothing antecedent to the Unbegotten. It remains that we understand, then, the Unknown, by divine grace, and by the Logos alone who come forth from him."

God is "not a subject for demonstration and, therefore, cannot be the object of science. But the Son is Wisdom and Knowledge and Truth and all that is akin to these. The Son is also susceptible of demonstration and of description. All the powers of the Spirit, becoming collectively one unity, terminate in the same point — that is, in the Son. But the Son is not completely expressed by our conception of each of his powers. He is not merely One, as Unity, nor Many, as having parts, but One as All. Hence, he is All, for he is the circle of all powers, which in him are rounded and united. To believe in him, and by him, is to participate in unity, being indissolubly united in him" (Stromata 4, 25).

The unity of the Father and Son is clearly expressed by Clement. "The Son is in him and the Father is in the Son" (Paidagogos 1, 7). He is "Jesus, the Logos, then, who leads the children to salvation. And he is appropriately called the Instructor — παιδαγωγός.” "Our Instructor is the Holy God Jesus, the Logos, who is the guide of all humanity. The loving God himself is our Instructor." In the Old Testament the "Lord God was unnamed because he had not yet become man." "The face of God is the Logos by whom God is manifested and made known." Some critics call attention to Clement’s reference to the Logos who "has appeared," to the statement: "the Logos was an angel but to the fresh and new people has also been given a New Covenant, and the Logos has appeared, and fear is turned to love, and that mystic angel is born — Jesus." But in this context Clement is merely discussing the theophanies of the Old Testament and making the claim that in these theophanies God really appeared but not God the Father. It was the Son of God, the Logos, who appeared to man in the theophanies. Hence, the reference to that is "mystic angel." It is a realistic interpretation of the theophanies, as opposed to the later interpretation of the theophanies by St. Augustine who could not grasp that God actually appeared to man and hence interpreted these theophanies by a form of "created grace." St. Augustine in general has serious problems with God’s relationship to the created world. Clement, on this point, is quite Biblical. "Eternal grace and truth were by Jesus Christ. Mark the expressions of Scripture: of the law only is it said ‘was given.’ But truth being the grace of the Father is the eternal work of the Logos, and it is not said ‘be given’ but ‘to be’ by Jesus without whom nothing was (Paidagogos 1, 7).

The Lord, the Instructor, is "most good." He "sympathizes from the exceeding greatness of his love with the nature of each man… Nothing exists, the cause of whose existence is not supplied by God. Then, nothing is hated by God, neither by the Logos. For both one — that is God. For he has said ‘In the beginning the Logos was in God, and the Logos was God…’ Therefore, God loves. Consequently the Logos is a loving" (Paidagogos 1, 8). "As the Logos is the Son in the Father," he possesses both love and justice by the mutual relationship of the Father and the Son… Very clearly, then, we conclude him to be one and the same God… It is indisputable, then, that the Lord is the Son of the Creator. And if the Creator above all is confessed to be just and the Lord to be the Son of the Creator, then the Lord is the Son of him who is just... For the sake of man the Logos became man."

Clement writes precisely about false Gnostics while concentrating on central aspects of Christology. "Of the Gnostic so much has been cursorily, as it was, written… There are some who draw the distinction that faith has reference to the Son and knowledge to the Spirit. But it has escaped their attention that, in order to believe truly in the Son, we must believe that he is the Son, and that he came, and how, and for what, and respecting his Passion. And we must know who the Son of God is. Now there neither is knowledge without faith nor faith without knowledge. Nor is the Father without the Son, for the Son is with the Father. And the Son is the true teacher about the Father… In order that we may know the Father, we must believe in the Son, that it is the Son of God who teaches, for the Father brings us from faith to knowledge by means of the Son" (Stromata 5, 1). "Believe, Ο man, him who is man and God. Believe, Ο man, the living God who suffered and is adored" (Protreptikos 10).

Throughout his extant works Clement speaks of, refers to, and underpins his thought with the unity and oneness of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. "The all-loving, beneficent Father rained down his Logos and straightway did he become the spiritual nourishment for the good. O, the marvellous mystery! For one is the Father of all, one the Logos of all, and one is the Holy Spirit, one and the same everywhere" (Paidagogos 1, 6). "Be gracious, Ο Instructor, to us thy children, Ο Father, Charioteer of Israel, Son and Father, both one, Ο Lord. Grant to us who obey thy precepts that we may perfect the likeness of the image, and with all our power know the goodness of God and the kindness of his judgment… That we may give praise and thanksgiving to the only Father, and to the only Son, to Son and Father, Son our Instructor and Teacher, together with the Holy Spirit, all in One, in whom are all things, through whom all things are one, through whom is eternity, of whom all men are members… all praise to the All-Good, the All-Lovely, the All-Wise, the All-Just One, to whom be glory both now and ever. Amen" (Paidagogos 3, 12). The Trinitarian praise ends Clement’s, "Who is the Rich Man? Who is Saved?" "To whom by his Son Jesus Christ the Lord of the living and the dead, and by the Holy Spirit be glory, honour, power, eternal majesty, both now and ever, from generation to generation, and from eternity to eternity. Amen" (42).

Chapter Six.
Essential Thoughts
of the Early Apologists.

The Apostolic Deposit.

All the Apologists are immersed in and constantly refer to the "tradition," to the "rule of faith," to that which was received and safeguard, the "original deposit." Gebhardt collected most of the textual references — regula veritatis, traditio apostolica, lex fidei, fidei catholica. This was not merely a kind of rule to which the Apologists refer. Rather it was the living reality of how God revealed himself to man in the God-Man Jesus Christ, how this was an authoritative — indeed, a divine — "delivery" of the essence of the New Covenant to the apostles and through them to the Church. It was a reference to sacred reality. It is found in the New Testament, preserved by the Apologists as the basis of the living faith, and continually preserved in the Church — indeed, this is what is meant by the Ecumenical Councils when they declare: "Following the Fathers…" The depths of this adherence to the apostolic deposit are glimpsed in St. Ignatius and St. Irenaeus, both of whom declare that the Church exists even if there are no written documents. For St. Ignatius it is Jesus Christ who is the original document. St. Irenaeus refers to those barbarian tribes, who have the original faith — sine charta et atramento — written in their hearts through apostolic succession. This principle, this belief in the original deposit and its sacredness, is what St. Victor of Lerins uses to unveil the "novelty" of the thought of St. Augustine on predestination and original sin. This frame of reference will never leave the Church. St. Athanasius will write that "the true original tradition, faith and teaching of the Catholic Church, bestowed by the Lord, proclaimed by the apostles" was "safeguarded by the fathers" (Ad Serapionem I, 28). This not only forms but is the Church’s consciousness of herself. The theological struggles of the Byzantine theologians come from the heart of the Church and are there ultimately resolved.

On the Nature and Knowledge of God.

When the Apologists consider the nature and knowledge of God, they speculate or theologize from within the framework of the apostolic deposit. If some of their language is philosophical, it does not mean that this philosophical language is in contradiction with that which has been revealed. Indeed, the Apologists in general believed that God had revealed elements of truth throughout history that elements of truth, consonant always with the revelation in the Old Testament and with the apostolic deposit, were to be found in Greek philosophy and Greek culture in general — Tatian is an exception. It must not be forgotten that they believed that Plato had taken some of his ideas from Hebrew Scripture.

The unity — εις θεός — and monarchy of God — των όλων το μοναρχικών were central doctrines taught by the Apologists. God is completely beyond all that is created — το άρρητον, το άχώρητον, το ανέκφραστον, το ακατάληπτον, το άπερινόητον, το ασύγκριτον, το ασυμβίβαστον, το άνεκδιηγητόν. God is beginningless — άναρχος, οτι άγένητος. He is perfect — τέλειος — and without any need — άπροσδεής. He is eternal and unchangeable — αναλλοίωτος καθότι αθάνατος. He is absolute causality — αύτύς υπάρχων του παντύς ή ύποάτασις. God is sovereign, the Father of everything — δεσπότης των δλων, πατήρ δια το ειναι αυτόν προ των ολως κτίστης των πάντων. God is wisdom, spirit, mind, and reason — σοφία, πνεύμα, νους λόγος. He is the Father of all righteousness and goodness — πατήρ της δικαιοσύνης και πασών των αρετών χρηστότης — and the Pantocrator — παντοκράτωρ οτι αυτός το πάντα κρατεί και εμπεριέχει. The emphasis placed upon the unity and monarchy of God is there to protect God as the Uncreated, as the self-existing and cause of all existence, of all that is "created."

The Apologists and the Logos. The Influence of Philo.

For the Apologists, as for St. John, God the Father reveals himself to mankind, relates to created existence, through his Logos. Both Greek philosophy and Hebraic thought had a theology of the Logos. The main spokesman for the Logos theology of Hebraic thought was Philo Judaeus, the Alexandrian Jewish philosopher and theologian. He was born sometime between 13 and 30 B.C. and died approximately around 45 A.D. For Philo, as for the Apologists, God is completely other, completely transcendent. He is pure being or "that which existingly exists" — το οντως ον. He is without quality — άποιος. God is unnameable — ακατονόμαστος, ineffable — άρρητος, incomprehensible — ακατάληπτος. Philo brings a new thought to philosophy, a distinction that was never previously made but a distinction that will become vital for the Greek and Byzantine Fathers, culminating in the thought of St. Gregory Palamas (d. 1359). For Philo it was completely impossible that God could be known in his essence by any creature. All cataphatic terms for God in Hebrew Scripture must be understood apophatically. Even the Septuagint terms "God" and "Lord" do not refer to God’s essence, to the το ον. These terms can refer only to God’s activities, which are knowable, but not to the unknowable essence of το ον. θeός refers to the activity of το ον in creating the world; κύριος refers to the presence of το ov in the created world.

These divine activities are, for Philo, powers — δυνάμεις. The “one who existingly exists” relates to created existence through the Logos. Philo’s doctrine of the Logos is inconsistent and at times contradictory. Yet his main idea is clear. The Logos is the bond, the cohesive force — τόνος —, which unites everything to the unknowable το όντως ον, while simultaneously keeping the created order distinct from the το οντως ον. Much of his Logos doctrine is taken from the Stoics but with the important distinction that for Philo reality is not material, not restricted to the physicality of the Stoics.

Stoicism reacted vigorously to the distinction in Platonic philosophy between the imperceptible, transcendent world and the world of the senses. For the Stoics reality was material, physical. Yet within their perspective of the world the Stoics distinguished between the "characterless, unformed matter" and the principle, which organized this material — the dynamic reason, the Logos. Though the Stoics could refer to the Logos as πνευμα, this “spirit” was also material. The Logos, the anima mundi, penetrates as a higher form of matter, the reality of the "unformed matter." All reality is filled with microcosms of the whole. The Logos contains the "seminal seeds" — λόγοι σπερματικοί, which reflect in some way the Logos, λόγος σπερματίκός. Man too was a microcosm and within man the Stoics distinguished between two aspects of the soul. There is the “immanent Logos" — λόγος ένδιάθετος —, which constitutes man’s reason, the presence of the soul, its Dasein. But when the soul reveals itself, makes itself known to others, then it is the "expressed Logos" — λόγος προφορικός. The fact that these terms preceded Christian thought, the fact that they were first used by the Stoics, in no way lessens their importance when the Apologists utilize them in reference to the Logos, the eternal Son of God, for the origin of terms or ideas has nothing whatever to do with truth or falsity.

Philo drew on both the Greek and Hebraic philosophical tradition of the Logos and united it with his emphasis on the divine transcendence of το οντως ον. Philo elevates the terms λόγος ενδιάθετος and λόγος προφορικός to a divine level, to the thoughts in the mind of God. At one point Philo speaks of the Logos as the "First-Begotten Son" but to claim any type of affinity with or adumbration of the Christian doctrine here is to misinterpret Philo. Philo’s influence on the Apologists can neither be exaggerated nor underestimated. His influence on Clement of Alexandria is obvious. Philo’s reading of evil, of the disorder in man and in the world influences the Apologists. Evil comes from self-love — φιλαυτία, from self-conceit — οίησις, from sensual desires — έπιθυμίαι. Philo, just as the Apologists in general, claimed that all the best ideas of Greek philosophy were already either anticipated in or contained in Hebrew Scripture.

The Immanent and Expressed Logos.

For the Apologists the Logos is the Father’s agent in creation and the Logos reveals the Father and the truth of the Father to all created existence. All existence, exclusive of God’s uncreated existence, consists of "things made" — ποιήματα, or creatures — κτίσματα. But the Logos is God’s "child" — τέκνον, God’s “offspring” — γέννημα, and God’s “Only-Begotten” — μονογενής. He is the eternally immanent Logos — ένδιάθετος, never coming into existence — ούχ ώς γενόμενον. St. Justin writes in his Second Apology (6): ό υιος του πάτρος και θeoυ, ό μόνος λeγόμεvoς κυριώς υιος. It is impossible to conceive of God as without his Logos, for God is not άλογος. God, as the fullness of reason, has eternally had his Logos. And the Logos is of the essence of God — nowhere is this clearer than in Tatian (5) — θeος ην εν αρχή την δε αρχήν λόγου δύναμιν παρείλήφαμεν… In relation to created existence, to the world and to mankind, the Logos is "expressed" — προφορικός, and in this expression the Logos reveals the Father, expresses himself and simultaneously the Father. This, however, does not mean nor imply that the Logos "becomes" a hypostasis for the first time in order to create. Such a view is a complete misreading of the Apologists.

The Problem of Terminology.

It is quite correct that terminology is a problem for the Apologists, just as it will be in the coming centuries of theological controversy. The Apologists may not have always used precise terminology, especially when dealing with the eternal distinctions within the One Divine Being, but they knew, they believed in, and they attempted to explicate at times these distinctions. They knew that before creation the Logos was "with God" and "was God." Even the personhood of the Logos is constantly affirmed by the Apologists — they are constantly referring to the Father’s communication with the Logos, with the Son, especially when discussing the Genesis account of "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness." When the Apologists refer to the Logos as a "second God" or "in second rank," they have little intention to introduce subordinationism. Rather, their intent is to protect the divine monarchy, to safeguard monotheism, to preserve the Oneness and Unity of God. Even Clement of Alexandria, accused by Harnack as "expressing himself in such a way that one can scarcely fail to notice a distinction between the Logos of the Father and the Logos of the Son," teaches that the Logos is One and the Same, from the beginning to the end of things. In fairness to Harnack there is one extant text from Clement’s Hypotyposeis whose meaning is so unclear that it could — by itself — be interpreted as did Harnack. St. Photius also excoriated this work and considered it unauthentic. Exclusive of that one passage Clement’s teaching on the Logos, often misrepresented and misinterpreted, is understandable from within the context of the mainstream orthodox thought of the Apologists.

It is, as it will be in the coming centuries, a problem of terminology with the Apologists. It is not an exaggeration to assert that the central problem in all the theological controversies will be that of terminology. The Church fathers had good reason for devoting so much attention to problems of terminology, for they were trying to find and establish words and terms that would be adequate to their conceptions of God and, which would precisely express, and thus protect and preserve, the truths of the apostolic faith. Their concern for terminology will not be excessive but necessary, for it is the word, the terms, the phrases that give outer form to a thought and verbal precision is necessary for the full expression of intellectual conception. The patristic and Byzantine theologians will attempt to formulate their theology and their creeds with clarity because their hope is to establish the living traditions of the Church by expressing them in a versatile system of theology. This task will not be easily fulfilled and theological speculation, as in the age of the Apostolic Fathers, will develop in many different directions. But all will coincide in their basic principles and all will be united by the common experience of the Church, for "that is the mystery of the Church that is the tradition of the fathers."

The Apologists emphasis on the divine unity and monarchy — their protection of monotheism — led to a somewhat exaggerated attempt to protect the divine monarchy and, in so doing, they tended to transfer focus from the distinction of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit to the Divine Oneness. And yet the Apologists are often accused of stressing the distinction of the Son and Spirit ad extra, in οικονομία so much that "subordinated" the Son and Spirit to the "real" God, God the Father. It is certainly true that the Apologists — quite understandably — write more about God’s relation to the world than about the inner, eternal existence of God. It is understandable precisely because the Apologists were engaged in a dialogue with a non-Christian world and attempted to present the Christian teaching of God’s action in redeeming mankind. Hence, the very nature of their task determined the content and focus of their writing. For this reason it is all the more significant that we do possess texts from the Apologists that do reflect, however briefly, on the inner, eternal existence of the Divine Being. Just as the earlier Christian documents were written to other Christian communities and hence assumed the knowledge of the faith, so also in the writings of the Apologists we should not expect to find much on the inner, eternal existence of God, precisely because that was not the central focus of their task, of their mission. Rather than being surprised by the paucity of their thought on the inner, eternal existence of God, we should be surprised that they wrote on that subject as often as they did. In this they, to a very great extent, exceeded their task.

As a reaction to both Gnostic ideas and the emphasis of the Apologists on a theology of God’s oikonomic activity, a theology in which some detected a tendency to "subordinate" the Son and Spirit, a new emphasis of thought emerged — Monarchianism. In the early Church only Modalism was referred to as Monarchianism. Modern scholars, however, divide Monarchianism into two forms — Dynamic Monarchianism and Modalistic Monarchianism. They are two different thought patterns, both in origin and in purpose. However, the two thought patterns are common in that they both focus on divine oneness rather than on the distinctions of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In these two thought patterns we encounter two tendencies, which, in different forms, will challenge the faith of the Church in the coming centuries. Dynamic Monarchianism is actually Adoptionism, the notion that Christ was merely a man — ψιλός άνθρωπος — upon whom the Spirit somehow “descended” and took up an “indwelling.” For the Adoptionists, or in modern terminology the Dynamic Monarchians, Jesus Christ was not always God. At some point a "power" of the Father or the "Spirit" descended upon the man Jesus — either at conception, or birth, or baptism, or at the resurrection. Modalism, or Modalistic Monarchianism, known in the East as Sabellianism, tended to consider the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as "modes," aspects, or phases of the One Divine Person.

Chapter Seven.

Monarchianism.

Dynamic Monarchianism in the Latin West.

The Alogi.

The first known opponents to the doctrine of the Logos set forth by the Apologists came from Asia Minor and were appropriately named the Alogi by Hippolytus. The Alogi were strict opponents of Montanism and any type of prophetic movements within the Church — all prophecy should be excluded from the Church. Their opposition to prophecy was combined with an opposition to the "Spirit" which in turn led to opposition to the Gospel of St. John, especially to eradicate the announcement of the coming of the "Spirit" from that Gospel. They concluded that the Gospel of St. John was written "in St. John’s name" — eiς όνομα Ιωάννου — by Cerinthus the Gnostic. The books attributed to St. John should not be accepted in the Church — ουκ άξια αυτά φασιν ειναι εν εκκλησία. For a variety of reasons the Gospel of St. John was considered unauthentic — it was accused also of being Docetic. As Epiphanius relates, the Alogi attacked the linking of the Logos with the Son of God — τον λόγον τον θeov άποβάλλονται τον δια Ιωάννης κηρυχθέντα. The Alogi considered the Gospel of St. John to be tinged with Gnostic Docetism. Because the Alogi were anti-Gnostic and anti-Docetic they are treated rather mildly by St. Irenaeus and St. Hippolytus. In rejecting the Logos the Alogi emphasized the human life of Jesus. Implicit from what little we know of their views is that they apparently rejected the eternality of Christ and stressed a type of Adoptionism. Though there is no evidence that they used such a term, they apparently would have conceived of Jesus as a "mere man" — ψιλός άνθρωπος, a man in whom spiritual progress took place, probably from baptism. The Alogi were the first within the Church to adopt a critical approach to both Christian Scriptures and Christian tradition.

Theodotus of Byzantium.

A more serious Adoptionism came from the city of Byzantium. The founder of Dynamic Monarchianism, the "founder, leader, and father of the God-denying revolt" of Adoptionism was, writes Hippolytus, the leather-merchant from Byzantium, Theodotus — the απόσπασμα of the Alogi. Theodotus, described as exceedingly well-educated, came to Rome about 190. All that is known for certain is that Theodotus was excommunicated — άπεκήρυζε της κοινωνίας — by Pope Victor (186-198) because of his Christology. St. Hippolytus informs us that he had taught that Jesus was a man who was born of a virgin through the power of the Holy Spirit by a special decree of God. But there was no divine being or person who had taken flesh in the virgin. His spirituality was tested and as a result the Holy Spirit descended upon him at his baptism, at which time he became the Christ.

The two most important disciples of Theodotus were his namesake, Theodotus the Banker or Money-Changer, and Asclepiodotus. It appears that under the influence of these two disciples of the founder of this group a separate Church was established with its own bishop. Hippolytus even gives the monthly salary of their bishop — 150 denarii. They too were appealing to apostolic tradition, claiming that their position had been accepted by the Church from the time of the apostles to the time of Pope Zephyrinus (198-217), at which time the true faith became corrupted. Their attempt to establish their own Church failed. In fact, what they had established was a "school of theology" not unlike those to appear in Alexandria and Antioch. They applied the exegesis of textual criticism to the Scriptures of the Church, along with rationalism and empiricism — they studied logic, mathematics, and the empirical sciences. They rejected the allegorical interpretation of Scripture and instead used the scholarly tools available to them to attempt to discover the "original text." They considered themselves scholars and Catholics but their scholarship was biased and unobjective and they found themselves cut off from the Catholic Church.

The position that the followers of Theodotus were merely attempting to preserve the "older, Roman Christology" contained in The Shepherd of Hermes misunderstands the very nature of the Roman Church and the significance of The Shepherd in Rome, even though there are some points of similarity between The Shepherd and the thought of the followers of Theodotus. But the author of The Shepherd was by no means a theologian. His mind focuses only on practical matters — especially penance — and whenever he discusses anything of any depth or significance in theology his mind is not capable of the task. It is not difficult to ascertain a confusion of the Son of God with the Holy Spirit in The Shepherd. But The Shepherd did not determine the main or central features of Roman theology, especially on Christology or Trinitarian thought. The Christology evident in The Shepherd is Adoptionist but the entire work is strange and belongs to the genre of apocryphal apocalypses. The differences between the followers of Theodotus and the author of The Shepherd are greater than is any similarity.

The followers of Theodotus attempted to distinguish between the eternal Son of God and the Crucified One, much of which was based on their extreme emphasis on Melchizedek, who was considered to be far more exalted than Christ. Christ was but a copy of the original, the high priest Melchizedek, who was the advocate of the heavenly powers before God. Epiphanius tells us that the "Theodotians" or "Melchizedekians" offered their oblations in the name of Melchizedek — εις ονομα του Meλχισεδεκ, the true Son of God, the path to God, the prince of righteousness. That there was a theology of Melchizedek in the early Church cannot be denied. That Melchizedek replaced or was higher than Christ was in general quite contrary to the "orthodox" understanding of Melchizedek in the theology of the early Church. He was considered a type, a prototype of Christ, the eternal High Priest. The theology of the Theodotians was an innovation in many ways — they refused to recognize Christ as God, refused to use Θεος in any reference to Christ, rejected completely any type of Logos theology, and rejected the Gospel of St. John. Any objective evaluation of the teachings of the first Theodotus and the second Theodotus and their followers, based on the knowledge we possess of them, must conclude that they stood far outside the Church, that they in essence excommunicated themselves with their fanciful, unapostolic teachings.

Artemas and the Lingering of Dynamic Modalism in Rome.

Approximately thirty years later a certain Artemas, of whom we know exceedingly little, attempted to resuscitate the general thought of the Theodotians. All we know for certain is that Artemas also refused to call Christ "God." This Artemas was still living in 270 — we know this from the Acts of the Council of Antioch, which concerned Paul of Samosata. Indeed, Eusebius informs us that "Paul may write letters to Artemas and the followers of Artemas are said to hold communion with Paul." Novatian could very well be referring to the followers of Artemas in his De Trinitate when he mentions those who claimed that Jesus was homo nudus et solitarius. But in the decades and centuries to come Artemas found his name included in the common "Ebionites, Artemas, Photinus" — and later the name Nestorius will be added to this phrase. It became the standard phrase when referring to Adoptionists.

Adoptionist Christology — Dynamic Monarchianism — is essentially destroyed in Rome. But from time to time it raises its head in most unexpected places. St. Augustine tells us in his De Confessione (7, 19, 25) that he, before his ultimate conversion but while already under the influence of St. Ambrose in Milan, thought of Christ in a quite unorthodox way: "I conceived my Lord Christ only as a man of surpassing wisdom, whom no other could equal. Above all, because he was born in a wondrous manner of the Virgin, to give us an example of despising temporal things in order to win immortality, he seemed by the godlike care that he had for us, to have merited such great authority as a teacher. But what mystery was contained within those words, ‘The Word was made flesh,’ I could not conceive… I accounted him a person to be preferred above all other men, not as the person of Truth, but because of some great excellence of his human nature and a more perfect participation in wisdom." But if St. Augustine ultimately rejected the tendencies of Dynamic Modalism in his Christology, his Trinitarian doctrine will later reveal clear Modalism. St. Augustine’s Christology will shed itself of Adoptionism but one can detect elements therein of Monophysitical tendencies. Whether St. Augustine’s Adoptionist Christology at the time previous to his baptism was a lingering influence from his Manichean days or whether it was a result of his constant contact with Christians who may have had Adoptionist tendencies is unknown.

Modalistic Monarchianism.

It was not Adoptionism — Dynamic Monarchianism — that presented the most serious challenge to Christ as the Divine Logos, to Logos Christology. Rather, it was the doctrine that viewed Christ as God in a human body, the Father become flesh. Against both forms of Monarchianism the battle was waged in the Latin West by Tertullian, Novatian, and Hippolytus and primarily by Origen in the Greek East. In the Latin West those who held this view were called Monarchiani and Patripassiani. In the Greek East they were called Sabelliani or Sabellians, though there too the term Patripassiani was used.

Just as St. Jerome will later say about Arianism — the Church woke up and found itself Arian, so also St. Hippolytus writes that the Monarchian controversy troubled, upset the entire Church — μέγιστον τάραχον κατά πάντα τον κόσμον εν πάσιν τοις πιστοίς έμβάλλουσιν. Both Tertullian and Origen write that the majority of Christians were suspicious about the oikonomic Trinity and also about Christ as the Logos. Tertullian writes in his Adversus Praxean (3): "Simplices quique, ne dixerim imprudentes et idiotae, quae maior semper pars credentium est, quoniam et ipsa regulafidei apluribus diis saeculi ad unicum et verum dewn transfert, non intelligentes unicwn quidem, sed cum sua οικονομία esse credendum, expavescunt ad οικονομίαν… Itaque duos et tres iam iactitant a nobis praedicari, se vero unius dei cultores praesumunt… monarchiam inquiunt tenemus" And Origen in his Commentary on St. John writes (II, 3): ετepoi δε oι μηδέν ειδοτες; eι μη Ιήσουν Χριστόν και τούτον έσταυρωνένον, τον γενόμενον σάρκα λόγον το πάν νομίσaντeς ειναι του λόγου, Χριστόν κατά σάρκα μόνον γιγνώσκουσι τοιούτον δε εστί το πλήθος των πεπιστευκέναι νομιόμένων.

Noëtus.

According to the information provided by St. Hippolytus, Modalistic Modalism begins to make itself historically known in Noёtus of Smyrna, who taught from approximately 180 to 200. Hippolytus claims he was the originator — άρχηγόν — of the heresy of Modalism. However, it appears that Praxeas had come to Rome before the arrival of the disciples of Noëtus and that he was the "first to import into Rome from Asia this kind of heretical pravity" — Iste primus ex Asia hoc genus perversitatis intulit Romam, homo et alias inquietus, insuper de iactatione martyrii inflatus ob solum et simplex et breve career is taedium (Tertullian, Adversus Praxean 1). Noëtus was not condemned at his first trial but at his second trial about the year 200. Our primary information on Noëtus comes from St. Hippolytus’ Philosophumena, also known as The Refutation of All Heresies — Κατά πασών αιρέσεων έλεγχος (9, 2-6; 10, 23) and from his shorter work known as the Homily on the Heresy of Noëtus — ομιλία eις την αιρεσιν Νοητου τινός. This valuable document is not a homily but a short, anti-heretical doctrinal work, perhaps part of a larger work. Noëtus "alleged that Christ was the Father himself and that the Father himself was born, and suffered, and died… He alleged that he was himself Moses, and that Aaron [Elijah, according to Philastrius] was his brother. When the blessed presbyters heard this, they summoned him before the Church and examined him. But he denied at first that he held such opinions. Afterwards, however, taking shelter among some, and having gathered round him some others who had embraced the same error, he wished thereafter to uphold his dogma openly as correct. And the blessed presbyters called him again before them and examined him. But he stood out against them, saying, "What evil, then, am I doing in glorifying Christ’ — τί ουν κακόν δοξαζων τον Χριστον? Then, after examining him, they expelled him from the Church. And he was carried to such a pitch of pride that he established a school… They answer in this manner: ‘If therefore I acknowledge Christ to be God, He is the Father himself if he is indeed God. And Christ suffered, being himself God. Consequently, the Father suffered, for he was the Father himself." Noëtus appealed to the Scriptural texts of Exodus 3,6 and 20,3; Isaiah 45,14; and Romans 9,5. "In this way, then, they choose to set forth these things and they make use only of one set of passages, just in the same one-sided manner that Theodotus employed when he sought to prove that Christ was a mere man. But neither has the one party nor the other understood the matter rightly, for the Scriptures themselves confute their senselessness and attest to the truth." St. Hippolytus exclaims, "For who will not admit that there is One God? Yet he will not on that account deny the oikonomia" He then begins a devastating critique of Noëtus’ position.

Two disciples of Noëtus, Epigonus and Cleomenes, came to Rome and propagated this Modalism, ostensibly with the approval of Pope Zephyrinus (199-217). St. Hippolytus, depicting Pope Zephyrinus as a dull, corrupt, an uneducated man, writes, "Epigonus becomes the pupil [of Noëtus] and during his sojourn at Rome disseminated his godless opinion. But Cleomenes, who had become his disciple, an alien both in way of life and habits from the Church, corroborated this doctrine. At that time Zephyrinus imagines that he administers the affairs of the Church — an uninformed and shamefully corrupt man. And he, being persuaded by proffered gain, was accustomed to connive with those who were present for the purpose of becoming disciples of Cleomenes. But Zephyrinus himself, being in process of time enticed away, hurried headlong into the same opinions — and he had Callistus as his adviser and a fellow-champion of these wicked tenets… The school of these heretics during the succession [of these bishops] continued to acquire strength and augmentation from the fact that Zephyrinus and Callistus helped them to prevail" (Philosophumena 9, 2). Epigonus and Cleomenes believed that "when the Father had not yet been born, he was rightly called Father. But when it had pleased him to submit to birth, having been born, he became the Son, he of himself and not of another… Christ is himself the Father and the Father himself was born and suffered and died." It was the belief in the full divinity of Christ, which led these Modalists to this position: "For Christ was God and suffered for us, being the Father himself, in order that he might be able also to save us."

Praxeas

The essence of what we know about Praxeas comes from Tertullian’s Adversus Praxean. He came to Rome towards the end of the second century from Asia where he is said to have suffered imprisonment for his faith. Praxeas had come to Rome previous to the arrival of Epigonus and Cleomenes and probably before St. Hippolytus could have had any personal knowledge of him. It appears that he spent only a brief time in Rome, founded no school, and then moved on to North Africa where he was the first to raise the topic in Carthage. Praxeas was not only a Modalist but an anti-Montanist and exercised an influence on the Pope Victor and Pope Zephyrinus in turning them against the Montanists. Tertullian writes that "after the Bishop of Rome had acknowledged the prophetic gifts of Montanus, Prisca, and Maximilla, and, in consequence of the acknowledgement, had bestowed his peace on the churches of Asia and Phrygia, he, by importunately urging false accusations against the prophets themselves and their churches, and insisting on the authority of the bishop’s predecessors in the see, compelled him to recall the pacific letter, which he had issued, as well as to desist from his purpose of acknowledging the gifts. By this Praxeas did a twofold service for the devil at Rome: he drove away prophecy and he brought in heresy." He proclaimed himself a leader of the Patripassian Monarchians — those who protected the monarchy of God to the point that it meant that God suffered. Tertullian remarks that Praxeas "put to flight the Paraclete and crucified the Father" — Patrem crucifixit. Tertullian was already a Montanist when writing against Praxeas. He writes that Praxeas had renounced his error in writing but "had deliberately resumed his old… faith, teaching it after his renunciation of error." Thereafter "nothing was heard of him" but "the tares of Praxeas had then everywhere shaken out their seed, which having lain hidden for some while, with its vitality concealed under a mask, has now broken out with fresh life." Tertullian vows that "again it shall be rooted up." It appears that Tertullian in his Adversus Praxean is confronting not just Praxeas but the Modalism, which had broken out in Rome from the influence of Noëtus. "The Father was born and the Father suffered. Jesus Christ is… the Father born, the Father suffering, God himself, and the omnipotent Lord." The Father and the Son are therefore the same person (Adversus Praxean 5). Praxeas’ appeal to Scripture includes Isaiah 45, 5 and John 10,30; 14,9-10.

It must be emphasized that the Modalists were interested in both defending the monarchy of God, in protecting monotheism, and in defending the full divinity of Jesus. They believed that their opponents — those believing in the oikonomic Trinity — had injured the cause of monotheism — φάσκουσιν συνιστάν ένα θεον. The likes of Tertullian and St. Hippolytus, the defenders of the Logos as the Son of God, the defenders of the three persons who are One God, were called ditheists — διθεοι. St. Hippolytus feels compelled to defend himself on this — ου δύο θεούς λέγω… δημοσία ό Κάλλιστος ήμιν ονειδιζει ειπειν διθεοι έστε. The Modalists attacked by Tertullian identify the Father and the Son — ipsum dicit patrem descendisse in virginem, ipsum ex ea natum, ipsum passwn ipsum denique esse lesum Christum… post tempus pater natus et pater passus, ipse deus, dominus Omnipotens, lesus Christus praedicatur. For them the Logos is not a substance but rather a sound — quid est enim, dices, sermo nisi vox et sonus oris, et sicut grammatici tradunt, aer offensus, intellegibilis auditu, ceterum vanum nescio quid. Tertullian’s Modalists appeal to the same Scriptural texts that the opponents of St. Hippolytus use. They also despise Gnosticism. In any attempt they might make to take account of the Logos as the eternal Son of God they fail and fall into the "modes" or "aspects" of the One God. "For, confuted on all sides on the distinction between the Father and the Son which we maintain without destroying their inseparable union… they endeavour to interpret this distinction in a way, which shall nevertheless tally with their own opinions: so that, all in one Person, they distinguish two, Father and Son, understanding the Son to be flesh, that is man, that is Jesus; and the Father to be spirit, that is God, that is Christ" — aeque in una persona utrumque distinguunt, patrem et filium, discentes filium carnem esse, id est hominem, id est lesum, patrem autem spiritum, id est deum, id est Christum (Adversus Praxean 27). "Thus, they, while contending that the Father and the Son are one and the same, do in fact begin by dividing them rather than uniting them. For if Jesus is one, and Christ is another, then the Son will be different from the Father because the Son is Jesus and the Father is Christ. Such a monarchy as this they learned, I suppose, in the school of Valentinus, making twoJesus and Christ" — et qui unum eundemque contendunt patrem et filium, iam incipiunt dividere illos potius quam unare; talem monarchiam apud Valentinumfortasse didicerunt, duosfacere lesum et Christum (27). Tertullian’s attack in this chapter and also in chapter 4 is powerful, and both expose and shatter his opponents’ position.

Sabellius.

The most original form of Modalistic Monarchianism was that of Sabellius who may have come from Cyrenaica. Athanasius and Epiphanius inform us that it was Sabellius who gave Modalistic Monarchianism its metaphysical and philosophical basis. In the Greek East Modalistic Monarchianism became identified with "Sabellianism." St. Hippolytus writes that Sabellius was at first welcomed at Rome by Callistus but excommunicated after Callistus became Pope Callistus I in 217. It is not known whether Sabellius left Rome or remained there. In any event, his influence spread beyond Rome. It was in Pentapolis that a Trinitarian controversy erupted in 257 and the Modalists were referred to as "Sabellians" even though Sabellius was probably dead by that time — some bishops refused to identify Christ as the Son of God. Dionysius of Alexandria, their metropolitan and a disciple of Origen, challenged their teaching and excommunicated Sabellius at a council in Alexandria in 260 or 261. In challenging, this Modalism Dionysius of Alexandria used language, which some suspected of being tainted with subordinationism. In was in this context that Pope Dionysius (259-268) wrote against both the Sabellians and their "subordinationist" opponents. This exchange between the two bishops, Dionysius of Rome and Dionysius of Alexandria, foreshadows the coming Arian controversy.

Sabellius distinguished the monad from the triad in the divine nature. His essential thought is that the unity of God extends itself — ή μονάς πλατυνθέισα γέγονε τρίας — in the course of the historical development of the world in three different modes and three different periods of revelation. The act of creation ostensibly begins this Modalistic Trinitarianism, for God begins to manifest himself in this three-fold way only with creation and then the giving of the law in the Old Testament — it is the Father who is modalistically revealed in the Old Testament, the Son in the Incarnation, and the Holy Spirit in "inspiration." The revelation of God in the mode of the Son terminates with the Ascension; the revelation of God in the mode of the Holy Spirit continues in regeneration and sanctification. Sabellius is said to have used the sun as an analogy of the Trinitarian modes of revelation: the Father as the form — το σχήμα, the Son as the light — το φωτιστικόν, and the Holy Spirit — as the heat or warmth — το θάλπον. The Logos is "the monad in its transition to triad," the silent God — θεος σιωπών — as distinct from the "speaking God" — θεός λάλων. Each πρόσωπον is another διαλέγεσθαι and the three πρόσωπα are in reality successive evolutions of the Logos as God in relationship to the world. Just as the Logos comes forth from God, so also the Logos will ultimately revert to God and the manifestation of the Trinitarian modes will cease.

According to Epiphanius, the followers of Sabellius queried, "What shall we say? Do we have one God or three Gods?" — τί αν ειπωμεν, ένα θeόv έχoμeν, ή τρεις θεούς. And they respond to their own question that they do not teach polytheism — ου πoλυθειαν είσηγoύμεθα. Both Athanasius and Hilary claim that Sabellius referred to the one being as υίοπάτωρ, which simply referred to the one person of God. The level of sophistication allowed the Sabellians to assert that one should not speak of a suffering by the Father but rather that "the Father suffered with — συρπeπoνθέναι — the Son.” These formulae of compassus est pater filio may very well be formulae of compromise.

The supposition that the expression ομοούσιος was used by the Sabellians is quite possible, for they could use it within their theological vision quite easily. Not only could they speak of the Son being homoousios with the Father but also of the Holy Spirit being homoousios with the Father and all these "modes" being homoousios with one another precisely because all these manifestations were the one essence manifesting itself in different forms or aspects. The Sabellian use of the term is decidedly different from the way that this important theological term will be used by St. Athanasius and the Council of Nicaea.

Dynamic Monarchianism in the Greek East

Origen informs us that many in the Greek East also rejected the Christology that united Christ with the Logos, and this was indeed among those who distinguished between the Father and the Son. In fact, Origen had in his complete Christology laid such strong emphasis on the tenet of faith that Jesus was a true man that his opponents later linked him with Paul of Samosata and Artemas.

Pamphilus felt it necessary to come to the defence of Origen and pointed out that Origen "said that the Son of God was born of the very essence of God — ομοούσιος —, which means, of the same essence with the Father but that he was not a creature who became a son by adoption but a true son by nature, generated by the Father himself — quod Qrigenes filium dei de ipsa del substantia natwn dixerit, id est, όμοο&ηον, quod est, eiusdem cum paire substantiae, et non esse creaturam per adoptionem sed natura filium verum, ex ipso patre generatum. Origen attempted to reveal to the Adoptionists their error but in general ignored them.

A vehement reaction took place in Bostra, Arabia when the bishop Beryllus taught a form of Dynamic Monarchianism. The Acts of the Council of Bostra have not survived but a few excerpts are found in Eusebius and Jerome and one excerpt in the Apology of Pamphilus. The council, according to the information we have, took place about 244 and Origen was called in to examine Beryllus. Eusebius tells us that Beryllus was convinced of his error by Origen and thanked him for correcting him. The important text from Eusebius lends itself to more than one interpretation. Based on the evidence, especially from a fragment of Origen’s Commentary on the Epistle of Titus, it seems that Beryllus did in fact hold an Adoptionist view of Christ.

Chapter Eight

Tertullian and Hippolytus

Two of the champions in fighting both Dynamic Monarchianism and Modalistic Monarchianism were Tertullian and St. Hippolytus. Both theologians will have confrontations with the Church — indeed, Tertullian will leave that Catholic Church for which he battled so strenuously to join the Montanists and St. Hippolytus will become an anti-Pope finishing his life in exile.

Tertullian

Quintus Septimius Florens Tertullianus is — with one qualification — the father of Latin theology and the most influential person in the Latin West in shaping the terminology of Latin Christianity. Tertullian is "father" of Latin theology in the sense that he was the first theologian of significance to write in Latin. In terms of influence on future generations, the title "father" of Latin theology indeed belongs to St. Augustine. Tertullian’s influence on subsequent Latin Christian writers is clearly discernible. St. Cyprian would say, in reference to the works of Tertullian, "Hand me the master!" Novatian’s De Trinitate is based on Tertullian; St. Augustine enjoyed reading him; St. Vincent of Lerins’ Commonitorium owes much to him; and Pope Leo’s Tome draws heavily from him. He has been called "the real creator of the Latin of the Church" but that statement must also be qualified, for we do not have any way of evaluating the influence of the anonymous translators of the Latin Bible before St. Jerome’s translation. Unfortunately little is known of Tertullian’s life and what we know comes from his works or from St. Jerome. He was sharp, penetrating, and intelligent. His personality comes through quite clearly from his writings.

Tertullian was born in Carthage, probably between the years 154 and 160. His father, St. Jerome tells us, was a "proconsular centurion" which could mean that he was a centurion of the city cohort stationed in Carthage or an official who bore that title out of traditional respect. Both parents were pagans and later he deplores his errors and his former sarcastic attitude towards Christian beliefs — "Haec et nos risimus aliquando: de vestris sumus. Fiunt, non nascuntur Christiani." He specialized in law, gaining an enviable reputation as a lawyer in Rome. His legal background will contribute to the casting of certain Latin theological terms in a legalistic or juridical mode. It is now commonly accepted that he is the lawyer Tertullianus, excerpts of whose writings are quoted in the Pandects, the Corpus Civilis. It is apparent from his writings that he received an excellent Graeco-Roman education — he is acquainted with history, philosophy, poetry, ancient literature, medicine, and of course law, and wrote with equal ease in both Greek and Latin. St. Jerome testifies to Tertullian’s erudition — "Quid Tertulliano eruditius, quid acutius. Apologeticus ejus et contra Gentes libri cunctam saeculi continent disciplinam" [Epistula 70, 5]. St. Vincent of Lerins praises Tertullian’s learning in his Commonitorium (24): "Who was more learned than this man? Who as competent as he in things divine and human? So much so that all philosophy, all the different sects of the philosophers, their founders, their adherents, and the systems defended by the latter, history and science under their multiple formsall these were embraced by the great extent of his intellect." Eusebius tells us that Tertullian was "a man accurately acquainted with the Roman laws," a man was "especially distinguished among the eminent men of Rome." The statement by St. Jerome that Tertullian was a priest — Tertullianus presbyterus — is still debated — Tertullian queries in his De exhortatione castitatis [Exhortation to Chastity]: "Nonne et Laid sacerdotes sumus?" The prevailing opinion is that he was ordained priest about the year 200. That he was married is beyond doubt — he admits in his works that he frequently committed adultery and wrote a work To His Wife — Ad uxorem —, which contains suggestions and instructions on how she should live when he dies. That his character was extremist is clear from what he himself tells us — as a young man, he writes, he "drained the cup of lust to the dregs" and was impassioned with a love and lust for immoral plays and the bloody spectacles in the arenas. In any case, he portrays himself as being overly licentious as a young man — "ego me scio neque alia carne adulteria commisisse, neque nunc alia carne ad continentiam eniti." This in some way accounts for some of his extremism later in life. St. Jerome writes that Tertullian lived to an extreme old age — "Fertur vixisse usque ad decrepitam aetatem."

Tertullian’s conversion to Christianity took place between 193 and 195. In Carthage he devoted all his energies to the defence of Christianity, both by writing and by teaching in the catechetical school. A commonly used periodization of Tertullian’s life as a Christian theologian is a division of that time into three periods: from 195 to 206 is considered his "Catholic" period; from 206 to 212 his "Semi-Montanist" period; and after 213 his "Montanist" period. He actually established his own party known as the "Tertullianists" and they possessed one of the basilicas in Carthage. The "Tertullianists" were only brought back into the Church almost two centuries later and the person who accomplished this and speaks of it is St. Augustine in his De Haeresibus (86).

Tertullian wrote prolifically. Thirty-one of his authentic works are extant. The content of his works is rich; the style unique, powerful, and vibrant. It is deplorable that the quality and uniqueness of his Latin is often overlooked or inaccurately judged as barbaric. Indeed the opinion of the eighteenth century German philologist, Ruhnken, influenced many subsequent scholars who merely quote his opinion, an opinion difficult to comprehend. He is perhaps the most quoted of all early Christian writers and perhaps the least read. Tertullian writes with enthusiasm — indeed, even with anger and outrage. He was quite aware of his fiery temper and made attempts to control it — "miserrimus ego semper aeger caloribus impatientiae." He writes with pithy sarcasm, with bristling energy, with ardent conviction, and with a lucid and penetrating mind. He is often praised as a literary genius and rightly so. He created innumerable new words. It is true that at times his thought is obscure, but it is not that often. He combines both originality of style with penetrating insight into the truths of that faith once delivered. As a stylist he is unequalled in Latin Patristic literature. He combined puns, epigrams, paradoxical expressions, invective, and memorable phrases. It is no wonder that he is so often quoted. He is the author of such often quoted expressions as: Credo quia absurdum est or credendum quia absurdum est — the thought does indeed come from Tertullian, even if not in the words with, which it has come down to us; it is from his De carne Christi (5): "And the Son of God died; it is by all means to be believed because it is absurd;" Veritas non erubescit nisi solummodo abscondi; Quid ergo Athenis et Hierosolymis; Christus veritas est, non consuetude; Semen est sanguis Christianorum; and Testimonium Animae naturaliter Christianae. Indeed, the list is long.

Tertullian’s Ad nationes [To the Pagans] is an attack on the unfairness of the Roman juridical process in relationship with Christians. Theologically the most interesting part of this work is Tertullian’s discussion on the concept of God while the rest of the work is a rich defence of Christians on a legal basis by a brilliant if impassioned, lawyer.

Some scholars consider his Apologeticum to be his most important work. Theologically it is not. It is a more refined and more unified work than his Ad nationes with a different audience in mind — it was addressed not to the pagan world in general but to the governors of Roman provinces. Still, the work contains some theologically important material. God is "invisible, though he is seen; incomprehensible, though manifested by grace; inconceivable, though conceived by human senses… It is God’s infinity, which gives us the conception of the inconceivable God, for his overwhelming majesty presents him to man as simultaneously known and unknown."

This work contains the famous statement that "the soul is naturally Christian." Tertullian presents a description of a Christian worship service (39), speaks of the "stupendous shock" of the "ending of the age" (32), of the coming resurrection and judgment (47), and the final restoration of the human race, a restoration where "there is no death nor repeated resurrection, but from now on we shall be the same and remain unchanged. The worshippers of God will be with God forever, clothed with the proper substance of eternity. But the profane and all who are not wholly devoted to God will be in punishment of fire, which is just as eternal" (48).

Tertullian briefly discusses Christology in this work: "He appeared among us, whose coming to renovate and illuminate man’s nature was pre-announced by God — I mean Christ, the Son of God. And so the supreme Head and Master of this grace and discipline, the Enlightener and Trainer of the human race, God’s own Son, was announced among us, born — but not so born as to make him ashamed of the name of Son or of his paternal origin. It was not his lot to have as his father, by incest with a sister, or by violation of a daughter or another’s wife, a god in the shape of serpent or ox or bird or lover for his vile ends transmuting himself into the gold of Danaus. They are your divinities upon whom these base deeds of Jupiter were done. But the Son of God has no mother in any sense, which involves impurity. She, whom men suppose to be his mother in the ordinary way, had never entered into the marriage bond. But, first, I shall discuss his essential nature so that the nature of his birth will be understood. We have already asserted that God made the world and all that it contains by his Word and Reason and Power. It is abundantly plain that your philosophers too regard the Logos — that is, the Word and Reason — as the Creator of the universe... And we, in like manner, hold that the Word and Reason and Power by, which we have said, God made everything… We have been taught that he comes forth from God and in that procession he is generated so that he is the Son of God, and is called God from unity of substance with God… Thus, Christ is Spirit of Spirit and God of God, as light of light is kindled. So also that which has come forth out of God is at once God and the Son of God, and the two are one. In this way also, as he is Spirit of Spirit and God of God, he is made a second in manner of existence — in rank, not in nature. And he did not withdraw from the original source but came forth. This ray of God, then… descending into a certain virgin, and made flesh in her womb, is in his birth God and man united, the flesh formed by the Spirit is nourished, grows up to manhood, speaks, teaches, works, and is the Christ… in all the majesty of Deity unveiled… he was the Logos of God, that primordial First-Begotten Word, accompanied by power and reason, and based on Spirit — that he who was now doing all things by his word, and he who had done that of old, were one and the same… Surely Christ, then, had a right to reveal Deity, which was in fact his own essential possession" (21).

Tertullian in his Apologeticum argues that Christians are good citizens, especially stressing the point that Christians serve in the armed forces: "We sail with you; we serve in the army with you" (42). "We have filled every place of yours in cities, islands, villages, townships, market-places, and the army camps" (37). He calls attention to Marcus Aurelius’ testimony that the "prayers of Christians who happened to be in the army" dispelled a drought in Germany (5) Tertullian refers to this also in Ad Scapulam (4). But in his De Idololatria, Tertullian reveals his own view: "Now the question is raised whether a believer can serve in the military, and whether the military may be admitted to the faith, even private soldiers and all the lower ranks, who are not under the necessity of performing sacrifices or administering capital punishment. There is no congruity between the divine and the human sacramentum, between the standard of Christ and the standard of the devil, the camp of light and the camp of darkness… the Lord in disarming Peter unbelted every soldier from that time forth" (19). The two texts are not contradictory. In the first Tertullian is cleverly making the most of the fact that Christians are in reality in the armed services — he is arguing from fact, from the reality of the situation. In the second text he is proclaiming what he considers to be the ideal, the correct position. It is true that he conceals his own view in the Apologeticum.

Tertullian’s work Ad Scapulam is a short masterpiece, which contains some precious material on the ardent faith of Christians confronting persecution and martyrdom. It was written to Scapula, the Governor of Africa (211-213) and a persecutor of Christians. As elsewhere in his works, Tertullian here proclaims his belief in the freedom of conscience, the freedom of religion: "It is a fundamental human right, a privilege of nature that every man should worship according to his own convictions: one man’s religion neither harms nor helps another man. It is assuredly no part of religion to compel religion — to which freedom of will and not force should lead us — the sacrificial victims even being required of a willing mind. You will render no real service to your gods by compelling us to sacrifice, for they can have no desire of offerings from the unwilling, unless they are animated by a spirit of contention which is a thing altogether undivine" (2). "A Christian is enemy to none, and least of all — to the Emperor of Rome, whom he knows to be appointed by his God" (2). Tertullian writes at length on the Emperor being "appointed by God," on the Emperor as "the human being next to God who from God has received all his power and is less than God alone" (2). He warns Scapula of punishment from God in the next world. He then presents a moving statement: "Your cruelty is our glory. Only see to it that, in having such things to endure, we do not feel ourselves constrained to rush forth to the combat if only to prove that we have no dread of them but, on the contrary, even invite their infliction… We have no master but God. He is before you and cannot be hidden from you. But to him you can do no injury. But those whom you regard as masters are only men, and one day they themselves must die. Yet still this community will be undying, for be assured that just in the time of its seeming overthrow it is built up into greater power. For all who witness the noble patience of its martyrs, as struck with misgivings, are inflamed with desire to examine into the matter in question. And as soon as they come to know the truth, they at once enrol themselves its disciples" (5).

Tertullian’s Adversus Judaeos contains some interesting material, draws at some points — especially chapter 8 — on St. Justin’s Dialogue with Trypho, and contains an unauthentic section — chapters 9-14, which indeed are borrowed from the third book of Tertullian’s Adversus Marcionem but are compiled hastily and in a sporadic and fragmentary way. One remarkable line of thought in this work is Tertullian’s reasoning that the "Law" preceded Moses — indeed, that the Law was ontologically present from the beginning of mankind. "For why should God, the founder of the universe, the Governor of the entire world, the Fashioner of humanity, the Sower of universal nations be believed to have given a law through Moses to one people, and not be said to have assigned it to all nations? For unless he had given it to all by no means would he have habitually permitted even proselytes out of the nations to have access to it. But — as is consonant with the goodness of God and with his equity, as the Fashioner of mankind — he gave to all nations the selfsame Law, which at definite and stated times he enjoined should be observed… For in this Law given to Adam we recognize in embryo all the precepts, which afterwards sprouted forth when given through Moses… For the primordial law was given to Adam and Eve in paradise, as the womb of all the precepts of God… In this general and primordial Law of God, the observance of which… he had sanctioned, we recognize enclosed all the precepts especially of the posterior Law, which germinated when disclosed at their proper times. For the subsequent super induction of a law is the work of the same Being who had before premised a precept... In short, before the Law of Moses, written in stone-tables, I contend that there was a law unwritten, which was habitually understood naturally, and by the fathers was habitually kept. For why was Noah "found righteous," if in his case the righteousness of a natural law had not preceded? Why was Abraham accounted "a friend of God," if not on the ground of equity and righteousness in the observance of a natural law?" (2). Tertullian’s line of reasoning based on the legal principle of equity and on natural law has fascinating ramifications theologically. This notion of all things being contained in embryo with Adam will have some influence later on St. Augustine as he develops his specific doctrine of original sin. In dealing with the Sabbath Tertullian distinguishes between the Hebrew Sabbath, which was "temporary" and the Sabbath, which is "eternal." Christians keep and participate in the "eternal" Sabbath. Tertullian handles the theme of the Christ, the Messiah, in a very specific manner. The Hebrew Scriptures predicted that the Messiah would come, that he would rule "the universal earth," and "all nations" would believe in Him. It is the idea of universality that attracts the attention of Tertullian. "For upon whom else have the universal nations believed but upon the Christ who is already come… For who could have reigned over all nations but Christ, God’s Son, who was ever announced as destined to reign over all to eternity? For if Solomon "reigned," why it was within the confines of Judea merely" (6). What distinguishes this work from other works of the same nature is the fact that Tertullian treats it as though it was a legal case, arguing each point the way he would in a Roman law court.

Tertullian’s Depraescriptione haereticorum [On the Prescription of Heretics] is interesting both in content and in the legal way it is presented. Legally it depends on the Roman legal term praescriptio, a juridical term, which entails an objection that prevents the defendant from actually having a case. By using the legal device of the praescriptio, Tertullian deprives the heretics of the very basis of their position. He links the legal argument of the praescriptio with the appeal to apostolic tradition. One praescriptio is that Christ appointed the apostles to deliver his message. Therefore, no one except those appointed by Christ can be conveyors of this message. Linked to this praescriptio is a second. "From this, therefore, do we draw up our rule? Now, what that was which they preached — in other words, what it was which Christ revealed to them — can, as I must here likewise prescribe, properly be proved in no other way than by those very churches, which the apostles founded in person, by declaring the gospel to them directly themselves, both viva voce… and subsequently by their epistles. If, then, these things are so, it is in the same degree manifest that all doctrine, which agrees with the apostolic churches — the sources and origins of the faith — must be reckoned as truth because it maintains without doubt what the churches received from the Apostles, the Apostles from Christ, and Christ from God" (21). The entire work is a brilliant exposition of the ancient appeal to the apostolic deposit, to that which was delivered, to that which has been and still is preserved. And while he presents fully this doctrine of the apostolic deposit, Tertullian lashes out against specific heresies. The work is rich in idea and detail.

Tertullian’s Adversus Marcionem, the longest of his works, is a devastating critique of Marcion and his thought. Even in recent times Marcion still has his supporters. Harnack essentially considers Marcion as the first to really understand the message of St. Paul — indeed; Harnack tends to glorify Marcion as a reformer, as one attempting to bring back the original truth of Christianity, which was apparently quickly lost after St. Paul. Harnack writes, "Completely carried away with the novelty, uniqueness and grandeur of the Pauline Gospel of the grace of God in Christ, Marcion felt that all other conceptions of the Gospel, and especially its union with the Old Testament religion, was opposed to, and a backsliding from, the truth." Harnack calls Marcion’s vision "evangelical." Marcion "had a capacity for appreciating the Pauline idea of faith; it is to him reliance on the unmerited grace of God, which is revealed in Christ." "The twelve Apostles whom Christ chose did not understand him, but regarded him as the Messiah of the god of creation. And therefore Christ inspired Paul by a special revelation, lest the Gospel of the grace of God should be lost through falsifications. But even Paul had been understood only by few (by none?). His Gospel had also been misunderstood — nay, his Epistles had been falsified in many passages, in order to make them teach the identity of the god of creation and the God of redemption. A new reformation was therefore necessary. Marcion felt himself entrusted with this commission, and the church, which he gathered recognized this vocation of his to be the reformer. Marcion’s self-consciousness of being a reformer; and the recognition of this in his church is still not understood although his undertaking itself and the facts speak loud enough. He did not appeal to a new revelation such as he presupposed for Paul. As the Pauline Epistles and an authentic εύαγγέλιον κυρίου were in existence, it was only necessary to purify these from interpolations, and restore the genuine Paulinism, which was just the Gospel itself… He was the first who laid the firm foundation for establishing what Christian is because, in view of the absoluteness of his faith, he had no desire to appeal either to a secret evangelical tradition, or to prophecy, or to natural religion… In basing his own position and that of his church on Paulinism, as he conceived and remodelled it, Marcion connected himself with that part of the earliest tradition of Christianity, which is best known to us, and has enabled us to understand his undertaking historically as we do no other… Marcion gives important testimony against the historical reliability of the notion that the common Christianity was really based on the tradition of the twelve Apostles… Marcion was the first, and for a long time the only Gentile Christian who took his stand on Paul. He was no moralist, no Greek mystic, no Apocalyptic enthusiast, but a religious character, nay, one of the few pronouncedly typical religious characters whom we know in the early Church before Augustine." In fairness to Harnack it must be stressed that he does approach Marcion critically, does distinguish his teachings from the Gnostics, and is very aware of how Marcion differed from the established Christianity. But Harnack’s zeal for Marcion can only be understood when one realizes that he approaches the early Church from "without," that he is very unsympathetic to the inner life of the Christian faith as developed from the beginning, and that it is almost impossible for him to appreciate this inner life and thought of the Church. Harnack reads back into early Christian thought, reads into the life and thought of early Christianity from the perspective of the Reformation and from the perspective of the "higher criticism" then in vogue. His elevation of the Pauline Gospel comes directly from Luther. His enthusiasm for Marcion’s critical approach to the Scriptures comes directly from the spirit of the then popular "higher criticism," many of the insights and conclusions of which have been proven totally incorrect by modern scholarship. Harnack is fair in presenting all the facts. He is, however, incapable of interpreting these facts from within, from the mind of the Church.

Marcion, according to Hippolytus and Epiphanius, a native of Sinope in Pontus and a wealthy ship-owner, was the son of a bishop who excommunicated his own son on the grounds of immorality. He came to Rome about 140 and was excommunicated in 144. He appears to have been an excellent organizer and his "church" spread rapidly throughout the empire. His orthodox opponents testify to the fact of the spread of his "church" — Irenaeus in Lyons, Dionysius in Corinth, Theophilus in Antioch, Philip in Gortyna, Hippolytus and Rhodo in Rome, Bardesanes in Edessa, Melito in Sardis — according to Anastasius Sinaita — Tertullian in Carthage, and St. Justin. By the latter part of the third century most of the Marcionite churches had been absorbed by other groups, most significantly by the Manichees. Marcion rejected the Old Testament, accepted only ten of the epistles of St. Paul, and accepted his own edited version of the Gospel of St. Luke. His Christology was either emphatically Docetic or heavily tinged with Docetism. He rejected any allegorical interpretation of the Bible and his rejection of the Gospels, exclusive of his edited text of the Gospel of St. Luke, actually helped the Church — it expedited the Church’s finalization of the canon of the New Testament.

Tertullian, as mentioned above, is not the first to oppose Marcion But Tertullian’s Adversus Marcionem is the most exhaustive work in opposition to Marcion and his followers. In this work Tertullian not only attacks the thought of Marcion in general but criticizes in depth Marcion’s own work, the Antitheses. Tertullian writes, "In the scheme of Marcion… the mystery of the Christian religion begins from the discipleship of Luke. Since, however, it was on its course previous to that point, it must have had its own authentic materials by means of which it found its own way down to St. Luke" (4, 3). "When Marcion complains that apostles are suspected (for their prevarication and dissimulation) of having even depraved the gospel, he thereby accuses Christ, by accusing those whom Christ chose. If, then, the apostles, who are censured simply for inconsistency of walk, composed the Gospel in a pure form, but false apostles interpolated their true record; and if our own copies have been made from these, where will that genuine text of the apostles1 writings be found, which has not suffered adulteration? Which was it that enlightened Paul, and through him Luke?" (4,3).

Tertullian’s Adversus Marcionem is a rich work — it covers numerous subjects. Indeed, it is not an exaggeration to claim that it is one of the more important works in patristic literature. Among the many topics Tertullian discusses is the nature of God. "Either God is one or he does not exist. For it is more fitting to ascribe non-existence than the wrong kind of existence." God is "eternal, unborn, uncreated, without beginning, and without end." God "is the Supreme Being." We encounter in Tertullian’s definition of God elements of Anselm’s "ontological argument." "What, then, will be the postulate of this Supreme Being? Surely this, that nothing will be equal to it: and this is to say that there will not be another Supreme Being… the Supreme Being must be unique" (1, 3). He writes about time and creation: "That which created time had no time before time was, just as that which made the beginning had no beginning before the beginning." The cause of creation is in the goodness of God. And this principle of the goodness of God is also the cause of God’s granting man freewill, "for good is to be performed voluntarily, that is, of free choice; a freedom, which is in accordance with the purpose of man’s creation but not in bondage to it. Thus, man might be really good, being found good in accordance with his creation but at the same time of his own will, being good as it was of the proper quality of his own nature" (2, 5-6).

Tertullian foreshadows to some extent an element, which would later become one of the components of St. Augustine’s doctrine of original sin: "If the blessing of the fathers was destined to be transmitted to their posterity, before that posterity had done anything to deserve it, why should not the guilt of the fathers flow down to their sons, so that the transgression as well as the grace should spread through the whole human race?" (2,15). But Tertullian’s thought is not the same as St. Augustine’s doctrine of original sin, even though there are some points of similarity — see also Testimonium Animae (3) and De Resurrectione Carnis (34 and 49).

Against the Docetic tendency in Marcion’s thought Tertullian writes, "He who did not really suffer did not suffer at all; and a phantasm could not suffer. Thus, the whole work of God is overthrown. The death of Christ, which is the whole essence and value of the Christian religion, is denied" (3, 8). Tertullian affirms the consubstantiality of both the Son and the Spirit with the Father (3, 6).

Tertullian’s most important work on Christology and the Trinity is his Adversus Praxean, written after Tertullian had become a Montanist. Praxeas was deeply anti-Montanist and hence Tertullian’s rage is intensified in this work. "I derive the Son from no other source than from the substance of the Father. I describe him as doing nothing without the Father’s will, as receiving all power from the Father. How then can I be abolishing from the faith that monarchy when I safeguard it in the Son, as handed down to the Son by the Father? Let this affirmation be taken as applying also to the third rank of the Godhead, since I regard the Spirit as proceeding from no other source than from the Father, through the Son — "Spiritum non aliunde deduco quam a Patre per Filium" — …the monarchy remains unimpaired, despite the introduction of a Trinity" (4).

"Before all things existed God was alone. He was himself his own universe, his own place, everything. He was alone in the sense that there was nothing external to him, nothing outside his own being. Yet even then he was not alone, for he had with him something, which was part of his own being, namely, his Reason. For God is rational and Reason existed first with him, and from him extended to all things. That Reason is his own consciousness of himself. The Greeks call it Logos, which is the term we use for discourse. And thus our people usually translate it literally as, ‘Discourse was in the beginning with God’, although it would be more correct to regard Reason as prior to Discourse because there was not Discourse with God from the beginning but there was Reason, even before the beginning, and because Discourse takes its origin from Reason and thus shows Reason to be prior to it, as the ground of its being" (5-7). The very "projection" — προβολή — of the Son is a "safeguard of unity." The same applies to the procession of the Holy Spirit. "But none of those is divorced from the origin from which it derives its own qualities. Thus, the Trinity derives from the Father by continuous and connected steps and it in no way impugns the monarchy while it preserves the reality of the οίκονομίά (8). “The Son is not other than the Father by separation from him but by difference of function, neither by division but by distinction: for the Father and the Son are not identical but distinct in rank... So the Father is other than the Son, as being greater, as he who begets is other than the begotten, the sender than the sent, the creator than the agent of creation" (9). Tertullian was, based on the preserved written documents, the first to use the term "trinitas." He was also the first to use the word "persona:" the Logos is "another" than the Father — "alium autem quomodo accipere debeas iam professus sum, personae non substantiae nomine, ad distinctionem non ad divisionem" (12). In connection with the text in Genesis to which the early Christian writers so often refer — "Let us make man…" — Tertullian writes if the number of the Trinity also offends you, as if it was not connected in the simple Unity, I ask you how it is possible for a Being who is merely and absolutely One and Singular to speak in plural phrase...? Or was it to the angels that he spoke as the Jews interpret the passage...? Or was it because he was at once the Father, the Son, and the Spirit that he spoke to himself in plural terms...? No, it was because he had already his Son close at his side, as a second Person, his own Word, and a third Person also, the Spirit in the Word." He spoke to "the Son who was one day to put on human nature and to the Spirit who was to sanctify man. With these, did he speak in the Unity of the Trinity" (12). Tertullian writes of a "Trinitas unius Divinitatis, Pater et Filius et Spiritus Sanctus" (21) and stresses the compatibility of unity and trinity: "tres unius substantiae et unius status et unius potestatis" (2). "Thus, the connection of the Father in the Son, and of the Son in the Paraclete, produces three coherent Persons, who are yet distinct One from Another. These Three are one essence, not one Person" — "Connexus Patris in Filio et Filii in Paracleto tres efficit cohaerentes, alterum e altero. Qui tres unum sunt, non unus" (25).

The accusation, still often present today, that Tertullian — for all his brilliance in Trinitarian theology — succumbed to "subordinationism," is more a misunderstanding of the theological perspective from which he writes and as such the accusation is erroneous. Tertullian — and this is still difficult for Western theologians to grasp — writes about the oikonomic Trinity, not the eternal life within the Trinity. They still are unable to understand that inner theological vision inherited from the Apologists, they still have difficulty understanding the λόγος ένδιάθετος and the λόγος προφορικός in their ad se and ad extra Divine Life. The source of this inability to understand Tertullian and others when they write about the Trinity or the Logos is not difficult to discern — one is still reading the Church Fathers through the thought of St. Augustine’s De Trinitate, and it is precisely St. Augustine who has difficulty with the distinctions within the Divine Life, with the Divine "persons," and it is St. Augustine who is ultimately the Modalist in his Trinitarian thought.

Two natures can exist in one person — "Jesus consisted of flesh and spirit; of flesh as man, of spirit as God… The Apostle confirms that he was composed of two substances when he designated him the ‘mediator of God and man" (27). There are numerous examples in the works of Tertullian, which demonstrate his belief in two natures of the one person who was God. He at times uses language, which clearly foreshadows the communicatio idiomatum. In his De Came Christi [On the Flesh of Christ] Tertullian writes (5): "There are certainly other things also quite as foolish [as the birth of Christ], which have reference to the humiliations and sufferings of God. Or else let them call a crucified God ‘wisdom’… For which is more unworthy of God, which is more likely to raise a blush of shame, that God should be born? Or that God should die...? Was not God really crucified? And, having been really crucified, did he not really die?" — "Sunt plane et alia tarn stulta quae pertinent ad contumelias et passiones dei. Aut prudentiam die deum crucifixwn aut aufer hoc quoque, Mar don, immo hoc potius. Quid enim indignius deo, quid magis erubescendum, nasci an mori? Carnem gestare an crucem? Circumcidi an suffigi? Educari an sepeliri? Inpraesepe deponi an in monimento recondi? Sapientior ens, si nee ista credideris…. Crucifixus est deifilius: non pudet quia pudendum est. Et mortuus est Deifilius; credibile est, quia ineptum est. Et sepultus resurrexit; cerium est quia impossibile" The meaning that Tertullian ascribes to his Christological terminology becomes clear from an analysis of his numerous other expressions and their contexts. Too much is written about where a comma should be placed in one of his texts. In the totality of Tertullian’s thought the meaning becomes clear without belabouring the position of a comma. When he is arguing against Marcion, Tertullian’s main interest is the distinction of the natures. When he is arguing against Praxeas, his main interest is to stress the Son’s own character as "person." The Chalcedonian formula is not precisely stated by Tertullian but he approaches it; it is foreshadowed in the very nature of his thought.

St. Hippolytus

St. Hippolytus’ life and works raise many questions. The sources allow no conclusive solutions. Still, patristic scholars have made much satisfactory progress in reconstructing at least the essentials of his life and writings.

He was the first anti-pope in history. He was probably born about 170 and it seems quite certain that he was from the Greek East. Danielou maintains that Hippolytus was a Roman who knew Greek. Most evidence, however, points to his Greek origin — he is familiar with Greek philosophy; he has a good knowledge of Greek mystery cults; his theology of the Logos is more similar to Greek rather than Latin thought; his language as well as his thought is Greek — indeed he is the last Christian writer living in Rome to write in Greek. St. Hippolytus has often been compared with Origen but such a comparison is overstated — he lacked Origen’s depth of thought and his knowledge of both Greek philosophy and the Greek mystery cults is not as deep as Origen’s. He is more preoccupied with questions of a practical nature than was Origen. But his breadth of interests was extensive: he wrote religious poetry, wrote anti-heretical works, a Chronicle, and an extremely valuable "Church Order." St. Photius makes the claim that Hippolytus — in a lost work — asserted that he was a disciple of St. Irenaeus (Bibl. Cod. 121).

Unlike St. Irenaeus, Hippolytus possessed a quite unirenic personality — he was passionate, vehement, and intransigent. When Pope Callistus (217-222) took a more moderate position concerning penitents guilty of mortal sin, Hippolytus accused him of departing from the tradition of the apostolic Church. And he accused Pope Callistus of being a Sabellian and hence a heretic. Hippolytus, along with a small group of influential persons, separated from the Church in Rome and Hippolytus became the first anti-pope. This schism and his position as anti-pope lasted throughout Callistus’ pontificate and extended into that of Pope Urban I (223-230) and Pope Pontianus (230-235). It was not until Emperor Maximinus Thrax (235-238) exiled both Pontianus and Hippolytus to Sardinia that the schism in Rome ceased. Some reconciliation took place, for Pontianus resigned in Sardinia to allow a new successor, Pope Anteros (235-236). Both Hippolytus and Pontianus died in exile. But Pope Fabianus (236-250) had their bodies brought back to Rome where they were interred sacredly — Pontianus in the papal crypt of San Callisto; Hippolytus in the cemetery of the Via Tiburtina. Hippolytus was buried on August 13 of 236 or 237 and it is on this date that he is commemorated as a martyr in the Roman Church. In 1551 a statue of St. Hippolytus was discovered on which a list of his works is engraved.

Hippolytus wrote in Greek, but very little of the Greek originals remain. Most of his works have survived either in complete or fragmentary form in Latin, Syrian, Coptic, Ethiopic, Arabic, Armenian, Georgian and Slavonic. Not mentioned in the list on the statue is his important work entitled Philosophumena or Refutation of All Heresies, which is also known as the Labyrinth — Κατά πασών αιρέσεων έλεγχος. Hippolytus had written another work against heresies before writing the Philosophumena — his Πρός άπάσας τας αιρέσεις referred to by St. Photius (Bibl. Cod. 121) as the "Syntagma against Thirty-Two Heresies of Hippolytus, the Student of Irenaeus." St. Photius describes the work: "Beginning with the Dositheans, it extends to the heresies of Noëtus and the Noetians, which he writes were refuted by Irenaeus in his lectures, of which his present work is a synopsis. His style is lucid, somewhat severe, and lacking in redundancies…" The original is lost but the extant fragments allow a reconstruction. Only one of Hippolytus’ dogmatic works has survived — The Antichrist, Περι του αντίχριστου — and it has survived in its complete Greek text in three manuscripts. An Old Slavonic and a Georgian version also exist, as do fragments in Armenian. Patristic literature has nothing comparable to this work on the question of the Antichrist.

In 234 he wrote his Chronicle — Χρονικών βίβλοι — of the history of the world, from creation to his time. His purpose was to expose the heretical view of the imminent end of the world, the Day of Judgment, and the millennium. In an attempt to disengage the Church from dependence on the Jewish calendrical cycle in its calculation of the date of Easter, Hippolytus wrote his Calculation of the Date of Pascha — άπόδειξις χρονών τον πάσχα — but his astronomical calculations were inaccurate.

His exegetical and homiletic works are difficult to distinguish. St. Jerome mentions in his De viris illustribus (61) that when Origen visited Rome about 212 he heard in a Roman church a sermon "On the Praise of Our Lord and Saviour" and was much impressed. The deliverer of the sermon was Hippolytus. The sermon is lost.

Hippolytus1 work entitled The Apostolic Tradition — αποστολική παράδοσις — is, along with The Didache, one of the most important documents in early Church history. It contains a wealth of information on the liturgical life of the Church — the rubrics and forms for ordination, the duties of the various ranks of the hierarchy, the celebration of Pascha, the form of baptism. The title of this work is inscribed on the chair of the statue of Hippolytus but it was thought to be lost until 1910 when E. Schwartz was the first to associate the work with the Egyptian Church Order, known by this name only because it became known in the modern world in Ethiopic and Coptic translations. The importance of this discovery by E. Schwartz cannot be exaggerated — it provided a new basis for the study of the Roman liturgy. It is historically significant that Hippolytus’ Apostolic Tradition had very little influence in the Latin West and appears to have been soon forgotten there — along with Hippolytus’ other works. Rather, it was in the East where the work had its influence, especially in Egypt. The Coptic, Ethiopic, and Arabic translations influenced the very shape of the liturgy, canon law, and Christian life in these churches. Of all the Eastern versions it is only the Sahidic, which is based directly on the Greek original — it was preserved in a collection of laws known as the Egyptian Heptateuch.

Works known to have been written by Hippolytus but now lost include Against Marcion; Against Gaius; On the Resurrection; Against the Heresy of Artemon; On the Cosmos, and Against the Greeks and Plato, about, which St. Photius makes an interesting comment (Bibl. Cod. 48): "Of Christ the true God he speaks like ourselves, openly giving him the name of God and describing, in language to which no objection can be taken, his indescribable generation from the Father." He also wrote a work On the Gospel of John and the Apocalypse — υπέρ τον κατά Ιωάννην εναγγελίον και άποκαλύψεως — apparently directed against the Alogi who rejected these two books.

Hippolytus has suffered a worse fate than most of the Apologists because of his Christology. Hippolytus has been constantly accused of ditheism. Great emphasis has been placed on Hippolytus’ statement that the Logos only becomes the true and perfect Son in the Incarnation. Although Hippolytus, like all the Apologists, was groping for terminology, his expressions are understandably imprecise. Does he indeed believe as the critics charge? It must be remembered that not only is he writing without the necessary precision of theological terminology but also that he is writing against the Monarchians and hence he must distinguish, make distinct, the Son from the Father. It must also be remembered that we lack the complete body of the works of Hippolytus and thus can make no final judgment.

St. Hippolytus focuses the Incarnation in the oikonomic activity of God. He presents the Logos in two stages of his existence: the λόγος άσαρκος, which is the un-fleshed, pre-existent Logos; and the λόγος ένσαρκος, the en-fleshed or incarnate Logos — ό λόγος του θεου, άσαρκος ων, ένεδνσατο την άγίαν σάρκα εκ της αγίας παρθένου. Hippolytus has been sharply upbraided for using the term "perfect Son" — υιος τέλειος — in reference to the Incarnation. But for Hippolytus the Logos reveals himself also in the Old Testament theophanies — he is here speaking of the historical revelation of the Logos and not the eternal life of the Logos. The revelation given through the theophanies in the Old Testament was "imperfect" and it is only in the Incarnation that revelation becomes "perfect." In this sense, the word perfect — τέλειος — takes on a different meaning. Hippolytus states that the Logos revealed himself only "in part" — μερικώς — in the theophanies. He links his theology of the Incarnation with his theology of redemption, a theology of redemption akin to that of St. Irenaeus in which Christ experiences every aspect and age of the life of man. He distinguishes so much between the λόγος άσαρκος and the λόγος ένσαρκος that the principle of unity between these two “states” of being is difficult to discern but the distinction is clear, for there is the Logos and the Flesh. Hence there is an affirmation of the Divine and the human. The Logos wraps or clothes himself in flesh, he dwells in the body, his temple — ενδύομαι, επενδύομαι. And for the first time in Christian literature — based on the written documents known to us — we encounter the word ύφιστάναι as well as the meanings with, which that word will later be associated. It is even closely positioned to another word of importance — συστασις. The text comes from a fragment against Noλtus: "He has, by calling himself Son, taken for humanity the new name of love, for the Logos before the Incarnation and when by he was not perfect Son, although he was perfect Logos, the Only-Begotten. Neither could the flesh exist by itself apart from the Logos, for it had its existence in the Logos. Then was thus manifested one perfect Son of God. Hippolytus certainly lays the basis for a unity in the God-Man, Jesus Christ, even if his terminology is not completely precise. From this text the meaning of Hippolytus’ term "perfect Son" becomes clear.

Chapter Nine.
Origenism and Arianism

Continuous theological debate, unending theological turmoil and controversy breaks out at the end of third century and continues for the next few centuries. In the fourth century this centres primarily on the struggle of the Church with Arianism. It is a mistake to oversimplify the Arian problem. The Arian movement was complex. It was not homogeneous. The teaching of Arius received a positive response from a variety of different theological schools of thought. The crucial question is why? That question and its answer are determinative for the theological controversies, which will shake the Christian world and cause sore division within Byzantium for the next few centuries. The outbreak of the Arian controversy begins in Alexandria with the deacon Arius. But the root cause lies under deeper strata.

It is not without foundation that a link has been seen between the teaching of Arius and Lucian of Antioch — moreover, even with Paul of Samosata. From the very inception of the controversy between Arius and Alexander, bishop of Alexandria, Alexander called attention to this. Arius’ ideas, he said, "were fermented by the impious Lucian." There may be a link but that link does not necessarily imply a conscious dependence of Arius on Lucian. It does not mean that Arius simply borrowed his ideas from Lucian. It is historically difficult to deny Arius’ independence as a theologian.

In his theological views Lucian was close to Origen. It is significant that many of his students were Origenists. And this is true of Arius himself. The Arians frequently refer to Origen and to Dionysius of Alexandria. Opposed to Origen in their exegesis, the Arians remained Origenists in their theology. Thus, the problems of Arian theology can only be understood in terms of the presuppositions and premises of Origen’s theological system.

The same fear, which Origen had for Modalism can be seen among the Arian theologians. Since the Arian movement was possible only on the basis and on the foundation of Origenist theology, the struggle against Arianism was precisely a struggle against certain tendencies in Origen’s thought. It is significant; however, that Origen’s name is seldom mentioned in this controversy. The reason for this silence was that the opponents of Arius, including Alexander of Alexandria, were themselves Origenists. Origen was not an Arian but it is not difficult to discern how the Arians reached their conclusions not merely from misunderstandings of Origen’s teachings but precisely from Origen’s actual premises. Historically, therefore, the defeat of Arianism proved at the same time to be a defeat of Origenism — at least in his Trinitarian theology.

The basis of Arius’ theology is the conception of God as a perfect unity and as a self-enclosed monad. For Arms this self-enclosed monad is God the Father. Everything else in existence is alien to God in its essence. The absolute nature of the Divine Being makes it impossible for God to give or to endow his essence to anyone else. Therefore, the Word, the Logos, the Son of God, as a hypostasis, as one who has actual existence, is unconditionally and completely alien and unlike the Father. He receives his Being from the Father and by the will of the Father, just as all other creatures do, and He comes into being as a mediator for the sake of the creation of the world. Thus, there exists a certain "interval" between the Father and the Son. Hence, the Son is not coeternal with the Father. If the Son were coeternal with the Father, then there would be two "eternals" or two "ultimate principles." And this would abrogate, would destroy completely the truth of monotheism. In a very accurate sense Arius was the upholder of strict monotheism and this in a still pervasively pagan society.

For Arius "there was a then, when the Son was not" — ήν ποτέ oτε ουκ ην. The Son did not exist but he came into being and had an origin. This means that the Son comes into being “out of things that do not exist” — εξ ουκ οντων. The Son is a creature, something, which is generated and therefore like all generated things the Son has a "mutable" nature. The Son is endowed with Divine Glory in advance, from without, "by grace" and by God’s foreknowledge of the future. Judged from the fragments of Arius’ compositions, which have survived and from the evidence of his contemporaries, his theological system was in essence a rejection of the Holy Trinity. For Arius the Trinity is something derived and generated. It has a beginning, an origin. And the hypostases of the Holy Trinity are, for Arius, separated by "temporal intervals" — διάστημα; they are "eternally dissimilar." It is a kind of diminishing Trinity, a union, or — in the words of St. Gregory of Nazianzus, an "association" of three essences, which are not alike. It is a union of three hypostases, which are united by essence; it is three coexisting wills, which are distinguished by essence.

Strict monotheism was the core of Arius’ system. For Arius a Trinity cannot be a single God — Trinity, for him, philosophically precludes monotheism. Arius’ thought approaches that of Judaism. Although there was a strong, vibrant Jewish community in Alexandria, it is not necessary to posit a direct Jewish influence on Arius. If there is a Jewish influence, then that influence comes not necessarily directly but internally, from within the very development of Christian reflection on the nature of God, from the confrontation of the Hebraic Shema’ ["Hear, Ο Israel: the Lord our God is one Lord — Deuteronomy 6:4] with the revelation of God through, by and in Jesus Christ — "I and the Father are one" (John 10:30). It is not only the Old Testamental monotheism with, which Arius struggled but also the philosophical problems inextricably connected with the concept of monotheism, of oneness. This is not the only problem, which divided the Hebraic system of thought from that of the early Christianity of the Hellenic mind. Origen could not think in Hebraic terms when confronting the question of creation. For the Hebraic mind the world has a beginning but no end. For the Hellenic mind any beginning implies an end and any end implies a beginning — thus the Hellenic notion of the pre-existence and eternality of the soul. Both the Christian teaching of creation and the Christian revelation of the Holy Trinity were to cause problems for the Hellenic mind. And the Christian revelation of Holy Trinity would cause grave problems for both the Hebraic and the Hellenic mind. Anus is a clear example of this.

For Arms there is a one and only God and that is God the Father. The Son and Spirit are the highest and first-born creatures who are mediators in the creation of the world. In this doctrine Anus approaches Paul of Samosata and the Dynamic Monarchians, but he is actually even closer to Philo. It is not difficult to understand why his arguments found supporters among the Alexandrians and Origenists.

The connection between Arius’ dogma and the problems of time and the creation of the world are immediately apparent. Creation implies origination. That which is created is that which has a beginning, which exists not from itself or through itself, but from another. It is that which does not exist before it comes into being. In Arius’ system creation is indistinguishable from generation because, for him, both entail origination. And in his understanding origination can take place only in time.

This difficulty arises because of the ambiguity of the conception of "origination." That which is generated has an origin, a reason for its being outside of and before itself. But "origin" can have two meanings: it can be the cause or source of being or it can be a moment in time. For Arius both meanings coincide. For him "eternity" or timelessness means ontological primacy. He therefore refuses to grant that the existence of the Son is "without beginning" or eternal. This would be a denial of his "generation" and the fact that he is begotten, and if this were not true, then the Logos or Word would be a second and independent God. If the Logos is from the Father, then he must have been begotten. Otherwise, he is not from the Father. From tradition Arius knows that the Logos is the God of revelation and the most immediate cause of creation. But a creature is subject to change because it is temporal. This gives Arius another reason to connect the existence of the Logos with time.

Arius was, it appears, in sharp disagreement with Origen. In Origen’s doctrine the generation of the Logos is eternal and this proves that the Divine Being is immutable. However, Origen inferred too much from this. Because he believed that origination is incompatible with the immutability of God, he posited that the creation of the world is also eternal. In his system the generation of the Son and the creation of the world are united by the concept of origination. To protect the immutability of God Origen essentially denied that any origination ever takes place. There is nothing in existence about, which he was willing to say "there was a then, when it did not exist."

Origen concluded that all existence is eternal and that everything coexists with God, a doctrine, which is similar to Aristotle’s doctrine of the eternity of the world. For Origen the world was not a created thing. This conclusion was unacceptable to his followers who, while rejecting his conclusions, did not deny his premises. Arius also reasoned this way. He denied that the world is eternal. The entire emphasis of Arius’ system is in affirming the temporal character of everything, which is generated or, which has the "origin" of its being in another. From this he concluded that the Son also is generated in time. Arius differed from Origen in his conclusions but agreed with him in his premises. Within the bounds of Origen’s system there was an inescapable dilemma: it was necessary either to admit the eternity of the world or to reject the eternal generation of the Son. This dilemma could be avoided only by denying Origen’s premises. For this reason Arius’ system attracted those disciples of Origin who did not accept his idea of an eternal world.

It is not an exaggeration to assert that the root cause of the Christological controversies in the fourth century centred on the vital questions involved in the ideas of creation, generation, the nature of the One God and how God relates to the world. Too often these issues, these vital theological concerns of the Christian faith are not addressed — even as background — for their direct bearing on the relation of the Logos of God to God the Father. Indeed, the Christian understanding of creation and generation are necessary for an understanding of the Christological controversies that will beset the Church in the fourth and fifth centuries — and later also.

The idea of creation was for the world outside of Judaism a stunning innovation. The problem itself was alien and even somewhat incomprehensible to the Greek mind. The Greek mind was strongly attached to the idea of an eternal cosmos, one that was permanent and immutable in its essential composition and structure. This cosmos was simply there; it simply existed. And moreover its existence was necessary. It was an ultimate assumption, a first principle of reality, a first datum. And beyond this neither thought nor imagination could penetrate. There was, of course, movement within this world — "the wheel of origin and decay" — but the cosmos as a whole was unchangeable. Its permanent structure was repeatedly and unfailingly exhibited in its rotation and self-iteration. The world was not static. In it there was an intense dynamism but this dynamism was one of inescapable circulation. The cosmos was both necessary and immortal. The "shape" of the world might be exposed to changes and it was in a perpetual flux but its very existence was perennial. One simply could not ask intelligently about the origin or beginning of the cosmic fabric in the order of existence. It was precisely at this point that the Greek mind was radically challenged by Biblical Revelation. This was a hard message for the Greeks. Indeed, it is still a hard message for philosophers today.

"In the beginning God created…" Thus, begins the Biblical narrative. And this has become a credal statement in the Christian Church. The cosmos was no longer regarded as a "self-explanatory" being. Its ultimate and intrinsic dependence upon God’s will and action has now been vigorously asserted. But much more than just this relation of "dependence" was implied in the Biblical concept: the world was created ex nihilo; that is, it did not exist "eternally." The narrative in Genesis may not explicitly state a doctrine of ex nihilo but that was certainly the belief of the Hebrews. Despite the common opinion of many contemporary scholars of the Old Testament, the Hebraic mind did not believe that God created from pre-existing matter. The Genesis narrative ought to be interpreted within the framework of the entirety of Hebraic thought and literature, including the statement from II Maccabees 7:28 — ουκ έξ οντων έποιησεν.

The tension between the two visions, Hellenic and Biblical, was sharp and obvious. Greeks and Christians were dwelling, as it was, in two different worlds. Accordingly, the categories of Greek philosophy were inadequate for the description of the world of Christian faith. The main emphasis of Christian faith was precisely on the radical contingency of the cosmos, on its contingency precisely in the order of existence. Indeed, the very existence of the world pointed, for Christians, to the Other, as its Lord and Creator. On the other hand, the creation of the world was conceived as a sovereign and "free" act of God, and not as something, which was "necessarily" implied or inherent in God’s own Being. Thus, there was actually a double contingency: on the side of the cosmos —, which might not have existed at all; and on the side of the Creator — who could not have created anything at all. God would be God whether he created or not. The very existence of the world was regarded by the Christians as a mystery and as a miracle of Divine Freedom.

Christian thought matured gradually and slowly, by a way of trial and retraction. The early Christian writers would often describe their new vision of faith in the terms of old and current philosophy. They were not always aware of, and certainly did not always guard against, the ambiguity, which was involved in such an enterprise. By using Greek categories Christian writers were forcing upon themselves, without being consciously aware of it, a world, which was radically different from that in which they lived by faith. They were therefore often caught between the vision of their faith and the inadequacy of the language they were using. This predicament must be taken very seriously. Etienne Gilson once suggested that "la pensee chretienne apportait du vin nouveau, mais les vieilles outres etaient encore bonnes" ["Christian thought brought the new wine but the old skins were still good enough."]. It is an elegant phrase but is it not rather an optimistic overstatement? Indeed, the skins did not burst at once, but was it really to the benefit of nascent Christian thought? The skins were badly tainted with an old smell, and in those skins the wine acquired an alien flavour. In fact, the new vision required new terms and categories for its adequate and fair expression. This problem is apparent in the earliest Christian literature — if the Apologists are understood from within the mind of the Church, it is clear about, which they are speaking. But as soon as one attempts to understand the Apologists "from without," from categories other than the apostolic deposit, one can read into their thought many things, which they would have rejected. It was an urgent task for Christians "to coin new names, as St. Gregory of Nazianzus was to point out — το καίοτομεϊν τα ονόματα.

The radical contingency of the created world was faithfully acknowledged by Christian writers from the very beginning. The Lordship of God over all his creation was duly emphasized. God alone was mighty and eternal. All created things were brought into existence and sustained in existence solely by the grace and freedom of God, by his sovereign will. Existence was always a gift of God. From this point of view even the human soul was "mortal;" that is, mortal by nature. In the depth of Christian theology there is no immortality of the soul "by nature." The soul too was contingent because it too was created and was maintained only by the grace of God. In opposition to Platonic arguments for the immortality of the soul, St. Justin was quite explicit on this point — the soul is immortal, not by nature, but by grace. For St. Justin "immortal" meant "uncreated." [St. Justin, Dialogue with Trypho, c. 5 and 6]. But it was not then clear how this creative "will" of God was related to his own "being." And this was the crucial problem. In early Christian thinking the very idea of God was only gradually released out of that "cosmological setting" in which it used to be apprehended by Greek philosophical thought. The mystery of the Holy Trinity itself was often interpreted in an ambiguous cosmological context rather than primarily as a mystery of God’s own Being. The mystery of the Holy Trinity was approached from the perspective of God’s creative and redemptive action and self-revelation in the world. This was the main predicament of the Logos-theology in the Apologists, in Hippolytus, and in Tertullian. All these writers did not distinguish consistently between the categories of the Divine "Being" and those of Divine "Revelation" ad extra, in the world. It was no more than a lack of precision in language, an inadequacy of language rather than any obstinate doctrinal error. The Apologists were not pre-Arians or pro-Arians. Most would unhesitatingly have subscribed to the definitions of Nicaea and Chalcedon. The "innocent speculations of the Apologists," as G. L. Prestige has written, "came to provide support for the Arian school of thought."

The case of Origen is especially significant for its influence on the Christological controversies, which erupt first with Arms and continue for centuries. Origen failed to distinguish between the ontological and cosmological dimensions. As Bolotov has aptly stated, "the logical link between the generation of the Son and the existence of the world was not yet broken in the speculation of Origen." It can even be contended that this very link has been rather reinforced in Origen’s thinking. The ultimate question for Origen was precisely this: is it possible or permissible to think of God without conceiving him at once as Creator? The negative answer to this question was for Origen the only devout option. An opposite assumption would be sheer blasphemy. God could never have become anything that he has not been always. There is nothing simply "potential" in God’s Being, for everything is eternally actualized. This was Origen’s basic assumption, his deepest conviction. God is always the Father of the Only-Begotten, and the Son is coeternal with the Father — any other assumption would have compromised the essential immutability of the Divine Being. But God also is always the Creator and the Lord. Indeed if God is Creator at all — and it is an article of faith that he is Lord and Creator — we must necessarily assume that he had always been Creator and Lord. For God never "advances" toward what he had not been before. For Origen this implied inevitably also an eternal actualization of the world’s existence, of all those things over, which God’s might and Lordship were exercised. Origen himself used the term παντοκράτωρ, which he borrowed from the Septuagint. Its use by Origen is characteristic. The Greek term is much more pointed than its Latin or English renderings: Omnipotens and "Almighty." These latter terms emphasize might and power. The Greek word stresses specifically the actual exercise of power. The edge of Origen’s argument is taken off in Latin translation. As J.N.D. Kelly has correctly observed in his Early Christian Creeds, "παντοκράτωρ is in the first place an active word, conveying the idea not just of capacity but of the actualization of capacity." The Greek word παντοκράτωρ means κύριος, the ruling Lord. And God could not be παντοκράτωρ eternally unless τα πάντα also existed from all eternity. God’s puissance must have been eternally actualized in the created cosmos. Therefore, the cosmos appears to be an eternal concomitant, a companion, as it was, of the Divine Being. In this context any clear distinction between generation and creation was actually impossible — both were eternal relations, indeed "necessary" relations, as it was, intrinsic for the Divine Being.

Origen was unable, indeed reluctant and unwilling to admit anything "contingent" about the world itself since this would, in his conception, have involved also a certain "change" on the Divine level. In Origen’s system the eternal Being of the Holy Trinity and the eternal existence of the world are indivisibly and insolubly linked together both stand and fall together. The Son is indeed eternal, and eternally "personal" and "hypostatic." But the Son is eternally begotten in relation to the eternally created world.

Origen’s argument is straight and consistent within the thought structure of his basic assumptions. It would be flagrantly impious to admit that God could ever have existed without His Wisdom, even for a single moment — ad punctum momenti alicujus. God is always the Father of his Son, who is born of him but "without any beginning" — sine ullo tamen initio. And Origen specifies: "not only of that kind, which can be distinguished by intervals of time — aliquibus temporum spatiis, but even of that other kind, which the mind alone is wont to contemplate in itself and to perceive if I may say so, with the bare intellect and reason" — nudo intellectu. In other words, Wisdom is begotten beyond the limit of any imaginable "beginning" — extra omne ergo quod vel did vel intelligi potest initium. Moreover, as Origen explained elsewhere, the "generation" of Wisdom could not be interpreted as an accomplished "event," but rather as a permanent and continuous relationship, a relation of "being begotten," just as radiance is perpetually concomitant with the light itself, and Wisdom is, in the phrase of the Wisdom of Solomon (7:26), an απαύγασμα φωτός-άϊδίον — ουχί έγέννησεν ό πατήρ τον υισν — Homily on Jeremiah, 9,4. In the very subsistence of Wisdom, according to Origen, the whole design of creation is already implied. The whole creation — universe, creatura — is prearranged in Wisdom — De principiis 1, 2, 2:29-30. The text of this important passage might have been somewhat edited by the Latin translator — Rufinus — but surely the main argument was faithfully reproduced — see the fragment in Greek in Methodius, De creatis, quoted by St. Photius, Bibl. Cod. 235. Origen spoke of "prevision" — virtute praescientiae. But, according to his basic principle, there could be no temporal order or sequence. The world as "previewed" in Wisdom had to be also eternally actualized. It is in this direction that Origen continued his argument. And here the terms "Father" and "Pantokrator" are conspicuously bracketed together. "Now as one cannot be father apart from having a son, nor a lord apart from holding a possession or a slave, so we cannot even call God almighty if there are none over whom he can exercise his power. Accordingly, to prove that God is Almighty we must assume the existence of the world." But, obviously, God is Lord from all eternity. Consequently, the world, in its entirety, also existed from all eternity — necessario existere oportet — De principiis I, 2, 10:41-42. (See the Greek quotation in Justinian, Epistula ad Mennam in Mansi IX, 528). In short, the world must be always coexistent with God and therefore coeternal. Origen, of course, meant the primordial world of spirits. Actually, in Origen’s conception there was but one eternal hierarchical system of beings, a "chain of being." He could never escape the cosmological pattern of Middle Platonism.

Origen seems to have interpreted the generation of the Son as an act of the Father’s will — εκ του θελήματος του πατρός εγεννήθη — quoted by Justinian in Mansi IX, 525. On the other hand, he was utterly suspicious of the phrase: εκ της ουσίας πατρός-. He probably even formally repudiated it. For him it was a dangerous and misleading phrase, heavily overloaded with gross "materialistic" associations and suggesting division and separation in the Divine essence (On John 20, 18:351; De principiis IV, 4, 1:348; see the quotation by Marcellus given in Eusebius, Contra Marcellum I, 4:21). The textual evidence is confused and inconclusive. It may be true that at this point Origen was opposing the Gnostics, especially the Valentinian conception of προβολή and only wanted to vindicate the strictly spiritual character of everything Divine. Yet there was a flagrant ambiguity. Both the generation of the Son and the creation of the world are equally attributed to the will or counsel of the Father. "And my own opinion is that an act of the Father’s will — voluntas Patris — ought to be sufficient to ensure the subsistence of that which is produced by the deliberation of his will — nisi quae consilio voluntatis profertur. Thus, it is in this way that the existence of the Son also is begotten of him — ita ergo etfilii ab eo subsistentia generatur" (De principiis I, 2, 6:35). The meaning of this passage is rather obscure, and we have no Greek text. But, in any case, once again the Son is explicitly bracketed together with creatures.

Arius himself contended that the Logos was a "creature," a privileged creature indeed, not like others, but still no more than a κτίσμα originated by the will of God. Accordingly, God for him was primarily the Creator and, apart from that, little if anything, could be said of the unfathomable and incomprehensible Being of God, unknown even to the Son. There was actually no room for "theology" in Arius’ system. The only real problem was that of "cosmology" — a typically Hellenic approach. Arius had to define the notion of creation. Two major points were made. First, the total dissimilarity between God and all other realities, which "had beginning," beginning of any kind. Second is the "beginning" itself. The Son had a "beginning" simply because he was a son; that is, originated from the Father as his αρχή. Only God (the Father) was άναρχος in the strict sense of the word. It seems that with Arius the main emphasis lay on the relation of dependence as such, and the element of time was comparatively irrelevant for his argument. Indeed, in his famous letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia Arius stated plainly that the Son came into existence "before all times and ages" — προ κρόνων και προ αιώνων (according to Epiphanius, Haeres. 69, 6; 156 and Theodoret, Hist. eccl. I, 4, 63:25). St. Athanasius complained that the Arians evaded the term χρόνος (Contra Arianos I, 13). Yet they obviously contended that all things "created" did somehow "come into existence," so that the state of "being" has been preceded, at least logically, by a state of "non-being" out of which they have emerged, έξ ουκ σντων. In this sense “they did not exist before they came into existence” — ουκ ην πρίν γεννηθη. Obviously, “creatureliness” meant for the Arians more than just “dependence:" it implied also an "essential" dissimilarity with God and a finitude; that is, some limitation in retrospect. On the other hand, it was strongly stressed that all creation was grounded in the will and deliberation of God — θελήματι και βουλή, as Arius himself wrote to Eusebius. The latter motive was Origenistic. Indeed, Arius went much further than Origen: Origen rejected only the Gnostic προβολή but Arius repudiated any “natural” affinity of the Logos with God. Arms simply had nothing to say about the life of God apart from his engagement in creation. At this point his thought was utterly archaic.

It is highly significant that the Council of Antioch in 324/325 — that is, before the Council of Nicaea — took up all these major points. The Son is begotten "not from that which is not but from the Father," in an ineffable and indescribable manner, "not as made but as properly offspring," and not "by volition." The Son exists eternally and "did not at one time not exist." The Son "is the express image, not of the will or anything else, but of his Father’s very hypostasis." [Only a Syrian version of this important document is preserved. It was published for the first time and retranslated into Greek by Eduard Schwartz, "Zur Geschichte des Athanasius," VI in Nachrichten von der Koniglichen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Gottingen (1905), pp. 272-273. It has since been published in his Gesammelte Schriften, Dritter Band (Berlin, 1959), pp. 136-143. The authenticity of the Council of Antioch has been vigorously contested by Harnack and others. But the best analysis of all the evidence and a convincing defence of the authenticity of the Council of Antioch is found in a series of articles by D. A. Lebedev: "The Council in Antioch of 324 and Its Epistle to Alexander, Bishop of Thessaloniki," in Khristianskoje Chtenije (1911, July/August, 831-858; September, 1008-1023); "On the Problem of the Council in Antioch of 324 and On the Great and Holy Council in Ancyra," in Trudy Kievskoj Dukhovnoj Akademii (1914, April; July/August; November; 1915, January); and continued in Bogoslovskij Vestnik (1915, July/August, p. 482-512). All these articles are in Russian; their evidence and conclusions have not been surpassed by any research on the subject since].

For all these reasons the Son could not be regarded as "creature." Nothing has been said about creation. But one can easily guess what "creation" and "creatureliness" meant for the Fathers of that Council. All elements, of which the later clear distinction between "begetting" and "creating" (or "making") has been construed, are already implied in the conciliar statement.

In his early writings before the outbreak of the Arian controversy St. Athanasius was already wrestling with the problem of creation. For him it was intimately related to the crucial message of the Christian faith: the redemptive Incarnation of the Divine Logos. Indeed, his interpretation of Redemption, as it was expounded in De Incarnatione Verbi, is grounded in a distinctive conception of the cosmos. There was, in the vision of St. Athanasius, an ultimate and radical cleavage or hiatus between the absolute Being of God and the contingent existence of the World. There were actually two modes of existence, radically different and totally dissimilar. On the one hand, the Being of God is eternal and immutable, "immortal" and "incorruptible." On the other — the flux of the cosmos, intrinsically mutable and "mortal," exposed to change and "corruption." The ultimate ontological tension was precisely between the Divine αφθαρσία and the φθορά of the cosmic flux. Since the whole creation had once begun by the will and pleasure of God, “out of nothing,” an ultimate “meonic” tendency was inherent in the very nature of all creaturely things. By their own "nature" all created things were intrinsically unstable, fluid, impotent, mortal, and liable to dissolution — των μεν γαρ γενητών ή φύσις, ατε δε έξ ουκ όντων ύποστάσα, ρευστή τις και ασθενής και θνητή καθ εαντήν συγκρινωμένη τυγχάνει. Their existence was precarious. If there was any order and stability in the cosmos, they were, as it was, superimposed upon its own "nature" and imparted to created things by the Divine Logos. It was the Logos who ordered and bound together the whole creation — συνέχει και συσφίγγει — counteracting thereby, as it was, its inherent leaning toward disintegration. Indeed, the creaturely "nature" itself is also God’s creation. But it was inwardly limited by its creaturely condition: it was inescapably "mortal" and mutable. St. Athanasius formally disavowed the notion of seminal λόγοι, immanent and inherent in the things themselves. Creation stood only by the immediate impact of the Divine Logos. Not only was the cosmos brought into existence "out of nothing" by an initial and sovereign creative fiat of God but it was maintained in existence solely by the continuous action of the Creator. Man also shared in this "natural" instability of the cosmos, as a "composite" being and originated "out of the non-existing" — εκ του μη σντος γενόμενοι. By his very "nature" man also was "mortal" and "corruptible" — κατά φύσιν φθαρτός — and could escape this condition of mortality only by God’s grace and by participation in the energies of the Logos — χάριτι δε της του λόγου μετουσίας του κατά φύσιν έκφυγόντες. By himself man was unable "to continue forever" — ούχ ικανόν ειη κατά τον της ιδίας γενέσεως λόγον διαμένειν αεί (Contra gentes 40 to 43; De Incarnatione 2, 3, 5). The pattern of this exposition is conspicuously Platonic. But St. Athanasius used it judiciously. The cosmic or "demiurgic" function of the Logos was strongly stressed in his conception. But his Divine transcendence was also vigorously stressed. Indeed, the Divine character of the Logos was the main presupposition of the whole argument. The Logos was, in the phrase of St. Athanasius, "the Only-Begotten God," originating eternally from the Father as from a spring, a πηγή. There was an absolute dissimilarity between the Logos and creatures. The Logos is present in the world, but only "dynamically," that is, by his "powers." In his own "essence" he is outside of the world — εκτός μεν εστί του παντός κατ ούσίαν, εν πάσι δε εστί ταις εαυτού δυνάμεσι (De Incarnatione 17). This distinction between "essence" and "powers" can be traced back to Philo and Plotinus and, indeed, to the Apologists and Clement of Alexandria. But in St. Athanasius it has a totally new connotation. It is never applied to the relationship between God and Logos, as had been done even by Origen. It serves now a new purpose — to discriminate strictly between the inner Being of God and his creative and "providential" manifestation ad extra, in the creaturely world. The world owes its very existence to God’s sovereign will and goodness and stands, over the abyss of its own nothingness and impotence, solely by his quickening "Grace" — as it was, sola gratia. But the Grace abides in the world.

In his struggle with the Arians St. Athanasius proceeded from the same presuppositions. The main demarcation line passes between the Creator and the Creation, and not between the Father and the Son, as the Arians contended. Indeed, the Logos is Creator. But he is Creator precisely because he is fully Divine, an "undistinguishable Image" of the Father, απαράλλακτος είκών. In creation he is not just an “instrument,” όργανον. He is its ultimate and immediate efficient cause. His own Being is totally independent of creation, and even of the creative design of the world. At this point St. Athanasius was quite formal. The crucial text is in Contra Arianos II, 31 — ό του θεού γαρ λόγος ου δι ήμάς γέγονεν, αλλά μάλλον ήμεις δι αυτόν γεγόναμεν, και εν αύτω έχτίσθη τα πάντα, ουδέ δια την ημών άσθένειαν οΰτος, ων δυνατός, υπό μόνον τον Πατρός γέγονεν, ιν ήμάς δι αντου ώς δι οργανου δημιονργήση, μη γένοιτο. ουκ εστίν οΰτως. Και γαρ και ει δόξαν ην τω θεω μη ποιήσαι τα γενητά, αλλ ην ουδέν ήττον ό Λόγος προς τον θεόν, και εν αύτω ην ό Πατήρ. Τα μέντοι γενητά αδύνατον ην χωρίς του Λόγου γενέσθαι, οΰτω γαρ και γέγονε δι αντου, και είκότως. Επειδή γαρ Λόγος εστίν ίδιος φύσει της ουσίας του θεου ό Υίος, εξ αυτόυ τέ εστί, και εν αύτω εστίν, ώς ειπεν αυτός ουκ ήδύνατο μη δι αντου γενέσθαι τα δημιονργήματα. — Even supposing that the Father had never been disposed to create the world or a part of it, nevertheless the Logos would have been with God and the Father in him… This was the core of the argument. In fact, St. Athanasius carefully eliminates all references to the οικονομία of creation or salvation from his description of the inner relationship between the Father and the Son. This was his major and decisive contribution to Trinitarian theology in the critical situation of the Arian controversy. And this left him free to define the concept of creation properly. Θεολογία, in the ancient sense of the word, and οικονομία must be clearly and strictly distinguished and delimited, although they could not be separated from each other. But God’s "Being" has an absolute ontological priority over God’s action and will.

God is much more than just "Creator." When we call God "a Father," we mean something higher than his relation to creatures (Contra Arianos I, 33). "Before" God creates at all, πολλω πρότερον, he is Father, and he creates through his Son. For the Arians, actually, God was no more than a Creator and Shaper of creatures, argued St. Athanasius. The Arians did not admit in God anything that was "superior to his will," το ύπερκείμενον της βονλήσεως. But, obviously, "being" precedes "will," and "generation," accordingly, surpasses the "will" also — ύπεραναβέβηκε δε της βονλήσεως το πεφυκεναι (II, 2). Of course, it is but a logical order — there is no temporal sequence in Divine Being and Life. Yet this logical order has an ontological significance. Trinitarian names denote the very character of God, his very Being. They are, as it was, ontological names. There are, in fact, two different sets of names, which may be used of God. One set of names refers to God’s deeds or acts — that is, to his will and counsel — the other to God’s own essence and being. St. Athanasius insisted that these two sets of names had to be formally and consistently distinguished. And, again, it was more than just a logical or mental distinction. There was a distinction in the Divine reality itself. God is what he is — Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It is an ultimate reality, declared and manifested in the Scriptures. But creation is a deed of the Divine will, and this will is common to and identical in all Three Persons of the One God. Thus, God’s Fatherhood must necessarily precede his Creatorship. The Son’s existence flows eternally from the very essence of the Father, or, rather, belongs to this "essence," ουσία. The world’s existence, on the contrary, is, as it was, "external" to this Divine essence and is grounded only in the Divine will. There is an element of contingency in the exercise and disclosure of the creative will, as much as his will reflects God’s own essence and character. On the other hand, there is, as it was, an absolute necessity in the Trinitarian Being of God. The word may seem strange and startling. In fact, St. Athanasius did not use it directly. It would have embarrassed Origen and many others, as offensive to God’s perfection — does it not imply that God is subject to certain "constraint" or fatalistic determinism? But, in fact, "necessity" in this case is but another name for "being" or "essence." Indeed, God does not "choose" his own Being. He simply is. No further question can be intelligently asked. Indeed, it is proper for God "to create;" that is, to manifest himself ad extra. But this manifestation is an act of his will, and in no way an extension of his own Being. On the other hand, "will" and "deliberation" should not be invoked in the description of the eternal relationship between Father and Son. At this point St. Athanasius was definite and explicit. Indeed, his whole refutation of Arianism depended ultimately upon this basic distinction between "essence" and "will," which alone could establish clearly the real difference in kind between "generation" and "creation." The Trinitarian vision and the concept of creation in the thought of St. Athanasius belonged closely and organically together.

Some characteristic passages in the famous Athanasian Discourses against the Arians must be examined, for this is not merely an abstract theology but the very essence from which the Arian controversy springs and is fundamental for an understanding of all the Christological problems that will confront the Church in the coming centuries. The accurate dating of these Discourses is irrelevant for our present purpose.

In I, 19 God is described in the Scripture as the Fountain of Wisdom and Life. The Son is his Wisdom. Now if one admits with the Arians that "there was when he was not," this would imply that once the Fountain was dry, or rather, that it was not a fountain at all. The spring from which nothing flows is not a spring at all. The simile is characteristic of St. Athanasius. It reappears often in the Discourses. See, for example, II, 2 ff the Logos was not the genuine Son of God, God himself would no longer be a Father but only a Shaper of creatures. The fecundity of the Divine Nature would have been quenched. The Nature of God would be sterile and not fertile — έρημος… μη καρπογόνος. It would be a barren thing, a light without shining, a dry font — ώς φως μη φωτίζον καί πηγή ξηρα. See also I, 14 — άγονος ην ή πηγή καί ξηρά, φως χωρις αυγης or II, 33 — ήλιος χωρις του απαυγάσματος. Both the argument and the imagery can be traced back to Origen. Otiosam enim et immobilem dicere naturam Dei impium est simul et absurdum (De principiis III, 5, 2; 272/Koetschau). But as we have already seen, in Origen the argument was ambiguous and misleading. It was ambiguous because there was no room for any clear discrimination between "being" and "acting." It was misleading because it coupled "generation" and "creation" so closely and intimately together as not to allow any demarcation line. This ambiguity is avoided carefully by St. Athanasius. He never uses this argument — from the Divine "fertility" — in reference to the will of God. On the contrary, he formally refuses to follow Origen at this point — of course, without mentioning him.

In I, 20 St. Athanasius asserts that God was never without anything that is his own — Πoτε γουν του ίδιου χωρις ην ό Θεος. On the other hand, created things have no affinity or similarity with the Creator — ουδέν ομοιον κατ υσίαν εχei προς τον πεποιηκότα. They are outside God — έξωθεν αυτου. They have received their existence by the grace and appointment of the Logos — χάριτι καί βουλήσει αυτόυ τω λόγω γενόμενα. And St. Athanasius characteristically adds, “They could again cease to exist if it pleased their Creator" — ώστε πάλιν δύνασθαι καί πανεσθαί πoτe ει θελήσειεν ό ποίησας — for he concludes, "Such is the nature of created things" — ταύτης γαρ εστί φύσεως τα γενητα. See also II, 24 and 29 — πάντων εκ του μη οντος εχόντων την σύστασιν. Now, at this very point St. Athanasius had to face an objection of his opponents. They said: is it not so that God must be Creator always, since the "power of creating" could not have come to God, as it was, subsequently? ουκ έπιγέγονεν αντω τον δημιουρ — γειν ή δύναμις. Therefore, all creatures must be eternal. It is significant that this counterargument of the Arians was actually Origen’s famous argument, based on the analysis of the term παντοκράτωρ. Only the conclusion was different. Origen’s conclusion was that, indeed, creatures were eternal. For the Arians that was blasphemy. By the same argument they wanted to reduce ad absurdum the proof of the eternal generation. It was an attack both on Origen and on St. Athanasius. St. Athanasius meets the charge on his own ground. Is there really such a "similarity" between generation and creation — τι ομοιον — that what must be said of God as Father must also be said of him as Creator — ίνα τα επί τον πατρός ταύτα και επί των δημιουργών ειπωσιν. This is the sting of the Athanasian rejoinder. In fact, there is total disparity. The Son is an offspring of the essence: ιδιον της ουσίας γέννημα. Creatures are, on the contrary, “external” to the Creator. Accordingly, there is no “necessity" for them to exist eternally — ουκ ανάγκη αει ειναι. But generation is not subject to will (or deliberation) το δε γέννημα ου βουλήσει υπόκειται. It is, on the contrary, a property of the essence — αλλά της ουσίας εστίν ίδιότης. Moreover, a man can be called a "a maker," ποιητής even before he has made anything. But nobody can be called “a father” before he has a son. This is to say that God could be described as Creator even "before" creation came into existence. It is a subtle but valid point in the argument. St. Athanasius argues that, although God could indeed have created things from all eternity, yet created things themselves could not have existed eternally, since they are "out of nothing," έξ ουκ όντων, and consequently did not exist before they were brought into existence — ουκ ην πριν γένηται. “How can things, which did not exist before they originated be coeternal with God? — Πώς ήδύνατο συνυπάρχειν τω αει οντι θεφ?

This turn of the argument is highly significant. Indeed if one starts, as Origen did, with the eternity and immutability of God, it is difficult to see how anything truly "temporal" could have existed at all. All acts of God must be eternal. God simply could not "have started." But in this case the proper "nature" of temporal things is ignored and disregarded. This is precisely what St. Athanasius wanted to say. "Beginning" belongs to the very "nature" of temporal things. Now, it is the beginning of temporal existence, of an existence in time and flux. For that reason creatures cannot "coexist" with the Eternal God. There are two incomparable modes of existence. Creatures have their own mode of subsistence — they are outside God. Thus, creatures, by their very nature, cannot "coexist" with God. But this inherent limitation of their nature does not, in any sense, disparage the power of the Creator. The main point of St. Athanasius was precisely this. There is an identity of nature in generation and a disparity of natures in creation (see I, 26).

In I, 36 St Athanasius asserts that since created beings arise "out of nothing," their existence is bound to be a state of flux — άλλοιουμένην εχει την φύσιν. See I, 58: Their existence is precarious, they are perishable by nature — τα δυνάμενα άπολέσθαι. This does not imply that they will actually and necessarily perish. Yet if they do not actually perish, it is only by the grace of the Creator. The Son alone, as an offspring of the essence, has an intrinsic power "to coexist" eternally with the Father — ιδιον δε το αει ειναι και συνδιαμένειν συν τφ Πατρι. See also II, 57 — the being of that which has existence "according to a beginning" can be traced back to a certain initial instant.

In the later part of his third Discourse St. Athanasius discusses at great length the Arian contention that the Son has been begotten by "the will and deliberation" of the Father — βουλήσει και θελήσει γεγένήσθαι τον Υίον υπό τον Πατρός (III, 59). These terms, protests St. Athanasius, are quite out of place in this connection. The Arians simply attempt to hide their heresy under the cover of these ambiguous words. St. Athanasius suggests that they borrowed their ideas at this point from the Gnostics and mentions the name c Ptolemy. Ptolemy taught that God first thought, and then willed ana acted. In a similar way, St. Athanasius contends, the Arians claim that the will and deliberation of the Father preceded the generation of the Logos. He quotes Asterius at this point. Asterius (d. after 341), student of Lucian of Antioch, was an Arian theologian, who wrote, in addition to his Syntagmation — fragments are contained in St. Athanasius and in Marcellus of Ancyra — commentaries and homilies on the Psalms. Substantial portions have been recovered by M. Richard and E. Skard and published for the first time in 1956. Asterius was also present at the Council of Antioch in 341.

The terms "will" and "deliberation" are in fact only applicable to the production of creaturely things. Now, the Arians claim that unless the Son’s existence depended upon the "deliberation" of the Father, it would appear that God has a Son "by necessity" and, as it was, "unwillingly" — ανάγκη και μη θέλων. This kind of reasoning, St. Athanasius retorts, only shows their inability to grasp the basic difference between “being” and “acting.” God does not deliberate with himself about his own Being and Existence. Indeed, it would be absurd to contend that God’s goodness and mercy are just his voluntary habit and not a part of his Nature. But does it mean that God is good and merciful unwillingly? Now, what is "by Nature" is higher than that which is only "by deliberation" — ύπέρκειται και προηγείται του βουλεύ — εσθαι το κατά φυσιν. As an offspring of the Father’s own essence, the Father does not “deliberate” about the Son, since it would mean “deliberation” about his own Being — τον δε ιδιον Λογου έξ αντον φύσει γεννώμενον ου προβουλεύεται. God is the Father of his Son "by nature and not by will" — ου βουλήσει αλλά φύσει τον ίδιον έχει Λόγος. Whatever was "created" it was indeed created by the good will and deliberation of God. But the Son is not a deed of will like creatures; but by nature, the Son is an offspring of God’s own essence — ου θελήματος εστί δημιούργημα έπιγεγονώς, καθάπερ ή κτίσις, αλλά φύσει της ουσίας ίδιον γέννημα. It is an insane and extravagant idea to put "will" and "counsel" between the Father and the Son (III, 60, 61, 62).

The theological writings of St. Athanasius were mainly occasional tracts, tracts for the time. He was always discussing certain particular points, the burning issues of the Arian controversy. He was interpreting controversial texts of Scripture, pondering and checking phraseology, answering charges, meeting objections. He never had time or opportunity for a dispassionate and systematic exposition. Moreover, the time for systems had probably not yet come. But there was a perfect consistency and coherence in his theological views. His theological vision was sharp and well focused. His grasp of the problems was unusually sure and firm. In the turmoil of a heated debate he was able to discern clearly the real crux of the conflict. From tradition St. Athanasius inherited the catholic faith in the Divinity of the Logos. This faith was the true pivot of his theological thought. It was not enough to correct exegesis, to improve terminology, to remove misunderstandings. What needed correction in the age of St Athanasius that was the total theological perspective. It was imperative to establish "Theology;" that is, the doctrine of God, on its proper ground. The mystery of God — "Three in One" — had to be apprehended in itself. This was the main preoccupation of St. Athanasius in his great Discourses. The contemplation of the Divine Life in God himself — this was the concern of St. Athanasius. Only in this perspective can one see the radical difference between the Divine and the creaturely. One sees the absoluteness of the Divine transcendence — God does not need his creatures. His own Being is perfect and complete in itself. And it is this inner Being of God that is disclosed in the mystery of the Trinity. But the actual mystery is double. There is, indeed, the mystery of the Divine Being. But there is another concomitant mystery, the mystery of Creation, the mystery of the Divine οίκονομία. No real advance can be achieved in the realm of “Theology" until the realm of" Oikonomia" had been properly ordered. This surely was the reason why St. Athanasius addressed himself to the problem of Creation even in his early treatises, which constituted, in a sense, his theological confession. On the other hand, the meaning of the redemptive Incarnation could be properly clarified only in the perspective of the original creative design of God. On the other hand, in order to demonstrate the absolute sovereignty of God it was necessary to show the ultimate contingency of the created cosmos, fully dependent upon the Will of God.

In the perspective of the Arian controversy two tasks were closely related to each other — to demonstrate the mystery of the Divine Generation as an integral feature of the Divine Being itself and to emphasize the contingency of the created cosmos, which contingency can also be seen in the order of existence. It was precisely in the light of this basic distinction — between "Being" and "Will" — that the ultimate incommensurability of the two modes of existence could be clearly exhibited. The inner life of God is in no way conditioned by his revelatory self-disclosure in the world, including the design of Creation itself. The world is, as it was, a paradoxical "surplus" in the order of existence. The world is "outside" God — or, rather, it is precisely this "outside" itself. But it does exist, in its own mode and dimension. It arises and stands only by the will of God. It has a beginning precisely because it is contingent and moves toward an end for which it has been designed by God. The Will of God is manifested in the temporal process of the Divine οικονομία. But God’s own Being is immutable and eternal. The two modes of existence, the Divine and the creaturely, can be respectively described as “necessary” and “contingent” or as “absolute” and “conditional.” The distinction between the Divine Being and the Divine Will was made and consistently elaborated, probably for the first time in the history of Christian thought, in the heat of the Arian controversy by St. Athanasius.

St. Athanasius1 distinction between Generation and Creation — with all its vital implications — was already commonly accepted in the Church in his own time. How then Arianism? How then all the later Christological controversies? It is enough to point out the fact that, despite all the controversy, the vision of St. Athanasius ultimately prevailed and prevailed as the teaching of the Church. Hence, his theological vision, his perception of the root cause of theological controversy in a proper distinction between Generation and Creation was in essence already a part of the living faith of the Church. And, moreover, there were various forms of Arianism, all of which differed in emphases and all of which had to be overcome, even if the process of triumph took decades and lingered in other aspects for centuries.

St. Athanasius’ theological distinction between generation and creation was further developed in Byzantine theology. St. Cyril of Alexandria in general will repeat his great predecessor. Indeed, his Thesaurus De sancta et consubstantiali Trinitate will depend heavily upon St. Athanasius’ Discourses. Only instead of "will" and "deliberation," St. Cyril will speak of Divine "energy" — το μεν ποιέιν ενεργειας εστί, φύσεως δε το γενναν φύσις δε και ενέργεια ου τούτον (Thesaurus, 18; Patrologia Graeca 75, 313). See also 15; Patrologia Graeca 75, 276 — το γέννημα… εκ της ουσίας τον γεννώντος πρόεισι φυσικώς (το κτίσμα)… έξωθεν εστίν ως άλλότριον, see also Patrologia Graeca 75, 564-565. This antithesis — γονιμότης· and θέλησις or βούλησις — will be one of the main distinctive marks of Byzantine theology until the fourteenth century when St. Gregory Palamas (1296-1359) analyzes the problem. St. Gregory will contend that unless a clear distinction is made between the "essence" and "energy" in God, one will not be able to distinguish between generation and creation. This will also be emphasized by St. Mark of Ephesus. It was a definite Athanasian motive and his arguments will again come to the fore.

The questions arise: is the distinction between "Being" and "Acting" in God or, in other terms, between the Divine "Essence" and the Divine "Energy," a genuine and ontological distinction — in re ipsa? Or is it merely a mental or logical distinction, as it was — κατ έπίνοιαν — which should not be interpreted objectively, lest the simplicity of the Divine Being is compromised? There cannot be the slightest doubt that for St. Athanasius it was a real and ontological difference. Otherwise his main argument against the Arians would have been invalidated and destroyed. The mystery will remain. The very Being of God is "incomprehensible" for the human intellect — this will be the common conviction of the Greek and Byzantine Fathers. And yet there is always ample room for understanding. Not only is there a distinction between "Being" and "Will" but it is not the same thing, even for God, "to be" and "to act." This is the deepest conviction of St Athanasius.

Chapter Ten
Nicaea and the Ecumenical Council

Any study of the ancient Church, especially of the period between 430 and 553 during the Nestorian, Monophysite, and later the Monothelite controversies, must confront the nature of authority and the nature of councils in the early Church. Moreover, any study of a particular council must be approached in its concrete historical setting, against its specific existential background, without any overarching pre-conceived definition. Each council, as each age, must be discussed on its own terms.

The Theological Nature of a Council in the First Three Centuries

There was no "Conciliar Theory" in the early Church, no elaborate "theology of the Councils," and even no fixed canonical regulations. The councils of the early Church in the first three centuries were occasional meetings, convened for special purposes, usually in the situation of urgency, to discuss particular items of common concerns. They were events, rather than an institution. Or, to use the phrase of the late Dom Gregory Dix, "in the pre-Nicene times Councils were an occasional device, with no certain place in the scheme of Church government" ("Jurisdiction, Episcopal and Papal, in the Early Church," Laudate XVI (No. 62, June 1938), 108). It was, of course, commonly assumed and agreed already at that time that meeting and consultation of bishops, representing or rather personifying their respective local churches or "communities," was a proper and normal method to manifest and to achieve the unity and consent in matters of faith and discipline.

The sense of the "Unity of the Church" was strong in the early first three centuries, although it had not yet been reflected on the organizational level. The "collegiality" of the bishops was assumed in principle and the concept of the Episcopates unus was already in the process of formation. Bishops of a particular area used to meet for the election and consecration of new bishops. Foundations had been laid for the future provincial or metropolitan system. But all this was rather a spontaneous movement. The precedent had been laid in Acts 15 and Galatians 2 by Council at Jerusalem. "When they came to Jerusalem, they were welcomed by the church and the apostles and the elders… the apostles and the elders were gathered together to consider this matter… then it seemed good to the apostles and the elders, with the whole church… it has seemed good to us in this assembly… for it has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us. This in a very real sense is the first Council of the Church; it is the precedent from which all councils take their form, their existence.

It seems that councils came into existence first in Asia Minor by the end of the second century in that period of intensive defence against the spread of the "new prophecy" of the Montanist "enthusiastic explosion." Firmilian of Cappadocia (d. 268) in his letter to Cyprian (d. 258) first mentions that at that time — in the middle of the third century — the churches of Asia Minor held regular annual councils of bishops and priests (see among Cyprian’s letter, Epistola 75). From that time an increasing number of councils are referred to in written documents, councils, which take place in Egypt, Syria, Greece, North Africa, Italy, Spain, and Gaul.

It was in North Africa that a kind of "conciliar system" was established in the third century. It was found that councils were the best device, the best means, the best vehicle for witnessing, articulating, and proclaiming the common mind of the Church and the accord and unanimity of local churches. G. Kretschmar has correctly stated in his study on the councils of the ancient Church (see "Die Konzile der Alten Kirche" in Die okumenischen Konzile der Christenheit, 1961) that the basic concern of the early councils was precisely with the "Unity of the Church." Yet this "Unity" was based on the identity of "Tradition" and the unanimity in faith, rather than on any institutional pattern.

Constantine and the Ecumenical Council

The situation changed with the conversion of the Empire. Since Constantine, or more precisely since the time of Theodosius I (emperor from 379 to 395), who continued the policy of Gratian and actually established the orthodox Christian state, it has been commonly assumed and acknowledged that the Church was co-extensive with the State; that is, with the "Universal Empire" which had been christened. The "conversion of the Empire" made the universality of the Church more visible than ever before. Of course it did not add anything to the essential and intrinsic universality of the Church. But the new opportunity provided for its visible manifestation. It was in this situation that the First Ecumenical Council was convened, the Council of Nicaea in 325. It was to become the model for the later councils. As Dom Gregory Dix has written, "The new established position of the Church necessitated ecumenical action precisely because Christian life was now lived in the world, which was no longer organized on a basis of localism but of the Empire as a whole. Because the Church has come out into the world the local churches had to learn to live no longer as self-contained units (as in practice, though not in theory, they had largely lived in the past"

In a certain sense the Ecumenical Councils as inaugurated at Nicaea may be described as "Imperial Councils," and this was probably the first and original meaning of the term "ecumenical" as applied to the Councils. The term "Ecumenical Council" — σύνοδος οικουμενική — concilium universale — occurs first in the sixth canon of the Second Ecumenical Council, the Council of Constantinople in 381. This very name refers to the οικουμένη, the orbis Romanus, the Empire. As a result the Emperor will have a special significance in connection with the Ecumenical Councils. Emperor Constantine convened the First Ecumenical Council but the idea was probably suggested to him by friends among the bishops. Rufinus tells us that he summoned the council "ex sacerdotum sententia."

The Role of Byzantine Emperors.

The role of the Byzantine emperors in relationship to the Ecumenical Councils cannot be overlooked. The emperors convened or called the councils into being. They fixed the place and time of the council. They summoned the metropolitans and bishops of the empire by an edict. They provided the means of transit and they paid the cost of travel and other expenses from the public treasury. But, as becomes clear from any analysis of the Ecumenical Councils, the calling of an Ecumenical Council did not ensure its being "ecumenical." Moreover, the role of the emperors in the actual proceedings and in the theological results of the Ecumenical Councils was greatly restricted, as is clear in the controversies over Nestorianism, Monophysitism, and Monothelitism.

The emperors not only convened the Ecumenical Councils but also, directly or indirectly, attempted to take an active part. Even if they were not physically present, the emperors were repre sented by imperial delegates or commissioners who were given full authority. These commissioners opened the sessions by reading the imperial edict in both Latin and Greek, they presided to some extent in conjunction with the bishops, they in general conducted the transactions, preserved order and security, and closed the council by signing the Acts either at the head or at the foot of the signatures of the bishops. They attempted to exercise, especially if they had a theological interest in the topics on the agenda, their influence on the discussions and decisions. But, and this is the significance, they had no vote. And often they could not control the bishops, as is the case with St. Cyril and the Comes Candidian at the Third Ecumenical Council. Pope Stephen V, writing in 817, claims that Constantine presided at the First Ecumenical Council. But it must always be remembered that this presidency, when applied to the emperors, was always limited, always restricted, always subject to the ultimate decision of the bishops and moreover always subject to the ultimate reception of any intended Ecumenical Council by the entire episcopate, by the entire Church. It was not unusual for an intended and proclaimed Ecumenical Council to be rejected at some later time by the Church, hence completely invalidating its claim of being "ecumenical."

Constantine and the Distinction of two Authorities

According to Eusebius Constantine introduced the main agenda with a solemn speech, constantly attended the sessions, and took the place of honour in the assembly. Many historians have been stunned by Eusebius’ Vita Constantini — εις τον βίον τον μακαρίου Κωνσταντίνου βασιλέως. Burckhardt, for example, condemns Eusebius as "the first completely dishonest and unfair historian of ancient times." But it is important to consider Eusebius’ Vita Constantini in perspective. First, Eusebius is employing the literary form of the "Vita," a form, which is intrinsically exaggerated; it is not literary biography but rather praise, an encomium replete with eulogy. Second, Eusebius explicitly states that he does not intend to be objective. "This book will contain a description of those regal and noble acts, which are pleasing to God… Would it not be disgraceful that the memory of Nero, and other impious and godless tyrants far worse than Nero, should meet with diligent writers to embellish the relation of their worthless deeds with elegant language, and record them in voluminous histories, and that I should be silent, to whom God himself has given such an emperor as is not recorded in all history, and has permitted me to come into his presence and enjoy his acquaintance and society? Therefore, if it is the duty of any one, it certainly is my duty, to make a sufficient proclamation of his virtues to all in whom the example of noble actions is capable of inspiring the love of God… My narrative, however unequal to the greatness of the deeds it describes, will yet derive luster even from the bare relation of noble actions… It is my intention, therefore, to pass over the greater part of the regal deeds of this thrice-blessed prince… The object of my present book is to speak and to write of those circumstances only, which have reference to his religious character. And since these are themselves of almost infinite variety, I shall select from the facts, which have come to my knowledge such as are most suitable and worthy of permanent record and attempt to narrate them as briefly as possible… Indeed, there is now a full and free opportunity for celebrating in every way the praises of this truly blessed prince." With such a warning, one can hardly expect objective biography. It is a fact, however, that Eusebius’ work is replete with exaggeration. For example, he describes Constantine at the reception which the emperor gave at the conclusion of the council, as a kind of Christ among his saints (see 3, 15: Χρίστου βασιλείας εδοξεν αv τις φαντασιουσθαι εικονα, οναρ... ειναι αλλ ουχ ΰπαρ το γινόμουν.

Although two traditions towards baptism existed simultaneously in the Church at that time; that is, infant baptism or baptism after a conversion to Christianity and the postponement of baptism until approaching death precisely because of the significance and power of baptism, it is noteworthy that Constantine’s prominence at the First Ecumenical Council is the prominence of an unbaptized emperor.

Neither must it be forgotten that Constantine claimed to be a divinely appointed bishop but a bishop in a figurative sense and, moreover, a bishop only over the external affairs of the Church. He always recognized that the internal and theological concerns of the Church belonged to the bishops. There is no reason not to take his words seriously. Addressing the bishops, he said: ύμεις μεν των εισω της εκκλησίας, εγώ δε των έκτος υπό θeoυ καθεστάμενος επίσκοπος αν ειην. Constantine makes a distinction between two divinely authorized episcopates: one is secular or imperial and corresponds with the Roman concept of Pontifex Maximus; the other is spiritual or sacerdotal and resides in the episcopacy. After his opening address to the bishops at the First Ecumenical Council, Constantine turned the council over to the bishops: ό μεν δε ταυτ ειπών ρωμαια γλώττη, ύφερμηνεύοντος έτερου, παρεδιδου τον λόγον τοις της συνόδου πρόεδροις. This is the same distinction seen at the Third Ecumenical Council between the imperial and ecclesiastical authorities or jurisdictions — one, external; the other, internal and doctrinally authoritative.

The ratification of an Ecumenical Council belonged to the emperor but that, too, was not actual fact. Partly by their signatures and partly by special edicts, the emperors gave the decrees of an Ecumenical Council legal status and legal validity. The emperors took the theological decisions and elevated them to the status of imperial law. They were responsible for having them observed and they punished the recalcitrants with deposition and banishment. Constantine did this for the decisions of the First Ecumenical Council; Theodosius the Great did this for the decrees of the Second Ecumenical Council, the Council of Constantinople in 381; Marcian (emperor from 450 to 457) did this for the Fourth Ecumenical Council, the Council of Chalcedon in 451, even resorting to arms to enforce the council’s theological decrees. But all this amounted to vain effort in the ultimate sense and final reality if the episcopacy; that is, the Church Universal, rejected those decisions. Bishops could be banished; decrees could be enforced by arms; depositions and exile could flourish. But everything that the imperial authority accomplished was of no avail in terms of the validity of the doctrine proclaimed by an Ecumenical Council if that council was not ultimately accepted by the entire Church. Often it took time for the Church to re-assert itself, to recover, to realize the mistakes of a council. Often the opposition resided in a minority. Often the opposition could reside in just one bishop, as was the case more than once with the Bishop of Rome. And most often, when the Church was torn asunder either by its own theological schools of thought or by imperial intrusion, the divided parties within the Church turned to Rome, to the Old Rome, and to the "primacy" — whether of honour only, as stated in the third canon of the Second Ecumenical Council and the famous twenty-eighth canon of the Fourth Ecumenical Council — τα πρεσβεια της τιμής — ίσα πρεσβέία — or a “primacy” of some type of authoritative appeal commonly known to exist in the Bishop of Rome. The reason for the “primacy” is primarily historical. The fact is that appeals were constantly and consistently being made to the Bishop of Rome.

Is The Fifth Canon of the Council of Nicaea Ecclesiastical Elitism or Tradition?

Despite the predominance of the emperor and his commissioners, despite the external control over the council by the imperial authority, the fact remains that the essential character of die Ecumenical Councils was completely ecclesiastical, completely within the jurisdiction of the bishops. The fifth canon of The First Ecumenical Council makes it clear that bishops were the successors and heirs of the apostles. Some historians have seen in this canon the entry into the Church of an aristocratic spirit inspired by the imperial structure. But such a position on the status of a bishop is already clearly enunciated by St Ignatius of Antioch (d. c. 107) in the early years of the Church. In his Letter to the Ephesians St. Ignatius writes, "for Jesus Christ, our inseparable life, is the Father’s thought, and in the same way the bishops who are established in the farthest parts of the earth share in the thought of Jesus Christ… the presbytery, which is worthy of God, is tuned to the bishop, as strings to a lyre: and thus in your concord and harmonious love Jesus Christ is sung… if the prayer of One or two1 has such power, how much more that of the bishop and all the Church… through our submission to the bishop we may belong to God." In his Letter to the Μagnesians St. Ignatius writes, "…with the bishop presiding as the counterpart of God… you must do nothing without the bishop and the presbyters… Be submissive to the bishop and to one another, as Jesus Christ was to the Father."

If such was the language from one of the earliest of Christian documents, it is hardly correct to claim that since bishops constituted the voting assembly at councils, it was a result of an aristocratic principle, which entered the Church from the conversion of the Empire. The Ecumenical Councils used the same principle as that elaborated by St. Ignatius, as that which was in existence already before St. Ignatius wrote his letters. Yet it must not be overlooked that presbyters and deacons also participated in the councils. They may not have had a votum decisivum, but they could participate and they could influence. It is enough to recall that St. Athanasius participated in the First Ecumenical Council and at that time he was but a deacon. Despite the fact that he was a deacon, St. Athanasius probably exerted more influence on the council than most of the bishops present. Yet there is one more fact. In those days bishops were usually elected by the voice of the people, the vox populi, by acclamation. In this sense the bishop truly represented the people and, hence, the precise opposite of an aristocratic episcopacy is the case. And what is more, the bishops were held accountable by the people for their actions, for their votes. Eusebius realized that he would have to justify his vote before his entire diocese in Caesarea. And the Egyptian bishops at the Fourth Ecumenical Council feared uproar, a popular outcry from their congregations.

What is true is that the Ecumenical Councils functioned in an age of absolute despotism more like a forerunner of representative government than like an elite, aristocratic group, cowed by and servile to the imperial and secular State. The procedures used in the meetings of the Ecumenical Councils in fact sanctioned the principle of discussion, the principle of common and open deliberation as the best means of arriving at an expression of the truth of the faith and settling controversies.

The Silent Presence at the Ecumenical Councils.

With so much controversy over who presided at the Ecumenical Councils, with so much written on that subject, one reality is often lost, neglected, or forgotten. In the middle of the assembled clergy something special lay upon a desk or table. That something special held a special place and had a special significance at all councils. On that desk or table lay an open copy of the Gospels. It was there not only as a symbol but also as a reminder of the real presence of Christ in accordance with his promise that where two or three are gathered together in his name, he will be present. In a very real sense it was the presence of the open Gospel, which presided. Christ is the Truth. The source and the criterion of the truth of Christianity is the Divine Revelation, in both the apostolic deposit and in the Holy Scriptures.

The Guiding Hermeneutical Principle at the Ecumenical Councils.

Yet the presence of the open Gospel did not solve the problem. In fact, it meant that the problem was actually shifted a step further. A new question came to be asked — to resolve the problems, which had arisen over the interpretation of the Gospel. How was Revelation to be understood? The early Church had no doubt about the "sufficiency" of the apostolic deposit and the "sufficiency" of the Scriptures and never tried to go beyond. But already in the Apostolic Age itself the problem of "interpretation" arose in all its challenging sharpness. What was the guiding hermeneutical principle? At this point there was no other answer than the appeal to the "faith of the Church," the faith and kerygma of the Apostles, the Apostolic tradition. The Scriptures could be understood only within the Church, as Origen had strongly insisted, and as St. Irenaeus and Tertullian had insisted before him. The appeal to Tradition was actually an appeal to the mind of the Church. It was a method of discovering and ascertaining the faith as it had been always held, from the very beginning — semper creditum. The permanence of Christian belief was the most conspicuous sign and token of its truth — no innovations. And this permanence of the Holy Church’s faith could be appropriately demonstrated by the witnesses from the past. It was for this reason, and for that purpose, that "the ancients" — oι παλαιοί — were usually invoked and quoted in theological discussions.

This "argument from antiquity," however, had to be used with certain caution. Occasional references to old times and casual quotations from old authors could often be ambiguous and even misleading. This was well understood already at the time of the great Baptismal controversy in the third century. And the question about the validity or authority or "ancient customs" had been formally raised at that time. Already Tertullian contended that consuetudines [customs] in the Church had to be examined in the light of truth — Dominus nosier Christus veritatem se, non consuetudinem, cognominavit [Our Lord Christ designated himself, not as custom but as truth — De virginibus velandis I, I]. The phrase was taken up by St. Cyprian and was adopted by the Council of Carthage in 256. 7n fact, "antiquity" as such might happen to be no more than an inveterate error — nam antiquitas sine veritate vetustas erroris est [for antiquity without truth is the age old error] — in the phrase of St. Cyprian’s Epistola 74, 9. St. Augustine also used a similar phrase — In Evangelio Dominus, Ego sum, inquit, veritas. Non dixit, Ego sum consuetudo [In the Gospel the Lord says — I am the truth. He did not say — I am the custom (De baptismo III, 6, 9)]. "Antiquity" as such was not necessarily a truth, although the Christian truth was intrinsically an "ancient" truth and "innovations" in the Church had to be resisted.

On the other hand, the argument "from tradition" was first used by the heretics, by the Gnostics, and it was this usage of theirs that prompted St. Irenaeus to elaborate his own conception of Tradition — in opposition to the false "traditions" of the heretics, which were alien to the mind of the Church. The appeal to "antiquity" or "traditions" had to be selective and discriminative. Certain alleged "traditions" were simply wrong and false. One had to detect and to identify the "true Tradition," the authentic Tradition which could be traced back to the authority of the Apostles and be attested and confirmed by a universal consensio of churches. In fact, however, this consensio could not be so easily discovered. Certain questions were still open. The main criterion of St. Irenaeus was valid — Tradition — Apostolic and Catholic [Universal]. Origen, in the preface to his De principiis, tried to describe the scope of the existing "agreement" which was to his mind binding and restrictive, and then he quotes a series of important topics, which had to be further explored. There was, again, a considerable variety of local traditions, in language and discipline, even within the unbroken communion in faith and in sacris. It suffices to recall at this point the Paschal controversy between Rome and the East in which the whole question of the authority of ancient habits came to the fore. One should also recall the conflicts between Carthage and Rome, and also between Rome and Alexandria in the third century, and the increasing tension between Alexandria and Antioch.

Now, in this age of the intense theological controversy and context, all participating groups used to appeal to tradition and "antiquity." "Chains" or catenae of ancient testimonies were compiled on all sides in the dispute. These testimonies had to be carefully scrutinized and examined on a basis more comprehensive than "antiquity" alone. Certain local traditions, liturgical and theological, were finally discarded and disavowed by the overarching authority of an "ecumenical" consensus. A sharp confrontation of diverse theological traditions takes place at the Council of Ephesus. The Council of Ephesus is actually split in twain — the "Ecumenical" Council of St. Cyril and Rome and the conciliabulum of the "Easterners." Indeed, the reconciliation will be achieved, and yet there will still be a tension. The most spectacular instance of condemnation of a theological tradition, of long standing and of considerable if rather local renown, is the dramatic affair of the Three Chapters.

At this point a question of principle is raised — to what extent is it fair and legitimate to disavow the faith of those who had died in peace and in communion with the Church? There is a violent debate on this matter, especially in the West, and strong arguments are produced against such retrospective discrimination. Nevertheless, the Three Chapters will be condemned by the Fifth Ecumenical Council. "Antiquity" was overruled by Ecumenical consensio, as strained as it probably was.

It has been rightly observed that appeal to "antiquity" was changing its function and character with the course of time. The Apostolic past was still at hand, and within the reach of human memory in the times of St. Irenaeus or Tertullian. Indeed, St. Irenaeus had heard in his youth the oral instruction of St. Polycarp, the immediate disciple of St. John. It was only the third generation since Christ! The memory of the Apostolic Age was still fresh. The scope of Christian history was brief and limited. The main concern in this early age was with the Apostolic foundations, with the initial delivery of the kerygma. Accordingly, Tradition meant at that time primarily the original "delivery" or "deposit." The question of accurate transmission over a bit more than one century was comparatively simple, especially in the Churches founded by the Apostles themselves. Full attention was given, of course, to the lists of Episcopal succession (see St. Irenaeus or Hegesippus), but it was not difficult to compile these lists. The question of "succession," however, appeared to be much more complicated for the subsequent generations more removed from the Apostolic Age. It was but natural under these new conditions that emphasis should shift from the question of initial "Apostolicity" to the problem of the preservation of the "deposit." Tradition came to mean "transmission," rather than "delivery." The question of the intermediate links, of "succession" — in the wide and comprehensive sense of the word — became especially urgent. It was the problem of faithful witnesses. It was in this situation that the authority of the Fathers was for the first time formally invoked — they were witnesses of the permanence or identity of the kerygma, as transmitted from generation to generation. Apostles and Fathers — these two terms were generally and commonly coupled together in the argument from Tradition, as it was used in the third and fourth centuries. It was this double reference, both to the origin and to the unfailing and continuous preservation that warranted the authenticity of belief. On the other hand, Scripture was formally acknowledged and recognized as the ground and foundation of faith, as the Word of God and the Scripture of the Spirit. Yet there was still the problem of right and adequate interpretation. Scripture and Fathers were usually quoted together, that is, kerygma and exegesis — ή γραφή και oι πατερες.

The Meaning of "the Fathers" and "Scripture."

The reference or even a direct appeal "to the Fathers" was a distinctive and salient note of the theological research and discussion in the period of the Ecumenical Councils, beginning with the Council of Nicaea. The term has never been formally defined. It was used occasionally and sporadically already by early ecclesiastical writers. Often it simply denoted Christian teachers and leaders of previous generations. It was gradually becoming a title for the bishops, in so far as they were appointed teachers and witnesses of faith. Later the tide was applied specifically to bishops who attended councils. The common element in all these cases is the teaching office or task. "Fathers" were those who transmitted and propagated the right doctrine, the teaching of the Apostles, who were guides and masters in Christian instruction and catechesis. In this sense it was emphatically applied to great Christian writers. It must be kept in mind that the main if not also the only, written manual of faith and doctrine was, in the Ancient Church, precisely Holy Scripture. And for that reason the renowned interpreters of Scripture were regarded as "Fathers" in an eminent sense. "Fathers" were teachers, first of all — doctores, διδάσκαλοι. And they were teachers in so far as they were witnesses, testes. These two functions must be distinguished and yet they are most intimately intertwined. "Teaching" was an Apostolic task — "teach all nations." And it was in this commission that their "authority" was rooted — it was, in fact, the authority to bear witness. Two major points must be made in this connection. First, the phrase "the Fathers of the Church" has actually an obvious restrictive accent. They were acting not just as individuals, but rather as viri ecclesiastici — the favourite expression of Origen — on behalf and in the name of the Church. They were spokesmen for the Church, expositors of her faith, keepers of her Tradition, witnesses of truth and faith — magistri probabiles, in the phrase of St. Vincent of Lerins. And in that was their "authority" grounded. It leads us back to the concept of "representation."

The late G. L. Prestige in his book entitled Fathers and Heretics has rightly observed that "the creeds of the Church grew out of the teaching of the Church: the general effect of heresy was rather to force old creeds to be tightened up than to cause fresh creeds to be constructed. Thus, the most famous and most crucial of all creeds, that of Nicaea, was only a new edition of an existing Palestinian confession. And a further important fact always ought to be remembered. The real intellectual work, the vital interpretative thought, was not contributed by the Councils that promulgated the creeds, but by the theological teachers who supplied and explained the formulae, which the Councils adopted. The teaching of Nicaea, which finally commended itself, represented the views of intellectual giants working for a hundred years before and for fifty years after the actual meeting of the Council’’

The Fathers were true inspirers of the Councils, while being present and in absentia. For that reason, and in this sense, the Councils used to emphasize that they were "following the Holy Fathers" — επόμενοι τοις άγιοις πατράσιν, as the Council of Chalcedon puts it. It was precisely the consensus patrum, which was authoritative and binding, and not their private opinions or views, although even they should not be hastily dismissed. Again, this consensus was much more than just an empirical agreement of individuals. The true and authentic consensus was that which reflected the mind of the Catholic and Universal Church — το εκκλησιαστικόν φρόνημα. It was that kind of consensus to which St. Irenaeus was referring when he contended that neither a special "ability" nor a "deficiency" in speech of individual leaders in the Churches could affect the identity of their witnesses, since the "power of tradition" — virtus traditionis — was always and everywhere the same. The preaching of the Church is always identical — constans et aequaliter perseverans, according to St. Irenaeus. The true consensus is that which manifests and discloses this perennial identity of the Church’s faith — aequaliter perseverans.

The teaching authority of the Ecumenical Councils is grounded in the infallibility of the Church. The ultimate "authority" is vested in the Church, which is forever the Pillar and the Foundation of Truth. It is not primarily a canonical authority, in the formal and specific sense of the term, although canonical strictures or sanctions may be appended to conciliar decisions on matters of faith. It is a charismatic authority, grounded in the assistance of the Holy Spirit — for it seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us.

The Council of Nicaea.

The city of Nicaea was selected as the city to host the First Ecumenical Council. Constantinople was to be officially inaugurated only in 330 and hence at the time of the convening of the Council of Nicaea the imperial residence was in Nicomedia, very close to Nicaea. Nicaea — its name comes from the Greek for "victory" — was easily accessible by sea and land from all parts of the empire. The imperial letter convening the council is no longer extant. Eusebius informs us that the emperor sent letters of invitation to the bishops of all countries and instructed them to come quickly — σπευδειν άπανταχόθεν τους επισκόπους γπάμμασι τιμητικοίς πpoκaλoυμevoς. All expenses were to be paid from the imperial treasury. The number of bishops present has come down to us as 318 — so states Athanasius, Socrates, and Theodoret. An element of mystical symbolism became attached to this number of 318, some seeing in the Greek abbreviation a reference to the cross and a reference to the "holy name of Jesus." St. Ambrose in his De fide (i, 18) connected the number of 318 with the number of servants of Abraham in Genesis 14:14. The number differs in other accounts. For example, Eusebius gives the number as two-hundred and fifty — πεντηκοντα και διακοσίων αριθμόν. But Eusebius does not include the number of priests and deacons. Arabic accounts from a later period give the number of more than two-thousand bishops. The extant Latin lists of signatures contain no more than two-hundred and twenty-four bishops. There appears to be no reason why the number of 318 is not in fact accurate. If one includes the number of priests, deacons, and others, then the number may have reached two thousand.

The Eastern provinces were heavily represented. The Latin West, however, had only seven delegates, one of whom exercised considerable influence — Hosius of Cordova, Spain (c. 257-357), who was an ecclesiastical adviser to Constantine. In addition to Hosius, the Latin West was represented by Nicasius of Dijon, Caecilian of Carthage, Domnus of Pannonia, Eustorgius of Milan, Marcus of Calabria, and the two presbyters from Rome, Victor or Vitus and Vincentius, who represented the bishop of Rome, St. Sylvester (bishop from 314 to 335). A Persian bishop by the name of John was present and a Gothic bishop, Theophilus, who was apparently the teacher of Ulfilas (c. 311-383), the Arian translator of the Bible into Gothic — the influence of Ulfilas upon subsequent history, especially in the West, was great; known as the "Apostle to the Goths," Ulfilas, according to Philostorgius, translated the entire Bible except the books of Kings; in translating the Bible into Gothic and in converting the Goths to Arian Christianity, Ulfilas’ casts his shadow over the West for centuries to come.

The official opening of the Council of Nicaea took place with the arrival of Constantine, probably on the fourteenth of June. Eusebius describes in his usual style the entrance of the emperor: "When all the bishops had entered the main building of the imperial palace… each took his place… and in silence awaited the arrival of the emperor. The court officers entered one after another, though only those who professed faith in Christ. The moment the approach of the emperor was announced… all the bishops rose from their seats and the emperor appeared like a heavenly messenger of God — οια Θeoυ τις ουράνιος άγγελος — covered with gold and gems, a glorious presence, very tall and slender, full of beauty, strength, and majesty. With this external adornment he united the spiritual ornament of the fear of God, modesty, and humility, which could be seen in his downcast eyes, his blushing face, the motion of his body, and his walk. When he reached the golden throne prepared for him, he stopped, and he did not sit down until the bishops so indicated. After he sat, the bishops resumed their seats."

After a brief address from "the bishop on the right of the emperor," Constantine delivered "with a gentle voice" in the official Latin language the opening address, which was immediately translated into Greek. Although the accounts of this speech differ slightly in Eusebius, Sozomen, Socrates, and Rufinus, they agree on the essentials. "It was my greatest desire, my friends that I might be permitted to enjoy your assembly. I must thank God that, in addition to all other blessings, he has shown me this highest one of all: to see you all gathered here in harmony and with one mind. May no malicious enemy rob us of this fortunateness… Discord in the Church I consider more fearful and painful than any other war. As soon as I, with God’s help, had overcome my enemies, I believed that nothing more was now necessary than to give thanks to God in common joy with those whom I had liberated. But when I heard of your division, I was convinced that this matter should by no means be neglected. And in the desire to assist by my service, I have summoned you without delay. I shall, however, feel my desire fulfilled only when I see the minds of all united in that peaceful harmony, which you, as the anointed of God, must preach to others. Do not delay, therefore, my friends. Do not delay, servants of God. Put away all causes of strife and loose all knots of discord by the laws of peace. Thus, shall you accomplish the work most pleasing to God and confer upon me, your fellow servant — τω ύμετέρω συνθεραποντι — an exceeding great joy."

After this opening speech, according to Eusebius, the emperor turned the council over to the bishops — παρεδιδου τον λόγον τοις συνόδου πρόεδροις. The bishops began their work but the emperor continued to take an active part in the proceedings.

According to Socrates’ history (I, 8) Sabinus of Heraclea asserted that the majority of the bishops present at the Council of Nicaea were uneducated. Harnack writes that this "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." In general, this may be the case. But the fact cannot be overlooked that there were competent theologians present and quantity does not ensure the deliberation of truth. St. Athanasius, even though a deacon, was present with Alexander of Alexandria. Hosius, to whom St. Athanasius refers as "the Great" — ό μέγας, was apparently not a mediocrity. The most learned bishop was probably Eusebius of Caesarea. Others present, although they cannot be considered theologians in the strict sense of the word, are noteworthy for their lives as confessors and for their spirituality. Paphnutius of the Upper Thebaid was in attendance. Potamon of Heraclea, whose right eye had been blinded, was present. Paul of Neocaesarea had been tortured under Licinius — both hands had been crippled and he had been tortured with red hot iron. Jacob of Nisibis, the hermit, and Spiridon of Cyprus, the patron saint of the Ionian Islands, were present.

Traditionally the Council of Nicaea is looked upon as having had two opposing theological parties. But closer analysis indicates that there were three parties. This becomes clear from the position of Eusebius of Caesarea, from the nature of his confession, and from the subseq