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"Archpriest Professor Georges Vasilyevich Florovsky (1893-1979), preeminent 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 rector of the Theological Academy and dean of the Cathedral of the Transfiguration. His mother, Klaudia Popruzhenko, was the 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 in 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 settled first in Sophia, Bulgaria. He left behind his brother, Vasilii, a surgeon, who died in the 1924 famine, and his sister Klaudia 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 in Paris where he became cofounder of St. Sergius Theological Institute and taught there as professor of patristics (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 was professor of theology at St. Vladimir’s Theological Seminary from 1948 to 1955, and dean from 1950. From 1954 to 1965 he was professor of Eastern Church History at Harvard Divinity School and, concurrently (1962-1965) an associate of the Slavic Department and (1955-1959) an associate professor of theology at Holy Cross Theological School.

"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 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 sought him out upon discovering that he was at the Divinity School … During a portion of his incumbency at Harvard … patristics 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 is 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 from 1965 to 1972 in Slavic Studies at Princeton University, having begun lecturing there already in 1964; and he was visiting lecturer in patristics at Princeton Theological Seminary as early as 1962 and then again intermittently after retirement from the University. His last teaching was in the fall semester of 1978/79 at Princeton Theological Seminary."

"Fr. Florovsky in the course of his career was awarded 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 that 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 Dostoievsky, Soloviev, Tolstoi, 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 fromThe 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 m the idiom of our contemporary yearning for the transcendent."

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 personal 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 [Annales Contemporaries], 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 rapidly sold out and were warmly appreciated in the general press.

When I began teaching at the Paris Institute, as Professor of Patrology, 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 by Fr. J. de Ghellinck, S.J., Patristique et Moyen Age, Volume II, 1947, pp. 1-180). The prevailing tendency was to treat Patrology as a history of Ancient Christian Literature, and the best modern manuals of Patrology in the West were written precisely in this manner: Bardenhewer, Cay re, 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 concerned not so much with individual writers or thinkers but rather with what 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. But in essence Patrology 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 Patristics 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. But I would underline the theological character of Patrology.

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. But 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.

From the beginning the character of the Christian liturgy was more dogmatic than lyrical. This is connected with its mystical realism. On the human side, the liturgy is, first of all, a confession — a testimony of faith, not only an outpouring of feelings. It is for this reason that the dogmatic and theological disputes left such a noticeable trace on the history of liturgical poetry. As early as the dogmatic disputes of the late second century, references to ancient psalms to the glory of Christ, the Lord God, receive the power of a theological argument as evidence from liturgical tradition. St. Basil the Great, in his disputes with the Arians over the Divinity of the Spirit, also relies on the testimony of liturgical tradition. Pope Celestine subsequently advances a general principle that a law of faith is defined as a law of prayer — ut legem credendi statuit lex supplicandi (Capitula Celestini, 8, alias 11). The redaction of these chapters which are known to us evidently belongs to Prosper of Aquitaine. Thus the liturgical rite obtains recognition as a dogmatic monument or dogmatic source.

At an earlier time creative improvization occupied a very significant place in the liturgy (see I Corinthians 14:26). This was the case even in the second and third centuries, as the testimony of Justin Martyr and Tertullian bear witness. These were primarily hymns and psalms — songs of praise and thanksgiving. It is sufficient to name the great prayer in the Epistle of Clement of Rome. Other of these ancient hymns remained in liturgical use forever; for example, the ancient hymn, Gladsome Light — Φώς ιλαρόν which dates back to the very earliest of times and is still sung at every Vesper Service in the Orthodox Church. Mention must also be made of the doxologies and hymns of thanks in the Alexandrian copy of the Bible, and in the seventh book of the Apostolic Constitutions.

In the fourth century we observe a liturgical turning point. It was partly connected with the dogmatic struggle, and partly with the development and spread of monasticism. Very instructive is the famous Fifty-Ninth Canon of the Council of Laodicea (fourth century) which forbids "reading ordinary psalms and books not determined by the rule of the Church” — διωτικούς ψαλμούς; ουδέ ακανόνιστα βιβλία. “No psalms composed by private individuals nor any uncanonical books may be read in the Church, but only the Canonical Books of the Old and New Testaments." Later Byzantine canonists suggested that what is at issue here are the so-called "psalms of Solomon," and others similar to those. It is more probable to think that the Laodicean rule had a wider and more direct meaning. By analogy with the Sixtieth Canon which defines the contents of the Biblical canon — precisely in connection with the liturgical reading of the Biblical books — it is possible to see in the Fifty-Ninth Canon an attempt to consolidate a definite "canon" in the liturgy as well, excluding all "unholy" hymns from the liturgical ordinary. This prohibition refers to all "false" hymns into which dogmatic ambiguity and even plain delusion had easily entered. Phrygia had always been in its own way a nest of heresy, and psalms were a very convenient and effective means for disseminating and instilling false views. We know very well that this means was constantly being utilized by ancient sectarians and false teachers. It is sufficient to recall the hymns or "psalms" of the Gnostics and Montanists, and, from a later era, the hymns of Arius in his Thalia and Apollinarius’ New Psalter. Under the conditions of dogmatic struggle, the attempt to bring liturgical singing within precise and strict bounds was entirely understandable. The simplest solution of all was to return to Biblical psalmody, to the "proclaiming" of the canonical psalms attributed to David. From the beginning they came into Christian use from the observances of the services from the synagogue. In the fourth century Biblical motifs became even more noticeable in the liturgy. This was instituted deliberately — it was not merely an involuntary recollection.

The liturgical procedure established by St. Basil the Great in his cloisters had special influence. His disputes with the Neo-Caesareans was characteristic. They accused him of innovations: he had introduced antiphonal singing of songs and singing with refrains. St. Basil did not deny that this was a new procedure — besides, it had already been accepted everywhere (see Eterius’ Pilgrimage concerning the service in Jerusalem). However, the Neo-Caesareans had their innovations too — some "supplications" ("litanies") of a penitential nature. But this is not what Basil is stressing: "and we do nothing but pray publicly about our sins, only with the difference that we petition our God not with human phrases, like you, but with words of the Spirit" (Letter, 207). St. Basil emphasizes that with the Neo-Caesareans there is much which proves to be insufficient "because of the antiquity of the statute;" that is, obsolescence (see On the Holy Spirit, chapter 29).

The custom of psalmody with refrains becomes common at this time in urban or synodical churches — both in Alexandria under St. Athanasius and in Antioch under Diodore and St. John Chrysostom. "In our gatherings David is first, middle, and last," says St. John Chrysostom. This was the rebirth of Old Testament custom (see the refrain in the very text of the 135th Psalm). From the refrains there gradually developed new psalms closely tied to the Biblical text which they reveal or elucidate. Psalmody (the "sequence of psalms") receives a special development in the monasteries. Here a daily cycle of prayers and liturgy was compiled and consolidated. At its foundation lies the "versification" of the Psalter. Monks in Egyptian monasteries avoided long prayers. Prayer has to be frequent, but concise — "lest the Enemy have time to distract our heart," as the abbot Isaac explained to John Cassian.

Solemn singing was considered inappropriate. "Monks did not go into the wilderness in order to sing melodic songs," said an Alexandrian abbot to his disciples. "What kind of emotion is possible for monks if in the Church or their cells they raise their voices like oxen!" This striving to pray "with the words of the Spirit, this abstention from new hymns and psalms composed "according to the custom of the Hellenes" is very characteristic. Sometimes verses from patristic works were joined to the Psalms and Biblical songs. For example, the abbot Dorotheus speaks of St. Gregory of Nazianzus’ "song of dicta." Monastic liturgies, whether cenobitic or anchoritic, were more penitential as opposed to the more ancient "cathedral" liturgy which was solemn and laudatory.

New liturgical poetry begins to develop comparatively late and very gradually on the new foundation. New hymns are composed. The story of the venerable Auxentius (of the time of the Council of Chalcedon) is interesting. The people would throng before his cave. The ascetic would proclaim individual verses and the crowd would respond with short refrains — from the Psalms or the ancient hymns. One of Auxentius1 friends was Anthimius, the first creator of anthems." The liturgical rite developed independently in various places. Especially important centers were the Great Church in Constantinople — the Hagia Sophia, the Sinai cloisters, and the laura of St. Sabas the Illuminator. At first it was the influence of the monasteries of Syria and Palestine which was decisive in the history of liturgical poetry. From here come all the significant psalmists of the sixth and seventh centuries, and even the eighth century, right up to St. John of Damascus. Here the traditions of Greek and Syrian poetry intersect. These new hymns reflect the era with its Christological disturbances and disputes. The idea of consolidating the already existing rite arises very early. Thus is composed the "regulations" — the Typikon. The Greek title expresses not only the motif of a norm or order but first of all a model. The Typikon is not so much a book of rules as a book of examples or models.

We are forced to reconstruct the history of hymnody from comparatively late records. It is not always possible to detach the most ancient layers from later strata with total certainty. The inscriptions of names even in the oldest manuscripts are not very reliable. Generally speaking, the oldest hymns were supplanted by the works of later psalmists, particularly in the period when the statutes were definitely consolidated or recorded. In addition, the liturgy becomes more and more anonymous and supra-personal. Early Byzantine liturgical poetry reaches its highest peak in the dogmatic hymnody of St. John of Damascus.

Within the ranks of early Byzantine poets and hymnologists we must mention first St. Romanus ‘Melodus’ — ό μελωδός (c. 490-560). Strangely enough, none of the historians mention him. We know of his life only from the Menaion under October 1. Hie was of Syrian origin, from Emesa. Legendary material indicates that he was of Jewish origin. He was a deacon first in Beirut before coming to Constantinople under the reign of Anastasius I (491-518). St. Romanus was a creator of the Kontakion, a term which comes from the staff about which the inscribed scroll is wrapped. They were "hymns of praise for Holy Days" and usually had an acrostic of his name. The Kontakion is organized in a strophic system and usually consisted of twenty-four stanzas. Each stanza is a perfect structural imitation of the first. The metrical system of the Kontakion is based on stress and accent and hence the rhythm was influenced by the melody. It is not easy to determine the volume of his creative legacy precisely. Approximately one thousand hymns have been ascribed to him but only approximately eighty metrical sermons have come down to us under his name. Among the best are his Kontakia for the great Holy Days — Christmas, Candlemas (the feast commemorating the purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the presentation of Christ in the Temple which is known in Eastern Christianity as υπαπαντή, which is The Meeting1 of Christ with Simeon), the Annunciation, and the Resurrection (or ‘Easter’) — "If you entered the grave, Immortal…").

St. Romanus’ works stand out for their richness and the elegance of their poetic form. Their content is quite simple and free of allegory, but the author’s dogmatic pathos reaches a high intensity. He is always concerned with a Christological theme. He sings of the invariable union of two natures, and constantly goes on the attack against the heretics — his songs are full of polemical allusions. He is harsh in his denunciations of philosophers and especially doctors. This is fully in keeping with the mood of Justinian’s time. With the rise of the canon in the composition of the Matin service, most of the works of St. Romanus were forced out of use. St. Romanus has been described as "perhaps the greatest religious poet of all time" and his works as "masterpieces of world literature."

We also know little about the life of another great Byzantine hymnologist, St. Andrew of Crete (c. 660-740). And once again what knowledge we have comes from the Menaion. The chronicler names Andrew of Crete among the members of the council held in 712 under pressure from emperor Philippicus-Bardanes (711-713), the council which repudiated the acts of the Sixth Ecumenical Council. This was an act of unworthy compliance but not of apostasy. The council held in 712 was a Monothelite council and at this St. Andrew subscribed to the repudiation of two wills in Christ. In 713 he retracted and explained his doctrine in a metrical confession. St. Andrew was a native of Damascus, became a deacon in Constantinople (c. 685) and the head of a refuge for orphans and the elderly, and later became archbishop of Gortyna in Crete in 692. He was a remarkable orator and hymn-writer. He evidently was the first composer of the famous Great Canon — ό μέγας κανών. The Triodion which bears the name of St. Sophronius probably belongs not to St. Andrew but to Joseph the Hymnologist of the ninth century. Most of St. Andrew’s canons went out of use quite early.

The most remarkable one by St. Andrew is, of course, the Great Canon. It is known to us in a later revision by the Studites. The Irmos and anthems of Marius the Egyptian do not belong to Andrew. More than anything else, this is a unique penitential autobiography — hence, that élan and intensity of personal feeling which permeate this epic of a grief-stricken soul. Biblicism is characteristic for St. Andrew. At times he virtually repeats Biblical texts. The Great Canon is overcrowded with Biblical reminiscences. A long line of vivid penitential images from the Bible stretches from Adam to the prudent thief. The Biblical text is very often perceived allegorically — but this is moral, not speculative, allegorism. St. Andrew expresses few dogmatic motifs. Penitential lyrics predominate. We should also note his Triodia for the first days of Holy Week (they are now sung at Vespers in the Eastern Orthodox Church during Holy Lent). As a liturgical form, the canon received its furthest development and refinement in the creations of St. John of Damascus and Cosmas of Maiuma (he must be distinguished from another hymn-writer named Cosmas who was his and St. John of Damascus’ mentor. However, it is virtually impossible to distinguish the works of the two hymn-writers named Cosmas. In the eighth century Stephen the Sabbite was also composing canons of hymns. The iconoclastic troubles also had an unhealthy effect on Church singing and hymnology.

Among the monuments of Constantinopolitan hymnody we must make note of the renowned Acathistus — ακάθιστος which literally means “Not Sitting” because it was sung standing. In the later statutes this famous liturgical hymn in honor of the Blessed Mother Mary became sung — and still is — on the Saturday of the fifth week of Great Lent. It consists of twenty-four stanzas of various lengths, each beginning with one of the twenty-four letters of the Greek alphabet. The text is based on the Gospel narratives of the Nativity. The author of the Acathistus is unknown. According to a widespread belief it was composed by Sergius, the Monothelite patriarch of Constantinople in thanksgiving for the deliverance of his city from the Avars and Slavs in 626. But this is very doubtful. It has also been ascribed to George Pisides but this too is doubtful. A ninth century manuscript of St. Gall claims that it was written by patriarch Germanus who, after the defeat of the Saracens before Constantinople in 717-718, instituted a special feast in which the Acathistus was to be sung. Some scholars accept this but it, too, is not at all conclusive.

Apparently the Acathistus is preserved in a later revision which altered the original plan and the very theme of the hymn. Originally its theme was more Christological than Mariological. This original redaction can be dated with some hesitation to the time of emperor Heraclius in the early seventh century (610-641).

At the very beginning of the sixth century a certain Palestinian monk named Nephalius wrote against Severus. We know of this only through Severus’ response, his Orationes ad Nephalium. A little later John the Grammarian of Caesarea voiced his objections to Severus. This John also wrote in defense of the Council of Chalcedon and should not be confused with John Philoponus, the Monophysite philosopher of Alexandria who bears also the title "the Grammarian." We also know about these objections only from Severus’ work, Contra Grammaticum. From the same period is the polemical work by John of Scythopolis, Against the Aposchistae, which St. Photius claims was written as a response to a work titled Against Nestorius written "by the father of the Aposchistae." The only work of John’s for which there is any substantial record is his Apology, a work in defense of the Council of Chalcedon. The fathers of the Sixth Ecumenical Council refer to John’s work Against Severus (see Doctrina patrum de Incarnatione Verbi). Heracleon, bishop of Chalcedon, wrote against the Eutychians and Photius refers to an expansive work by Heracleon against Manichaeism. Mention should also be made of the Dogmatic Panoply, probably composed by Pamphilus of Jerusalem, who was a friend of Cosmas Indicopleustes (Cosmas, the "Indian navigator," was a merchant from Alexandria who later in life became a monk; he travelled on the Eastern seas and wrote the noteworthy Christian Topography — Χριστιανική τοπογραφία — which is an attack on the Ptolemaic system in favor of certain fantastic doctrines of astrology used to attempt to harmonize with a literal understanding of the Bible — the main value of his work is its geographical information and its testimony to the spread of Christianity at that time).

The time of Justinian was a time of special polemical agitation connected with the attempts to reach an agreement and reunite the Church. To start with, we must note the dogmatic epistles of the emperor himself. In any event, Justinian was theologically educated. For all of his attraction to reunification with the Monophysites, he himself theologized in a completely orthodox way. Only in his old age was he carried away by the doctrine of the Aphthartodocetists but his edict on this has not come down to us. According to Michael the Syrian, Justinian’s Aphtharto -docetism differed little from the views of Julian of Halicarnassus (Chronicle, 9, 34).

Justinian’s weakness was in hurrying to decree his theological views as the norm of confessions. Also, in his striving for unity, he would sometimes be too tolerant, while at other times he would turn into "a Diocletian." However, in his theology he always tried to start from the patristic traditions. His theological tastes are very typical — he was repulsed by Antiochene theology and exasperated by Origen. Closest to him were St. Cyril and the Cappadocians. In general, Justinian was very close to Leontius of Byzantium and Leontius of Jerusalem but we do not encounter in Justinian the doctrine of "enhypostasisness" — his language is less precise.

The polemical activity of Ephraem of Antioch dates back to Justinian’s time. Ephraem was patriarch from 526 to 544. His writings are known to us from St. Photius. He wrote against the Nestorians and the Monophysites, in defense of St. Cyril and in defense of the Council of Chalcedon. He was a resolute adversary of Origenism. Especially curious are his remarks against the Julianists (concerning Adam’s "immortality").

The dogmatic and polemical tracts of John Maxentius, who is well for his participation in the so-called "Theopaschite"disputes, are very interesting. He also disputed with the Nestorians, the Pelagians, and the Monophysites. He developed the formula of the Scythian monks — "One of the Holy Trinity suffered" — into an integral theological doctrine on redemption.

Also extremely interesting is the dogmatic epistle of a certain monk Eustaphius On Two Natures, in which the dispute with Severus is reduced to the question of two operations — this was in connection with the Monophysite criticism of Pope Leo’s Tome. St. Photius recounts in detail a book by a certain monk Jovus, titled On the Incarnation. This work is very characteristic in its plan and terminology.

It is especially necessary to note a tract by Timothy of Constantinople On the Acceptance of Heretics [De receptione haereticorum; Περι των προσερχόμενων τη άγια εκκλησία. This work is rich in factual data concerning the history of the persuasions and divisions within Monophysite circles.

The activity of Anastasius of Antioch dates back to the late sixth century. He occupied the throne in the sixties but was later exiled and incarcerated. He returned to Antioch about 593. He wrote extensively in his confinement, mostly against the Aphthartodocetists. His compositions were published only in a Latin translation. It is characteristic that Anastasius relies almost exclusively on the Scriptures, and almost does not mention the fathers at all. Anastasius’ basic idea is the sufferings of the God-Man. His ideas were echoed by St. Maximus the Confessor and St. John of Damascus.

St. Eulogius of Alexandria was active at the same time. As one of the Antiochene father superiors, he ascended the Alexandrian throne about 583 and occupied it until his death in 607. He wrote extensively but most of his writings are known to us only from excerpts provided by St. Photius. Of the fragments preserved by St. Photius’ quotations, the passages from the apparently voluminous dogmatic work On the Holy Trinity and the Incarnation are especially characteristic. It must be stressed that St. Eulogius develops the doctrine of the "natural" human will in Christ very precisely. He speaks directly about "two operations" and "two desires," and he corroborates his reflections with a deep analysis of the basic Gospel texts. In this respect he is the direct predecessor of St. Maximus the Confessor.

Of the writers of the seventh century we must first of all name St. Sophronius of Jerusalem. He came from a monastic milieu. There is much foundation for seeing a future patriarch in that Sophronius the Sophist. He was from Damascus, and born about 560. In his youth he was a "sophist;" that is, a teacher of philology. But early on he went into a monastery, the laura of St. Theodosius, where he met and became good friends with John Moschus (d. 619 or 620), the seventh century Byzantine monk, traveler, and writer, known mainly for his collection of vivid monastic tales entitled Λειμων [in Latin known as Pratum spirituale] which he dedicated to his friend St. Sophronius. Together, John Moschus and St. Sophronius travelled widely — to Palestine, Egypt, Sinai, Cyprus, Antioch, Egypt and Rome. It was in Rome that John Moschus died. St. Sophronius brought his remains to the monastery of St. Theodosius. He completed and published John’s Leimon [Pratum spirituale].

St. Sophronius was again in Egypt in 633. He was there when the Monothelite movement began, and he immediately came out against Cyrus of Phasis, patriarch of Alexandria. In that same year St. Sophronius travelled to Constantinople to attempt to persuade Patriarch Sergius I, the leading figure among the Monothelites, to accept the orthodox position but his mission failed. In 634 he was elected to the throne of Jerusalem. This was the time of the Saracen invasion and taking of Jerusalem. By the autumn of 637 St. Sophronius saw that the Holy City of Jerusalem had no choice but to surrender. St. Sophronius, however, refused to deal with anyone about the surrender except the caliph himself. And in point of fact the caliph did undertake the journey from Medina to Jerusalem. The Caliph Omar entered the city in his ragged clothing, common for the caliphs of Medina but not for the later caliphs of Damascus and Bagdad, and was given a tour of the Holy City’s monuments by St. Sophronius. It is reported that St. Sophronius remained externally polite but that he was disgusted at the ragged sight of this new master of the Orient. And, seeing the caliph in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, St. Sophronius is reported to have said: "Lo, the Abomination of Desolation, spoken of by Daniel, who stands in the Holy Place." Shortly after Omar’s visit, St. Sophronius died in 638.

St. Sophronius was not a theologian by vocation. He spoke out on dogmatic themes like a pastor. Most important is his famous Synodical Epistle which was published upon his ascent to the throne of Jerusalem. Here St. Sophronius offers a detailed profession of faith in light of the Monothelite temptation which was then manifesting itself. His Synodical Epistle was subsequently accepted at the Sixth Ecumenical Council (680-681) as a precise exposition of faith: "We have also examined the Synodical Epistle of Sophronius of holy memory, former Patriarch of Holy City of Christ our God, Jerusalem, and have found it in accordance with the true faith and with the Apostolic teachings, and with those of the holy approved Fathers. Therefore we have received it as orthodox and as salutary to the Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church, and have decreed that it is right that his name be inserted in the diptychs of the Holy Churches."

St. Sophronius’ Synodical Epistle is very mild. It insists only on the essentials. First, he speaks of the Trinitarian mystery, then he moves on to Christology. He speaks in the customary manner of antitheses, which recalls Pope Leo’s Tome. The Incorporeal is made flesh, and the Eternal accepts birth in time — the true God becomes a true man. In the Incarnation the Logos accepts the "whole human composition... flesh which is consubstantial with us; a rational soul which is similar to our souls; and a mind which is completely identical to our minds." He accepts them in such a way that everything human begins to be when it begins to be the humanity of God the Logos.

Two natures are unified in a single hypostasis, "being patently cognizable as two" — and even in union each preserves the whole totality of the special qualities and attributes characteristic of it. St. Sophronius reaches a conclusion about the distinction between two activities from the invariance of two natures (he does not speak of two wills). The reason for this is that the difference between the natures is revealed precisely in actions or activities. "We profess both natural actions in both natures and essences, from which for our own sake an unmixed union exists in Christ, and this made the single Christ and Son a complete God, whom we must also recognize as a complete man."

Both actions or activities relate to the One Christ through the inseparable unity of his Hypostasis. And God the Logos operates through humanity. However, Christ experiences everything human "naturally" and "in a human way" — φυσικώς και ανθρωπίνως although not by necessity or involuntarily. It is here that St. Sophronius’ emphasis lies: "in a human way," but without that "capacity for suffering" or passiveness which is characteristic of the "simple;" that is, the sinful nature of man.

St. Sophronius enters the history of Christian literature not so much as a theologian but as a hagiographer and psalmist. It is hard to determine the share of his participation in the composition of the work known as The Spiritual Meadow. There is no doubt that the praise and legends about the miracles of Saints Cyrus and John the Healer belong to him. The "service book" doubtlessly does not belong to him. The authenticity of the collection of "anacreontic"poems is almost beyond dispute. These are not liturgical psalms but rather homilies expressed in rhythmical speech.

The explanation of the liturgy which is known under St. Sophronius’ name does not belong to him, although generally he worked on the Church statutes. Simeon of Thessaloniki attributed to Sophronius the introduction to the rule of the cloister of St. Sabas, a rule in general use in Palestine.

St. Anastasius of Sinai [Anastasius Sinaita] was the Father Superior of the monastery of St. Catherine on Mount Sinai. From here he travelled more than once around Syria, Arabia, and in Egypt, with polemical and missionary aims. We know very little about his life. He died about twenty years after the Sixth Ecumenical Council; that is, in about 700. He was primarily an erudite person.

All his books were written for disputes. His main work is The Guide — οδηγός. It would be better to translate this as "handbook." It was composed from individual chapters and epistles in which St. Anastasius investigates the individual and particular objections of the Monophysites on the basis of the Scriptures and from the testimony of the ancients. The book containing One Hundred and Fifty-Four Questions and Answers is of the same nature, although in its present form it cannot be considered his. This work is more a handbook of eristics (the art of debate) rather than one of "dialectics." True, St. Anastasius unmasks the spirit of petty, abstruse questioning; however, he himself looks into petty difficulties and permits perplexing questions. For the historian there are many important details in this work, especially in the explanation and application of the texts from Scripture. His references to the ancients are also very important. But the spirit of a system vanishes, coherence weakens, and attention becomes lost in a labyrinth of aporias.

We must also consider the possibility that St. Anastasius may indeed be the author of a work entitled The Interpretation of the Six Days. Of the twelve original books, only the last has come down to us in the original. The explanation is given only allegorically ("anagogic contemplations"). St. Anastasius explains the psalms as well. It must be stressed that St. Anastasius always thinks in Aristotelian categories, although he considers "Aristotle’s blather" to be the source of all heresies.

In the Christological disputes the question of theological tradition was forcefully raised. This was connected with the fight of school or trends. The time had come to sum up the historical — and sometimes critical — situation and to fortify one’s profession with the testimony and authority of the ancient fathers.

We find a systematic selection of "patristic opinions" already in St. Cyril’s polemical epistles. The Antiochenes, especially Theodoret in his Eranistes, also were actively engaged in the collection of ancient testimonies. In the West St. John Cassian refutes Nestorius with the aid of the testimony of earlier teachers. Pope Leo the Great refutes Eutyches using the testimony of the fathers. The councils of the fifth to the seventh centuries attentively reread the collections of patristic writings, especially at the Fifth and Sixth Ecumenical Councils and at the Lateran Council of 649. Excerpts from ancient writers are especially abundant in Leontius of Byzantium and Leontius of Jerusalem and in St. Maximus the Confessor.

Thus dogmatic florilegia arc gradually put together. With this a literary form typical of the Hellenistic epoch is revived. For the needs of teaching or for polemics associated with various schools of thought, numerous collections of model excerpts or testimonies of ancient patristic writers — most often those of an edifying nature — were put together at this time. It is sufficient to recall Plutarch’s Apophthegma or Stabeo’s famous collection.

It is virtually impossible to trace the history of Christian florilegia in all their detail. The most significant of them is known under the name The Words of the Holy Fathers or A Selection of Phrases [usually called in Latin the Doctrina patrum de Incarnatione Verbi]. This collection is preserved in several manuscript copies which represent different redactions. The oldest of these manuscripts goes back to the eighth or ninth centuries. We have to date the compilation of the code to the time of the Sixth Ecumenical Council but previous to the outbreak of iconoclasm. There are some grounds for speculating that the compiler is St. Anastasius of Sinai. In any case, the selection of texts in the this collection of patristic writings is very reminiscent of the collection of texts in Anastasius’ Guide.

It is especially necessary to note as well the collection of Sacra Parallela, which is known under the name of St. John of Damascus (c. 675-749). Its literary history has not yet been entirely explained. In the manuscripts we also encounter codes of patristic pronouncements on individual questions — for example, on the dogmatic meaning of certain texts, in particular Matthew 26:39 ff. and Luke 2:52.

These collections were subject to further reworking, and would be augmented with new articles when new issues captured theological attention. In the iconoclastic period there arise special collections containing testimony about the veneration of holy ikons — St. John of Damascus has such a code of texts, and there is one in the Acts of the Seventh Ecumenical Council (787). Various collections of an edifying nature receive a wide circulation. Their origins are primarily connected with liturgical needs, with the custom of the so-called "prescribed readings" which replaced the free sermon (see Trullo, 19). In an earlier time, during the liturgy the acts of martyrs were usually read. Later these started to be replaced by more or less extensive excerpts from patristic works, most often from the writings of John Chrysostom. However, the custom of "prescribed readings" was definitely established comparatively late. For the historian all of these collections present a dual interest. First, they frequently preserve important fragments of lost works. Secondly, these compilations allow us to establish the average level and scope of historical and dogmatic knowledge in a certain epoch. They tell us more about the readers than about the writers.

The exegetical collections are of a different nature. They were compiled in the process of exegetical work on the Holy Scriptures, and were developed from comments or observations on Biblical texts — the so-called scholia. This was a classical custom — compare, for example, the scholia to the different classical authors; scholia on legislative and other juridical documents were different. The explanations of different interpreters are deposited one upon the other. In the process of recopying or revising the so-called "lemmas" — that is, the exact references, are omitted very frequently. Interpretations sometimes are blended into a coherent text. Usually the names of the interpreters are designated with brief signs which are often conventional and sometimes obscure.

The impartiality of the compilers of the Christian exegetical collections or "chains" [catenae] is characteristic; one could say, rather, their peculiar unscrupulousness. The compilers of these collections usually strive for completeness and variety — of course, within the limits of the material known or available to them. Therefore, they have no difficulty in putting authors of opposite tendencies next to one another — Origen next to Diodore, Severus or even Apollinarius next to Theodore of Mopsuestia. After all, even heretics have healthy and valuable ideas. This "impartiality" adds a special importance to the exegetical compilations. They preserve many fragments from books which have been lost or spurned — the exegesis, for example, of Origen, Didymus, and Diodore. This frequently allows us to restore forgotten motifs in the history of exegesis in general and of the interpretation of individual characteristic texts. Sometimes in the catenae we find exegetical fragments by very early authors — St. Hippolytus, for example, and Papias of Hierapolis — and archaic theological motifs come to life before our very eyes. However, it is not easy to use the catenae. Indications of authorship are often vague, unreliable, and sometimes patently incorrect. We even have to rely not on a collection’s compilers but on later copyists — strictly speaking, on the scribe of the manuscript copy known to us. Nevertheless, the material extracted from the catenae is very important. To this day it has yet to be exhausted or thoroughly studied.

The first to work at compiling exegetical collections was Procopius of Gaza (c. 475-538), the head of the school in Gaza for many years. A number of his exegeses have remained — first of all, his extensive exegesis on the Octateuch, which has not been published in its entirety to this day. In his preface Procopius describes the method of his work. First, he collects and copies out the opinions of the exegetes he has selected — the "selections" or "eclogae" Then, since explanations very frequently coincide, he shortens his code, leaving only divergent opinions. His exegesis, too, is such an "abbreviation." For the most part, Procopius used the exegeses of Basil the Great, Gregory of Nazianzus, and Cyril of Alexandria. Procopius explained the book of Isaiah in addition to the Octateuch. His scholia on the books of Kings and the Paralipomenon- — παραλειπομένων — [which is Greek for “of the things left out" and is the name by which the two books of Chronicles are known traditionally in Roman Catholic and Greek Orthodox reference], which are mostly based on Theodoret have also been preserved. Procopius1 authorship of the commentaries on Proverbs and the Song of Songs, known under his name, is not indisputable.

The exegeses of Olympiodorus, an Alexandrian deacon who lived in the first half of the sixth century, on The Teachers’ Books of the Old Testament; on Jeremiah; on Baruch; on Lamentations; and on the Gospel of Luke are of the same nature.

Later interpreters are more independent. For example, Gregory of Agrigentum (Grigenti) in Sicily, who lived in the late sixth century. Born near Agrigentum, he made a pilgrimage to Palestine where he was ordained deacon by the patriarch of Jerusalem. In Rome he was consecrated bishop of Agrigentum. Apparently he was a victim of character assassination. It is known that Gregory the Great addressed several letters to him. He had either died or been deposed by about 594 and there exists a long life on him in Greek ascribed to Leontius of Byzantium but, in any case, apparently revised by Simeon Metaphrastes. An exegesis on Ecclesiastes was long attributed to him. However, some recent scholars maintain that this exegesis on Ecclesiastes was the work of a ninth century bishop, Gregory of Agrigentum, who is venerated in the Eastern Church on his Feast Day of November 23. Others also reveal an independence — Icumenus in his exegesis of Revelation (c. 600) and Anastasius of Nicaea in his exegesis of the Psalms (late seventh century). It is especially necessary to note the famous exegesis attributed to Andrew of Caesarea on Revelation (not later than 637) — it was subsequently revised by Arethas of Caesarea, a contemporary of St. Photius. The modern world is deeply indebted to Arethas, a celebrated scholar and patron of classical letters, despite his rather deplorable character. Andrew’s work, subsequently revised by Arethas, is full of references to the ancients. He often even cites the opinions of the pre-Nicene fathers. He understands Revelation allegorically. In other copies his book is even inscribed directly with Origen’s name.

The Chalcedonian oros or definition of faith became the cause of a tragic schism in the Church. Historical Monophysitism is precisely the non-acceptance and rejection of the Chalcedonian Council, a schism and break with the fathers of the council. The Monophysite movement can in general be compared with the anti-Nicene movement, and the makeup of the Monophysite schism was just as motley and heterogeneous as that of the "anti-Nicene coalition" in the middle of die fourth century. From the very beginning there were always few real "Eutychians" and Apollinarians among the Monophysites. Eutyches was just as much a heretic for the majority of Monophysites as he was for the orthodox. Dioscorus rehabilitated him and granted him communion more out of indirect motives than because he agreed with him and his beliefs, and mainly in defiance of Flavian. In any case, at Chalcedon Dioscorus openly rejected any "mixing," "transformation" or "cleavage." Anatolius of Constantinople, during the discussion of the oros at the council, reminded everyone that "Dioscorus was not deposed for faith." It is still impossible to prove through these words that Dioscorus was not in actuality mistaken. However, it is very characteristic that they judged and condemned Dioscorus at the council not for heresy but for the brigandage at Ephesus and for “human murder.” Neither Dioscorus nor Timothy the “Cat” — more accurately, the “Weasel,” for he was known as “Timothy Aelurus (d. 477) from the Greek αίλουρος [literally "weasel"] — denied the "double consubstantiality" of the God-Man — consubstantial with the Father in his Divinity and consubstantial with the human race in his humanity.

The same thing has to be said about most Monophysites. They claimed to be the only faithful keepers of the faith of St. Cyril. In any event they spoke Cyril’s language and his words. The Chalcedonian oros seemed to them to be cloaked in Nestorianism. The theology of most of these Monophysites was primarily a systemization of St. Cyril’s doctrine. In this regard the theological views of Philoxenus (Xenaias) of Hierapolis (c. 440-523) and Severus of Antioch (c. 465-538), the two most prominent leaders of Syrian Monophysitism in the late fifth and early sixth centuries, were especially characteristic. It was Severus1 system which became the official dogmatic doctrine of the Monophysite church when it finally withdrew into itself. Severus’ theological system also became the official doctrine of the Syrian Jacobites, of the Coptic Christians in Egypt and of the Armenian Church. This was, first of all, formal and literary Monophysitism.

These Monophysites spoke of the unity of the God-Man as a "unity of nature" but μια φυσις meant to them little more than the μία υποστασις of the Chalcedonian oros. By "nature" they meant "hypostasis." Severus makes this observation directly. In this regard they were rather strict Aristotelians and recognized only "individuals" or "hypostases" as real or existing. In any case, in the "unity of nature" the duality of "natural qualities" — St. Cyril’s term — did not disappear or fall away for them. Therefore, Philoxenus called the “single nature” complex. This concept of a “complex nature” is fundamental in Severus’ system — μία φύσίς σύνθετος. Severus defines the God-Man unity as a "synthesis," a "co-composition" — συνθεσις — and in doing so distinguishes "co-composition" from any fusion or mixing. In this "co-composition" there is no change or transformation of the "components" — they are only "combined" indissolubly and do not exist "apart." Therefore, for Severus the "dual consubstantiality" of the Logos Incarnate is an indisputable and immutable tenet and a criterion of true faith. Severus could sooner be called a "diplophysite" rather than a Monophysite in the true sense of the word. He even agreed to "distinguish" "two natures" — or better, "two essences" — in Christ not only "before the union" but also in the union itself — "after union" — of course with the proviso that it can only be a question of a mental or analytical distinguishing, a distinguishing "in contemplation" — εν θεωρία, or “through imagination” — κατ’ έπίνοίαν. And once again this almost repeats St. Cyril’s words.

For Severus and his followers "unity of nature" meant a unity of subject, a unity of person, a unity of life. They were much closer to St. Cyril than it usually seemed to the ancient polemicists. Fairly recently the works of the Monophysite theologians again have become available to us in ancient Syrian translations and it has become possible to form an opinion about their thought without having to go through biased witnesses.

Now we must not speak of Monophysitism as a revived Apollinarianism, and we have to strictly differentiate the "Eutychians" and the "Monophysites" in the broad sense of the terms. It is very characteristic that this boundary was drawn with total firmness already by St. John of Damascus. In his short work, Briefly On Heresies, which is part two of his principal dogmatic work entitled Πηγή γνώσεως [Fount of Knowledge], St. John of Damascus refers to "Monophysites" directly as schismatics and dissenters but not as heretics — "these Egyptians are schismatics and Monophysites. On the pretext of the Chalcedonian definition they separated themselves from the Orthodox Church. They are called Egyptians because the Egyptians were the first to begin this kind of division during the reigns of emperors Marcian and Valentinian. In everything else they are orthodox" (Heresy 83). However, this is what makes the schism enigmatic and incomprehensible.

Of course, divisions in the Church are entirely possible even without dogmatic disagreements. Political enthusiasm and darker passions can also disrupt and shatter Church unity. From the very beginning in the Monophysite movement national and regional motives latched on to religious ones. To the "Egyptians" the Council of Chalcedon was unacceptable and despicable not only because in its definition of faith it spoke of "two natures" but also because in the famous Twenty-Eighth Canon it extolled Constantinople over Alexandria. Orthodox Alexandrians had a hard time reconciling themselves to this fact. It is no accident that "Monophysitism" very quickly becomes a non-Greek faith, a faith of Syrians, Copts, Ethiopians, and Armenians. National separatism constantly makes itself very sharply felt in the history of the Monophysite disputes. The dogmatic nature of Monophysitism is very much connected to Greek tradition — it is comprehensible only through Greek terminology, the Greek way of thinking and the categories of Greek metaphysics. It was Greek theologians who worked out the dogma of the Monophysite church. However, a keen hatred of Hellenism is very characteristic of Monophysitism as a whole. They use the word "Greek" as a synonym for "pagan" — "Greek books and pagan sciences."

Greek Monophysitism was comparatively short-lived. In Syria there soon began a direct eradication of everything Greek. In this regard the fate of Jacob of Edessa (c.640-708), one of the most remarkable Monophysite theologians of the seventh century and especially renowned for his Biblical works — he is called the Syrian Jerome — is quite typical. He was compelled to leave his monastery, where for eleven years he tried to revive Greek scholarship. He was forced to leave "persecuted by the brotherhood which hated Greeks." All of these extraneous motives muddled and stirred up the theological dispute. However, one should not exaggerate its significance. Religious differences were still decisive — differences of feeling, not differences of opinion. This explains the Monophysites’ stubborn attachment to St. Cyril’s theological language and their insurmountable suspicion of the Chalcedonian oros, which to them invariably smelled of "Nestorianism." This is impossible to explain as a mere difference of intellectual cast or mental skills. Neither is it explained as admiration for the imaginary antiquity of the Monophysite formula — "a forgery of the Apollinarians." One can hardly think that Severus in particular could not understand the Chalcedonian terminology, that he would not have grasped that the fathers of the council were using words differently than he but not deviating very far from him in content of faith. But the point is that Monophysitism was not theological heresy, was not a "heresy" of theologians — its soul, its secret is not revealed in theological constructs or formulas. It is true that Severus’ system could be reset almost in Chalcedonian terminology. But only "almost."

There is always something remaining. More than anything else, the spirit of the system distinguishes the Monophysites from St. Cyril. It was not at all easy to reshape Cyril’s inspired doctrine into a logical system, and the terminology made this problem more difficult. Hardest of all was intelligibly defining the form and character of the human "traits" in the God-Man synthesis. The followers of Severus could not speak of Christ’s humanity as a "nature." It broke down into a system of traits, for the doctrine of the Logos "taking" humanity was still not developed fully by Monophysitism into the idea of "inter-hypostasisness." The Monophysites usually spoke of the Logos’ humanity as οικονομία. It is not without foundation that the fathers of the Council of Chalcedon detected here a subtle taste of original Docetism. Certainly this is not the Docetism of the ancient Gnostics at all, nor is it Apollinarianism. However, to the followers of Severus the "human" in Christ was not entirely human, for it was not active, was not "self-motivated." In the contemplation of the Monophysites the human in Christ was like a passive object of Divine influence. Divinization or theosis seems mbe a unilateral act of Divinity without sufficiently taking into count the synergism of human freedom, the assumption of which in no way supposes a "second subject." In their religious experiment the element of freedom in general was not sufficiently pronounced and this could be called anthropological minimalism.

To a certain extent, there is a similarity between Monophysitism and Augustinianism — the human is pushed into the background and, as it were, suppressed by the Divine. What St. Augustine said about the boundless activity of grace refers in Monophysite doctrine to the God-Man "synthesis." In this regard one could speak of the "potential assimilation" of humanity by the Divinity of the Logos even in Severus’ system. In Severus’ thought this is proclaimed in his muddled and forced doctrine of "unified God-Man activity" — this expression is taken from Dionysius the Areopagite. The actor is always unified — the Logos. Therefore, the activity — "energy" — is unified too. But together with this, it is complex as well, complex in its manifestations — τα αποτελέσματα, in conformity with the complexity of the acting nature or subject. A single action is manifested dually and the same is true for will or volition. In other words, Divine activity is refracted and, as it were, takes refuge in the "natural qualities" of the humanity received by the Logos. We must remember that Severus here touched upon a difficulty which was not resolved in the Orthodox theology of his time. Even with Orthodox theologians the concept of divinization or theosis sometimes suggested the boundless influence of Divinity. However, for Severus the difficulty proved insurmountable, especially because of the clumsiness and inflexibility of the "Monophysite" language and also because in his reflections he always started from the Divinity of the Logos and not from the Person of the God-Man. Formally speaking, this was the path trod by St. Cyril but in essence this led to the idea of human passivity — one could even say the non-freedom of the God-Man. These biases of thought proclaim the indistinctness of Christological vision. To these conservative Monophysites the human in Christ seemed still too transfigured — not qualitatively, of course, not physically, but potentially or virtually. In any event, it did not seem to be acting freely and the Divine does not manifest itself in the freedom of the numan. What is taking place here is partly simple unspokenness, and in Severus’ time Orthodox theologians had also not yet revealed the doctrine of Christ’s human freedom — more accurately, the freedom of the "human" in Christ — with sufficient clarity and fullness. However, Severus simply did not pose the question of freedom and this, of course, was no accident. Given his premises, the very question had to have seemed "Nestorian" — concealed by the assumption of the "second subject."

The orthodox answer, as given by St. Maximus the Confessor (c. 580-662), presupposes distinguishing between "nature" and "hypostasis" — not only is "man" ("hypostasis") free but also the "human" as such — the very "nature" — in all its "natural qualities," in all and in each. An acknowledgement of this sort can in no way be fit into the framework of the Monophysite — much less the "diplophysite" — doctrine. Severus’ system was the theology of the "Monophysite" majority. It could be called conservative Monophysitism. But the history of Monophysitism is a history of constant dissension and division. It is not so important that from time to time we meet under the title "Monophysite" individual groups comprised of people who were not quite followers of Eutyches, not quite new Docetists who spoke of the "transformation" or the "fusion of natures," who denied the consubstantiality of humanity in Christ, or who talked about the "heavenly" origin and nature of Christ’s body. These individual heretical outbursts are evidence only of the general intellectual ferment and agitation. Much more important are those divisions and disputes which arise in the basic course of the Monophysite movement. These reveal its internal logic, its driving motives, especially Severus’ dispute with Julian of Halicarnassus.

Julian also seemed to be a Docetist to Severus. It is true that in his polemic with Julian Severus was not unbiased. Later orthodox polemicists argued not so much with Julian as with his carried-away followers. In any case, Julian’s original compositions do not contain that coarse Docetism which his opponents talked so much about when they charged that his doctrine of the innate “imperishability” — αφθαρσία — of the Savior’s body turned the mystery of Redemption into some "fantasy and dream" (hence the name "fantasiasts"). Julian’s system of the "imperishability" of Christ’s body is connected not with his understanding of the unity of the God-Man but with his understanding of original sin, with its general anthropological premises. Here Julian is very close to St. Augustine — this is, of course, a similarity and not a dependence Ausustine. Of the Monophysite theologians Julian is closest to Philoxenus Julian considers man’s primordial nature to be "imDerishable," "non-suffering," "non-mortal" and free also from the so-called "irreproachable passions;” that is, weakness or the states of “suffering” in general — πάθη αδιάβλητα. The Fall substantially and hereditarily damages human nature — human nature became weak, mortal and perishable. In the Incarnation God the Logos assumes the nature of the primordial Adam, a nature which is "impassive" and "imperishable." He thus becomes the New Adam. Therefore Christ suffered and died not "because of the necessity of nature” — not εξ ανάγκης φυσικής, but through his will, "for the sake of oikonomia — λόγω οικονομίας “through the will of Divinity,” “by way of a miracle.” However, Christ’s suffering and death were real and authentic, not an “opinion” or “apparition.” But they were entirely free, since this was not the death of a "perishable" and an "impassioned" ("suffering") man, and since they did not contain the fatal doom of the Fall. There is still no heresy in this doctrine. But it comes close to another. Julian’s conception of the unity of the God-Man is tighter than Severus.’ He refuses to "enumerate" or distinguish the "natural qualities" in the God-Man synthesis. He even refuses to distinguish "in addition" "two essences" after union. For him, the concept of "essence" had the same concrete ("individual") sense as the concept of "nature" or "hypostasis." In the Logos’ Incarnation the "imperishability" of the accepted body is so secured by its tight unity with Divinity that in suffering and death it is removed by a certain oikonomic tolerance on the part of God. As Julian understood it, this did not violate the Savior’s human "con-substantiality." In any case, however, this clearly exaggerated the "potential assimilability" of the human by the Divine by virture of the Incarnation itself. Again, this is connected with a lack of feeling for freedom and with a passive understanding of "theosis" or "divinization." Julian understood "imperishability" of primordial human nature as its objective condition rather than as a free possibility, and he understood "impassiveness" and "imperishability" in Christ too passively. It is this quietism which violates the equilibrium of Julian’s system. He did not proceed from an analysis of metaphysical concepts. In his system one clearly senses the deciding significance of the soteriological ideal. M Julian’s followers went even further. They were called "apntartodocetists" ("imperishable valetudinarians") and "fantaslasts. These names set off well that quietism — rather than "Docetism" — which is so striking in their way of thinking. The numan is passively transformed. Others of Julian’s followers felt that it was impossible to call this transformation and impossible to call the divinized humanity in the unity of the God-Man "creatural." Thus there arose the sect of Actistites ("non-creaturalists"). Some of Severus’ adherents, in their disputes about Christ’s human conduct, came to such a conclusion as well. In the union of God and Man, the limitedness of human knowledge must be removed immediately and passively. Otherwise, a bifurcation of human "ignorance" and Divine omniscience arises, and the "unity of nature" is violated. That is how the adherents of a certain Stephen in Alexandria reasoned. This reasoning reminds us partly of the arguments — not the conclusion — of Apollinarius regarding the impossibility of a union of "two perfect things" precisely because of the limitedness and extreme inconstancy of the human mind. The followers of Stephen found another way out of this difficulty, however — they denied any difference in Christ after the union, in which even the human mind was immediately elevated to Divine Omniscience. Here yet again is proclaimed a quietistic understanding of human thought. On this question the majority of the followers of Severus were "cryptics" — Christ’s omniscience was just not manifested in humanity. It seemed impious to assume that Christ’s human "ignorance" — particularly of the Judgment Day — could have been real and not just intentional silence.

It is necessary to mention again that for orthodox theology also this was an unanswered question. For the Monophysites, however, it was also unanswerable. In other words, within the limits of Monophysite premises it was answerable only by admitting the passive assimilation of the human by the Divine. All these disputes reveal the indistinctness and vagueness of a religious vision damaged by anthropological quietism. There is an inner duality in the Monophysite movement, a bifurcation of emotion and thought. One could say that Monophysite theology was more orthodox than their ideals or, to put it differently, that the theologians in Monophysitism were more orthodox than most of the believers but that the theologians were prevented from attaining final clarity by the unfortunate "Monophysite" language. Therefore, Monophysitism becomes "more orthodox" in a strange and unexpected way precisely when the religious wave has receded and theology is cooling down to scholasticism. It is at this time that Monophysite closeness to St. Cyril seems so obvious, for this is closeness in word, not in spirit. The source of Monophysitism is not to be found in dogmatic formulas but in religious passion. All the pathos of Monophysitism lies in the self-basement of man, in an acute need to overcome the human as ch and hence the instinctive striving to distinguish the God-Man from man more sharply even in his humanity. This striving can be claimed in various forms and with varying force, depending on how lucid and how restrained is this burning thirst for human self-basement which erupts from the dark depths of the subconscious. It is not accidental that Monophysitism was so closely connected with ascetic fanaticism, with ascetic self-torture and emotional violence. Nor is it an accident that Origenistic motifs of a universal apokatastasis were once again revived in Monophysite circles. In this regard the lone image of the Syrian mystic Stephen Bar-Sudhaile and his doctrine about universal restoration and a final "consubstantiality" of all creatures with God is particularly significant. Neoplatonic mysticism is paradoxically crossed with eastern fatalism. An apotheosis of self-abasement — such is the paradox of Monophysitism, and only through these psychological predispositions can one understand the tragic history of Monophysitism. The belated epilogue to the Monophysite movement will be the tragic Monothelite controversy.

In the dogmatic disputes of the fifth and sixth centuries the question of the significance of theological traditions was put very harshly. The Church doctrine was immutable. Therefore an argument based on antiquity, a reference to the past, has a particular demonstrative force. In theological disputes at this time evidence from the fathers is cited and considered with particular attention. Indeed, it is now that codes and collections of the texts of the fathers are put together. However, at the same time the need to regard the past critically is discovered. Not all historical traditions can be acceptable. This question first arose as early as the fourth century in connection with Origen’s teachings. But Origenism in Trinitarian theology was overcome almost silently and Origen’s name was mentioned very rarely. Otherwise it was a question of the Antiochene tradition. In the Nestorian disputes suspicion fell on the whole theological past of the East. And in reply the opposite question was raised — about the Alexandrian tradition. With the passage of time the need for a critical synthesis ana a revision of traditions became more and more obvious, and aunng Justinian’s time came the first attempt at an historical summing up. This is the meaning of the Fifth Ecumenical Council in 553. It was convened to judge The Three Chapters — that is, in essence to judge Antiochene theology. It is no accident, however, that at this council a more general question was posed as well — the question of the “select fathers” — έγκριτοι πατέρες. A list of fathers was suggested by the emperor in a letter of his read at the opening of the Fifth Ecumenical Council and it was repeated at its third meeting. This list sheds light on the general and indefinite reference: “according to the teachings of the fathers," "following the teachings of the Holy Fathers." The following names were given: Athanasius, Hilary, Basil, Gregory of Nazianzus, Gregory of Nyssa, Ambrose, Augustine, John Chrysostom, Theophilus, Cyril, Proclus, and Leo. One senses a definite scheme in the choice of names. Of course, the Westerners were named precisely for the sake of the West — they never had any perceptible influence in the East and they were but little known in the East. But is is characteristic that of the "Easterners" only John Chrysostom was named — paradoxically right next to Theophilus! This is what judgment over the "East" meant. The names of the great fathers of the fourth century require no explanation but there was new poignancy in the enumeration of the Alexandrians: Theophilus and Cyril; and Proclus’ name joins them — they have in mind, of course, his Tome to the Armenians.

This list does more than just reveal Justinian’s personal tastes or sympathies. It is typical of the whole epoch and Justinian was just expressing the predominant mood. He was no innovator. He was summing up. He was striving to finish building an integral system for Christian culture and life. This scheme has its own grandeur and contains its own great untruth. In any case, Justinian always thought more about the Christian empire than about the Church. His obsession was that the whole world should become Christian — the whole "settled earth," γη οικουμένη. In this he saw his calling — the holy theocratic calling of a universal Christian emperor. In his eyes this calling was a special gift of God, a second gift, independent of the priesthood. It is precisely the emperor who is called on to realize the system of Christian culture. In many ways Justinian forcibly anticipated events. He hastened to complete construction. This explains his policy of union and his striving to restore the universal unity of faith broken after the Council of Chalcedon. This is also connected with his interference in theological disputes in general. Justinian suffered no disagreements, and in disputes for the sake of unity he more than rhansed from "a most Christian sovereign" into a Diocletian Olpooe Aeatho’s comparison in 536. Too frequently the synthesis would degenerate into a violent and fruitless compromise. There are many tragic pangs in the history of the Fifth Ecumenical rouncil especially in its pre-history. It is partly true that the estion of the Three Chapters arose almost accidentally and that the debate over Antiochene traditions was aroused or renewed artificially. Justinian had his tactical motives for publishing the famous Edict of 544. Contemporaries asserted that this edict was prompted and even composed by Palestinian Origenists — Theodore Askidas — who counted on deflecting attention away from themselves. This explanation is too simplistic. There were Three Chapters in the Edict: one on Theodore of Mopsuestia and his books; one on Theodoret’s objections to St. Cyril; and one on the "impious" letter of Ibas of Edessa to Maris the Persian. The emperor suggested they be anathematized. The Edict provoked great excitement everywhere. It seemed that it was published to benefit the Monophysites. In it was seen a hidden or concealed condemnation of the Council of Chalcedon, although the emperor directly anathematized those who would interpret his Chapters in this light.

Indignation was especially violent in Africa and in the West in general. Opponents of the Edict did not so much defend the Antiochians as consider the Edict itself inopportune and dangerous in the practical sense. Is it proper to reconsider and adjust the decisions of earlier councils? In addition, a general question arose: in general is it possible to posthumously condemn deceased brothers who are at peace? Having appeared before God’s court, are they not removed from any human court? Supporters of the Edict seemed to be "persecutors of the dead." They fought over this point more than any other issue. It was the Westerners who were unyielding. Pope Vigilius confusedly wavered between the will of the emperor and the opinion of his own Church.

The dispute lasted for many years. The emperor insisted on having things his own way and at times really did almost become a Diocletian. Finally, an Ecumenical Council was convened in 553. It was not easy inducing the Western bishops, who had already met in Constantinople, to appear at the Ecumenical Council, and tne Council’s resolutions were accepted in the West only after a long and stubborn struggle. The Council recognized as possible posthumous condemnation, agreed with the emperor’s arguments, and published fourteen anathemas which reiterated most of the anathemas of 551. The decree was preceded by a detailed analysis theological documents which were under suspicion and a collation of them with the incontrovertible models of the orthodox faith. The dangerous imprecision of the Antiochene books was revealed for all to see. To a certain extant this was a review of the question of the Council of Ephesus, not the one of the Council of Chalcedon. One could dispute the timeliness of such a review. Many felt there was no need for this, that psychologically this could be advantageous only to the Monophysites. It seemed that there was no sense in fighting the Nestorian danger when there was danger threatening from the opposite side. All these arguments were of a practical nature and those who objected went no further than formal challenges. But whatever motives inclined Justinian to pose the question of the Three Chapters, he was essentially correct. That is why the Council accepted his anathemas. They refute and condemn Nestorianism in great detail, as well as the false doctrines of Apollinarius and Eutyches. This was a solemn confirmation of the Council of Ephesus and a new judgment on the "Easterners." It is very characteristic that Origenism was also condemned at the Council. Once again the initiative for condemnation belonged to the emperor. As early as 543 the emperor had published ten anathemas against Origen and all who defended his impure opinions. This Edict was accepted in Constantinople, in Palestine, and in Rome. Before the Council Justinian addressed a new epistle about Origen to the bishops. Apparently, Origen’s condemnation was proclaimed by the fathers who had convened earlier than the official opening of the Council. That is why nothing is said about it in the Council "acts." However, it is included in the Council’s anathemas (Anathema 11), and Theodore Askidas mentions it during the Council itself. Shortly after the Council Cyril of Scythopolis tells of the condemnation of Origen and the Origenists in his Life of Sabas [Vita Sabae] and directly inculcates it in the Ecumenical Council. Didymus and Evagrius were condemned along with Origen. Also condemned were certain "impious opinions" expressed by Origen himself and his followers. The condemnation primarily referred to the Palestinian Origenists who had shattered tranquillity in the local monasteries. They had already been censured as early as 542 by patriarch Ephraem at a local synod in Antioch. Even earlier Antipater, the bishop of Bostra in Arabia, wrote against Origenism. Palestinian Origenism was connected with the Syrian Stephen Bar-Sudhaile. In his Edicts Justinian was only repeating accusations which had been made in the provinces. Not long before the Council a special group arrived in Constantinople from the monastery of the venerable Sabas headed by the Father Superior Conon. The monks presented the emperor with a special which contained an exposition of "all impiety." It is difficult how accurately Origen was quoted by his accusers. In any

e the opinions which were condemned do actually flow from h premises. The Edict of 543 condemned the doctrine of the preexistence and transmigration of souls; the doctrine of Christ’s eternal soul united with the Divine Logos before the Incarnation; the doctrine that he was not only a man for the sake of men but also a Seraphim for Seraphims, and that he would be crucified for demons; and the doctrine of the apokatastasis. They go into more detail in the epistle of 552. Here a sketch of the entire system is given. Its basic idea is that everything was created from eternity in perfect spirituality and that today’s heterogeneous and corporeal world arose through the Fall. The worldly process will end with a universal restoration and disincarnation of everything that exists. This is the scheme of Origen himself. We can say precisely what in this system attracted the Origenists of the sixth century. Cyril of Scythopolis tells of the division of the Palestinian Origenists into isochrists and protoktists. The names are quite transparent. The isochrists asserted that in the universal restoration everyone will become "equal to Christ” — ίσοι τω Χριστώ. This conclusion actually does not follow directly from Origen’s anthropological and Christological premises. The protoktists apparently talked not so much about apokatastasis as about pre-existence, especially the pre-existence of Jesus’ soul as the “first creation” — πρώτον κτίσμα. It is not difficult to understand why these ideas could spread precisely among monks — they naturally give rise to conclusions of a practical nature about the paths of the ascetic achievement.

Again, one could dispute the need to stir up the question of Origen at an Ecumenical Council. But Origen’s fallaciousness did not raise any doubts. Condemnation of Origenism at the Fifth Ecumenical Council was a condemnation of the inner temptations or the old Alexandrian theology which had not yet lost its influence m famous and rather wide circles. The prohibitions of the Fifth Ecumenical Council signified a judgment over the mistakes of the past. They are evidence of a "crisis" in theological consciousness, ine Antiochene and Alexandrian traditions are broken. The epoch has begun.

The Council of Chalcedon appeared momentarily to have ended in apparent victory, in apparent harmony. Emperor Marcian congratulated the Council because "they had put an end to discord and had restored unity." Such was not the case prior to or for the sixty-eight years after the Council of Chalcedon. Harnack’s description of the Council of Chalcedon as a council as violent as that of the Robber Council by Dioscorus is exaggerated. But the council was turbulent, vehement, and prone to violent outbursts. There was theological fanaticism on both sides. The tumultuous outcries — έκβοήσεις δημοηκαί — by the clergy were checked only by the imperial commissioners and the senators present who reminded the bishops that such conduct did not do honor to their ecclesiastical positions. When Theodoret of Cyrus entered, he was greeted enthusiastically by the Easterners, but the Egyptians are recorded as shouting: "Cast out the Jew, the enemy of God, the blasphemer of Christ!" The supporters of Theodoret responded with: "Cast out the murderer Dioscorus! Who does not know of his crimes?" Harnack’s comments, partially true but overly exaggerated, reveal his own attitude clearly: "the Council of Chalcedon, which to distinguish it from the Robber Council, we might call the Robber and Traitor Council… If it be asked, what is the saddest and most momentous event in the history of dogma since the condemnation of Paul of Samosata, we must point to the union of the year 433. The shadow of this occurrence rests on the whole subsequent history of dogma." The immediate conclusions that Harnack draws directly after this statement are erroneous.

Pope Leo I (d. 461) sent his famous epistle — the Tome of 449 — to the council of 449, addressed to Flavian (d. 449), the patriarch of Constantinople. It was suppressed at the Robber Council. At the Council of Chalcedon in 451 it was accepted with consolation and ecstasy, and as a confession of Cyril’s faith — Λεων ειπε τα Κυρίλλου. This was not a dogmatic definition — it was a solemn confession of faith. Here lies its force and here lies its narrowness. Pope Leo spoke a liturgical, not a theological, language. Hence the artistic plasticity of his exposition. He always spoke and wrote in an original rhythmical style. He draws a vivid image of the God-Man. In addition, he almost hushes up the disputed issue: not only does he not define his theological terms; he simply avoids them and does not use them. He did not like to "philosophize" about faith and was not a theologian at all.

Pope Leo wrote in the language of the Western theological tradition and did not even pose the question about how one should translate his confession into Greek and how one should express orthodox truth in the categories of the Greek tradition. This weakness of the papal Tome was immediately observed. Nestorius saw in it a confession of his own faith. The Chalcedonian fathers saw in it the "faith of Cyril." However, others of them — and, curiously, the Illyrian bishops — vacillated over accepting the Tome until they were assuaged by direct references to St. Cyril. All depended on how the Roman epistle was to be read, how it was to be "translated" and which theological categories were to be used.

Pope Leo proceeds from soteriological motives. Only the acceptance and assimilation of our own nature by him, whom neither sin could ensnare nor death could imprison, could open up the possibility of victory over sin and death — nisi naturam nostram Ille susciperet et suam faceret "And it is equally dangerous to confess the Lord Jesus Christ only as God without humanity and only as man without Divinity" — et aequalis erat periculi, Dominum Jesum Christum aut Deum tantummodo sine homine, aut sine Deo solum hominem credidisse. The denial of human consubstantiality between us and Christ overturns the whole "sacrament of faith." A genuine connection with Christ does not appear, is not established "unless we recognize in him the flesh of our race." If he has only the "form of a man" — formam hominis — but does not take from his Mother the "truth of the body" — et non materni corporis veritatem, then redemption is vain. The miracle of the Virgin Birth does not violate the consubstantiality of Mother and Son — the Holy Spirit provided the power of the birth but the "reality of the body is from the body" — veritas corporis sumpta de corpore est. Through this new — because it is pure — birth, the Son of God enters this earthly world. But this birth in time does not weaken his eternal birth from the Father. The Only-Begotten Son of the Eternal Father is born of the Holy Spirit through the Virgin Mary. In his Incarnation he is truly united and "there is no deception in this unity." He who is true God is also true man — qui enim verus est Deus, verus est homo. Two natures are united in a unity of person — in unam coeunte personam — and the "properties" of the natures remain "unchanged" — salva proprietate. Grandeur accepts nothingness, might accepts weakness, eternity unites with mortality, an "inviolable" nature unites with a suffering one. God is born in the perfect nature of a true man, uniting in this the completeness and integrity of both natures — in Integra ergo veri hominis perfectaque natura verus natus est Deus, totus in suis, lotus in nostris. He acquired the human without losing the Divine — humana augens, divina non minuens. And this occurrence of the Invisible was an impulse of goodness, not a belittling of might. The acceptance of human nature by the Logos was to extol human nature; it was not the diminution of Divinity.

Pope Leo achieves a greater expressiveness in this game of contrasts and antitheses. He defines the completeness of union as the unity of Person. However, he never defines directly and precisely what he means by "person." This was not an accidental oversight. It would be inappropriate to pass this over in silence in a dogmatic Tome. But Pope Leo did not know how to define "person." In his early sermons Pope Leo spoke of the union of God and man sometimes as a "mixture," sometimes as a "co-dwelling." Once again he could not find the words. He achieves great clarity in his Tome, but in his descriptive synthesis rather than in his individual definitions. An ineffable union has been completed, but in the union each nature — each "forma" — retains its properties — "features" or proprietas. Each form retains the feature of its activity and the duality of activities does not destroy the unity of person. A duality of activities and operations in the completed union of an indivisible person — such is the Gospel image of Christ. One Person. But one side shines with miracles while the other succumbs to suffering. One is a source of weakness common to both while the other is a source of common glory. By virtue of the unity of person in two natures — in duabus naturis, both weakness and glory are reciprocal. Therefore one may say that the Son of Man descended from Heaven, although in actual fact the Son of God received a body from the Virgin. And from the other perspective, one may say that the Son of God was crucified and buried, although the Only-Begotten Son suffered this not in his Divinity which is ever-eternal and consubstantial with the Father, but in the weakness of human nature. In the sequence of events’in the Gospels one feels a certain growth of mysterious manifestations — the human becomes clearer and clearer, and Divinity becomes more and more radiant. A baby’s swaddling clothes and the words of angels, the baptism by John and the Father’s evidence on the Jordan — these are the outward signs. Hungry and thirsty, wandering without shelter, and the great Miracle-Worker. Mourning a dead friend, and then resurrecting him with a single word of command. Something more is revealed here. Tears and the admission "My Father is greater than I" bear witness to the completeness and authenticity of human self-awareness. And the affirmation "the Father and I are one" discloses Divinity. Not two, but One; but not one, but two (natures). After the resurrection the Lord holds discourse with the disciples, eats with them, but passes through closed doors. He lets them feel him, but imparts the Spirit to them through his breath. This is done simultaneously and immediately so that they may recognize in him the indivisible union of two natures and understand that the Logos and the flesh form a single Son without merging the two.

In Pope Leo’s portrayal a unified Christ can really be seen. He clearly and confidently reproduces the Gospel image of the God-Man. This was evidence of a strong and lucid faith which was bold and tranquil in its comprehension. Of course, Pope Leo was indeed expounding "Cyril’s faith," although not at all in Cyril’s language. They are united not by formulas but by a community of vision, and the same almost naive method of perceiving or observing the unity of God and Man. However, Pope Leo was even less able than Cyril to suggest or anticipate a monosemantic dogmatic definition. His words are very vivid, but as if shrouded by a radiant fog. It was not an easy or a simple matter to secure his words in the terms of dogmatic theology. It still remained unclear whether Pope Leo’s persona corresponded to Cyril’s υπόστασις or φυσίς or to Nestorius’ πρόσωπον της ένώσεως. Does the Latin word natura correspond to the Hellenic φύσις? How exactly is this unity of person in two natures,” this “meeting” of two natures “in one person” to be understood? Finally, what is most unclear in Pope Leo is this concept of "form," which he took from a distant but still Tertullian tradition. In any case Pope Leo’s Tome was not clear enough to take the place of the disputed "covenant" of 433. A genuine catholic definition was heard not from the West, but from the East, at Chalcedon in 451.

The Chalcedonian oros or definition was a revision of the exposition of faith of 433. The fathers of 451 did not immediately consent to the composition of a new definition of faith. It seemed possible to once more make do with a general reference to tradition and with prohibitions against heresy. Others were prepared to be content with Pope Leo’s Tome. Apparently many were stopped here by fear of antagonizing the blind followers of St. Cyril through a premature dogmatic definition. These people were clinging to an inert stubbornness — not so much to his teachings as to his words. This fear was justified — the Chalcedonian oros or definition proved to be a stumbling block and a temptation for the "Egyptians" through its language and terminology alone. However, given the circumstances which had taken shape, to have stayed with the unreliable, ambiguous and debatable formulas would have been no less dangerous. We are unable to follow the history of the compositions of the Chalcedonian definition in all its details. From the council "acts" we can only guess at the disputes which took place. They quarrelled more outside of the general gathering, at private meetings and during the breaks.

The text which was accepted reads thus:

The closeness to the Formula of Reunion of 433 is at once evident, but they have made a very characteristic addition to it. First, instead of "for the union of two natures was completed — δύο γαρ φύσ&