THE GENERAL COUNCILS OF THE CHURCH By John L. Murphy FOREWORD TO CERTAIN generations is given the singular privilege of witnessing a great event in ecclesiastical history. Our present generation is one of those so favored. Only twenty times in the long history of the Church have men witnessed a General or Ecumenical Council. Entire centuries have passed without viewing this special facet of the Church's life. Now, in response to the desire of Pope John XXIII, preparations have begun for the twenty-first such Council. This will most certainly be one of the great events in history. The interest surrounding the Council, however, has also turned our minds back to the past, to the twenty preceding General Councils. Where were they held? At what time? For what reason? What effect did they have? The purpose of THE GENERAL COUNCILS OF THE CHURCH is to answer some of these questions. What we have tried to do is take a quick glance at the various Councils, and outline, in some way, their place in the history of the Church. A study of the Ecumenical Councils is, in fact, a study of the Church. They have always been closely associated with the great problems that faced the Church and the momentous decisions that had to be made. There is a certain difficulty involved in summing up nearly 2000 years of history. The reader may feel overwhelmed by a mass of names and dates; but this is unavoidable. It is perhaps best to read the present volume chapter by chapter, noting the chief concerns of each period. At the end, a more unified view may result. As it is, the characters change from one chapter to another, and at times even within a single chapter. Popes and emperors appear with the same names and different numbers, all of which adds to the confusion. Ultimately, however, it is not the names and dates that matter. Of greater importance are the particular problems that faced the Church in each century. It is these that give a special meaning to the General Councils. The single unifying element in all these chapters is the Spirit of Christ, who dwells always within His Mystical Body. Externally, the Councils tell a fascinating story. At times, they present a picture of great confusion as well as great harmony. In every instance, however, the Spirit of Christ has triumphed, and the Church has gained much from these twenty solemn gatherings, marked in a special manner by the finger of God. I would like to take this opportunity to thank those who have assisted me in preparing this volume, above all, the Reverend Robert J. Novotny, S.T.L., and the Reverend Thomas F. Casey, H.E.D., who were most helpful in preparing the manuscript. Their worthwhile suggestions have solved many a problem and clarified a good number of obscure passages. CONTENTS: CHAPTER I: Christian Landmarks CHAPTER II: The Church Before Nicea CHAPTER III: Council of Nicea CHAPTER IV: I Constantinople CHAPTER V: Council of Ephesus CHAPTER VI: Council of Chalcedon CHAPTER VII: II and III Constantinople CHAPTER VIII: II Nicea CHAPTER IX: IV Constantinople CHAPTER X: I-IV Lateran CHAPTER XI: I Lyons - Vienne CHAPTER XII: Council of Constance CHAPTER XIII: II Lyons - Florence CHAPTER XIV: V Lateran - Trent CHAPTER XV: Vatican Council Conclusion CHAPTER I . . . CHRISTIAN LANDMARKS There are two ways a man might view the Church of Christ. He might look at it from the "outside," and see it only as an organization. He may think of it as a political body of some sort, or a social group, or even identify it with the priests and bishops and consider it the means of dominating other people. But in every instance his interest in the Church is limited to the human element alone. He sees nothing but a group of "men," not unlike any other organization around him. The man of faith, on the other hand, will look at the Church from "within." He will see it as the Church of God, the Body of Christ. It is for him a God-directed organization, sustained by the activity of its divine Soul, the Holy Spirit Himself. ] This second view gives the only adequate explanation of what the Church is. Beneath the outer appearances of humanity, beneath even the sinfulness and failure of its members, there is the sustaining power of God. God's strength, not man's, has preserved this Church for nearly two thousand years, linking it to the apostolic faith of the primitive community. The history of the Catholic Church, then, is really a spiritual history: the account of how the Holy Spirit has sustained it through the centuries; of how, in His own manner, He has enabled it to withstand persecutions from without and the errors which threatened it from within. The problems the Church has faced in the past two thousand years would have ruined any purely human organization, yet the Church remains. There has been growth, development-nonessential change. But the faith, the sacraments have remained untouched. The power of the Holy Spirit has triumphed over the trials of time. Central in this long history of the Church's life stand the twenty General (or Ecumenical) Councils. A study of the Councils is, in fact, a study of the Church's history-of the doctrinal and disciplinary problems that have beset her. The Councils stand out as high points in her history, as true Christian landmarks, serving as guides for the future. In every instance, they endeavored to sum up the teaching of the past and to blot out doctrinal errors. By doing this they also pointed out the path to be trod in the days that lay ahead. The influence of these General Councils has possibly been felt more with the passing of time than it was at the moment of solemn closing. When the color and ceremonial and even the open disputes had vanished, and the bishops and prelates had returned to their own countries, then it was that the Councils really began to exert their influence. Despite all problems, the true doctrine had been set forth, the reforms had been outlined and were now to be incorporated into the lives of the faithful. The influence of such a Council, then, is never felt fully in a day or a month or even years; but it is recognized as a special force in the life of the Church. The secret behind this special force of a General Council is the Holy Spirit. There have been many local meetings or councils during the long history of the Church. Only twenty similar gatherings, however, stand apart from the others as General or Ecumenical Councils. The underlying reason is the relationship of a General Council to the Holy Spirit. It is, over and above any other ecclesiastical meeting, a particularly profound and solemn expression of the guidance of that Spirit of Truth which Christ promised to send upon His Church: "If you love me, keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father and he will give you another Advocate to dwell with you forever, the Spirit of Truth whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you shall know him, because he will dwell with you, and be in you" (Jn. 14:15). This is the mystery of the Church, the mystery of the General Council. The man of faith can view the Church "from within," because he can perceive the working of the Holy Spirit in the men and women who form the Church. But to the outsider, to the man who does not recognize this divine Soul-who "neither sees Him nor knows Him"-there remains only the outer shell. Looked at from within, the General Council is not just another meeting. It is different from all other gatherings within the Church. It is the most solemn expression of the doctrinal and disciplinary life of the infallible Church of Christ on earth, "the pillar and mainstay of truth." As a result, we may say that in these Ecumenical Councils God has visited His people in a special manner. In them the Holy Spirit has shown forth His power in an extraordinary fashion. Christ, the divine Head of the Church, has willed to gather together His bishops, in union with His vicar on earth and under the direction of the Holy Spirit, in order to guide the universal Church. In every General Council, the Mystical Body of Christ repeats this intimate collaboration with the Spirit of Truth which animates it. At the close, the bishops can repeat with the Apostles at Jerusalem: "For the Holy Spirit and we have decided...." The difference between a General Council, then, and a local council, is not to be sought primarily in the legal requirements upon which they are based. The current laws of the Church only formulate, in their own way, the deeper theological truth. The true meaning of a General Council arises from the intimate nature of the Church established by Christ. In other words, it is not fundamentally a question of how many bishops must attend, or from what parts of the world they must actually come, or by what papal decree they are approved. These are important questions, of course. But it is the supernatural life of the Church which gives meaning to them all. A General Council is a part of the "mystery" of the Church. Like all the varied elements within the Church, it also shares in the supernatural quality of that life. It is far more than a gathering together of bishops in a certain place; it is far more than solemnity and color. It is, above all this, a , ever dwelling within this Church of Christ. As a glance at the list of General Councils will indicate, they have been celebrated in many different places, under many and diverse circumstances. There has been great variety in the external ceremony and color. The number of bishops who attended has varied greatly, ranging from as few as one hundred to as many as one thousand bishops and prelates. Some Councils have continued for years; others have been completed in a matter of days. Some were great spectacles before the world, causing comment on all sides; others were celebrated in such fashion that large parts of the Catholic world scarcely knew that they were going on. The single thread that joins them together, however, is this special working of the Holy Spirit which comes into play at an Ecumenical Council. There must, of course, be certain laws concerning such a Council. It is not up to every individual to decide whether a particular Council is or is not an Ecumenical Council. When the Holy Father, for example, gives to the Church a solemn definition (like the definition of the Assumption in 1950), we can also see beneath this the special working of the Holy Spirit The Pope, however, must still make clear to the Church that he to speak infallibly; he must let the members know that this is to be a solemn definition. So also with a General Council: there must be some way of knowing that it a General Council. The Church must make clear to its members that this is to be an Ecumenical, and not a local, Council, so that they may perceive in it this special manifestation of the Holy Spirit. Thus we have the legal requirements established for setting up a General Council. To be truthful, some of these technical requirements seem to have varied through the centuries. The Church can establish the laws which seem most fitting for the circumstances in which she finds herself. The history of some of these twenty Councils is shrouded in a good amount of obscurity. Special questions may be raised concerning precisely who first called the Council together, who attended it, and what its precise relationship to the Bishop of Rome might have been. But in the life of the Church, the matter shines forth with much more clarity. The Church of Christ is a living thing, and as such it grasps in a living fashion the activity of the Holy Spirit within it. Thus the Church has recognized certain Councils as ecumenical. The decrees of these gatherings have played a special role in the life of Christ's members. If we look over the general history of them all, we are able to draw certain conclusions about what makes a General Council. It is from a consideration of all these various elements that we come to our present-day understanding of such a Council. If we were to define it, our definition would run something like this: "A General Council is a legitimate gathering of the bishops of the entire world, called for the purpose of discussing and settling the doctrinal and disciplinary questions of the universal Church." A closer look at this definition will explain more fully the nature of a General Council. It is first of all a "legitimate" gathering. As Christ established His Church, there are to be always and everywhere bishops who rule their dioceses in the same way in which the Pope rules the universal Church. These bishops are not simply the Pope's "representatives" in the diocese. They rule in the place of Christ, by divine right. They are, therefore, Christ's "local vicars," as it were. While their power to rule comes , however, it is also true that they receive it the Pope. And this is important. The bishops of the world and the Roman Pontiff form together the "college of bishops." Cardinal Billot compared them to a human person: the head and members being the Pope and the other bishops. They act in a Council as one unit, setting forth one teaching, one solemn judgment. A universal gathering of bishops, however, can never be "legitimate" without the head- the Roman Pontiff. This springs from the very nature of the Church as Christ established it. The Pope, therefore, must in some way preside over every General Council; this is his office by the will of God and it cannot be set aside. There still can be a question of exactly what this involves for the Pope. In giving their answers, writers will phrase them in different ways, using various distinctions. But the over-all response is much the same. It does not seem that the Roman Pontiff must "call together" the General Council in the sense that he the entire procedure. (Some writers will speak of this as the "material convocation"-that is, the actual sending out of invitations, and the like. ) Today, of course, this is always true, but history seems to indicate that such was not the case in the early centuries, where the emperor seems to have taken the first official step. The teaching both of the Church and of history tells us, however, that no General Council has been called against the wishes of the Supreme Pontiff, and without his solemn approval. It is this approval of the "head" that gives to the entire proceedings the nature of a legitimate Council. Without it, there would not be the authority required, nor this special manifestation of the Holy Spirit we talked about. This the authors will call the "formal convocation," that is, the official, authoritative "calling together" of this group precisely as a General Council. Unless this takes place at some time, there is no such Council, even though the actual might take place. In practice, this approval (or "formal convocation") has generally been given the Council actually meets; but it may occur with the meetings themselves, or it can even the actual gathering. Moreover, the Roman Pontiff may show his approval in any number of ways: by solemnly calling the Council, or by addressing an official letter to the group; or by sending his delegates to attend; or by signifying his approval at the completion of the discussions. In any event, no final decree of a Council is binding unless the Roman Pontiff approves of that final form. This, again, springs from the very nature of the Church. A Council is a gathering of the head and members; but if the head refuses to approve of what the members have done, those particular statements are not decrees of an Ecumenical Council. We shall have occasion to note instances of this as we look at the Councils of the past. A General Council will also include the "bishops of the entire world" This, again, must not be understood to indicate that the actual "celebration" of the Council demands that every bishop really be present. Morally speaking, bishops should be present from all parts of the world, but the emphasis is to be placed on another fact. In a General Council, all the bishops have a to take a seat in the deliberations; they belong there. This will appear above all in the official approval of the Council by the Roman Pontiff which will signify the intention or purpose of the Council to legislate for the Church. This would not be true, let us say, of a particular or local council, where only the bishops attached to the dioceses concerned would have the right to be present. In other words, it is not simply a question of counting bishops until they are all present, or until a majority of some sort has arrived. Such a Council is not any more "universal" if 2000 bishops attend than if only 200 are present. It is not a question of numbers. Externally, of course, a General Council ought to express this "universality" by the actual attendance of bishops from all over the world; most frequently this has been the case. But this is the precise point that makes such a Council "ecumenical" or "universal." (Ecumenical comes from the Greek word , meaning "the inhabited world"; thus the entire world: "universal.") This notion is also expressed in the definition by the words: "called for the purpose of discussing and settling the doctrinal and disciplinary questions of the universal Church." The concern of a General Council is not simply a particular locality; it is the faith and practice of the entire Church throughout the whole world. For this reason, its decrees will have a greater meaning than any local Council. Ultimately, however, it is the manifestation of the Holy Spirit in a special fashion that makes this so. Only in a General Council is the Spirit of Truth active in this extraordinary manner. For this reason a General Council can decree for the universal Church; and the decrees only of a General Council are infallible. A local or particular council of bishops is not infallible; it does not carry with it the promise of freedom from error. A General Council, on the other hand, called together as a moral person-head and members (the Roman Pontiff and the bishops of the world)-enjoys the same infallibility as a solemn definition of the Roman Pontiff himself. It is, thus, the infallible Church which is the primary concern. In setting forth the revealed truth, this Church cannot fall into error. Since the Church possesses official teachers, however, this infallible statement can come about in various ways: (1) It may be evidenced in the day-to-day teaching of the bishops throughout the world, teaching the same doctrine, in union with the Supreme Pontiff. (2) It may also be evidenced in a solemn statement of the successor of Peter himself-in what we now call an statement, that is, issued "from the throne." (3) However, the Church may also speak infallibly in a legitimate General Council. In every instance, the Church has the assurance that these statements will not be erroneous. They will be true guides for the Christian, bringing him a clearer understanding of the message of Christ, and helping him to serve his Master more faithfully and more perfectly. In all of this, we see the action of the Holy Spirit, ever dwelling within the Church. If we turn now to a closer look at the individual Councils of the Universal Church, we will be able to see how, under the guidance of this Spirit of Truth, the Church has been able to meet the problems of the ages. The first conciliar landmark dates from the fourth century: the Council of Nicea (325). It was especially concerned with the Trinity, and for the next three hundred years or so, other General Councils would arise, dealing with this same question. In this fashion, the Church arrived at a more precise statement of the truths concerning Christ and the Trinity. In the Middle Ages, new problems would demand attention. There was the question of reform within the Church, and that of reunion with those who had drifted away from it. At one point in history, the Councils had to deal especially with the papacy itself when the entire Church was thrown into confusion by the claims of pseudo-popes. The Protestant Revolt of the sixteenth century would bring forth the great Council of Trent; and the problems of our modern world had to be answered in the Vatican Council of the past century. All of these, one by one, took their place in the list of great Councils, through which Christ spoke again and again to His people. Even if they seemed, at times, to fail in the achievement of their immediate goal, the directives were there-the voice of Christ was heard. Because of the special influence of the Holy Spirit in these most solemn gatherings, they were destined to overshadow the many local councils and synods held during these same centuries. And this is the mystery of the Councils, the role of these Christian landmarks. By the will of God, they were destined, each in its own way, to shine forth as beacons, directing the life of the Church and outlining through the darkness the path to be followed by the faithful members of Christ upon earth. CHAPTER II. . . THE CHURCH BEFORE NICEA When Christ walked the earth with His disciples, preaching to the people, He unfolded clearly for the first time the sublime mystery of the Trinity. The mind of man stood helpless before this revelation It could never grasp this truth completely. In fact, until God Himself opened up to the mind of man the secret of the Trinitarian life, no one could have even imagined the divine nature being shared equally by three divine Persons. Yet this was, above all, the mystery revealed by Christ. It was the mystery of Christ Himself: God the Son among men, come to save them from their sin. It was to be the work of the Church on earth to continue the work of Christ. Aided by His Spirit, it was to keep alive and unchanged the truth unveiled by God; acting as His instrument, it was to share in the work of applying to the souls of men the graces won for them upon Calvary. For this reason, the history of the Church is really the history of Christ-Christ in His fullness, the Mystical Christ. The early years of that history were troubled years. They were dominated by two chief concerns. There were on the one hand, the recurring persecutions from without, and, on the other, the doctrinal errors within. The doctrinal battles had to be carried on while the men and women who believed in Christ passed through the terrors of persecution. This was the special cross of the first few centuries. Sometimes our modern view of the ancient Church may tend to exaggerate the nature of the persecutions. Unless we are careful, we may come to think of the Christians of the first few centuries as living constantly in the catacombs, and coming into the light of day only to meet the beasts in the martyr's arena. Actually, the persecutions were not a continual, relentless persecution of the followers of Christ. They were more periodic, interspaced with years of relative peace. But they did keep returning, again and again, until the end of the third century. In the background of these persecutions, especially in the years of peace, the Church continued to grow, became more definitely organized, and set forth its doctrine with ever increasing clarity. The first persecution broke out soon after the death of Christ, in Jerusalem itself. It was this that first helped the faith to spread to other parts of the known world, for the Christians had to leave Jerusalem. This persecution under Agrippa, which must have begun about the year 36, brought the Church its first martyr, St. Stephen. This, however, was only a faint echo of the two particularly fierce persecutions which marked that first century. The Roman emperors also turned their hatred against the Christians. First there was the persecution of Nero (from A.D. 64 to 67), and then-after twenty-five years of relative peace-that of Domitian (A.D. 95) . Yet these two trials were only the beginning. In the next century, Rome continued to persecute the followers of Christ. There was, however, one difference. In the second century, the emperors paid more attention to the legal requirements for condemning Christians. This was, of course, scant comfort to those who died "legally." It was, nevertheless, the first step toward a change in official attitude. Thus, while these later emperors were not exactly "friends" of the Church, their attitude was different enough that Tertullian could write that only Nero and Domitian were the "enemies" of the Christians. Nevertheless, the persecutions did continue; Clement of Rome and Ignatius of Antioch died under Trajan at the beginning of the second century. Hadrian, Antoninus, and Marcus Aurelius all continued to bring Christians to trial and to punish them with death. Polycarp, the bishop of Smyrna, died under Antoninus, in 156; the church at Lyons was all but blotted out under Marcus Aurelius, only to rise again under the direction of Irenaeus. The first real help came from the worst of the Roman emperors (from the point of view). Commodus (180-192) was very little interested in enforcing the Roman law, but from this the Christians benefited. It was still against the law to be a Christian, but the State under Commodus was not too much concerned with that fact. With the death of Commodus, matters took on a different color once again. Under Septimius Severus (193-211), the State began to take the initiative in bringing Christians to trial. Formerly, the State had waited for denunciations from the people. In practice, however, this change resulted in even more sporadic persecutions. They arose more suddenly, at the will of the Emperor; they were in some ways more violent. Eventually they died out, one by one, having spent their force with no lasting effect. Septimius Severus failed in his attempt to slow down the progress of Christianity. Nor did the bloody persecution of Maximin (235-238), brief though it was, meet with any greater success. The Christian Church remained. In the middle of the 3rd century, with the coming of Decius (249), we came upon the last-and the most violent---persecution of the century. This general persecution aimed at stamping out the Christians once and for all. During this period large numbers of Christians apostatized. The persecution was waged on all sides: at Rome, in Africa, in Gaul, in Spain, and in Asia; Christians died by the hundreds. Gallus succeeded Decius in 251 and renewed the persecution. Valerian, the successor of Gallus, continued this policy soon after he became emperor (253-260). It was only after his death that it appeared the trials were over. But the appearances were deceptive. After nearly twenty years of peace, Diocletian was instigated by Galerius to undertake what was to be the final persecution of the Christians (303). A period of violence followed, with many deaths, but Christianity was to triumph. The bloody purge was finally called off in 311 by Constantine, Licinius and Galerius-one of the very men who had moved Diocletian to begin it. It was now stated officially (even though begrudgingly) that "it is permissible to be a Christian." Church property was restored, religious assemblies were allowed. The final and lasting peace came with the famous Edict of Milan in 313: the peace of Constantine. It marks the dividing point in the history of the early Church, and brings with it the first General Council of Nicea. With these external trials as a backdrop, the doctrinal battle went on within the Church during these same years. Before St. Paul died, he wrote a letter to his disciple Timothy, summing up the Christian teaching: "Remember that Jesus Christ rose from the dead and was descended from David; this is my gospel, in which I suffer even to bonds, as a criminal" (2 Tim. 2:8). These two points were the extremes which had been joined together in Christ. He is a true Man: descended from David; but He is also God, since He rose from the dead as He had foretold. The whole doctrinal story of the early Church is a defense of these two extremes against those who would over- emphasize one point at the expense of the other. Even before the first century had drawn to a close, there were those who had begun to challenge this central thought of Christianity. For different reasons, they denied especially that Christ was true God. When St. John wrote the Fourth Gospel toward the end of the first century, he clearly had them in mind. He explains this as the very reason why he wrote his Gospel: "But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God . . ." (Jn. 20:31). There were also some men who denied that Christ was the Messias; these were, especially, the early Christians who belonged to the so-called "Judaizing" party. They wished to hold fast to the practices of the old Jewish Law, and yet they realized that there was in the teaching of Christ a certain rejection of at least part of this Law. In rejecting Him as the Messias, however, they also rejected Him as God. Other Christians of the first century came into contact with systems of philosophy that taught that material things were evil in themselves. They believed in Christ, but came to deny that He was true Man. Because of these other ideas, they felt they had to deny at once that Christ ever possessed a real, physical body. To them it seemed impossible that "God" could have taken on something as "evil" as a material, physical body. St. Ignatius of Antioch, put to death at the beginning of the second century, was greatly concerned with those who denied that Christ possessed a true human nature. On his journey to Rome, where he was to die, he wrote seven letters to different churches. In them he mentions the error of these men. We now refer to them as "Docetists," from the Greek word (which means "to seem" or "to appear"). They claimed that Christ only "seemed" to have a body like ours; actually He did not. Hence Ignatius wrote: "Be deaf, then, to any talk that ignores Jesus Christ, of David's lineage, of Mary: who was really born, ate, and drank; was really persecuted under Pontius Pilate; was really crucified and died, in the sight of heaven and earth and the underworld. He was really raised from the dead, for his Father raised him, just as his Father will raise us.... It is not as some unbelievers say, that his Passion was a sham. It is they who are a sham! Yes, and their fate will fit their fancies-they will be ghosts and apparitions." The men of this period eventually began to speak of the Trinity by using terms that differ from those in Scripture. This, of course, was something that had to happen. The doctrinal history of the Church is a continuation of this process. What has been said in the graphic speech of Scripture must come to be expressed in more "technical" terms to satisfy the needs of the inquiring mind of man, and to answer the objections of various heretics. This could not be avoided. But when man attempts to explain in any way the content of revealed truth, there is the grave danger that he will distort it. He may all too easily put his ideas into the words of Scripture, and give them an entirely new meaning. Ultimately, only the proper teaching authority in the Church can give the final answer. This is the task of the Popes and the General Councils down through the ages: to single out what is a valid clarification of scriptural terminology from what is erroneous. Without the guarantee of an infallible guide in this matter, Christian truth would soon be lost in the maze of contrary opinions. Yet, we need not believe the opinion of any mere man, no matter how wise nor how saintly he may be. We are obliged to accept on faith only the word of God, and nothing more. For this reason God continues to speak through His Church. He makes use of those to whom He has entrusted the sacred office of teaching. They speak not on their authority, but on God's and we accept not their opinion but the truth testified by the authority of God who speaks through them. Before such matters are settled, however, history recounts a long series of errors and confusions. An infallible teaching authority does not receive a new revelation from heaven. Though guided always by the Holy Spirit, the Popes and the bishops of the world have not always known what to say. They must discuss and study the truths of faith, and only then can they speak. Infallibility at that moment means that when they do speak, God will keep them from error. Thus in these early years, we see the need of stating the very same truth of Scripture, but by expressing it in different words. In that way, the Church comes to understand revealed truth more clearly. Later, for example, we will note how the Blessed Mother is solemnly defined, at the Council of Ephesus, as the "Mother of God." This is said nowhere in Scripture in these very words; but it is true nevertheless. It is contained in Scripture, just as the belief in it was a part of the faith and teaching of the Church in the first century. But it must gradually be stated in these more precise terms. Perhaps the first great impulse toward this process came from the Gnostics. means "knowledge," and these were the "wise ones" who claimed to understand life properly. There were pagan Gnostics before Christ; thus Gnosticism did not develop from Christianity. When some of these men came into contact with Christian truth, however, they attempted to join the two teachings together. Frequently they fell into error. Their fundamental belief that matter is evil was at the basis of the error of "Docetism," into which some of them fell-the belief that Christ had no true physical body. The Gnostics also thought of God as someone from whom there came forth "sparks" of some sort-emanations, they called them. This notion was to confuse the Christians of later centuries when they came to describe the relationship of the Second Person of the Trinity to the Father. In fact, the general Gnostic notions will occasionally appear in our doctrinal history for many centuries. Gnosticism developed many varied forms, so that it is really impossible to reduce them all to one system. But the general tendencies are clear when they do appear. As a result, the early defenders of the faith were especially concerned with these and similar errors. In regard to the explanation of Christian faith in the third century two men stand out: Tertullian and Origen. These two had a tremendous effect on the "technical" vocabulary which the Church was developing -Tertullian in Latin, Origen in Greek. New words had to be coined to express the truths of the Christian faith in something beyond the words of Scripture, and they helped lead the way. By departing from the graphic terms of Scripture, however, they were taking a certain risk, and eventually they both fell into a doctrinal error. Tertullian even left the Church and joined the group known as Montanists---a group of Christians who desired to lead extremely devout lives, but who fell into error since they felt they alone were being guided by the Holy Spirit; the Church itself had supposedly fallen into serious heresy. In the third century, however, new errors began to rise, errors that can be identified in special ways. They were actually preparing the way for heresy of the early Church: . The names of two men stand out in this early period: Sabellius and Paul of Samosata. Sabellius was a priest of Lybia who taught chiefly at Rome. He attempted to explain the Trinity in a novel fashion: he admitted only a . Thus, he claimed, whenever we speak of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, we are really only calling the one divine Person by three different names, depending on how God is manifesting Himself to the Church. Sabellius has the dubious honor ( given to others throughout the centuries) of having this general error named after him: . There were, however, other men who held similar teachings, and other names. One group was known as the . They logically concluded that if there was only a difference in names, it was really the "Father" who suffered on the cross. Hence the name, from (father) and ( suffer ). Paul of Samosata was the bishop of Antioch, and an important name in history, since he was a friend of Lucian, the teacher of Arius. Paul of Samosata taught things very much like Sabellius, but he attempted to explain the teaching in more scientific fashion. His starting place was God as an intelligent Being. God has intelligence, and therefore He can "utter" a divine . This word he called by the Greek name , which means the same thing. For Paul, however, this was not a person at all; it was only a manner in which God manifested His power. As a result, when Paul of Samosata came to speak of Christ, he claimed that Christ was only a man-a mere man, and nothing more. He was not God. We might call him the "adopted son" of God, but for Paul that meant only one thing: this "power" of God (the ) overshadowed Jesus, and dwelt in Him as in a temple. In this teaching, the is not really "distinct" from God; it is simply an mpersonal power of God. Thus the Logos was not a divine person. Paul of Samosata expressed this by saying that God and the were "of one substance." In saying this, he used a most important word in the history of the Church, but used it in his own meaning: . As Paul of Samosata used it, it meant there was no Trinity of persons at all- no Father and Son (nor Holy Spirit). The was simply an attribute or power of God. In this he was very much like Sabellius. To this, however, Paul had added another idea: the notion of the coming to dwell in Jesus of Nazareth. In this way he was helping to prepare for the big debate of the Council of Nicea, for Arius was to develop this thought in his own way. With the stage set in this fashion, two new figures appear who are destined to bring forth the first General Council of the Church. The one is Constantine, the Emperor who would give peace and official recognition to the Church. The other is Arius, who by his teaching on the Trinity, would succeed in tearing asunder the Church of Christ, and bring forth the need of a General Council. He was to do it, however, not by persecution from without, but by sowing the seeds of doctrinal error within the Church itself. CHAPTER III . . . COUNCIL OF NICEA IN THE Church of the fourth century, there were two centers of intellectual life that have assumed a special place in history: Antioch and Alexandria. Both of these cities had their own schools in which Christianity was discussed and analyzed, and both cities developed their own approach. When we speak of them today, we think more of the "spirit" behind each school, rather than the school itself. It was the special approach of each that determined their influence. Antioch was one of the largest cities of the Roman Empire, surpassed only by Rome and Alexandria. It was one of the most beautiful cities of the East, a center of Greek culture; yet it marked the border line between the two worlds, the East and the West. Oriental mysticism mingled there with the more legal spirit of Rome. It was here that Peter had first settled, before moving on to Rome; on February 22 the Church celebrates this in the feast of the "Chair of St. Peter at Antioch." And as St. Luke informs us, ". . . it was in Antioch that the disciples were first called 'Christians'" (Acts 11:26). In the fourth century, there was a learned man at Antioch who exercised so great an influence over Christian thought that he is usually called the founder of the "School of Antioch." This man was Lucian. The name of Diodorus of Tarsus also marks a high point of the school, as well as St. John Chrysostom, the great preacher-bishop of Constantinople, who also bad received his training at Antioch. The spirit of Antioch laid special emphasis upon the grammatical and historical meaning of Scripture, and on the value of human reason in the service of religion. This carried with it, unfortunately, the special danger of falling into a purely historical and rational approach to Christian truth. History and human reason tended to mark the approach of Antioch more than they ought to. The end result was a number of heresies in which Scripture was understood more by human reason than according to the traditional faith of the Church. Alexandria, on the other hand, was the great port city of Egypt. Even before the time of Christ, it included a large Jewish population, a group that showed a special concern for combining Jewish culture with Greek philosophy. To meet the needs especially of the Egyptian Jews, the Greek translation of the Old Testament was made-the Septuagint, as it is called. The Christians of Alexandria in the fourth century shared much of this same spirit. As in Antioch, there were certain catechetical schools established in the third century. The greatest name associated with these schools in northern Africa is that of Origen. His influence was such that he is justly looked upon as the great light of the Alexandrian school; he was active in this city about the year 215 under Clement of Alexandria. Somewhat in opposition to Antioch, the school of Alexandria adopted a more philosophical or even mystical approach to Christian truth. In explaining Scripture, this latter school tended to see imagery or allegory in the inspired texts, and showed less concern than did Antioch for the literal sense of Scripture. This approach carried with it another special danger, the danger of falling into some kind of exaggerated "spiritualism." It could produce a manner of speaking of the Church that tended to wander off from the visible reality of daily life. Despite this, the followers of Origen time and again rose to defend the orthodox teaching of the Church. Of them all, St. Athanasius stands out as the greatest. The history of this most famous bishop of Alexandria is intimately linked up with the story of Arius and Arianism. In the fourth century, and in the centuries to follow, the theological disputes were to center in a special way in these two schools, Antioch and Alexandria. The pendulum swings first to one side, then to the other. Out of the conflict came the clear statements of the early Councils of the Church. When Lucian began his teaching at Antioch, he sowed the seeds of the greatest error concerning Christ in the early Church, Arianism. Lucian had been a friend and ally of Paul of Samosata, and he carried with him many similar ideas. Paul had really held that there was no Trinity. The ( the "power" of God, as he understood it) had simply "dwelt" in the man, Jesus of Nazareth. Lucian held something similar, and passed it on to his most famous pupil at the school of Antioch -a priest by the name of Arius. Arius was a native of Libya but was attached to the church of Alexandria. He evidently studied at Antioch under Lucian; at any rate, his doctrine is assuredly inspired by that of Lucian. Arianism breathes the spirit of Antioch even though it came to light in Alexandria; it was, moreover, accepted very quickly by the school of Antioch while failing to capture Alexandria or Egypt throughout the fourth century. In its concern for the literal meaning of Scripture, and its deceptive use of the arguments of human reason, Arianism reflects the approach of Antioch rather than the allegory of Alexandria. As a heresy, Arianism was not "popular" in the sense that the ordinary Christian fully understood the complicated system. It was above all a concern of the schools. It is a curious fact of history, however, that this heresy did filter down into the market place, and became the topic of daily conversation and the subject matter of popular songs and hymns. What this really amounted to was more of a "taking sides" on the part of the people---particularly when the political decrees of the emperors added to the conflict. To be a "good Arian," as far as the man in the street was concerned, often meant to be a devoted follower of some strong leader. This very fact contributed much to the progress of Arianism, just as it did later on with regard to Protestantism in the sixteenth century. Arius himself was an excellent example of such a strong leader. He was well known as a preacher, and had a large following among a certain class of Christians at Alexandria. He was able to gather about him men and women who were especially interested in leading a more perfect or penitential form of life. Into his preaching, however, he gradually introduced more and more of Lucian's theory about the Son of God. This could not fail to attract the attention of the bishop of Alexandria, a man named Alexander. About 318 the bishop began an inquiry into the manner in which Arius explained Christ as the Son of God. When he recognized the teaching of Arius for what it was, he saw how much it was opposed to the faith handed down by the Apostles. Arius was therefore called upon to give up this teaching once and for all. When he refused to do so, he was excommunicated by the bishop, along with his followers, most likely in 319 or 320. The theory of Arius is difficult to express briefly. His interpretation of one scriptural text may serve as a starting point St. Paul had written to the Colossians: "He (Christ) is the image of the invisible God, the of every creature. For in him were created all things in the heavens and on the earth . . ." (Col. 1:15). Ignoring all other texts of the Bible, the Arians tried to defend their theory on this and similar phrases. For Arius, there was but one God and one divine Person. This God is eternal. There is mention in Scripture, however, of not only Christ but also the : the "Word." As far as Arius was concerned, this Word (the ) was not God; he was not the second Person of the Trinity. He was simply a creature, but a creature of a special and unique type. The , he claimed, was created by God before everything else; he was created before the world, before the universe, before time. But the Logos was created by God, and created out of nothing; thus he is the "first-born of every creature." As a result, however, the Logos was not God, and therefore he did not possess the very same nature or being as God. He was not, in other words, of the same "substance" as God. In Greek the word especially used for substance was . The adjective "same" was, in Greek, . It is from this Greek word that we have such English words as "homogenized." Homogenized milk, for example, is milk that is all of zone and the same kind" (from and ---"kind"). Thus means "one and the same substance." The Arians would not admit this truth; what they were really denying, of course, was the divinity of Christ If the was not of the same nature, the same substance as God, then he was not God. And this is just what they taught. There was a time, then, when the did not exist. He was created by the free will of God. According to Arius, however, this became in turn the creator of all other things in the universe. Thus the Word was more of a superangel, as it were, the first and highest creature of God; in fact, the was the only creature directly created by God. In this sense only is he called by Scripture the "only-begotten." All other things were created directly by the and not by God. This does give other creatures some kind of reason for calling the "God." He brought them into existence. This must be understood as "God" only in a secondary sense, however. Arius would admit that the , as a creature, could have sinned; this could not be true of God. Since the Father foresaw from all eternity that the would not sin, He "adopted" the in a special manner as His Son. Only in this way is the God; he is an "adopted God," but nothing more. Thus when Scripture speaks of the "Son of God," this is all it means, according to Arius. When Paul said that the Word is the "first-born of every creature," and that "in him were created all things," this is how it is to be understood. But there is no real possession of one and the same nature by God and the . They differ as the Creator differs from a creature. The entire matter might have ended when the bishop of Alexandria excommunicated Arius, but it did not. Arius was a proud man, and a man with influential contacts. When he realized that he was in trouble, he sought out protectors, and he found them. Thus the conflict was extended. His most powerful defender was a fellow disciple of Lucian; it was Eusebius, by this time bishop of the imperial city of Nicomedia. He was a man of great power, and eventually Arius fled to Nicodemia, having left Alexandria. There he experienced the protection of Eusebius; from Nicomedia he carried on his defense. A period of letter writing soon followed. Arius wrote those bishops he hoped would defend him; some of his bishop-patrons wrote other bishops, trying to win them over to the position of Arius. The bishop of Alexandria, however, also wrote to the other bishops-more than 70 letters in all. Among them was a letter to the Pope at Rome, containing an official account of the heretical teaching of Arius, and of his excommunication. While all of this was going on, Constantine, who had come to power in 306, was gaining ground. In 313, the imperial edict that brought the persecution of the Church to an end bore the names of Galerius, Constantine, and Licinius. Fifteen days after the publication of the decree, Galerius was dead; only Constantine and Licinius remained. In September of 323, however, Constantine defeated the Eastern Emperor, Licinius, and in 324 became at last the sole ruler of the Roman world. And it was to him that the disputing parties now turned for a solution. Constantine had for some reason chosen as his special ecclesiastical adviser the bishop of the Spanish city of Cordova, a man named Hosius. This bishop may possibly have had something to do with the conversion of Constantine. At any rate, Hosius was destined to play a large role in the first General Council of the Church. When Constantine had emerged as the sole ruler of the Empire, and had heard of the doctrinal disputes that were going on in the Church, he first of all sent Hosius to the bishop of Alexandria. He had hoped thus to negotiate peace between the disputing parties. Little was accomplished by this mission, but either as a result of it or by reason of later conversations, it was realized that this problem could not be settled at a local level. Hosius had learned the full error of Arius and its terrifying implications for Christian truth. As a solution, the Council of Nicea, the first Christian landmark in the long line of General Councils, came into being. There had been many smaller "councils" or synods before Nicea; the idea was not entirely new. What was different, however, was the notion of a or Council. For the first time the bishops of the entire world were to be gathered together to determine a point of Catholic belief. As the ancient historian Eusebius remarks: "When they were all assembled at Nicea, it appeared evident that the proceeding was the work of God...." For the first time, the activity of the Holy Spirit in a General Council was to be experienced by the Christian world. Our knowledge of the Council is rather limited; the accounts of the of the gathering are said to have covered some forty volumes, but they have long since been lost. It seems clear, however, that Constantine himself, at the urging of the bishops near him, sent out the invitations to the bishops to attend. Constantine also paid the expenses involved in the celebration of the Council. The primary purpose of the gathering was to solve the problem of Arianism, although two other points were to be discussed: (1) the date for the celebration of Easter, which had been disputed by some; and (2) the question of the schism of Meletius in Egypt-a man who attempted to usurp the power of the bishop of Alexandria in a dispute concerning those who had denied the faith during the persecutions ( the ) . The Roman Pontiff, Sylvester I, was apparently not consulted before Constantine acted, but he ratified the move by sending two legates to the gathering, the Roman priests Victor and Vincentius. It was in this way that the "head" of the college of bishops convoked the meeting-what the authors refer to as the "formal convocation." The Council was to be held at Nicea in Bithynia. It was a convenient location for the Western bishops to reach, since it is close to the sea, but the principal reason for the choice seems to have been the desire of the Emperor to attend. Nicea lay close to the summer residence of the Emperor, and it was therefore far more convenient. Today there is nothing at this spot but a small village called Isnik, but at that time, Nicea was the center of the cultural life of Bithyma. Known as the "Golden City," it was a fitting spot for this great spectacle to unfold. The Council opened, it would seem, about May 20, 325. It apparently closed on June 19. The opening session was a magnificent event, and obviously quite a change for many of the bishops who attended. Some of them had known even personally the final persecutions under Diocletian and, even more recently, under Licinius. They must have flinched as they passed by the armed soldiers, standing now only as honorary guards to add solemnity to the event. Memories of imperial guards in the past, seeking out Christians and leading them to death, could not help but come to mind. But the world had changed very rapidly. The bishops gathered in the grand hall of the imperial palace at Nicea, where seats had been arranged on opposite sides of the room. Clad as an Oriental sovereign, in gold and precious stones, Constantine entered the hall in solemn fashion once the bishops had gathered together. He then addressed them briefly in Latin on the purpose of the Council, and his talk was immediately translated into Greek. Then the lively debates began among the bishops present. In all, there were about 250 bishops present. The traditional number given is 318, but this seems to be a reference more to the 318 servants of Abraham than historical record (cf. Gen. 14:14). The Creed itself bears the signature of only 220 bishops. Most of those in attendance came from the eastern half of the Empire, but the Western provinces, Africa, Spain, Gaul, and Italy, were also represented by at least one bishop. The bishops soon grouped into parties, following their own convictions. There was a small but powerful group of 15 or 20 bishops favoring Arius, led by Eusebius of Nicomedia. A second group urged the solution of stating simply what had been said before, with no further clarification; these included the bishops who disliked the idea of defining faith in new terms not found in Scripture. A third group, however, eventually achieved its desire. These bishops wished to re-examine the entire teaching in the light of tradition, and express Catholic belief clearly, and, if need be, in new terminology. Arius was given a chance to defend his teaching, but when he expressed his position clearly and bluntly, all but his own party wished to condemn him. It was apparent by then that some kind of formula had to be adopted to do this. Eusebius of Nicomedia, Arius' patron, was ready for this; he had prepared such a formula. As might be expected, it was so vague that both the Catholics and the Arians could sign it with equal ease; it was no solution at all. Only after overcoming the objections of those who wished to repeat nothing but the scriptural terminology was the final Creed formulated: "We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Creator of all things visible and invisible. And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the , the only-begotten of the Father, that is, of the Father; God from God, light from light, true God from true God; begotten, , () with the Father...." The phrase "Son of God" was used in place of to avoid any confusion on that point. The words "only-begotten" were further explained as meaning that the Word was not created from nothing, but possessed the very nature and substance of the Father. It was, however, by describing the Son of God as "of one and the same substance" with the Father-consubstantial-that the Arians were overcome above all. Those who insisted on this word realized this as much as did the Arians themselves. To say that the was "of one and the same substance" with the Father meant that he was not simply "from God" or 'like God"; it meant that he God in the full sense of the term, identical with the Father. It was thus the ideal means for separating the orthodox believers from the heretics, for to accept this term meant to abandon the teaching of Arius. In this way did become the byword of Nicea and the years that lay ahead. When these formulations were finally settled, all but two of the bishops signed; they were condemned by the Council along with Arius. Even Eusebius of Nicomedia signed. The first General Council came to an end, and before the papal legates and the bishops returned to their homes, the Emperor entertained them at a lavish banquet. Constantine then officially approved the decrees of the Council, and set them forth as laws of the State, ordering the removal of all those who failed to accept these decrees. But the story did not end there; in fact, it was scarcely beginning. CHAPTER IV . . . I CONSTANTINOPLE THE figure of Constantine is one that has possibly been glorified unduly in the history of the Church. He had long been spoken of in glowing terms as the "first Christian Emperor," converted in a miraculous fashion when he saw a cross of light appear in the heavens, bearing the inscription: "In this sign shalt thou conquer." The unrelenting study of the past hundred years, however, has set much of this aside. What remains is the picture of a man who was undoubtedly sincere in his acceptance of the Christian God and of Christ the Saviour. It has been questioned, however, just how much of a "Christian" he actually was beyond this. While his conversion may have been sincere, and while many of his official acts are stamped with Christian influence, it is possibly best to say that Constantine was "sincerely wrong." He never really grasped the fullness of Christianity, and that can mean only one thing: he was never a true Christian. No one can be a faithful disciple of Christ by accepting only half of what Christ and His Church teach. Constantine may never have been a member of the Church at all; he postponed his baptism until the year 337, just shortly before he died. He took leave of this life in a devout enough fashion, pledging himself to the life of a baptized Christian. and begging God's mercy for his sins. But it was not a Catholic who baptized him, but an Arian-no less than Eusebius of Nicomedia himself; his faith may have been the same. Despite his interest in the Council of Nicea, there were other less Christian aspects of Constantine's life. Among them must be included the murder he arranged of his wife, Fausta, and of one of his own sons, Crispus. The greatest difficulty, however, was derived from Constantine's concept of the "Christian" emperor. He looked upon himself as the defender of the faith, but the faith he would defend was quite dependent upon his mood and his current advisers. In this way it came about that some time after Nicea, Constantine changed and became the defender of the Arians. It was he who was responsible for expelling Athanasius from his diocese the first time. In history, whenever the political power has come to the defense of Christianity by involving itself in the operation of the Church, it has almost always ended by doing more harm to the Church than good. This is surely the case in the post-Nicean era. Arianism was not only to remain a vital heretical movement, but it was to make great progress; and this progress was to be due in large measure to the patronage of the Roman emperors. When the bishops signed the Creed at Nicea, there was outwardly a great unanimity. But the sincerity of some of the bishops is surely open to question. A number evidently signed more at the insistence of Hosius and the Emperor than because of personal conviction; this was especially true of the Arian bishops-Eusebius above all. Even among the Catholics who accepted the teaching in its entirety there was not a wholehearted agreement that all was well. There were those who still felt that the definition of a doctrine in nonscriptural terms was not well advised. They tended to look upon it as an innovation, the result of the pressure of a "liberal" group of some sort, intent upon destroying the faith of Scripture rather than defending it. This hesitancy opened the road for vacillation, and it helps explain the lapse, later on, even of some of the more devout and orthodox bishops. There were two particular problems associated with the use of the "new" word, ; both the Arians and the scriptural-minded Catholics realized this. There was, first of all, the fact that it is a term obviously influenced by the West, and even at this date such a state of affairs was not looked upon happily by many Eastern bishops. Tertullian had apparently introduced the word into the Latin vocabulary about the beginning of the third century. The fact that the Greek translation of such a term did find its way into the Nicean Creed is not unimportant; the overwhelming majority of the bishops present had come from the East. This fact alone emphasizes the influence of the West as well as the extreme usefulness of the term. Apparently it was Hosius who was most influential in securing its adoption by the Council, and he came from Spain. Nevertheless, the word was somewhat new to the East, even though Origen and his disciples had used it. While the meaning intended at Nicea was clear, the fact that it was something of an innovation continued to disturb some souls. Moreover, the problem was further complicated by the fact that the very same word had been used to indicate something in other Greek writers. The most outstanding instance was that of Paul of Samosata. He had used the word to indicate the exact opposite teaching. For him, to say that the Father and the Son are did not mean that the two divine Persons possessed the same divine nature. As he used it, the word meant that the "Father" and "Son" are simply two different names for the one God-the one and only divine Person. With this meaning in mind, Paul of Samosata had taught that the "Father" and "Son" are ---that is, they are entirely identical and are not distinct persons at all. As a result, the local synod of Antioch had condemned Paul of Samosata in 268 for teaching that the Father and Son are ! Such a state of affairs could not help but breed further confusion in the East, even after the Nicean Creed had been issued. The Arians used these arguments in order to promote their teaching; they probably did so in some instances with malice aforethought. But even the more orthodox believers were led into confusion. After all, they recognized that Paul of Samosata had been condemned for saying that the Father and the Son were , and yet Nicea had explicitly decreed that they are ! Added to these technical problems, there came the politically ambitious schemes of the emperors and a number of the bishops. Arianism was, for some, a steppingstone to power, and they were quick to make use of it. They valued power and position far above orthodoxy in faith. Among these, it would seem that Eusebius of Nicomedia would take first place. He was interested above all in "getting ahead." He was little concerned with doctrinal precision, and would gladly have settled for a more vague statement at Nicea. He apparently did sign the Nicean Creed simply to keep his position at the time. Shortly after Nicea, Eusebius somehow managed to convey this impression to the Emperor Constantine and was promptly exiled. Constantine died, however, in 337 and the empire had to find a new ruler. There was no difficulty in getting men who were willing to assume the burden; quite the opposite, there were far too many claiming the right to do so. The three sons of Constantine eventually emerged triumphant. At first they divided the vast empire three ways, but when one of them- Constantine II-died three years later in a civil war with his brother, the authority rested with the remaining two: Constans and Constantius II. The change in regime marked a new chapter in the history of the Councils. Actually it had already gotten under way in 330 when Constantine permitted Eusebius and Arius to return from exile. Eusebius and his followers at once went into action. Since they could not risk an open attack, they resorted to intrigues. The technique adopted was very simple; it was used first of all on one who by now was their great enemy: Athanasius, the bishop of Alexandria. The technique consisted in managing somehow or other to place the orthodox bishop in disfavor, and then in installing an Arian bishop in his see, once he had been exiled. The case of Athanasius was a pattern of many to follow. St. Athanasius had attended the Council of Nicea as a deacon and secretary to the old bishop of Alexandria who had first of all condemned Arius. By 328, however, Athanasius had succeeded the older man as head of the church at Alexandria. Upon his return from exile, Eusebius first directed his attention to Athanasius, managing to maneuver him into disfavor with Constantine. As a result, in 335 Athanasius was sent into exile by the Emperor. With Athanasius out of the way, and Eusebius back in power with Constantine as his special patron, it seemed sure that the Arians-or the , as they are also known-were sure to triumph. One thing still remained undone: Arius himself had not yet been received back into the Church, although recalled from exile. Constantine finally decreed that this be done by the bishop of Constantinople (since public resentment still made it impossible at Alexandria). At that very moment, however, Arius died (336), and soon afterward Constantine also passed on. The triumph was incomplete. When the sons of Constantine took over the rule of the empire, Athanasius was allowed to return; thus the two opponents were free to carry on the dispute. The battle continued mostly by way of intrigue, however. Of the two remaining sons of Constantine, Constans was a baptized Catholic, while Constantius II favored Eusebius. Constans was not a particularly healthy man, but he was the more powerful of the two. As a result, until his death in 350, his presence warded off any Arian attack on the West and at least limited greatly any violence in the East. After the death of Constantine the Great, however, the conflict had become increasingly evident. Eusebius had soon managed to have himself appointed bishop of Constantinople. It was an office of tremendous importance, and it placed him in a position to do much to further the Arian interests. The technique continued, then, of attempting to fill the various dioceses with Arian bishops. The first big attempt was to replace the recently returned Athanasius with an Arian bishop in Alexandria. To this was added a second technique, one that was to become even more important in later years. It consisted of inserting synonyms into the decrees of the Councils, thus giving them a completely different meaning but with very little outward change in wording. There were also appeals to Rome from both sides, a number of local synods, and threatening statements on the part of the Emperor. The whole Christian world seemed torn in doctrinal conflict. Today, historians will place descriptive tags on various groups-a practice complicated by the Greek words used for this purpose. The names are based on the solution the group proposed. Four large groups can be distinguished, one Catholic and three Arian: 1. The , led by Athanasius, who insisted on the full meaning of Nicea: Christ is of the one and same substance as the Father. 2. The . These were a group of Arians who, after Nicea, came out into the open and clearly stated in express terms what others had said more indirectly. They claimed, therefore, that the Word (the ) was entirely the Father. Hence the name, from the Greek word . The a stands for "not"; and the adjective means "like." Thus the Word is "not like" the Father. They represent the teaching that is exactly the opposite of that of Nicea. (They are also called from the name of one of their leaders, Eunomius.) 3. The . This group is named by using only the Greek adjective (which means "like" or "similar"). They were a vague group who hoped that the entire debate could be solved by side-stepping the issue. They proposed that we hold that the Word was "like" the Father, dropping the (substance) of Nicea entirely. In this way, a type of compromise peace would result; the Arians could understand the phrase in their own way, the Catholics in theirs. Since their motives in suggesting this are recognized as more political than doctrinal, they are also known as the . 4. The . This was the largest of all the Arian groups after Nicea; they are generally known today as the . Their solution involved a departure from Nicea, but they attempted to make the change as easy as possible. All they did was change the adjective (the "same") to ("like" or "similar"). They added it, however, to the ousia ("substance") used at Nicea. In this way, there was little change. The of Nicea became simply . The only apparent difference was this extra "i" (a in the Greek alphabet). But the meaning was completely changed. If the was only "similar" in substance, He would still not be true God. These many divisions resulted in great confusion on all sides. Smaller councils or synods were held at various places, but none of them came up with a lasting solution. Pope Liberius (352-366) had suggested a Council, for example, and the Emperor Constantius agreed, but whatever meetings were held only ended in even greater confusion. At some of them the Arians turned to strong-arm tactics; the decrees issued were simply heretical. Meeting after meeting ended in this fashion. About the most noteworthy result in each case was either sending St. Athanasius into exile or recalling him-depending upon which party won the upper hand. Athanasius was, by now, the leading defender of the faith of Nicea; hence his importance as a symbol of the entire debate. The whole question now centered about the Nicean Creed: Should it be accepted or not? At one gathering at Milan the Arian bishops became so enraged that they dragged the pen from the hand of the bishop of Milan as he was about to sign the Creed; a veritable riot resulted. The Emperor finally intervened and forced the bishops to condemn Athanasius, to reject Nicea, and receive the Arians into full union in the Church! In the midst of this seemingly endless confusion, even Pope Liberius was tricked into a difficult position. He still remains one of the most discussed men of the period. Liberius continued to insist upon a free Council, but his wishes were not heeded. Instead, there came forth from Sirmium (the villa of the imperial court) one formula after another, more or less Arian in tone. The first such formula had passed over the word entirely; the second was an obvious Arian decree, an open denial of Nicea; and the third was something of a compromise, but, understood in proper fashion, it could be viewed as in agreement with Nicea. The signature of Liberius was needed, of course, to give real force to these formulas, and to this day historians debate whether Liberius signed any of the formulas, and if so which one he did sign. Whatever did take place, it is certain enough that Liberius was, in point of fact, a stanch defender of Nicea (and also of Athanasius, which then meant the same thing). If he signed any, it would seem that it was the third formula, which admits of a proper interpretation; if he signed the second, however, it is clear from his other actions that he was tricked into it. In any event, it raises no special problem in regard to papal infallibility, since Liberius never clearly issued a solemn statement on his own authority. He preferred to continue demanding a free Council, with no interference from the Emperor. For this he was rewarded with exile himself! Liberius was kidnaped by night at the order of the Emperor and carried off to the imperial court. It seemed as though the Arians were in complete control. Those bishops who refused to condemn Athanasius were removed from their sees; even the Pope was now held captive. Nothing was settled, however, since the group in favor with the Emperor changed from the Semi-Arians to the Anomoeans to the Politicals and back again. Things continued in this manner until Constantius died in 361. The immediate successors of Constantius came and went rapidly. In 379, Theodosius became the emperor in the East, and out of all this confusion rose the first Council of Constantinople ( 381). By this time, Athanasius had died (373) and the leadership of the Catholic party had passed first to St. Basil and then to St. Gregory Nazianzen. Yet when Theodosius came to power, the Arians dominated everywhere in the East, especially at Constantinople; the orthodox believers in that city had neither bishop nor church. The new Emperor, however, was a devout Catholic and he wished to change all that. He decided, therefore, to restore the Catholics to power and to expel the Arians. To secure a lasting peace, he finally convoked the free Council that had been sought twenty or thirty years before by Pope Liberius. In this way the State broke officially with Arianism, and for the first time in years expressed in a clear fashion its acceptance of the Nicean faith. Of all the General Councils, I Constantinople is, for a number of reasons, one of the most perplexing. Considering the futile attempts of the past, it did not seem that this Council would effect much more than these earlier gatherings had done; nevertheless it did, and the power of the Holy Spirit triumphed. It is unique in the history of the Councils. From all appearances, only the bishops of the East were invited. About 186 bishops took part, but not a single one from the west. Despite the frequent requests of Pope Liberius and his successors for a free Council, it seems that now not even Pope Damasus (366-384) was contacted in regard to this gathering; he did not take part in the proceedings, not even through his legates. We would have to conclude, in fact, that the Council was formally "convoked" by the Roman Pontiff at a much later date; history is silent on any approval given by Damasus I. In the sixth century, however, I Constantinople is listed in the papal decrees among the other General Councils of the fourth and fifth centuries. We have very little information concerning what took place at this Council. It opened in May of 381; it most probably closed in July of that year. There were in all three men who presided over the sessions: Meletius, Gregory of Nazianzen, and finally Nectarius. One of the first tasks was the election of a new bishop of Constantinople; the Arian bishop chose to leave the city rather than comply. For this office St. Gregory Nazianzen was chosen. The bishops then turned to the doctrinal questions of Arianism. About thirty-six Arian bishops had accepted the invitation to attend the Council, but, since they all refused to accept the Nicean Creed, they had left the city before the Council began. The bishops were especially concerned with a group of Semi-Arians who had fallen into error in regard to the Holy Spirit; this new error had to be condemned as well. Just as the Arians had claimed that the Word was only a creature and not God, so these Semi- Arians stated the same thing about the Holy Spirit. They are called from one of their chief leaders, Macedonius (who had been the bishop of Constantinople about twenty years earlier). When the thirty-six Arian bishops left the city, the remaining 150 went on to reaffirm the faith of Nicea. After all these years of dispute, they simply repeated the of Nicea, adding nothing more. The formula they issued seems to have been a Jerusalem Creed, completed by the formula of Nicea; the Council simply made this formula its own. Because of the teaching of the Macedonians, this Creed includes a more definite statement concerning the Catholic belief in the Holy Spirit: "We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the Giver of life; he proceeds from the Father, is adored and honored together with the Father and the Son; he spoke through the prophets." With certain smaller changes, it is this Creed that we recite in the liturgy of the Mass today. In this way, the doctrinal quarrel was finally settled; the faith of Nicea on this point was once again secure. New troubles would arise, but they would be of a slightly different nature. One source of difficulty, however, was created by the third canon formulated by I Constantinople: "The bishop of Constantinople shall hold the first rank after the bishop of Rome, because Constantinople is New Rome." In this lay the seeds of discord and political unrest that would eventually lead to the great schism of the Eastern Churches. But that is another story, to which we must return later on; there are other doctrinal problems that must be treated first. CHAPTER V . . . COUNCIL OF EPHESUS AFTER I Constantinople, the divinity of the Word was well secured in the Church. The picture changed somewhat at this point. The earlier debates had centered around the Trinity, and the question was asked: "What is the relationship of the (Word) to the Father?" It indicated a special concern for Christ in His nature and His relationship to the Trinity. In the fifth century, we can note a new interest, although the debates and crises continue to mount on all sides. Those now taking part in the discussions all admitted the fact that the is truly God in the sense defined at Nicea. They began to inquire about the relationship of the to the nature of Christ. The big question now became: "What is the relationship of the Logos (Word) to Jesus of Nazareth?" While the controversy was being waged between the Arians and the Catholics toward the end of the fourth century, a new outlook was being developed. The Catholics had been insisting that Christ was both true God and true man. The Arians had really ended up by stating the exact opposite: Christ was neither true God nor true man. He was not of the same substance with the Father, hence He was not God; but the was also a superangelic being, created before all other creatures, so that the Arians tended to pass over the humanity of Christ. In the back of this Arian teaching there was the seed of another error. This started to come to light especially in the teaching of Apollinaris; his error had also been condemned at I Constantinople in 381: . Apollinaris was the bishop of Laodicea in Syria, and a violent anti-Arian. But in opposing that doctrine he himself fell into another extreme. Apollinaris accepted the divinity of Christ in the full and orthodox sense, but he failed to do full justice to His humanity. Thus, differing from the Catholics and from the Arians, Apollinaris would say that Christ was true God, but not true man. The reason for this position was more or less his acceptance of Plato's philosophy, which he then applied wrongly to Christ. Plato, a Greek philosopher who died about 347 B.C., had spoken of a threefold division in man: he had a body, a soul, and a spirit. The "spirit" was the element in man that made it possible for him to think, to act as a rational human being. The soul simply joined with the body to give it life; it is what he would call a "sensitive soul," rather than a rational soul. When Apollinaris spoke of Christ, therefore, he claimed that Christ was a true human being in the sense that He did have a soul; but this was a sensitive soul only. Thus Christ had a true body and the five senses; He had true human feelings and emotions. All this pertained to the sense life. In regard to the "spirit," however, which Apollinaris considered the source of intellectual life, he held that Christ had no such spirit: He possessed, in other words, no rational soul. For Apollinaris, the took over the role of the "spirit" in Christ, and was therefore the source of His thought life and the acts of His will. Since man is a combination of body and soul, to be a true man means to and to to do things in the very same manner that other human beings think and will. Apollinaris failed to explain properly the humanity of Christ for this reason. If Christ had no human "spirit," He also had no human thoughts, no human will; thus He could not be human in the same way that other men are. And if this were true, then what is to be said of those texts in Scripture which say that Christ "prayed" to the Father in heaven, and that He "obeyed" the command of the Father in dying upon the cross? These are actions of a mind and a will. Christ could not pray or obey insofar as He is the second Person of the Trinity; this He could do only insofar as He is man and possesses a true human intellect and will. This, then, was the starting point for all the debates of the next two or three centuries. It was to lead to a fuller understanding of Christ, and when the debates had ended, there would be a record of four more General Councils that had arisen to clarify these questions. Apollinaris had really intended only to defend the unity of Christ. He had wanted to show that Christ the Man was really and truly the , the second Person of the Trinity. To him it seemed best, therefore, to explain the mental activities of Christ by considering them the actions of the . In doing this, however, he was really teaching that Christ was not a true man at all; He possessed no true human nature. It was only to be expected that he would soon be attacked. His greatest opposition came from the school of Antioch. Diodore of Tarsus opposed him at once, laying much greater emphasis on the two realities in Christ: a true and perfect human nature as well as a true and perfect divine nature. He passed this teaching on to Theodore of Mopsuestia, and Theodore, in turn, may have been the teacher who passed it on to Nestorius. At any rate, when we come to Nestorius we find a man who is thoroughly penetrated by the principles of the school of Antioch. It is after this man that the second great heresy of the early Church is named: . This heresy was concerned with the relationship of Christ's human nature to His divine nature. In his own eyes at least, Nestorius was a great defender of the faith. He was strongly opposed to the Arians and the Semi-Arians who had already been condemned. With the teachings of the school of Antioch as his norm, however, he went a step further. He thought that he could perceive within the Church itself another error that concerned Christ, and he struck out against it. Like Theodore of Mopsuestia, Nestorius was far from achieving any great clarity in the statement of his position. While the underlying principles may have been obscure, the final conclusions were not. For this reason, Nestorius soon aroused the ire of the bishops of his time because of his teaching, which failed to do justice to Catholic faith. Theodore had emphasized so much the fact that Christ was both God and man ( against Apollinaris and his followers), that he practically ended up by talking about two entirely distinct persons: Christ, who was God; and Jesus of Nazareth, who was man. Nestorius did the same, even more clearly. Nestorius saw a further application of this position which he made his own in a special way. He concluded that Mary brought forth only Jesus, and not the . The only began to dwell in a special manner in Jesus of Nazareth some time after He was born. This meant, therefore, that we are not justified in calling Mary the "Mother of God," except in some loose, figurative sense. She was only the Mother of Christ, in whom God (the ) later came to dwell. It was in this conclusion about May that the error of Nestorius became most apparent. When Nestorius became the bishop of Constantinople, a new crisis was in the process of formation. About the year 428, one of his disciples, the monk Anastasius, mentioned this point in a sermon; the clergy and the faithful were shocked. When they complained of it to the bishop, Nestorius not only refused to condemn the teaching, but he made use of the opportunity to set forth the doctrine himself. For many years now, the faithful had spoken of the Blessed Mother as the -the "Mother of God." There are indications of its use in prayers as early as the third century. Nestorius now claimed that this was a dangerous word. He held that we ought to speak of Mary only as the - the "Mother of Christ." Thus the defense of the true doctrine concerning Christ was necessarily linked so intimately to the honor given to Mary as His Mother. One cannot dishonor Mary without dishonoring Christ as well, and those who heard Nestorius preach realized this. The Catholic faith has always insisted that Christ possesses two complete and perfect natures, the human and the divine. These two natures are not in any way confused with one another; there is nothing essential lacking to either. As Scripture indicates, Christ is true God and true Man. These two natures are united, however, insofar as they belong to one and the same Person: the second Person of the Trinity. From all eternity this divine Person possessed His divine nature. Without losing this, He also assumed, at the time of the Incarnation, a human nature that was fashioned in the body of Mary. He made entirely His own this human body and the spiritual soul God infused into it; this was accomplished by the action of the entire Trinity. It is accordingly the human body and soul of that Person to whom the Trinity united it: the second Person of the Trinity. Since it is through the that the human and divine in Christ are united, the Church speaks of the " union" -a word derived from the Greek word for person (). It means that in the union of the human and divine natures, both natures remain complete and perfect; they are united, however, "in the person" (hypostasis) of the divine Word, the second Person of the Trinity. Nestorius, on the other hand, seemed to hold that there was originally a "human person" resulting from the union of this body and soul in Christ ( just as there was a "divine Person" in the Trinity-the second Person, the ) . Nestorius indicated that some kind of person resulted from the union of these two. He did not hold that this human person and the divine Person were either fused together or destroyed, as later heretics did; but they were joined together in such a way that the human person was somehow subordinate to the divine person. No matter how you understand this, however, it can only amount to saying that there is no more than a "moral union" of two entirely distinct persons in Christ. The so-called human person is "more or less" joined to the divine Person, but that is all. The end result is that when you consider the body and soul of Jesus, the Son of Mary, you do not really consider the body and soul of . The only dwells this body and soul, as in a temple. The body and soul really belong to the "human person." For Nestorius, then, Jesus of Nazareth is simply the "Godbearer," and not really God. Since the dwells within Him, Nestorius would say that Jesus is "one" with God, but not in the sense that the Church had always understood it. This became most clear in the further conclusion regarding the Blessed Virgin. According to Nestorius, Mary was, we might say, the Mother of the "temple," but not of the ; she was not the Mother of God, but only the Mother of Jesus of Nazareth. On the other hand, the Church insisted that a mother is always the mother of a ; she is not simply the producer of a body. Common sense alone indicates this. A mother is mother of someone, not something. Ultimately the question, therefore, is this: "Precisely who is Christ?" If Christ is God, then Mary is the Mother of God, the mother of the divine Person. If Christ is not a human person, Mary cannot be the mother of a human person. Mary is not the Mother of God in His nature, obviously; God is eternal, infinite. But in becoming the Mother of God in His nature, she was necessarily the Mother of the Person to whom that human nature belonged, and that Person was the second Person of the Trinity. This was the chief point of the entire dispute. To call Mary the Mother of God is really another way of saying that Christ is God: one divine Person with both a human and a divine nature. Nestorius was most firm in his position. He excommunicated the members of his own church who refused to accept his teaching. Some appealed at once to the Emperor, while others notified the Bishop of Rome. In this way the stage was set for the third General Council, the Council of Ephesus in 431. From Rome there came the request of Pope Celestine I (422-432) for further information about the dispute at Constantinople. He wrote to the patriarch of Alexandria, St. Cyril, for this information. Thus Cyril became the leading character of this debate, somewhat as Athanasius had been in regard to the Arians. Cyril sent his report to Rome with the deacon, Posidonius; he reached there in the spring of 430. The Western bishops examined the teaching of Nestorius at Rome and declared that it was heretical. The Pope then sent word to Cyril that he was to depose Nestorius if he did not reject his teaching within ten days after he heard their decision. Before proceeding with this directive, however, Cyril decided to call together the bishops of the East at Alexandria in order to investigate again the precise error of Nestorius. Perhaps more than the Western bishops, Cyril may have realized the danger of not pinning Nestorius down to precise points; the long and troublesome history of the Arian controversy was still fresh enough in the memory of the East. The Eastern bishops gathered together, and on November 3, 430, they issued a letter along with the famous twelve of Cyril. These were a series of propositions condemning errors about Christ. Nestorius was to subscribe to them or be deposed. They were intended to be very precise doctrinal statements, eliminating all possibility of misunderstanding. As it happened, they were phrased in Cyril's own words, and there was some possibility of misunderstanding; they were destined to play a role in later history. Nestorius and his followers rejected the entire idea, and turned to accuse Cyril himself of being a heretic. A number of other bishops also supported Nestorius, above all John, the patriarch of Antioch. Some did so because they were in agreement with Nestorius' position; others were perhaps confused by the terminology of Cyril. But the battle was on again. The Roman emperors then took the next step. The empire was still divided between two men: Theodosius II was the Eastern emperor, and Valentinian III was the emperor in the West-the last really effective one of the West. Theodosius, however, was the moving force in this matter. Although neither Pope Celestine nor Cyril had asked for a Council, the question had been mentioned; Nestorius especially had sought a Council. Theodosius therefore convoked a Council that was to open on Pentecost Sunday of 431 at Ephesus. This was a famous seaport along the Aegean Sea, a city known in pagan times for its devotion to the Greek goddess, Diana. In Christian Ephesus a far more noble woman had taken the place of Diana in their hearts: the Mother of God. It was only fitting that her glories should happen to be extolled there at this third Ecumenical Council. The Pope had known of the desire of Nestorius and others for a Council; hence there was no great surprise at Rome. He agreed to send three legates to represent him at the gathering: two bishops, Arcadius and Projectus, and the priest, Philip. They were given careful instructions. First of all, they were to attach themselves firmly to Cyril of Alexandria, who would serve as their guide. Second, they were to safeguard the rights of the Bishop of Rome. They were to come as judges, not as parties to a controversy. The Bishop of Rome had a]ready settled the question of Nestorius and his teaching; they were simply to make sure that this was carried out. Owing to this directive the Council produced some of the most outstanding testimony of that century to the Roman primacy, since the bishops gave vocal expression to their acceptance of papal authority. Lastly, considering the difficulty of travel in those days, the legates were told that, should they arrive late, they were to investigate carefully everything that had taken place before their arrival. As time would prove, this was a bit of advice well given. When the Council opened, most of the bishops present were, once again, from the East. Africa sent one deacon; at the time it was sorely pressed with attacks from the Vandals and not many could attend the Council; the same was true in Italy, which sent only the legates of the Pope. There was a great deal of difficulty involved in getting there on time. When the appointed day arrived, the papal legates had not yet arrived, and the patriarch of Antioch, John (who had been appointed by the Emperor to preside), was also absent. In John's case the delay may have been on purpose. He was a friend of Nestorius, and may not have wished to take part in the condemnation; at any rate, he did send on word that they ought not wait too long, should he be delayed. After waiting sixteen days, Cyril insisted that they go on with the Council; thus the first session actually got under way on June 22, 431. Nestorius was there with six bishops; Cyril with about 50 bishops; and Memnon, the bishop of Ephesus, was present with about 40 of his suffragan bishops and 12 from Pamphylia. At the start there were about 159 bishops who attended the Council, although 198 signatures appear on the final condemnation. Count Candidian was present as the representative of the Emperor. All went well that first day. The Council opened in the Church of St. Mary at Ephesus. Nestorius was offered an opportunity to appear three times, but refused. The letters of Cyril and of Pope Celestine, in which the teaching of Nestorius was condemned, were read and approved. A number of other statements taken from the writings of earlier Fathers were also read; these were offered in support of the teaching of Celestine and Cyril. Nestorius was then declared to be deposed as bishop of Constantinople and excommunicated for his heretical teaching. The people of Ephesus celebrated this great triumph that very night. They passed through the lighted city, carrying torches and incense in honor of what had been accomplished. The truth concerning Christ and the honor due His Mother had once again been affirmed. But this was not the end. As with many of the other Councils, a storm was yet to arise. The next day the Council officially notified Nestorius of the sentence; word was also sent to the priests of Constantinople, informing them that their bishop had been deposed. Nestorius was angered; so also was Candidian, the representative of the Emperor. Candidian had opposed the holding of a session until the others arrived. In the name of the Emperor, therefore, Candidian promptly declared the entire proceedings null and void. A few days later, John, the patriarch of Antioch, arrived and showed himself no less receptive to what had been done. He sided with Candidian, and gathered together with 43 bishops to form a rebel council. They at once issued their own decrees, deposing Cyril and Memnon ( the bishop of Ephesus ), and excommunicating their followers. They claimed that they, and not Nestorius, were the real heretics, guilty of Arianism and Apollinarianism. The Emperor was quite upset by this turn of events and demanded that the bishops all remain in Ephesus until an investigation could be made. About July 10, the papal legates finally arrived, and set things in order. Following the directives of Pope Celestine, they reviewed all that had been done. When the acts had all been read, they approved and added their signatures to the decrees. They then notified the Emperor that the East and the West were in accord, and demanded permission to elect a new bishop of Constantinople. There were in all six more sessions from July 10 to August 31. In these sessions the decrees against Cyril and Memnon were declared invalid. John of Antioch and his party, however, refused to agree to the proceedings. This was to remain a problem even after the Council. A number of other decrees were also issued, concerning above all the heresy of Pelagius which had been upsetting the West in particular during these same years; this had been one of the chief concerns of the great St. Augustine. He had died in 430, but had been sent an invitation to attend the Council of Ephesus; those concerned had not as yet heard of his death. Another decree pronounced that no one could add anything to the Creed issued at Nicea. This also was destined to play a role in the later disputes at the time of the Great Eastern Schism. But the chief work was the condemnation of the error of Nestorius. When all was finished, the work of Ephesus was essentially a triumph. Nestorianism was doomed. It marked the beginning, however, of further complications. The Emperor Theodosius II officially ended the council toward the end of October, 431. Strangely, he had accepted both the condemnation of Nestorius by the authentic Council and the condemnation of Cyril by the rebel council. Cyril, however, was able to gain the approval of the Emperor, and through the help of his friends, Theodosius gave way. In October of 431, the Emperor permitted Cyril to return to Egypt as the bishop of Alexandria; he continued to recognize the condemnation of Nestorius. Nevertheless, John of Antioch and his followers still exercised their influence. A division had resulted from the Council, and this had to be healed. Neither the Pope nor the Emperor accepted the condemnation of John of Antioch and his party. By thus leaving the door open for a peaceful solution, much good resulted. By 433, the followers of Cyril and John of Antioch had discussed the questions and assured one another that they both held to the same doctrine, even though their terminology might differ. All signed the formula of agreement, and the matter rested, for the time being at least. Ephesus had won over all of those concerned. CHAPTER VI . . . COUNCIL OF CHALCEDON THE intervention of Cyril of Alexandria at Ephesus had been tremendously important in defending the faith against Nestorius. Cyril, however, was a man who spoke and wrote in a terminology that could be misleading; this was the big problem that had disturbed John of Antioch. For one thing, Cyril had often spoken of Christ by referring to the "one incarnate nature of God the Word." To Cyril this indicated especially that there was but "one person" in Christ. Others understood it to mean but "one nature." As a result, Cyril finally set this phrase aside, and accepted the phrase of Antioch: "the union of two natures." This approach, however, was going to have its effect in what follows. While Cyril wished to affirm the traditional faith of the Church, the phrase he had used could be taken to indicate something entirely different. As long as Cyril was alive, such confusion could be avoided. But, in 444, he died. John of Antioch had already died, as well as Pope Sixtus, who had reigned at the time of the agreement of 433. By the year 448, therefore, a new crisis was upon the Church, new debates, a new heresy, and eventually a new Council. The ordinary catechism today will tell us that Christ is the second "Person of the Trinity, and that in addition to His divine "nature" He assumed a human "nature" in order to save mankind. The words "nature" and "person" are technical terms that have come to indicate something very definite in Catholic teaching. Many years elapsed however, before everyone agreed upon what precise word to use to express these ideas. In fact, much of the difficulty in the centuries we are talking about arose from the unsettled terminology. What made matters even worse, men not only used different Greek or Latin words when speaking about "nature" and "person," but they sometimes used the word to mean both things. There are instances, for example, when the Greek word generally used for person () was used by some men to mean "nature." The same was true of other important terms There were no dictionaries to solve the problem; a dictionary has to wait until men agree on the meaning of a certain word. This, of course, invited great confusion, and only with the solemn definitions of the great Councils were the problems finally solved. When we speak of "nature" we are concerned with exactly what makes something what it is. Nature is the answer to the question "What is it?" Whatever goes to make a human being a human being (and not a flower or animal) is his "nature." In this way we can distinguish between inanimate nature (like rocks), plant nature, animal nature, human nature, angelic nature, and divine nature-right up the scale. On the other hand, "person" is the answer to the question "Who is it?" We never speak of persons, then, except with the last three classes: men, angels, God. That is why we will not point to a dog and ask "Who is that?" To be a person, one must have a mind. If one cannot think or if one does not at least have the basic of thinking, he is not a person. A baby, therefore, or a mentally retarded individual is truly a person, since he does have that power, even though the use of it is hindered for some reason. This intellectual power makes it possible for a person to "act" as an intelligent being, and to be responsible for what he does. In Christ, therefore, there is only one "person"-one who acts, who is responsible for whatever is done either in His divine nature or in His human nature. Thus we can truly say that "God died upon the cross," because it is a who dies. When the human nature of Christ died it was God (although not in His divine nature) who died. This problem became the subject of special debate after the Council of Ephesus. Nestorius had tended to speak of two "persons" in regard to Christ: a divine and eternal Person, and a human person. Those who opposed him naturally wanted to stress the fact that there is only one person in Christ. Whether He acted as God (in His divine nature) or as man (in His human nature), it was always God, the second Person of the Trinity who did these things. In stressing this truth, however, some men went to the opposite extreme. Offering the phrase of St. Cyril as their defense, they claimed that there was not only one Person, but also only one nature in Christ. Cyril had spoken of "one incarnate nature () of God the Word." For Cyril, the word meant "person"; for these others, however, it meant "nature." The result was a new heresy known as the Monophysite heresy. (It comes from the Greek words, mono, which means "one"; and , meaning "nature.") It is also known as , from the name of its chief defendant, Eutyches, abbot of a monastery near Constantinople. In addition to Eutyches, three other men play a large role in the history of this controversy: Pope Leo the Great; Flavian, the bishop of Constantinople; and the Emperor Marcian. The name of Leo in the middle of the fifth century was to be forever associated with the triumph of the Council of Chalcedon; Flavian was to work in close association with Leo; and Marcian was the one who insisted on the Council. The abbot Eutyches was greatly upset by Nestorianism, so much so that he saw signs of it everywhere he looked. His reaction was the opposite extreme. In emphasizing the oneness and unity of Christ, he really the two natures. What resulted from his teaching was something new-a kind of "mixture" of the human and the divine, in which the human was absorbed, as it were, by the divine. Other Monophysites would vary the teaching so that the divinity disappeared in the humanity, or was changed into the human nature. But the end result in every case was only . The example used by Eutyches has become famous: "As a drop of milk let fall into the ocean is quickly absorbed, so also was the human nature of Christ entirely absorbed by the Divinity." Among those to oppose Eutyches was Theodoret, the bishop of Cyrrhus, his greatest opponent. He was the man who, so to speak, had taken over the leadership of the orthodox believers when Cyril of Alexandria died in 444. He was not the great mind that Cyril had been, but he was a more precise and exact theologian. Thus he was able to clear up some of the misunderstandings caused by the terminology of Cyril. On the other hand, Eutyches did more than disturb others; he took the initiative and set out to attack them. One of those toward whom he directed his wrath was Eusebius, the bishop of Dorylaeum; Eutyches was certain that this man was teaching heresy. As a rule, Eutyches was quite secure and able to achieve his goals. He was a powerful and influential man; as his patron he had the rather sinister patriarch of Alexandria, Dioscoros. Eusebius, however, was not afraid of Eutyches in any way. He promptly denounced him to Flavian, the bishop of Constantinople. Flavian may well have feared Eutyches; when he was openly denounced, however, Flavian had to act. He summoned Eutyches to a synod at Constantinople in 448; after several refusals, Eutyches appeared, guarded by the soldiers of the Emperor Theodosius II ( who had taken kindly to Eutyches and his followers). Eutyches refused to retract his teaching, and insisted all the more that there are not two natures in Christ, but only one. Flavian's council of bishops at once deposed him from his office as abbot and excommunicated him from the Church. The scene next shifted to Rome. The Emperor had appealed to Pope Leo on behalf of Eutyches. At the same time, Eutyches' special patron, Dioscoros, went into action at Alexandria, and declared that the sentences passed on Eutyches were null and void. Finding such favor from those in high positions, Eutyches asked the Emperor to convoke a Council and it was agreed; a Council was to open in August of 449 at Ephesus. Fortunately the Roman Pontiff at the time was truly one of the "great" men of history, as his name indicates. Leo knew how to deal with people, and he was not inexperienced in the problems of diplomacy. Above all, he was a skilled theologian, well able to enter into this controversy. Eventually he had on hand the letter of Eutyches concerning the trial, the recommendation of the Emperor, and a report from Flavian. Having considered the entire matter, Leo agreed to the Emperor's plan for a Council at Ephesus, and named three delegates to represent him. At the same time he wrote the famous letter to Flavian, expounding the true faith of the Church in regard to Christ; it is known as the "Dogmatic Epistle" of Leo the Great. A short time later, on August 8, 449, the Council opened at Ephesus with about 130 bishops present. It took place in the same church where Nestorius had been condemned in 431, but it turned out to be a vastly different affair! The wily Dioscoros, patriarch of Alexandria, presided at the command of the Emperor Theodosius. He ignored the papal legates entirely, and refused to permit the reading of the "Epistle" from Leo. The Council then went on to do the exact opposite of what had been intended: it acquitted Eutyches and condemned Flavian, the bishop of Constantinople. Claiming that it was "Nestorian" to affirm two natures in Christ, the bishops once again took up the terminology of Cyril of Alexandria-understood, of course, in the sense held by the Monophysites. Theodoret of Cyrrhus was also deposed; and Flavian was so badly treated that he soon died. The full report, however, finally reached Rome. Before he died, Flavian had sent an appeal, and Theodoret also wrote to Leo; and when the papal legates returned, Rome understood all. Leo gave to this gathering the name by which it has been known since: the "Robber Synod of Ephesus." In these proceedings, said Leo, we see no Council, but a den of thieves (). He at once declared invalid all that had been done. This was on October 6, 449. With the support of the Emperor, however, it did seem at the time as though the Monophysites had triumphed. As had happened in the past, death was soon to intervene and change the entire picture. On July 28, 450, Theodosius, the emperor, died. His sister, Pulcheria, married a famous general of the time, Marcian; they became the new rulers. A devout couple, they set about correcting the evils. The orthodox bishops were recalled, Eutyches was sent away, and eventually the various bishops rejected the decrees of the "Robber Synod." The suggestion was made of calling another Council, this time to proceed properly. Leo advised against it for various reasons. For one thing, matters were improving without open debate, and it seemed best to postpone such a General Council. Moreover, the barbarians were again attacking in the West, and it would be difficult for Western bishops to attend. Before Leo's letter reached the East, however, steps had been taken by Marcian and Pulcheria to convoke the Council. It was to open at Nicea, this time, on September 1, 451. Again Leo agreed, and appointed other legates to represent him, giving them very precise instructions on what they were to do. By a change in plans, the site was moved to another city, so that this Council did not become II Nicea. At the beginning of September about 500 bishops had gathered at Nicea, but the Emperor was busy fighting off the Vandals, and could not be there. The bishops continued their preparations, but grew tired of waiting. Marcian then asked them to transfer to a city nearer to Constantinople where he would be in closer touch with the Council, even though he did not attend. The spot chosen was Chalcedon, directly across from Constantinople (or Byzantium, at it was also known at that time). The fourth General Council opened at Chalcedon on October 8, 451. It was closed officially on November 1 of that year, but its greatest work was accomplished by October 25, when the doctrinal decree was solemnly approved. Of the first four Councils, Chalcedon stands out as by far the most important and glorious. It was attended by more bishops (about 600) than any of the previous gatherings. They came mostly from the East because of the difficulties with the barbarian invasions in the West. In addition to the papal legates, only two bishops from Africa were in attendance. The Eastern bishops, however, came from all over, and in great numbers. This Council also stands out because of the profundity of the doctrinal decree, which is a superb summary of all that hadbeen clarified concerning Christ and the Trinity during these first centuries; it also established firmly the terminology that has remained with the Church until this very day. In this way it completed the work of these earlier Councils. It seems, in a way, that the Church had to debate the two extremes of Nestorius and Eutyches in order to set forth in clear and technical language the doctrine received from the Apostles. In doing this, Chalcedon became the touchstone of doctrinal truth in this matter for all succeeding centuries. The Council opened in the Church of the martyr, St. Euphemia. As with the Council of Ephesus, we possess far more in the way of records of what took place than we have from Nicea and I Constantinople. They have come to us both in Greek and Latin, since both languages had been used. There is still a question of precisely how many sessions took place. Some have said fourteen or fifteen; others twenty-one. The doctrinal problems were settled, however, in the first six. The papal legates presided, although the representatives of the Emperor were also much in evidence; but they did not interfere with the work of the Council or the authority of the Roman Pontiff. In fact, apart from the doctrine concerning Christ, Chalcedon has left to the world the greatest testimony of an Eastern Council to the primacy of the Pope. At the end of the second session on October 10, after the reading of the "Dogmatic Epistle" of Pope Leo the Great, the bishops cried out: "Behold the faith of the fathers, the faith of the Apostles. . . . Thus through Leo has Peter spoken!" One of the chief tasks of the Council, obviously, was to give a solution to the disciplinary problems that had arisen. In the course of the sessions, therefore, the acts of the "Robber Synod" were read; Flavian (now dead) and Eusebius (who had first denounced Eutyches ) were declared innocent of the charges levied against them at Ephesus. The bishops who had been active at that illicit synod were then deposed, including Dioscoros of Alexandria. Eutyches, so roundly condemned by the Council, was finally sent into exile, along with his patron, Dioscoros; penalties were prescribed for those who insisted on remaining faithful to Eutyches. Among the bishops whose cases were discussed at Chalcedon, two are especially important because of the role their writings will play in the next century. One was Ibas, the bishop of Edessa; the other, Theodoret of Cyrrhus. These two had been condemned along with Flavian at the "Robber Synod." They were now reinstated by the General Council. At first the Council had no intention of issuing any new formula of faith. It seemed better to settle the problem of Eutyches, and then simply reaffirm the acceptance of the Creed of Nicea and I Constantinople. In the discussions, however, it appeared that the doctrinal points were not entirely clear in the minds of all the bishops; this suggested the need of a further clarifying statement. Moreover, the representatives of the Emperor were most insistent on this in the interests of rooting out once and for all the confusion that had previously reigned. As a result, in the fifth session (October 22), it was decided to name a special commission to draw up a statement; the papal legates were among those appointed. What they produced is not so much a new Creed as a commentary on the Catholic faith. The first part of the decree is more a statement of what the Church opposes to the teaching of the heresies of the early centuries; the second half is devoted to a more profound explanation of what this doctrine means. Whatever hesitancies there had been on the part of some bishops because of certain phrases, all questions were satisfactorily answered in the discussions, thanks especially to the explanations of the papal legates. The bishops had all accepted. the "Dogmatic Epistle" of Leo earlier, and on October 25, they gathered in solemn session, in the presence of the Emperor and Empress, to sign the dogmatic decree formulated by the Council. The task of the Council, as far as doctrine was concerned, was then finished. The remaining sessions were concerned mostly with other disciplinary questions. On October 31, thirty canons were issued, of which the twenty-eighth was to be most important. In this canon, the Council of Chalcedon repeated what has been said earlier concerning Constantinople, now the glorious city of the Eastern Empire: "As in all things we follow the ordinances of the holy fathers . . . so do we decree the same in regard to the privileges of the most holy Church of Constantinople, the New Rome. Rightly have the fathers conceded to the see of Old Rome its privileges on account of its character as the imperial city, and moved by the same considerations the 150 bishops [at I Constantinople] have awarded the like privileges to the most holy see of New Rome judging with good reason that the city which is honored by the imperial power and the senate, and which enjoys the same privileges as the ancient imperial city of Rome, should also be exalted in its ecclesiastical relations and hold the second place after that." In this way the city of Constantine loomed ever larger on the ecclesiastical horizon. It marks the furthering of the political interests in the East which would contribute eventually to the great break between the Eastern and the Western churches The papal legates protested against this canon, but the Council approved. Pope Leo refused to accept the canon, and wrote a series of letters urging the bishop of Constantinople to be content with things as they were. Jerusalem, Alexandria, and Antioch were all more ancient; they were looked upon as apostolic sees, and this canon violated their rights. It should be enough for Constantinople to know it was the imperial city, without wishing to make its civil position determine its ecclesiastical rank. At the root of this spirit of ambition there was another danger, not mentioned by Leo, that would come to light soon enough in the history of the Church. Rome is the center of Christianity because of the "chair of Peter," and not because of the civil rank of that city. If Leo had accepted the position that the civil importance of a city determines its rank in the Church, the day might come when Rome, having fallen from its lofty civil position, would be challenged as the center of Christianity. This would be contrary to the entire tradition of the Church, which recognized the authority of Peter in Rome, quite independently of the Emperor. Despite Leo's rejection of the canon, however, the spirit remained, and the difficulties which resulted will concern us in later chapters. The essential work of Chalcedon was accomplished. The faith of the Church of Christ, true God and true Man, was secured once again against the attacks of heresy. What had been achieved in union with Leo was to appear ever more clearly as the work of the Holy Spirit within His Church. What was done apart from Leo, however, would lead only to further dissension and division within the Christian world. CHAPTER VII . . . II AND III CONSTANTINOPLE THE sixth and seventh centuries are marked by new events that prolonged the dispute of Chalcedon. We find here new attempts by the Monophysites to sustain their position; this will bring about two new Councils, and because of their vacillation, will involve two popes - Vigilius and Honorius - in unusual difficulties. The second Council of Constantinople opened on May 5, 553, in the patriarchal church of that city. In many ways, this was a most surprising Council. For one thing, it was concerned almost entirely with the writings of three men dead for a century and more: Theodore of Mopsuestia (whose teachings had been one of the starting points of Nestorianism ); Theodoret of Cyrrhus and Ibas of Edessa (who had been restored to their sees by the Council of Chalcedon). Now 122 years after Ephesus and 102 years after Chalcedon, these three men became the center of attention. The Monophysites, condemned at Chalcedon, did not die out at once; as with the Arians after Nicea, they continued to promote their own cause. There was much unrest, and a feeling among the Egyptians that Alexandria had come out second best in the debates. This came to the fore especially three years after Chalcedon when Dioscoros, the exiled patriarch of Alexandria, died in exile. In 457, Marcian, the strong defender of Orthodoxy at Chalcedon, also died, and the emperors who followed proved less strong than Marcian. By 475, the Monophysites were once again in power. Under their influence, a number of decrees appeared which attempted to condemn Chalcedon, or at least ignore it entirely. The two most important were the of the Emperor Basiliscus and the of Acacius (the patriarch of Constantinople). Confusion reigned in the East, and it was to Rome that men looked for a solution. Unfortunately there was no longer a Leo sitting on the throne of Peter, and none of the popes of that century succeeded in stamping out the error completely. In 511, Anastasius, who was over 80 years old, was the emperor; he suddenly decided to impose Monophysitism on the entire empire. Only his death in 518 solved that problem. Under his successor, Justin, the Council of Chalcedon was restored to honor, and men began to speak of a General Council to avoid any further problems. Pope Hormisdas, however, insisted on nothing more than a signing of the formula he had drawn up. Unfortunately, this was to prove insufficient. Justinian became emperor in 527. This marks one of the great dividing lines in Church history. His wife, Theodora, was to be the cause of further trouble. She was really a Monophysite at heart, and a woman who delighted in interfering with religious matters. Through her influence many of the Monophysites returned, and the problem grew steadily worse. Soon there were Monophysite bishops both at Alexandria and at Constantinople. About 544 a new attempt was made to discredit Chalcedon. It was a very subtle move, one that hardly mentioned Chalcedon at all. Excerpts from the writings of the three men mentioned above were gathered together, and these writings were now to be condemned. This collection of statements has come to be known as the "Three Chapters." It concerned the writings of Theodore of Mopsuestia, Theodoret of Cyrrhus and Ibas of Edessa. The Monophysites now pretended that their greatest complaint against Chalcedon was that it had restored Theodoret and Ibas to their sees. It is true that these men had earlier opposed Cyril, and had taught something similar to Nestorianism (the doctrine found in the writings of Theodore of Mopsuestia, and condemned at Ephesus ) . If the Monophysites now succeeded in condemning these two in particular, and in associating them with the heretic of Mopsuestia, they felt that the Council of Chalcedon would be set in a bad light; it would appear that in restoring Theodoret and Ibas, the Council had approved two heretics. Justinian favored the condemnation, and most of the Eastern bishops followed his line of thought. Among them were certain other bishops who were not so much Monophysites, but who were now in error because of their revival of the teachings of Origen (who had died in the third century). They were known as the Origenists, and possibly they saw this as an opportunity to distract attention from themselves; the Origenist bishop Askidas was especially active in drawing up the "Three Chapters." The representative of the Pope at Constantinople, however, refused to sign the condemnation; he perceived clearly the implications. With some reservations concerning the subsequent approval of the Pope, however, Menas, the patriarch of Constantinople, did sign the decree condemning the three men; other bishops followed his lead. All now looked to Pope Vigilius (537-555) to see what he would do. Unfortunately, the Pope hesitated. He was forced to come to Constantinople, in 547, where every effort was made to have him sign the condemnation. It had already been realized at Rome and in northern Africa that this could be understood as an attempt to undermine Chalcedon and the teaching of Pope Leo. Vigilius also recognized this, and refused to sign. At a meeting of bishops called to discuss the affair, he broke off negotiations and demanded a written opinion from each bishop. But then he once again vacillated, and this was his great failing. A stronger man might have avoided a crisis, but Vigilius did not. He issued a in 548, a decree that condemned the "Three Chapters"; then, in 550, he revoked this statement, deciding with the Emperor to refer the matter to the Council. His moves were not well received, to say the least. Why he acted as he did is difficult to say: weakness, ambition, fear. The West, however, was greatly upset. One group of African bishops met and attempted to excommunicate the Pope in 550. About the same time, Vigilius decided to excommunicate the leader of the Monophysite group, Askidas, and found himself in trouble in the East; he barely escaped the soldiers of Justinian, and took refuge at Chalcedon in the very same basilica where the now debated decrees had been issued a century before. From here he reorganized his party, and gradually received back some of the excommunicated bishops. Plans for the Council were under way, however, and Justinian was anxious to go ahead. He realized he had gone too far in his treatment of the aging Pope. Vigilius, however, now disapproved most heartily of the idea of a Council; but he did promise to send on his own statement concerning the problem. The Council finally opened in 553 at the Church of Sancta Sophia in Constantinople. Hence it is known as II Constantinople. About 150 bishops attended, including 14 from Africa; the final decree bears 164 signatures. We have only the ancient Latin version of the Acts; the Greek has been lost. Eight sessions took place