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           Title: History of Dogma - Volume III
      Creator(s): Harnack, Adolf (1851-1930)
   CCEL Subjects: All; History; Theology
      LC Call no: BT21.H33 V.3
   LC Subjects:

   Doctrinal theology

   Doctrine and dogma
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                               HISTORY OF DOGMA

    BY

DR. ADOLPH HARNACK

    ORDINARY PROF. OF CHURCH HISTORY IN THE UNIVERSITY, AND FELLOW OF THE ROYAL
    ACADEMY OF SCIENCE, BERLIN

   TRANSLATED FROM THE THIRD GERMAN
   EDITION

    BY

  NEIL BUCHANAN

  VOLUME III
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EDITOR’S PREFACE.

   The first chapter in this volume forms the concluding chapter of the First
   Volume of the German Work. It answers to the Seventh Chapter of the Second
   Book of the first great division of the subject, which has for its aim to
   shew the origin of Ecclesiastical Dogma. The First Book treats of the
   Preparation for Dogma; the Second of the Laying of the Foundation. This
   Second Book begins with the second volume of the English Translation, and
   closes with the first chapter of the third volume now published. Thereafter
   commences the Second Part of the Work, which deals with the Development of
   Dogma. The numbering of the chapters here begins anew, running on from I. to
   VI.

   The Second Volume of the German Work commences with the Second Part, and
   tells the story of the Development of Dogma till the time of Augustine. Only
   a portion of it appears in this volume. The remainder will form the contents
   of the Fourth Volume. The author has prefixed to the volume two prefaces,
   one to the first, the other to the third Edition. These are here given.

   The Appendix on Manichæism is the last of four which appear at the end of
   the first volume of the German Edition. The first three of these will be
   found at the end of the first volume of the English Edition.

   A. B. BRUCE.

   Glasgow, August, 1897.

AUTHOR’S PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION OF VOLUME II. OF THE GERMAN WORK.

   THE first half of the second part of the History of Dogma is here given
   apart and as the second volume, because it is complete in itself, and I
   shall be prevented from completing the work at once by other tasks.

   The account contained in the following pages would have been shorter, if I
   could have persuaded myself of the correctness of the opinion, that a
   single, all-determining thought obtained its true development in the History
   of Dogma from the fourth to the eighth century. This opinion dominates,
   apart from a few monographs, all writings on the History of Dogma, and gives
   a uniform impress to the accounts of Protestants and Catholics. I share it
   within certain limits; but these very limits, which I have endeavoured to
   define, [1] have not yet received due attention. In the fourth century the
   formula that was correct, when judged by the conception of redemption of the
   ancient Church, prevailed; but the Fathers, who finally secured its triumph,
   did not give it the exposition which it originally demanded. In the fifth
   century, or the seventh, on the contrary, a formula that, measured by the
   same standard, was incorrect, prevailed; yet it was associated with an
   exposition that to some extent compensated for the incorrectness. In both
   cases, however, the imperfections of the conclusion, which are explained
   from various circumstances, became of the highest importance. For in them we
   find the reason why the phantom Christ did not wholly oust the historical;
   and, in order to overcome them, men turned anew to Philosophy, especially to
   Aristotle. The orthodox Church owes two things to the incorrect form in
   which the Trinitarian and Christological Dogma was finally stated: (1)
   contact with the Gospel, and (2) renewed contact with ancient science, i.e.,
   scholasticism.

   The account of these conditions demanded a more minute discussion of the
   process of the History of Dogma, than is usual in the ordinary text-books.
   Dogma developed slowly and amid great obstacles. No single step should be
   overlooked in the description, and, in particular, the period between the
   fourth and fifth Councils is not less important than any other. Political
   relationships, at no point decisive by themselves, yet everywhere required,
   as well as western influences, careful attention. I should have discussed
   them still more thoroughly, if I had not been restrained by considerations
   of the extent of the book. I have included the state of affairs and
   developments in the West, so far as they were related to, and acted upon,
   those in the East. In the following Book I shall begin with Augustine. The
   scientific theological expositions of the Fathers have only been brought
   under review, where they appeared indispensable for the understanding of
   Dogma. In any case I was not afraid of doing too much here. I am convinced
   that a shorter description ought not to be offered to students of Theology,
   unless it were to be a mere guide. The history of Christian Dogma—perhaps
   the most complicated history of development which we can completely
   review—presents the investigator with the greatest difficulties; and yet it
   is, along with the study of the New Testament, and in the present position
   of Protestantism, the most important discipline for every one who seeks
   really to study Theology. The theologian who leaves the University without
   being thoroughly familiar with it, is, in the most critical questions,
   helplessly at the mercy of the authorities of the day. But the royal way to
   the understanding of the History of Dogma, opened up by F. Chr. Baur, and
   pursued by Thomasius, does not lead to the goal; for by it we become
   acquainted with the historical matter only in the abbreviated form required
   for the defence of the completed Dogma.

   The history of the development of Dogma does not offer the lofty interest,
   which attaches to that of its genesis. When we return from the most
   complicated and elaborate doctrinal formulas, from the mysticism of the
   Cultus and Christian Neoplatonism, from the worship of saints and ceremonial
   ritual of the seventh and eighth centuries, back to Origen and the third
   century, we are astonished to find that all we have mentioned was really in
   existence at the earlier date. Only it existed. then amid a mass of
   different material, and its footing was insecure In many respects the whole
   historical development of Dogma from the fourth century to John of Damascus
   and Theodore of Studion was simply a vast process of reduction, selection,
   and definition. In the East we are no longer called upon to deal in any
   quarter with new and original matter, but always rather with what is
   traditional, derivative, and, to an increasing extent, superstitious. Yet
   that to which centuries devoted earnest reflection, holding it to be sacred,
   will never lose its importance, as long as there still exists among us a
   remnant of the same conditions which belonged to those times. But who could
   deny that those conditions—in the Church and in learning —are still powerful
   among us? Therefore even the religious formulas are still in force which
   were created in the Byzantine age; nay, they are the dogmas kat' exochḗn in
   all Churches, so that the popular idiom is nowise wrong which with the word
   "dogma" primarily designates the doctrines of the Trinity and the divine
   humanity of Christ. The inquirer who follows the development of these dogmas
   after the fourth century, and who, owing to the want of originality and
   freshness in his material, loses pleasure in his work, is ever and again
   reanimated, when he considers that he has to deal with matters which have
   gained, and still exercise, an immense power over the feelings and minds of
   men. And how much it is still possible for us to learn, as free Evangelical
   Christians, especially after generations of scholars have dedicated to this
   history the most devoted industry, so that no one can enter into their
   labours without becoming their disciples!

   I know very well that it would be possible to treat the material reviewed in
   this book more universally than I have done. My chief purpose was to show
   how matters arose and were in their concrete manifestation. But the task of
   making dogma really intelligible in all its aspects within the limits of a
   History of Dogma, is after all as insoluble as any similar problem which
   isolates a single object from Universal History, and requires its
   investigation in and by itself. This limitation I need only recall. But
   something further has to be said. Dogmas, undoubtedly, admit of a process of
   refinement, which would bring them closer to our understanding and our
   feeling. But my powers are not equal to this lofty task, and even if I
   possessed the uncommon qualities of the psychologist and the religious
   philosopher, I should have hesitated about employing them in this book; for
   I did not wish to endanger the reliability of what I had to present by
   reflections, which must always remain more or less subjective. Thus I have
   limited myself to a few hints; these will only be found where the nature of
   the material itself induced me to seek for the far remote thought underlying
   the expression.

   I have throughout striven in this volume, to give such an account as would
   demand to be read connectedly; for a work on the history of dogma, which is
   used only for reference, has missed its highest aim. I have believed that I
   could not dispense with the addition of numerous notes, but the text of the
   book is so written that the reader, if he prefers it, may disregard them.

   Marburg, 14 June, 1887.

PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.

   I HAVE subjected this volume to a thorough revision, and have sought to
   improve and strengthen it in not a few places. May this new edition also
   promote the study of a historical period whose products are still held by
   many among us to be incapable of reform.

   ADOLF HARNACK.

   Berlin, 28 May, 1894.

CONTENTS.

   FIRST PART: SECOND BOOK CONTINUED. [2]

   CHAPTER I.—The decisive success of theological speculation in the sphere of
   the Rule of Faith, or, the defining of the norm of the Doctrine of the
   Church due to the adoption of the Logos Christology
   1-118
     1. Introduction 1
     Significance of the Logos Doctrine 2
   Consequences 3
   Historical retrospect 5
   Opposition to the Logos Doctrine 7
   The Monarchians, within Catholicism 8
   Precatholic only among the Alogi 12
   Division of subject, defective information 13
     2. Secession of Dynamistic Monarchianism, or Adoptianism 14 14
   a. The so-called Alogi in Asia Minor 14
   b.

   The Roman Monarchians: Theodotus the leatherworker and his party;
   Asclepiodotus, Hermophilus, Apollonides. Theodotus the money-changer, also
   the Artemonites
   20
   c. Traces of Adoptian Christology in the West after Artemas 32
   d.

   Ejection of Adoptian Christology in the East.—Beryll of Bostra, Paul of
   Samosata etc.
   34


   Acta Archelai, Aphraates
   50
     3. Expulsion of Modalistic Monarchianism 51
   a.

   Modalistic Monarchians in Asia Minor and in the West: Noetus, Epigonus,
   Cleomenes, Æschines, Praxeas, Victorinus, Zephyrinus, Sabellius, Callistus
   51
   b. The last stages of Modalism in the West, and the state of Theology 73



   Commodian, Amobius, Lactantius
   77

   Theology of the West about A.D. 300
   78
   c.

   Modalistic Monarchians in the East: Sabellianism and the History of
   Philosophical Christology and Theology after Origen
   81
   Various forms of Sabellianism 82
   Doctrine of Sabellius 83
   The fight of the two Dionysii 88
   The Alexandrian training school 95
   Pierius 96
   Theognostus 96
   Hieracas 98
   Peter of Alexandria 99
   Gregory Thaumaturgus 101

   Theology of the future: combination of theology of Irenæus with that of
   Origen: Methodius
   104
   Union of speculation with Realism and Traditionalism 105
   Dogmatic culminating in Monachism 110
   Close of the development: Identification of Faith and Theology 113
   SECOND PART. THE DEVELOPMENT OF ECCLESIASTICAL DOGMA.


   FIRST BOOK. The History of the Development of Dogma as the Doctrine of the
   God-man on the basis of Natural Theology.
     CHAPTER I.—Historical Situation 121-162
     Internal position of the Church at the beginning of the fourth Century 121

   Relative unity of the Church as World-Church, apostolicity and
   secularisation
   123
   Asceticism culminating in monachism as bond of unity 127
   State of Theology 131
   Theology influenced by Origen departs from strict monotheism 135

         Conservative Theology in the East 137

   Critical state of the Logos doctrine, and the epochmaking importance of
   Athanasius
   138

   The two lines in which Dogma developed historically after Nicene Council
   144
   Periods of History of Dogma, chiefly in the East 148
   First period up to A.D. 381 150
   Second period up to A.D. 451 152
   Third period up to A.D. 553 154
   Fourth period up to A.D. 680 156
   Last period and close of process of History of Dogma 157


   CHAPTER II.—Fundamental Conception of Salvation and General Outline of
   System of Doctrine
   163-190
   § 1.

   Conception of Redemption as deification of humanity consequent upon
   Incarnation of Deity
   163

   Reasons for delay, and for acceptance in imperfect form, of dogmatic
   formulas corresponding to conception of Redemption
   167
   § 2.

   Moral and Rational element in System of Doctrine. Distinction between Dogmas
   and Dogmatic presuppositions or conceptions
   172
   Sketch of System of Doctrine and History of Dogma 177
   Supplement 1. Criticism of principle of Greek System of doctrine 178
            ”          2. Faith in Incarnation of God, and Philosophy 179
            ”          3. Greek Piety corresponding to Dogma 179

            ”          4. Sources from which Greek Dogma is to be derived;
   Difficulty of selecting and using them; Untruthfulness and forgeries
   181
            ”          5. Form to which expression of faith was subject 185

            ”          6. Details of Eschatology: agreement of Realism and
   Spiritualism; Obscuration of idea of Judgment
   186


   CHAPTER III.—Sources of knowledge: or Scripture, Tradition and the Church
   191-239
     Introduction 191
   1 Holy Scripture. Old Testament in the East 192
   Old Testament in the West 194

   New Testament in the East; its close; and hesitations New Testament in the
   West
   195
   Dogma of Inspiration and pneumatic exegesis 199
   Uncertainties of exegesis (Spiritualism and literalism) 199

         Exegesis of Antiochenes 201
   Exegesis in the West, Augustine 202
   Uncertainties as to attributes and sufficiency of Scripture 205
   The two Testaments 206
   2. 2. Tradition. Scripture and Tradition 207

   The creed or contents of Symbol is tradition; Development of symbol,
   Distinction between East and West
   208

   Cultus, Constitution, and Disciplinary regulations covered by notion of
   Apostolic Tradition, the parádosis agraphos
   211
   Authority and representation of the Church 214
   Councils 215
   Common Sense of Church 219
   "Antiquity"; Category of the "Fathers" 219
   Apostolic Communities, Patriarchate 221
   Rome and the Roman Bishop: prestige in East 224
   View of innovations in the Church 228
   Summing up on general notion of Tradition 230
   Vincentius of Lerinum on Tradition 230
   3. The Church. Notion and definition of the Church 233
   Unimportance of the Church in Dogmatics proper 235

   Reasons for considering the Church: predominance of interest in the Cultus
   236
   Divisions of the One Church 237
   A.—Presuppositions of Doctrine of Redemption or Natural Theology.


   CHAPTER IV.—Presuppositions and Conceptions of God the Creator as Dispenser
   of Salvation
   241-254
     Proofs of God, method in doctrine of God 241
   Doctrine of nature and attributes of God 244
   Cosmology 247
   The upper world 248
   Doctrine of Providence. Theodicies 249
   Doctrine of Spirits; Influence of Neoplatonism 251
   Significance of doctrine of angels in practice and cultus 251
   Criticism 254

   CHAPTER V.—Presuppositions and conceptions of man as recipient of Salvation
   255-287
     The common element 255
   Anthropology 256
   Origin of Souls 259
   Image of God 260

         Primitive State 261
   Primitive State and Felicity 261
   Doctrine of Sin, the Fall and Death 263
   Influence of Natural Theology on Doctrine of Redemption 265
   Blessing of Salvation something natural 266
   Felicity as reward 266
   Revelation as law; rationalism 267
   Influence of rationalism on Dogma 269
   Neutralising of the historical; affinity of rationalism and mysticism 270
   More precise account of views of Athanasius 272
   Of Gregory of Nyssa 276
   Of Theodore 279
   Of John of Damascus 283
   Conclusion 287

   B.—The doctrine of Redemption in the Person of the God-man, in its
   historical development.


   CHAPTER VI.—Doctrine of the necessity and reality of Redemption through the
   Incarnation of the Son of God
   288-304
     The decisive importance of the Incarnation of God 288
   Theory of Athanasius 290
   Doctrines of Gregory of Nyssa 296
   Pantheistic perversions of thought of Incarnation 299
   Other teachers up to John of Damascus 301
   Was Incarnation necessary apart from sin? 303
   Idea of predestination 303

   Appendix. The ideas of redemption from the Devil, and atonement through the
   work of the God-man
   305-315
   Mortal sufferings of Christ 305
   Christ's death and the removal of sin 306
   Ransom paid to the Devil 307
   Christ's death as sacrifice—vicarious suffering of punishment 308
   Western views of Christ's work. Juristic categories, satisfactio 310
   Christ as man the atoner 313
   Appendix on Manichæism 316
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   [1] Vide pp. 167 ff. of this volume.

   [2] Vide Editor’s Preface to this volume.
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                      FIRST PART: SECOND BOOK CONTINUED.
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CHAPTER I.

  THE DECISIVE SUCCESS OF THEOLOGICAL SPECULATION IN THE SPHERE OF THE RULE OF
  FAITH, OR, THE DEFINING OF THE NORM OF THE DOCTRINE OF THE CHURCH DUE TO THE
  ADOPTION OF THE LOGOS CHRISTOLOGY. [3]
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   1. Introduction.

   FROM the great work of Irenæus and the anti-gnostic writings of Tertullian,
   it would seem as if the doctrine of the Logos, or, the doctrine of the
   pre-existence of Christ as a distinct person, was at the end of the second
   century an undisputed tenet of Church orthodoxy, and formed a universally
   recognised portion of the baptismal confession interpreted anti-gnostically,
   i.e., of the rule of faith. [4] But certain as it is that the Logos
   Christology was in the second century not merely the property of a few
   Christian philosophers, [5] it is, on the other hand, as clear that it did
   not belong to the solid structure of the Catholic faith. It was not on the
   same footing as, e.g., the doctrines of God the Creator, the real body of
   Christ, the resurrection of the body, etc. The great conflicts which, after
   c. A.D. 170, were waged for more than a century within the Catholic Church
   rather show, that the doctrine only gradually found its way into the creed
   of the Church. [6] But a higher than merely Christological interest attaches
   to the gradual incorporation of the Logos doctrine in the rule of faith. The
   formula of the Logos, as it was almost universally understood, legitimised
   speculation, i.e., Neo-platonic philosophy, within the creed of the Church.
   [7] When Christ was designated the incarnate Logos of God, and when this was
   set up as His supreme characterisation, men were directed to think of the
   divine in Christ as the reason of God realised in the structure of the world
   and the history of mankind. This implied a definite philosophical view of
   God, of creation, and of the world, and the baptismal confession became a
   compendium of scientific dogmatics, i.e., of a system of doctrine entwined
   with the Metaphysics of Plato and the Stoics. But at the same time an urgent
   impulse necessarily made itself felt to define the contents and value of the
   Redeemer's life and work, not, primarily, from the point of view of the
   proclamation of the Gospel, and the hopes of a future state, but from that
   of the cosmic significance attaching to his divine nature concealed in the
   flesh. Insomuch, however, as such a view could only really reach and be
   intelligible to those who had been trained in philosophical speculations,
   the establishing of the Logos Christology within the rule of faith was
   equivalent for the great mass of Christians to the setting up of a mystery,
   which in the first place could only make an impression through its
   high-pitched formulas and the glamour of the incomprehensible. But as soon
   as a religion expresses the loftiest contents of its creed in formulas which
   must remain mysterious and unintelligible to the great mass of its
   adherents, those adherents come under guardians. In other words, the
   multitude must believe in the creed; at the same time they no longer derive
   from it directly the motives of their religious and moral life; and they are
   dependent on the theologians, who, as professors of the mysterious, alone
   understand and are capable of interpreting and practically applying the
   creed. The necessary consequence of this development was that the mysterious
   creed, being no longer in a position practically to control life, was
   superseded by the authority of the Church, the cultus, and prescribed
   duties, in determining the religious life of the laity; while the
   theologians, or the priests, appeared alone as the possessors of an
   independent faith and knowledge. But as soon as the laity were actuated by a
   desire for religious independence, which produced a reaction, and yet was
   not powerful enough to correct the conditions out of which this state of
   matters arose, there made its appearance only an expedient of a conservative
   sort, viz., the order of the monks. As this order did not tamper with the
   prevailing system of the Church, the Church could tolerate it, and could
   even use it as a valve, by which to provide an outlet for all religious
   subjectivity, and for the energies of a piety that renounced the world. The
   history of the Church shows us, or, at any rate, lets us divine, this
   situation at the transition from the 3rd to the 4th century. On the one
   hand, we see—at least in the East—that the Christian faith had become a
   theology, which was regarded, to all intents without question, as the
   revealed faith, and only capable of being represented and expounded by
   "teachers". On the other hand, we find a lay Christendom tied to the priest,
   the cultus, the sacraments, and a ceremonial penitence, and revering the
   creed as a mystery. Between these arose with elemental force the order of
   the monks, which—apart from a few phenomena—did not attack the
   ecclesiastical system, and which could not be suppressed by priests and
   theologians, because it strove to realise on earth the object to which they
   themselves had subordinated the whole of theology, because it, as it were,
   sought to soar on wings to the same height, to which the steps of the long
   ladders constructed by theology were meant to conduct. [8]

   Now the incorporation in the creed of philosophic (Platonic) speculation,
   i.e., the Hellenising of the traditional doctrines, was not the only
   condition, but it was certainly one of the most important of the conditions,
   that led to the rise of this threefold Christendom of clergy, laity, and
   monks, in the Church. That the Catholic Church was capable of accommodating
   these three orders in its midst is a proof of its power. That the
   combination forms up to the present day the signature of Catholic Churches
   is evidence, moreover, of the practical value attached by the Church to this
   unified differentiation. It, in fact, could not but best correspond to the
   different wants of men united to form a universal Church. So far as it was a
   consequence of the general conditions under which the Church existed in the
   third century, we must here leave its origin untouched, [9] but so far as it
   was due to the reception of philosophical speculation into the Church, its
   prior history must be presented. Yet it may not be superfluous to begin by
   noticing expressly, that the confidence with which first the Apologists
   identified the Logos of the philosophers and the Christ of faith, and the
   zeal with which the anti-gnostic Fathers then incorporated the Logos-Christ
   in the creed of believers, are also to be explained from a Christian
   interest. In their scientific conception of the world the Logos had a fixed
   place, and was held to be the "alter ego" of God, though at the same time he
   was also regarded as the representative of the Reason that operated in the
   Cosmos. Their conception of Christ as the appearance of the Logos in a
   personal form only proves that they sought to make the highest possible
   assertion concerning him, to justify worship being rendered him, and to
   demonstrate the absolute and unique nature of the contents of the Christian
   religion. The Christian religion was only in a position to gain the
   cultured, to conquer Gnosticism, and to thrust aside Polytheism in the Roman
   empire, because it had concluded an alliance with that intellectual
   potentate which already swayed the minds and hearts of the best men, the
   philosophic-religious ethics of the age. This alliance found expression in
   the formula: Christ is word and law (Christòs lógos kaì nómos). The
   philosophic Christology arose, so to speak, at the circumference of the
   Church, and thence moved gradually to the centre of the Christian faith. The
   same is true of theology generally; its most concise description is
   philosophic Christology. A complete fusion of the old faith and theology,
   one that tranquillised the minds of the devout, was not consummated till the
   fourth, strictly speaking, indeed, till the fifth century (Cyril of
   Alexandria). Valentinus, Origen, the Cappadocians mark the stages of the
   process. Valentinus was very speedily ejected as a heretic. Origen, in spite
   of the immense influence which he exerted, was in the end unable to retain
   his footing in the Church. The Cappadocians almost perfected the complete
   fusion of the traditional faith of the Church conceived as mystery and
   philosophy, by removing Origen's distinction between those who knew and
   those who believed (Gnostics and Pistics); meanwhile they retained much that
   was comparatively free and looked on with suspicion by the traditionalists.
   Cyril's theology first marked the complete agreement between faith and
   philosophy, authority and speculation, an agreement which finally, in the
   sixth century, suppressed every independent theology. But from the end of
   the second century up to the closing years of the third, the fundamental
   principle of philosophic theology had naturalised itself, in the very faith
   of the Church. This process in which, on the one hand, certain results of
   speculative theology became legitimised within the Church as revelations and
   mysteries, and on the other—as a sort of antidote—the freedom of theology
   was limited, is to be described in what follows.

   It has been shown above (Vol. I., p. 190 ff.) that about the middle of the
   second century there existed side by side in the Churches chiefly two
   conceptions of the person of Christ. In the Adoptian view Jesus was regarded
   as the man in whom divinity or the spirit of God dwelt, and who was finally
   exalted to godlike honour. In the Pneumatic conception, Jesus was looked
   upon as a heavenly spirit who assumed an earthly body. The latter was
   adopted in their speculations by the Apologists. The fixing of the apostolic
   tradition, which took place in opposition to the Gnostics, as also to the
   so-called Montanists, in the course of the second half of the second
   century, did not yet decide in favour of either view. [10] The Holy
   Scriptures could be appealed to in support of both. But those had decidedly
   the best of it, in the circumstances of the time, who recognised the
   incarnation of a special divine nature in Christ; and as certainly were the
   others in the right, in view of the Synoptic gospels, who saw in Jesus the
   man chosen to be his Son by God, and possessed of the Spirit. The former
   conception corresponded to the interpretation of the O. T. theophanies which
   had been accepted by the Alexandrians, and had proved so convincing in
   apologetic arguments; [11]  it could be supported by the testimony of a
   series of Apostolic writings, whose authority was absolute; [12] it
   protected the O. T. against Gnostic criticism. It, further, reduced the
   highest conception of the value of Christianity to a brief and convincing
   formula: "God became man in order that men might become gods;" and,
   finally,—which was not least—it could be brought, with little trouble, into
   line with the cosmological and theological tenets which had been borrowed
   from the religious philosophy of the age to serve as a foundation for a
   rational Christian theology. The adoption of the belief in the divine Logos
   to explain the genesis and history of the world at once decided the means by
   which also the divine dignity and sonship of the Redeemer were alone to be
   defined. [13] In this procedure the theologians themselves had no danger to
   fear to their monotheism, even if they made the Logos more than a product of
   the creative will of God. Neither Justin, Tatian, nor any of the Apologists
   or Fathers show the slightest anxiety on this point. For the infinite
   substance, resting behind the world,—and as such the deity was
   conceived—could display and unfold itself in different subjects. It could
   impart its own inexhaustible being to a variety of bearers, without thereby
   being emptied, or its unity being dissolved (monarchia kat' oikonomian, as
   the technical expression has it). [14] But, lastly, the theologians had no
   reason to fear for the “deity” of the Christ in whom the incarnation of that
   Logos was to be viewed. For the conception of the Logos was capable of the
   most manifold contents, and its dexterous treatment could be already
   supported by the most instructive precedents. This conception could be
   adapted to every change and accentuation of the religious interest, every
   deepening of speculation, as as to all the needs of the Cultus, nay, even to
   new results of Biblical exegesis. It revealed itself gradually to be a
   variable quantity of the most accommodating kind, capable of being at once
   determined by any new factor received into the theological ferment. It even
   admitted contents which stood in the most abrupt contradiction to the
   processes of thought out of which the conception itself had sprung, i.e.,
   contents which almost completely concealed the cosmological genesis of the
   conception. But it was long before this point was reached. And as long as it
   was not, as long as the Logos was still employed as the formula under which
   was comprehended either the original idea of the world, or the rational law
   of the world, many did not entirely cease to mistrust the fitness of the
   conception to establish the divinity of Christ. For those, finally, could
   not but seek to perceive the full deity in the Redeemer, who reckoned on a
   deification of man. Athanasius first made this possible to them by his
   explanation of the Logos, but he at the same time began to empty the
   conception of its original cosmological contents. And the history of
   Christology from Athanasius to Augustine is the history of the displacing of
   the Logos conception by the other, destitute of all cosmical contents, of
   the Son,—the history of the substitution of the immanent and absolute
   trinity for the economic and relative. The complete divinity of the Son was
   thereby secured, but in the form of a complicated and artificial
   speculation, which neither could be maintained without reservation before
   the tribunal of the science of the day, nor could claim the support of an
   ancient tradition.

   But the first formulated opposition to the Logos Christology did not spring
   from anxiety for the complete divinity of Christ, or even from solicitude
   for monotheism; it was rather called forth by interest in the evangelical,
   the Synoptic, idea of Christ. With this was combined the attack on the use
   of Platonic philosophy in Christian doctrine. The first public and literary
   opponents of the Christian Logos-speculations, therefore, did not escape the
   reproach of depreciating, if not of destroying, the dignity of the Redeemer.
   It was only in the subsequent period, in a second phase of the controversy,
   that these opponents of the Logos Christology were able to fling back the
   reproach at its defenders. With the Monarchians the first subject of
   interest was the man Jesus; then came monotheism and the divine dignity of
   Christ. From this point, however, the whole theological interpretation of
   the two first articles of the rule of faith, was again gradually involved in
   controversy. In so far as they were understood to refute a crude docetism
   and the severance of Jesus and Christ they were confirmed. But did not the
   doctrine of a heavenly æon, rendered incarnate in the Redeemer, contain
   another remnant of the old Gnostic leaven? Did not the sending forth of the
   Logos (probolē tou logou) to create the world recall the emanation of the
   æons? Was not ditheism set up, if two divine beings were to be worshipped?
   Not only were the uncultured Christian laity driven to such criticisms, —
   for what did they understand by the "economic mode of the existence of God"?
   — but also all those theologians who refused to give any place to Platonic
   philosophy in Christian dogmatics. A conflict began which lasted for more
   than a century, in certain branches of it for almost two centuries. Who
   opened it, or first assumed the aggressive, we know not. The contest engages
   our deepest interest in different respects, and can be described from
   different points of view. We cannot regard it, indeed, directly as a fight
   waged by theology against a still enthusiastic conception of religion; for
   the literary opponents of the Logos Christology were no longer enthusiasts,
   but, rather, from the very beginning their declared enemies. Nor was it
   directly a war of the theologians against the laity, for it was not laymen,
   but only theologians who had adopted the creed of the laity, who opposed
   their brethren. [15] We must describe it as the strenuous effort of Stoic
   Platonism to obtain supremacy in the theology of the Church; the victory of
   Plato over Zeno and Aristotle in Christian science; the history of the
   displacement of the historical by the pre-existent Christ, of the Christ of
   reality by the Christ of thought, in dogmatics; finally, as the victorious
   attempt to substitute the mystery of the person of Christ for the person
   Himself, and, by means of a theological formula unintelligible to them, to
   put the laity with their Christian faith under guardians — a state desired
   and indeed required by them to an increasing extent. When the Logos
   Christology obtained a complete victory, the traditional view of the Supreme
   deity as one person, and, along with this, every thought of the real and
   complete human personality of the Redeemer was in fact condemned as being
   intolerable in the Church. Its place was taken by “the nature” [of Christ],
   which without ,the person” is simply a cipher. The defeated party had right
   on its side, but had not succeeded in making its Christology agree with its
   conception of the object and result of the Christian religion. This was the
   very reason of its defeat. A religion which promised its adherents that
   their nature would be rendered divine, could only be satisfied by a redeemer
   who in his own person had deified human nature. If, after the gradual fading
   away of eschatological hopes, the above prospect was held valid, then those
   were right who worked out this view of the Redeemer.

   In accordance with an expression coined by Tertullian, we understand by
   Monarchians the representatives of strict, not economic, monotheism in the
   ancient Church. In other words, they were theologians who held firmly by the
   dignity of Jesus as Redeemer, but at the same time would not give up the
   personal, the numerical, unity of God; and who therefore opposed the
   speculations which had led to the adoption of the duality or trinity of the
   godhead. [16] In order rightly to understand their position in the history
   of the genesis of the dogmatics of the Church, it is decisive, as will have
   been already clear from the above, that they only came to the front, after
   the anti-gnostic understanding of the baptismal confession had been
   substantially assured in the Church. It results from this that they are,
   generally speaking, to be criticised as men who appeared on the soil of
   Catholicism, and that therefore, apart from the points clearly in dispute,
   we must suppose agreement between them and their opponents. It is not
   superfluous to recall this expressly. The confusion to which the failure to
   note this presupposition has led and still continually leads may be seen,
   e.g., in the relative section in Dorner’s History of the development of the
   doctrine’ of the Person of Christ, or in Krawutzcky’s study on the origin of
   the Didache. [17] The so-called Dynamistic Monarchians have had especially
   to suffer from this criticism, their teaching being comfortably disposed of
   as “Ebionitic”. However, imperative as it certainly is, in general, to
   describe the history of Monarchianism without reference to the ancient
   pre-Catholic controversies, and only to bring in the history of Montanism
   with great caution, still many facts observed in reference to the earliest
   bodies of Monarchians that come clearly before us, seem to prove that they
   bore features which must be characterised as pre-Catholic, but not
   un-Catholic. This is especially true of their attitude to certain books of
   the New Testament. Undoubtedly we have reason even here to complain of the
   scantiness and uncertainty of our historical material. The Church historians
   have attempted to bury or distort the true history of Monarchianism to as
   great an extent as they passed over and obscured that of the so-called
   Montanism. At a very early date, if not in the first stages of the
   controversy, they read Ebionitism and Gnosticism into the theses of their
   opponents; they attempted to discredit their theological works as products
   of a specific secularisation, or as travesties, of Christianity, and they
   sought to portray the Monarchians themselves as renegades who had abandoned
   the rule of faith and the Canon. By this kind of polemics they have made it
   difficult for after ages to decide, among other things, whether certain
   peculiarities of Monarchian bodies in dealing with the Canon of the N. T.
   writings spring from a period when there was as yet no N. T. Canon in the
   strict Catholic sense, or whether these characteristics are to be regarded
   as deviations from an already settled authority, and therefore innovations.
   Meanwhile, looking to the Catholicity of the whole character of Monarchian
   movements, and, further, to the fact that no opposition is recorded as
   having been made by them to the N. T. Canon after its essential contents and
   authority appear to have been established; considering, finally, that the
   Montanists, and even the Marcionites and Gnostics, were very early charged
   with attempts on the Catholic Canon, we need no longer doubt that the
   Monarchian deviations point exclusively to a time when no such Canon
   existed; and that other “heresies”, to be met with in the older groups, are
   to be criticised on the understanding that the Church was becoming, but not
   yet become, Catholic. [18]

   The history of Monarchianism is no clearer than its rise in the form of
   particular theological tendencies. Here also we have before us, at the
   present day, only scanty fragments. We cannot always trace completely even
   the settled distinction between Dynamistic — better, Adoptian — and
   Modalistic Monarchianism; [19] between the theory that made the power or
   Spirit of God dwell in the man Jesus, and the view that sees in Him the
   incarnation of the deity Himself. [20]

   Certainly the common element, so far as there was one, of the Monarchian
   movements, lay in the form of the conception of God, the distinguishing
   feature, in the idea of revelation. But all the phenomena under this head
   cannot be classified with certainty, apart from the fact that the most
   numerous and important “systems” exist in a very shaky tradition. A really
   reliable division of the Monarchianism that in all its forms rejected the
   idea of a physical fatherhood of God, and only saw the Son of God in the
   historical Jesus, is impossible on the strength of the authorities up till
   now known to us. Apart from a fragment or two we only possess accounts by
   opponents. The chronology, again, causes a special difficulty. Much labour
   has been spent upon it since the discovery of the Philosophumena; but most
   of the details have remained very uncertain. The dates of the Alogi,
   Artemas, Praxeas, Sabellius, the Antiochian Synods against Paul of Samosata,
   etc., have not yet been firmly settled. The concise remarks on the subject
   in what follows rest on independent labours. Finally, we are badly informed
   even as to the geographical range of the controversies. We may, however,
   suppose, with great probability, that at one time or other a conflict took
   place in all centres of Christianity in the Empire. But a connected history
   cannot be given.
     _________________________________________________________________

   [4] See Vol. II., pp. 20-38 and Iren. I. 10, 1; Tertull. De præscr. 13; Adv.
   Prax. 2. In the rule of faith, De virg., vel. I, there is no statement as to
   the pre-existence of the Son of God.

   [5] See Vol. I., p. 192, Note (John's Gospel, Revelation, Kḗrugma Pétrou,
   Ignatius, and esp. Celsus in Orig. II. 31, etc.).

   [6] The observation that Irenæus and Tertullian treat it as a fixed portion
   of the rule of faith is very instructive; for it shows that these
   theologians were ahead of the Church of their time. Here we have a point
   given, at which we can estimate the relation of what Irenæus maintained to
   be the creed of the Church, to the doctrine which was, as a matter of fact,
   generally held at the time in the Church. We may turn this insight to
   account for the history of the Canon and the constitution, where,
   unfortunately, an estimate of the statements of Irenæus is rendered
   difficult.

   [7] By Neo-platonic philosophy we, of course, do not here mean
   Neo-platonism, but the philosophy (in method and also in part, in results),
   developed before Neoplatonism by Philo, Valentinus, Numenius, and others.

   [8] See my lecture on Monachism, 3rd ed. 1886.

   [9] Yet see Vol. II., pp. 122-127.

   [10] The points, which, as regards Christ, belonged in the second half of
   the second century to ecclesiastical orthodoxy, are given in the clauses of
   the Roman baptismal confession to which alēthōs is added, in the precise
   elaboration of the idea of creation, in the heis placed alongside Christòs
   Iēsous, and in the identification of the Catholic institution of the Church
   with the Holy Church.

   [11] The Christian doctrine of the Son of God could be most easily rendered
   acceptable to cultured heathens by means of the Logos doctrine; see the
   memorable confession of Celsus placed by him in the lips of his "Jew" (II.
   31); hōs eige ho logos estin humin huios tou Theou, kai hēmeis epainoumen;
   see also the preceeding: sophizontai hoi Christianoi en tō legein ton huion
   tou Theou einai autologon.

   [12] The conviction of the harmony of the Apostles, or, of all Apostolic
   writings, could not but result in the Christology of the Synoptics and the
   Acts being interpreted in the light of John and Paul, or more accurately, in
   that of the philosophic Christology held to be attested by John and Paul. It
   has been up to the present day the usual fate of the Synoptics, and with
   them of the sayings of Jesus, to be understood, on account of their place in
   the Canon, in accordance with the caprices of the dogmatics prevalent at the
   time, Pauline and Johannine theology having assigned to it the role of
   mediator. The "lower" had to be explained by the "higher" (see even Clemens
   Alex. with his criticism of the "pneumatic", the spiritual, Fourth Gospel,
   as compared with the first three). In older times men transformed the sense
   right off; nowadays they speak of steps which lead to the higher teaching,
   and the dress the old illusion with a new scientific mantle.

   [13] But the substitution of the Logos for the, otherwise undefined,
   spiritual being (pneuma) in Christ presented another very great advantage.
   It brought to an end, though not at once (see Clemens Alex.), the
   speculations which reckoned the heavenly personality of Christ in some way
   or other in the number of the higher angels or conceived it as one Æon among
   many. Through the definition of this "Spiritual Being" as Logos his
   transcendent and unique dignity was firmly outlined and assured. For the
   Logos was universally accepted as the Prius logically and temporally, and
   the causa not only of the world, but also of all powers, ideas, æons, and
   angels. He, therefore, did not belong—at least in every respect—to their
   order.

   [14] Augustine first wrought to end this questionable monotheism, and
   endeavoured to treat seriously the monotheism of the living God. But his
   efforts only produced an impression in the West, and even there the attempt
   was weakened from the start by a faulty respect for the prevalent
   Christology, and was forced to entangle itself in absurd formulas. In the
   East the accommodating Substance-Monotheism of philosophy remained with its
   permission of a plurality of divine persons; and this doctrine was taught
   with such naïvety and simplicity, that the Cappadocians, e.g., proclaimed
   the Christian conception of God to be the just mean between the polytheism
   of the heathens and the monotheism of the Jews.

   [15] The Alogi opposed the Montanists and all prophecy; conversely the
   western representatives of the Logos Christology, Irenæus, Tertullian and
   Hippolytus were Chiliasts. But this feature makes no change in the fact that
   the incorporation of the Logos Christology and the fading away of
   eschatological apocalyptic hopes went hand in hand. Theologians were able to
   combine inconsistent beliefs for a time; but for the great mass of the laity
   in the East the mystery of the person of Christ took the place of the Christ
   who was to have set up his visible Kingdom of glory upon earth. See
   especially the refutation of the Chiliasts by Origen (peri arch. II. II) and
   Dionysius Alex. (Euseb. H. E. VII. 24, 25). The continued embodiment in new
   visions of those eschatological hopes and apocalyptic fancies by the monks
   and laymen of later times, proved that the latter could not make the
   received mystery of dogma fruitful for their practical religion.

   [16] This definition is, in truth, too narrow; for at least a section, if
   not all, of the so-called Dynamistic Monarchians recognised, besides God,
   the Spirit as eternal Son of God, and accordingly assumed two Hypostases.
   But they did not see in Jesus an incarnation of this Holy Spirit, and they
   were therefore monarchian in their doctrine of Christ. Besides, so far as I
   know, the name of Monarchians was not applied in the ancient Church to
   these, but only to the theologians who taught that there was in Christ an
   incarnation of God the Father Himself. It was not extended to the earlier
   Dynamistic Monarchians, because, so far as we know, the question whether God
   consisted of one or more persons did not enter into the dispute with them.
   In a wider sense, the Monarchians could be taken also to include the Arians,
   and all those theologians, who, while they recognised the personal
   independence of a divine nature in Christ, yet held this nature to have been
   one created by God; in any case, the Arians were undoubtedly connected with
   Paul of Samosata through Lucian. However, it is not advisable to extend the
   conception so widely; for, firstly, we would thus get too far away from the
   old classification, and, secondly, it is not to be overlooked that, even in
   the case of the most thoroughgoing Arians, their Christology reacted on
   their doctrine of God, and their strict Monotheism was to some extent
   modified. Hence, both on historical and logical grounds, it is best for our
   purpose to understand by Monarchians those theologians exclusively who
   perceived in Jesus either a man filled, in a unique way, with the Spirit, or
   an incarnation of God the Father; with the reservation, that the former in
   certain of their groups regarded the Holy Spirit as a divine Hypostasis, and
   were accordingly no longer really Monarchians in the strict sense of the
   term. For the rest, the expression “Monarchians” is in so far inappropriate
   as their opponents would also have certainly maintained the “monarchia” of
   God. See Tertulli., Adv. Prax. 3 f.; Epiphan. H. 62. 3: ou polutheian
   eisēgoumetha, alla monarchian kēruttomen. They would even have cast back at
   the Monarchians the reproach that they were destroying the monarchy. “Hē
   monarchia tou Theou” was in the second century a standing title in the
   polemics of the theologians against polytheists and Gnostics — see the
   passages collected from Justin, Tatian, Irenæus etc. by Coustant in his Ep.
   Dionysii adv. Sabell. (Routh, Reliq. Sacræ III., p. 385 f.). Tertullian has
   therefore by no means used the term “Monarchians” as if he were thus
   directly branding his opponents as heretical; he rather names them by their
   favourite catch-word in a spirit of irony (Adv. Prax. 10; “vanissimi
   Monarchiani”). The name was therefore not really synonymous with a form of
   heresy in the ancient Church, even if here and there it was applied to the
   opponents of the doctrine of the Trinity.

   [17] See Theol. Quartalschr. 1884, p. 547 ff. Krawutzcky holds the Didache
   to be at once Ebionitic and Theodotian.

   [18] It is very remarkable that Irenæus has given us no hint in his great
   work of a Monarchian controversy in the Church.

   [19] It was pointed out above, (Vol. I., p. 193) and will be argued more
   fully later on, that the different Christologies could pass into one
   another.

   [20] We have already noticed, Vol. I., p. 195, that we can only speak of a
   naïve Modalism in the earlier periods; Modalism first appeared as an
   exclusive doctrine at the close of the second century; see under.
     _________________________________________________________________

   2. The Secession of Dynamistic Monarchianism or Adoptianism.

   (a). The so-called Alogi in Asia Minor. [21]

   Epiphanius [22] and Philastrius (H. 60) know, from the Syntagma of
   Hippolytus, of a party to which the latter had given the nickname of
   “Alogi”. Hippolytus had recorded that its members rejected the Gospel and
   the Apocalypse of John, [23] attributing these books to Cerinthus, and had
   not recognised the Logos of God to whom the Holy Spirit had borne witness in
   the Gospel. Hippolytus, the most prolific of the opponents of the heretics,
   wrote, besides his Syntagma, a special work against these men in defence of
   the Johannine writings; [24] and he perhaps also attacked them in another
   work aimed at all Monarchians. [25] The character of the party can still be
   defined, in its main features, from the passages taken by Epiphanius from
   these writings, due regard being given to Irenæus III. 11, 9. The
   Christological problem seems not to have occupied a foremost place in the
   discussion, but rather, the elimination of all docetic leaven, and the
   attitude to prophecy. The non-descript, the Alogi, were a party of the
   radical, anti-montanist, opposition in Asia Minor, existing within the
   Church — so radical that they refused to recognise the Montanist communities
   as Christian. They wished to have all prophecy kept out of the Church; in
   this sense they were decided contemners of the Spirit (Iren. l.c.; Epiph.
   51, ch. 35). This attitude led them to an historical criticism of the two
   Johannine books, the one of which contained Christ’s announcement of the
   Paraclete, a passage which Montanus had made the most of for his own ends,
   while the other imparted prophetic revelations. They came to the conclusion,
   on internal grounds, that these books could not be genuine, that they were
   composed “in the name of John” (eis onoa Iōannou ch. 3, 18), and that by
   Cerinthus (ch. 3, 4,); the books ought not therefore to be received in the
   Church (ch. 3: ouk axia auta phasin einai en ekklēsia). The Gospel was
   charged with containing what was untrue; it contradicted the other Gospels,
   [26] and gave a quite different and, indeed, a notoriously false order of
   events; it was devoid of any sort of arrangement; it omitted important facts
   and inserted new ones which were inconsistent with the Synoptic Gospels; and
   it was docetic. [27] Against the Apocalypse it was alleged, above all, that
   its contents were often unintelligible, nay, absurd and untrue (ch. 32-34).
   They ridiculed the seven angels and seven trumpets, and the four angels by
   the Euphrates; and on Rev. II. 18, they supposed that there was no Christian
   community in Thyatira at the time, and that accordingly the Epistle was
   fictitious. Moreover, the objections to the Gospel must also have included
   the charge (ch. 18) that it favoured Docetism, seeing that it passed at once
   from the incarnation of the Logos to the work of the ministry of Christ. In
   this connection they attacked the expression “Logos” for the Son of God;
   [28] indeed, they scented Gnosticism in it, contrasted John I. with the
   beginning of Mark’s Gospel, [29] and arrived at the result, that writings
   whose contents were partly docetic, partly sensuously Jewish and unworthy of
   God, must have been composed by Cerinthus, the gnosticising Judaist. In view
   of this fact it is extremely surprising to notice how mildly the party was
   criticised and treated by Irenæus as well as by Hippolytus. The former
   distinguishes them sharply from the declared heretics. He places them on a
   line with the Schismatics, who gave up communion with the Church on account
   of the hypocrites to be found in it. He approves of their decided opposition
   to all pseudo-prophetic nonsense, and he only complains that in their zeal
   against the bad they had also fought against the good, and had sought to
   eject all prophecy. In short, he feels that between them and the Montanists,
   whom likewise he did not look on as heretics, [30] he held the middle
   position maintained by the Church. And so with Hippolytus. The latter, apart
   from features which he could not but blame, confirms the conformity to the
   Church, claimed by the party itself (ch. 3), and conspicuous in their
   insistence on the harmony of the Scriptures (sumphōnía tōn biblōn). [31] He
   nowhere sets them on a line with Cerinthus, Ebion, etc., and he has
   undoubtedly treated even their Christological views, on which Irenæus had
   communicated no information, more mildly, because he found so much in them
   of an anti-docetic, anti-montanistic nature, with which he could agree. But
   what was their teaching as to Christ? If Lipsius [32] were correct in his
   opinion that the Alogi only saw in Jesus a man naturally procreated, that
   they only pretended to hold by the current doctrine, then the attitude to
   them of Irenæus and Hippolytus would be incomprehensible. But our authority
   gives no support to such a view. It rather shows plainly that the Alogi
   recognised the first three Gospels, and consequently the miraculous birth
   from the Holy Ghost and the virgin. They placed, however, the chief emphasis
   on the human life of Jesus, on his birth, baptism, and temptation as told by
   the Synoptics, and for this very reason rejected the formula of the Logos,
   as well as the “birth from above”, i.e., the eternal generation of Christ.
   The equipment of Christ at his baptism was to them, in view of Mark, ch. I.,
   of crucial importance (see p. 16, Note 4) and thus they would assume,
   without themselves making use of the phrase “a mere man” “(psilòs
   anthrōpos), an advancement (prokopē) of the Christ, ordained at his baptism
   to be Son of God. [33]

   The earliest opponents known to us of the Logos Christology were men whose
   adherence to the position of the Church in Asia Minor was strongly marked.
   This attitude of theirs was exhibited in a decided antagonism both to the
   Gnosticism, say, of Cerinthus, and to “Kataphrygian” prophecy. In their
   hostility to the latter they anticipated the development of the Church by
   about a generation; while rejecting all prophecy and “gifts of the Spirit”
   (ch.35), they, in doing so, gave the clearest revelation of their Catholic
   character. Since they did not believe in an age of the Paraclete, nor
   entertain materialistic hopes about the future state, they could not
   reconcile themselves to the Johannine writings; and their attachment to the
   conception of Christ in the Synoptics led them to reject the Gospel of the
   Logos. An explicitly Church party could not have ventured to promulgate such
   views, if they had been confronted by a Canon already closed, and giving a
   fixed place to these Johannine books. The uncompromising criticism, both
   internal and external — as in the hypothesis of the Cerinthian authorship
   — to which these were subjected, proves that, when the party arose, no
   Catholic Canon existed as yet in Asia Minor, and that, accordingly, the
   movement was almost as ancient that of the Montanists, which it followed
   very closely. [34] On this understanding, the party had a legitimate place
   within the developing Catholic Church, and only so can we explain the
   criticism which their writings encountered in the period immediately
   succeeding. Meanwhile, the first express opposition with which we are
   acquainted to the Logos Christology was raised within the Church, by a party
   which, yet, must be conceived by us to have been in many respects
   specifically secularised. For the radical opposition to Montanism, and the
   open, and at the same time jesting, criticism on the Apocalypse, [35] can
   only be so regarded. Yet the preference of the Logos Christology to others
   is itself indeed, as Celsus teaches, a symptom of secularisation and
   innovation in the creed. The Alogi attacked it on this ground when they took
   it as promoting Gnosticism (Docetism). But they also tried to refute the
   Logos Doctrine and the Logos Gospel on historical grounds, by a reference to
   the Synoptic Gospels. The representatives of this movement were, as far as
   we know, the first to undertake within the Church a historical criticism,
   worth of the name, of the Christian Scriptures and the Church tradition.
   They first confronted John’s Gospel with the Synoptics, and found numerous
   contradictions; Epiphanius, — and probably, before him, Hippolytus, — called
   them, therefore, word-hunters (lexithērountes H. 51, ch. 34). They and their
   opponents could retort on each other the charge of introducing innovations;
   but we cannot mistake the fact that the larger proportion of innovations is
   to be looked for on the side of the Alogi. How long the latter held their
   ground; how, when, and by whom they were expelled from the Church in Asia
   Minor, we do not know.

   (b). The Roman Adoptians. — Theodotus the leather-worker and his party:
   Asclepiodotus, Hermophilus, Apollonides, Theodotus the money-changer, and
   also the Artemonites. [36]

   Towards the end of the episcopate of Eleutherus, or at the beginning of that
   of Victor (± 190) there came from Byzantium to Rome the leather-worker
   Theodotus, who afterwards was characterised as the “founder, leader, and
   father of the God-denying revolt”, i.e., of Adoptianism. Hippolytus calls
   him a “rag” (apospasma) of the Alogi, and it is in fact not improbable that
   he came from the circle of those theologians of Asia Minor. Stress is laid
   on his unusual culture; “he was supreme in Greek culture, very learned in
   science” (en paideia Hellēnikē akros, polumathēs tou logou); and he was,
   therefore, highly respected in his native city. All we know for certain of
   his history is that he was excommunicated by the Roman Bishop, Victor, on
   account of the Christology which he taught in Rome (Euseb. V. 28. 6:
   apekēruxe tēs koinōnias); his is, therefore, the first case of which we are
   certain, where a Christian who took his stand on the rule of faith was yet
   treated as a heretic. [37] As regards his teaching, the Philosophumena
   expressly testify to the orthodoxy of Theodotus in his theology and
   cosmology. [38] In reference to the Person of Christ he taught: that Jesus
   was a man, who, by a special decree of God, was born of a virgin through the
   operation of the Holy Spirit; but that we were not to see in him a heavenly
   being, who had assumed flesh in the virgin. After the piety of his life had
   been thoroughly tested, the Holy Ghost descended upon him in baptism; by
   this means he became Christ and received his equipment (dunameis) for his
   special vocation; and he demonstrated the righteousness, in virtue of which
   he excelled all men, and was, of necessity, their authority. Yet the descent
   of the Spirit upon Jesus was not sufficient to justify the contention that
   he was now “God”. Some of the followers of Theodotus represented Jesus as
   having become God through the resurrection; others disputed even this. [39]
   This Christology, Theodotus and his party sought to prove from Scripture.
   Philaster says in general terms: “they use the chapters of Scripture which
   tell of Christ as man, but they avoid those which speak of him as God,
   reading and by no means understanding” (Utuntur capitulis scripturarum quæ
   de Christo veluti de homine edocent, quæ autem ut deo dicunt ea vero non
   accipiunt, legentes et nullo modo intellegentes). Epiphanius has,
   fortunately, preserved for us fragments of the biblical theological
   investigations of Theodotus, by the help of the Syntagma. These show that
   there was no longer any dispute as to the extent of the N. T. Canon; the
   Gospel of John is recognised, and in this respect also Theodotus is
   Catholic. The investigations are interesting, however, because they are
   worked out by the same prosaic methods of exegesis, adopted in the above
   discussed works of the Alogi. [40]

   Theodotus’ form of teaching was, even in the life-time of its author, held
   in Rome to be intolerable, and that by men disposed to Modalism — e.g., the
   Bishop himself, see under — as well as by the representatives of the Logos
   Christology. It is certain that he was excommunicated by Victor, accordingly
   before A.D. 199, on the charge of teaching that Christ was “mere man”
   (psilos anthrōpos). We do not know how large his following was in the city.
   We cannot put it at a high figure, since in that case the Bishop would not
   have ventured on excommunication. It must, however, have been large enough
   to allow of the experiment of forming an independent Church. This was
   attempted in the time of the Roman Bishop Zephyrine (199-218) by the most
   important of the disciples of Theodotus, viz., Theodotus the money changer,
   and a certain Asclepiodotus. It is extremely probable that both of these men
   were also Greeks. A native, Natalius the confessor, was induced, so we are
   told by the Little Labyrinth, to become Bishop of the party, at a salary of
   150 denarii a month. The attempt failed. The oppressed Bishop soon deserted
   and returned into the bosom of the great Church. It was told that he had
   been persuaded by visions and finally by blows with which “holy angels”
   pursued him during the night. The above undertaking is interesting in
   itself, since it proves how great had already become the gulf between the
   Church and these Monarchians in Rome, about A.D. 210; but still more
   instructive is the sketch given of the leaders of the party by the Little
   Labyrinth, a sketch that agrees excellently with the accounts given of the
   ‘lexithērountes’ in Asia, and of the exegetic labours of the older
   Theodotus. [41] The offence charged against the Theodotians was threefold:
   the grammatical and formal exegesis of Holy Scripture, the trenchant textual
   criticism, and the thorough-going study of Logic, Mathematics, and the
   empirical sciences. It would seem at a first glance as if these men were no
   longer as a rule interested in theology. But the opposite was the case.
   Their opponent had himself to testify that they pursued grammatical exegesis
   “in order to prove their godless tenets,” textual criticism in order to
   correct the manuscripts of the Holy Scriptures, and philosophy “in order by
   the science of unbelievers to support their heretical conception.” He had
   also to bear witness to the fact that these scholars had not tampered with
   the inspiration of the Holy Scriptures, or the extent of the Canon (V. 28.
   18). [42] Their whole work, therefore, was in the service of their theology.
   But the method of this work, — and we can infer it to have been also that of
   the Alogi and the older Theodotus — conflicted with the dominant theological
   method. Instead of Plato and Zeno, the Adoptians revered the Empiricists;
   instead of the allegorical interpretation of Scripture, the grammatical was
   alone held to be valid; instead of simply accepting or capriciously trimming
   the traditional text, an attempt was made to discover the original. [43] How
   unique and valuable is this information! How instructive it is to observe
   that this method struck the disciple of the Apologists and Irenæus as
   strange, nay, even as heretical, that while he would have seen nothing to
   object to in the study of Plato, he was seized with horror at the idea of
   Aristotle, Euclid, and Galen, being put in the place of Plato! The
   difference was, indeed, not merely one of method. In the condition of the
   theology of the Church at that time, it could not be supposed that religious
   conviction was especially strong or ardent in men who depreciated the
   religious philosophy of the Greeks. For whence, if not from this source, or
   from Apocalyptics, did men then derive a distinctively pious enthusiasm?
   [44] It is also little to be wondered at that the attempt made by these
   scholars to found a Church in Rome, was so quickly wrecked. They were fated
   to remain officers without an army; for with grammar, textual criticism, and
   logic one could only throw discredit, in the communities, on the form of
   Christological doctrine which held the highest place and had been rendered
   venerable by long tradition. These scholars, therefore, although they
   regarded themselves as Catholic, stood outside the Church. [45] Of the works
   of these, the earliest exegetical scholars, nothing has come down to us.
   [46] They have gone without leaving any appreciable effect on the Church.
   Contrast the significance gained by the schools of Alexandria and Antioch!
   The latter, which rose about 60 years later, took up again the work of this
   Roman school. It, too, came to stand outside the great Church; but it
   brought about one of the most important crises in the dogmatics of the
   Church, because in its philosophico-theological starting-point it was at one
   with orthodoxy.

   The methodical and exegetical examination of the Holy Scriptures confirmed
   the Theodotians in their conception of Christ as the man in whom in an
   especial manner the Spirit of God had operated, and had made them opponents
   of the Logos Christology. The author of the Little Labyrinth does not state
   wherein the doctrine of the younger Theodotus differed from that of the
   older. When he says that some of the Theodotians rejected the law and the
   prophets prophásei cháritos, we may well suppose that they simply
   emphasised — in a Pauline sense, or because of considerations drawn from a
   historical study of religion — the relativity of the authority of the O. T.;
   [47] for there is as little known of any rejection of the Catholic Canon on
   the part of the Theodotians, as of a departure from the rule of faith. Now
   Hippolytus has extracted from the exegetical works of the younger Theodotus
   one passage, the discussion of Hebr. V. 6, 10; VI. 20 f.; VII. 3, 17; and
   out of this he has made an important heresy. Later historians eagerly seized
   on this; they ascribed to the younger Theodotus, as distinguished from the
   older, a cultus of Melchizedek and invented a sect of Melchizedekians (=
   Theodotians). The moneychanger taught, it was said (Epiph. H. 55), that
   Melchizedek was a very great power, and more exalted than Christ, the latter
   being merely related to the former as the copy to the original. Melchizedek
   was the advocate of the heavenly powers before God, and the High Priest
   among men, [48] while Jesus as priest stood a degree lower. The origin of
   the former was completely concealed, because it was heavenly, but Jesus was
   born of Mary. To this Epiphanius adds that the party presented its oblations
   in the name of M. (eis onoma tou Melchisedék); for he was the guide to God,
   the prince of righteousness, the true Son of God. It is apparent that the
   Theodotians cannot have taught this simply as it stands. The explanation is
   not far to seek. There was a wide-spread opinion in the whole ancient
   Church, that Melchizedek was a manifestation of the true Son of God; and to
   this view many speculations attached themselves, here and there in
   connection with a subordinationist Christology. [49] The Theodotians shared
   this conception. Immediately after the sentence given above Epiphanius has
   (55, c. 8): And Christ, they say, was chosen that he might call us from many
   ways to this one knowledge, having been anointed by God, and chosen, when he
   turned us from idols and showed us the way. And the Apostle having been sent
   by him revealed to us that Melchizedek is great and remains a priest for
   ever, and behold how great he is; and because the less is blessed by the
   greater, therefore he says that he as being greater blessed Abraham the
   patriarch; of whom we are initiated that we may obtain from him the
   blessing. [50]

   Now the Christological conception, formulated in the first half of this
   paragraph, was certainly not reported from an opponent. It is precisely that
   of the Shepherd, [51] and accordingly very ancient in the Roman Church. [52]
   From this, and by a reference to the controversial writing of Hippolytus
   (Epiph. l.c. ch. 9), the “heretical” cultus of Melchizedek is explained.
   These Theodotians maintained, as is also shown by their exegesis on 1 Cor.
   VIII. 6, [53] three points: First, that besides the Father the only divine
   being was the Holy Spirit, who was identical with the Son — again simply the
   position of Hermas; secondly, that this Holy Spirit appeared to Abraham in
   the form of the King of Righteousness — and this, as has been shown above,
   was no novel contention; thirdly, that Jesus was a man anointed with the
   power of the Holy Ghost. But, in that case, it was only logical, and in
   itself not uncatholic, to teach that offerings and worship were due, as to
   the true, eternal Son of God, to this King of Righteousness who had appeared
   to Abraham, and had blessed him and his real descendants, i.e., the
   Christians. And if, in comparison with this Son of God; the chosen and
   anointed servant of God, Jesus, appears inferior at first, precisely in so
   far as he is man, yet their position was no more unfavourable in this
   respect than that of Hermas. For Hermas also taught that Jesus, being only
   the adopted Son of God, was really not to be compared to the Holy Spirit,
   the Eternal Son; or, rather, he is related to the latter, to use a
   Theodotian expression, as the copy to the original. Yet there is undoubtedly
   a great distinction between the Theodotians and Hermas. They unmistakably
   used their speculations as to the eternal Son of God in order to rise to
   that Son from the man Jesus of history, and to transcend the historical in
   general as something subordinate. [54] There is not a word of this to be
   found in Hermas. Thus, the Theodotians sought, in a similar way to Origen,
   to rid themselves by speculation of what was merely historical, setting,
   like him, the eternal Son of God above the Crucified One. We have evidence
   of the correctness of this opinion in the observation that these
   speculations on Melchizedek were continued precisely in the school of
   Origen. We find them, and that with the same tendency to depreciate the
   historical Son of God, in Hieracas and the confederacy of Hieracite monks;
   [55] as also in the monks who held the views of Origen in Egypt in the
   fourth and fifth centuries.

   We have accordingly found that these theologians retained the ancient Roman
   Christology represented by Hermas; but that they edited it theologically and
   consequently changed its intention. If, at that time, the “Pastor” was still
   read in the Roman Church, while the Theodotian Christology was condemned,
   then its Christology must have been differently interpreted. In view of the
   peculiar character of the book, this would not be difficult. We may ask,
   however, whether the teaching of the Theodotians is really to be
   characterised as Monarchian, seeing that they assigned a special, and as it
   seems, an independent role to the Holy Spirit apart from God. Meanwhile, we
   can no longer determine how these theologians reconciled the separate
   substance (hypostasis) of the Holy Ghost, with the unity of the Person of
   God. But so much is certain, that in their Christology the Spirit was
   considered by them only as a power, and that, on the other hand, their
   rejection of the Logos Christology was not due to any repugnance to the idea
   of a second divine being. This is proved by their teaching as to the Holy
   Spirit and His appearance in the Old Testament. But then the difference
   between them and their opponents does not belong to the sphere of the
   doctrine of God; they are rather substantially at one on this subject with a
   theologian like Hippolytus. If that is so, however, their opponents were
   undoubtedly superior to them, while they themselves fell short of the
   traditional estimate of Christ. In other words, if there was an eternal Son
   of God, or any one of that nature, and if He appeared under the old
   covenant, then the traditional estimate of Jesus could not be maintained,
   once he was separated from that Son. [56] The formula of the man anointed
   with the Spirit was no longer sufficient to establish the transcendent
   greatness of the revelation of God in Christ, and it is only a natural
   consequence that the O. T. theophanies should appear in a brighter light. We
   see here why the old Christological conceptions passed away so quickly,
   comparatively speaking, and gave place so soon in the Churches to the
   complete and essential elevation of Jesus to the rank of deity, whenever
   theological reflection awoke to life. It was, above all, the distinctive
   method of viewing the Old Testament and its theophanies that led to this.

   In certain respects the attempt of the Theodotians presents itself as an
   innovation. They sought to raise a once accepted, but, so to speak,
   enthusiastic form of faith to the stage of theology and to defend it as the
   only right one; they expressly refused, or, at least, declared to be matter
   of controversy, the use of the title “God” (Theos) as applied to Jesus; they
   advanced beyond Jesus to an eternal, unchangeable Being (beside God). In
   this sense, in consequence of the new interest which the representatives of
   the above doctrine took in the old formula, it is to be regarded as novel.
   For we can hardly attribute to pre-catholic Christians like Hermas, a
   special interest in the essential humanity of Jesus. They certainly believed
   that they gave full expression in their formulas to the highest possible
   estimate of the Redeemer; they had no other idea. These theologians, on the
   other hand, defended a lower conception of Christ against a higher. Thus we
   may judge them on their own ground; for they let the idea of a heavenly Son
   of God stand, and did not carry out the complete revision of the prevailing
   doctrine that would have justified them in proving their Christological
   conception to be the one really legitimate and satisfactory. They indeed
   supported it by Scriptural proof, and in this certainly surpassed their
   opponents, but the proof did not cover the gaps in their dogmatic procedure.
   Since they took their stand on the regula fidei, it is unjust and at the
   same time unhistorical to call their form of doctrine “Ebionitic”, or to
   dispose of them with the phrase that Christ was to them exclusively a mere
   man (psilos anthrōtos). But if we consider the circumstances in which they
   appeared, and the excessive expectations that were pretty generally attached
   to the possession of faith — above all, the prospect of the future
   deification of every believer — we cannot avoid the impression, that a
   doctrine could not but be held to be destructive, which did not even elevate
   Christ to divine honours, or, at most, assigned him an apotheosis, like that
   imagined by the heathens for their emperors or an Antinous. Apocalyptic
   enthusiasm passed gradually into Neo-platonic mysticism. In this transition
   these scholars took no share. They rather sought to separate a part of the
   old conceptions, and to defend that with the scientific means of their
   opponents.

   Once more, 20 to 30 years later, the attempt was made in Rome by a certain
   Artemas to rejuvenate the old Christology. We are extremely ill informed as
   to this last phase of Roman Adoptianism; for the extracts taken by Eusebius
   from the Little Labyrinth, the work written against Artemas and his party,
   apply almost exclusively to the Theodotians. We learn, however, that the
   party appealed to the historical justification of their teaching in Rome,
   maintaining that Bishop Zephyrine had first falsified the true doctrine
   which they defended. [57] The relative correctness of this contention is
   indisputable, especially if we consider that Zephyrine had not disapproved
   of the formula, certainly novel, that “the Father had suffered”. The author
   of the Little Labyrinth reminds them that Theodotus had been already
   excommunicated by Victor, and of this fact they themselves cannot have been
   ignorant. When, moreover, we observe the evident anxiety of the writer to
   impose Theodotus upon them as their spiritual father, we come to the
   conclusion that the party did not identify themselves with the Theodotians.
   What they regarded as the point of difference we do not know. It is alone
   certain that they also refused to call Christ “God”; for the writer feels it
   necessary to justify the use of the title from tradition. [58] Artemas was
   still alive in Rome at the close of the 7th decade of the 3rd century, but
   he was completely severed from the great Church, and without any real
   influence. No notice is taken of him even in the letters of Cyprian. [59]
   Since Artemas was characterised as the “father” of Paul in the controversy
   with that Bishop (Euseb. H. E. VII. 30. 16), he had afterwards attained a
   certain celebrity in the East, and had supplanted even Theodotus in the
   recollection of the Church. In the subsequent age, the phrase: “Ebion,
   Artemas, Paulus (or Photinus)” was stereotyped; this was afterwards
   supplemented with the name of Nestorius, and in that form the phrase became
   a constant feature in Byzantine dogmatics and polemics.

   (c). Traces of Adoptian Christology in the West after Artemas.

   Adoptian Christology — Dynamistic Monarchianism — apparently passed rapidly
   and almost entirely away in the West. The striking formula, settled by the
   Symbol, “Christus, homo et deus”, and, above all, the conviction that Christ
   had appeared in the O. T., brought about the destruction of the party. Yet,
   here and there — in connection, doubtless, with the reading of Hermas [60]
   — the old faith, or the old formula, that the Holy Spirit is the eternal Son
   of God and at the same time the Christ-Spirit, held its ground, and, with
   it, conceptions which bordered on Adoptianism. Thus we read in the writing
   “De montibus Sina et Sion” [61] composed in vulgar Latin and attributed
   wrongly to Cyprian, ch. IV: “The body of the Lord was called Jesus by God
   the Father; the Holy Spirit that descended from heaven was called Christ by
   God the Father, i.e., anointed of the living God, the Spirit joined to the
   body Jesus Christ” (Caro dominica a deo patre Jesu vocita est; spiritus
   sanctus, qui de cælo descendit, Christus, id est unctus dei vivi, a deo
   vocitus est, spiritus carni mixtus Jesus Christus). Compare ch. XIII.: the
   H. S., Son of God, sees Himself double, the Father sees Himself in the Son,
   the Son in the Father, each in each (Sanctus spiritus, dei filius, geminatum
   se videt, pater in filio et filius in patre utrosque se in se vident). There
   were accordingly only two hypostases, and the Redeemer is the flesh (caro),
   to which the pre-existent Holy Spirit, the eternal Son of God, the Christ,
   descended. Whether the author understood Christ as “forming a person” or as
   a power cannot be decided; probably, being no theologian, the question did
   not occur to him. [62] We do not hear that the doctrine of Photinus, who was
   himself a Greek, gained any considerable approval in the West. But we learn
   casually that even in the beginning of the 5th century a certain Marcus was
   expelled from Rome for holding the heresy of Photinus, and that he obtained
   a following in Dalmatia. Incomparably more instructive, however, is the
   account given by Augustine (Confess. VII. 19. [25]) of his own and his
   friend Alypius’ Christological belief, at a time when both stood quite near
   the Catholic Church, and had been preparing to enter it. At that time
   Augustine’s view of Christ was practically that of Photinus; and Alypius
   denied that Christ had a human soul; yet both had held their Christology to
   be Catholic, and only afterwards learned better. [63] Now let us remember
   that Augustine had enjoyed a Catholic education, and had been in constant
   intercourse with Catholics, and we see clearly that among the laity of the
   West very little was known of the Christological formulas, and very
   different doctrines of Christ were in fact current even at the close of the
   4th century. [64]

   (d). The Ejection of the Adoptian Christology in the East, — Beryll of
   Bostra, Paul of Samosata, etc.

   We can see from the writings of Origen that there were also many in the East
   who rejected the Logos Christology. Those were undoubtedly most numerous who
   identified the Father and the Son; but there were not wanting such as, while
   they made a distinction, attributed to the Soh a human nature only, [65] and
   accordingly taught like the Theodotians. Origen by no means treated them, as
   a rule, as declared heretics, but as misled, or “simple”, Christian brethren
   who required friendly teaching. He himself, besides, had also inserted the
   Adoptian Christology into his complicated doctrine of Christ; for he had
   attached the greatest value to the tenet that Jesus should be held a real
   man who had been chosen by God, who in virtue of his free will, had
   steadfastly attested his excellence, and who, at last, had become perfectly
   fused with the Logos in disposition, will, and finally also in nature (see
   Vol. II., p. 369 f.). Origen laid such decided emphasis on this that his
   opponents afterwards classed him with Paul of Samosata and Artemas, [66] and
   Pamphilus required to point out “that Origen said that the Son of God was
   born of the very substance of God, i.e., was homoousios, which means, of the
   same substance with the Father, but that he was not a creature who became a
   son by adoption, but a true son by nature, generated by the Father
   Himself” (quod Origines filium dei de ipsa dei substantia natum dixerit, id
   est, homoousion, quod est, eiusdem cum patre substantiæ, et non esse
   creaturam per adoptionem sed natura filium verum, ex ipso patre generatum).
   [67] >So Origen in fact taught, and he was very far from seeing more in
   the Adoptian doctrine than a fragment of the complete Christology. He
   attempted to convince the Adoptians of their error, more correctly, of their
   questionable one-sidedness, [68] but he had seldom any other occasion to
   contend with them.

   Perhaps we should here include the action against Beryll of Bostra. This
   Arabian Bishop taught Monarchianism. His doctrine aroused a violent
   opposition. The Bishops of the province were deeply agitated and instituted
   many examinations and discussions. But they appear not to have come to any
   result. Origen was called in, and, as we are informed by Eusebius, who had
   himself examined the acts of the Synods, he succeeded in a disputation in
   amicably convincing the Bishop of his error. [69] This happened, according
   to the common view, in A.D. 244. We have to depend, for the teaching of
   Beryll, on one sentence in Eusebius, which has received very different
   interpretations. [70] Nitzsch says rightly, [71] that Eusebius missed in
   Beryll the recognition of the separate divine personality (hypostasis) in
   Christ and of his pre-existence, but not the recognition of his deity.
   However, this is not enough to class the Bishop with certainty among the
   Patripassians, since Eusebius’ own Christological view, by which that of
   Beryll was here gauged, was very vague. Even the circumstance, that at the
   Synod of Bostra (according to Socrates) Christ was expressly decreed to have
   a human soul, is not decisive; for Origen might have carried the recognition
   of this dogma, which was of the highest importance to him, whatever the
   doctrine of Beryll had been. That the Bishop rather taught Dynamistic
   Monarchianism is supported, first, by the circumstance that this form of
   doctrine had, as we can prove, long persisted in Arabia and Syria; and,
   secondly, by the observation that Origen, in the fragment of his commentary
   on the Ep. of Titus (see above), has contrasted with the Patripassian belief
   [72] a kind of teaching which seems to coincide with that of Beryll.
   Primitive Dynamistic Monarchian conceptions must, however, be imputed also
   to those Egyptian Millenarians whom Dionysius of Alexandria opposed, and
   whom he considered it necessary to instruct “in the glorious and truly
   divine appearing of our Lord” (peri tēs endoxou kai alēthōs entheou tou
   kuriou hēmōn epiphaneias [73]

   These were all, indeed, isolated and relatively unimportant phenomena; but
   they prove that even about the middle of the 3rd century the Logos
   Christology was not universally recognised in the East, and that the
   Monarchians were still treated indulgently. [74] Decisive action was first
   taken and Adoptianism was ranked in the East with Ebionitism as a heresy, in
   the case of the incumbent of the most exalted Bishopric in the East, Paul of
   Samosata, Bishop of Antioch from 260, but perhaps a little earlier. He
   opposed the already dominant doctrine of the essential natural deity of
   Christ, and set up once more the old view of the human Person of the
   Redeemer. [75] That happened at a time when, through Alexandrian theology,
   the use of the categories logos (word), ousia (being), hupostasis
   (substance), enupostatos (subsisting), prosōpon (person), perigraphē ousias
   (configuration of essence), etc., had almost already become legitimised, and
   when in the widest circles the idea had taken root that the Person of Jesus
   Christ must be accorded a background peculiar to itself, and essentially
   divine.

   We do not know the circumstances in which Paul felt himself impelled to
   attack the form of doctrine taught by Alexandrian philosophy. Yet it is
   noticeable that it was not a province of the Roman Empire, but Antioch, then
   belonging to Palmyra, which was the scene of this movement. When we observe
   that Paul held a high political office in the kingdom of Zenobia, that close
   relations are said to have existed between him and the Queen, and that his
   fall implied the triumph of the Roman party in Antioch, then we may assume
   that a political conflict lay behind the theological, and that Paul’s
   opponents belonged to the Roman party in Syria. It was not easy to get at
   the distinguished Metropolitan and experienced theologian, who was indeed
   portrayed by his enemies as an unspiritual ecclesiastical prince, vain
   preacher, ambitious man of the world, and wily Sophist. The provincial
   Synod, over which he presided, did not serve the purpose. But already, in
   the affair of Novatian, which had threatened to split up the East, the
   experiment had been tried A.D. 252 (253) of holding an Oriental
   general-council, and that with success. It was repeated. A great Synod — we
   do not know who called it — met in Antioch A.D. 264; Bishops from various
   parts of the East attended it, and, especially, Firmilian of Caesarea. The
   aged Dionysius, Bishop of Alexandria, excused his absence in a letter in
   which he did not take Paul’s side. The first Synod came to an end without
   result, because, it is alleged, the accused had cunningly concealed his
   false doctrines. [76] A second was also unsuccessful. Firmilian himself gave
   up the idea of a condemnation “because Paul promised to change his
   opinions.” It was only at a third Synod, between 266 and 269, probably 268,
   at Antioch, Firmilian having died at Tarsus on his way thither, that
   excommunication was pronounced on the Bishop, and his successor Domnus was
   appointed. The number of the members of Synod is stated differently at 70,
   80, and 180; and the argument against Paul was led by Malchion, a sophist of
   Antioch and head of a high school, as also a presbyter of the Church. He
   alone among them all was in a position to unmask that “wily and deceitful
   man.” The Acts of the discussion together with a detailed epistle, were sent
   by the Synod to Rome, Alexandria, and all Catholic Churches. Paul, protected
   by Zenobia, remained four years longer in his office; the Church in Antioch
   split up: “there took place schisms among the people, revolts among the
   priests, confusion among the pastors” (egenonto schismata laōn, akatastasiai
   hiereōn, tarachē poimenōn). [77] In the year A.D. 272 Antioch was at last
   taken by Aurelian, and the Emperor, to whom an appeal was brought,
   pronounced on the spot the famous judgment, that the Church building was to
   be handed to him with whom the Christian Bishops of Italy and of Rome
   corresponded by letter. This decision was of course founded on political
   grounds. [78]

   The teaching of Paul was characterised by the Fathers as a renewal of that
   of Artemas, but sometimes also as Neo-Jewish, Ebionitic, afterwards as
   Nestorian Monothelite, etc. It was follows. God was simply to be regarded as
   one person. Father, Son, and Spirit were the One God (hen prósōpon). In God
   a Logos (Son) or a Sophia (Spirit) can be distinguished — both can again
   according to Paul become identified — but they are qualities. [79] God puts
   forth of Himself the Logos from Eternity, nay, He begets him, so that he can
   be called Son and can have being ascribed to him, but he remains an
   impersonal power. [80] Therefore it was absolutely impossible for him to
   assume a visible form. [81] This Logos operated in the prophets, to a still
   higher degree in Moses, then in many others, and most of all (mallon kaì
   diapheróntōs) in the Son of David, born of the virgin by the Holy Ghost.
   The Redeemer was by the constitution of his nature a man, who arose in time
   by birth; he was accordingly “from beneath”, but the Logos of God inspired
   him from above. [82] The union of the Logos with the man Jesus is to be
   represented as an indwelling [83] by means of an inspiration acting from
   without, [84] so that the Logos becomes that in Jesus which in the Christian
   is called by the Apostle “the inner man”; but the union which is thus
   originated is a contact in knowledge and communion (sunapheia kata mathēsin
   kai metousian) a coming together (suneleusis); there does not arise a being
   existent in a body (ousia ousiōmenē en sōmati), i.e., the Logos dwelt in
   Jesus not “in substance but in quality” (ousiōdōs, alla kata poiotēta). [85]
   Therefore the Logos is to be steadily distinguished from Jesus; [86] he is
   greater than the latter. [87] Mary did not bear the Logos, but a man like us
   in his nature, and in his baptism it was not the Logos, but the man, who was
   anointed with the Spirit. [88] However, Jesus was, on the other hand,
   vouchsafed the divine grace in a special degree, [89] and his position was
   unique. [90] Moreover, the proof he gave of his moral perfection
   corresponded to his peculiar equipment. [91] The only unity between two
   persons, accordingly between God and Jesus, is that of the disposition and
   the will. [92] Such unity springs from love alone; but love can certainly
   produce a complete unity, and only that which is due to love  — not that
   attained by “nature” — is of worth. Jesus was like God in the
   unchangeableness of his love and his will, and became one with God, being
   not only without sin himself, but vanquishing, in conflict and labour, the
   sins of our ancestor. As he himself, however, advanced in the manifestation
   of goodness and continued in it, the Father furnished him with power and
   miracles, in which he made known his steadfast conformity to the will of
   God. So he became the Redeemer and Saviour of the human race, and at the
   same time entered into an eternally indissoluble union with God, because his
   love can never cease. Now he has obtained from God, as the reward of his
   love, the name which is above every name; God has committed to him the
   judgment, [93] and invested him with divine dignity, so that now we can call
   him “God [born] of the virgin”. [94] So also we are entitled to speak of a
   pre-existence of Christ in the prior decree [95] and prophecy [96] of God,
   and to say that he became God through divine grace and his constant
   manifestation of goodness. [97] Paul undoubtedly perceived in the imparting
   of the Spirit at the baptism a special stage of the indwelling of the Logos
   in the man Jesus; indeed Jesus seems only to have been Christ from his
   baptism: “having been anointed with the Holy Spirit he was named Christ —
   the anointed son of David is not different from wisdom” (tō hagiō pneumati
   christheis prosēgoreuthē Christos — ho ek Dabid christheis ouk allotrios
   esti tēs sophias) The Bishop supported his doctrine by copious proofs from
   Scripture, [98] and he also attacked the opposite views. He sought to prove
   that the assumption that Jesus was by nature (phúsei) Son of God, led to
   having two gods, [99] to the destruction of Monotheism; [100] he fought
   openly, with great energy, against the old expositors, i.e., the
   Alexandrians, [101] and he banished from divine service all Church psalms in
   which the essential divinity of Christ was expressed. [102]

   The teaching of Paul was certainly a development of the old doctrine of
   Hermas and Theodotus, and the Church Fathers had a right to judge it
   accordingly; but on the other hand we must not overlook the fact that Paul
   not only, as regards form, adapted himself more closely to the accepted
   terminology, but that he also gave to the ancient type of doctrine, already
   heterodox, a philosophical, an Aristotelian, basis, and treated it ethically
   and biblically. He undoubtedly learned much from Origen; but he recognised
   the worthlessness of the double personality construed by Origen, for he has
   deepened the exposition given by the latter of the personality of Christ,
   and seen that “what is attained by nature is void of merit” (ta kratoumena
   tō logō tēs phuseōs ouk echei epainon). Paul’s expositions of nature and
   will in the Persons, of the essence and power of love, of the divinity of
   Christ, only to be perceived in the work of His ministry, because
   exclusively contained in unity of will with God, are almost unparalleled in
   the whole dogmatic literature of the Oriental Churches in the first three
   centuries. For, when such passages do occur in Origen, they at once
   disappear again in metaphysics, and we do not know the arguments of the
   Alogi and the Theodotians. [103] It is, above all, the deliberate rejection
   of metaphysical speculation which distinguishes Paul; he substituted for it
   the study of history and the determination of worth on moral grounds alone,
   thus reversing Origen’s maxim: ho sōtēr ou kat' metousian, alla kat' ousian
   esti theos (the Saviour is God not by communion, but in essence). As he kept
   his dogmatic theology free from Platonism, his difference with his opponents
   began in his conception of God. The latter described the controversy very
   correctly, when they said that Paul “had betrayed the mystery of the
   Christian faith,” [104] i.e., the mystic conception of God and Christ due to
   natural philosophy; or [105] when they complained of Paul’s denial that the
   difficulty of maintaining the unity of deity, side by side with a plurality
   of persons, was got over simply by making the Father their source. What is
   that but to admit that Paul started in his idea of God, not from the
   substance, but from the person? He here represented the interests of theism
   as against the chaotic naturalism of Platonism And in appreciating the
   character of Jesus he refused to recognise its uniqueness and divinity in
   his “nature”; these he found only in his disposition and the direction of
   his will. Therefore while Christ as a person was never to him “mere man”
   (psilos anthrōpos), yet Christ’s natural endowment he would not recognise as
   exceptional. But as Christ had been predestinated by God in a unique manner,
   so in conformity to the promises the Spirit and the grace of God rested on
   him exceptionally; and thus his work in his vocation and his life, with and
   in God, had been unique. This view left room for a human life, and if Paul
   has, ultimately, used the formula, that Christ had become God, his appeal to
   Philipp. II. 9 shows in what sense he understood the words.

   His opponents, indeed, charged him with sophistically and deceitfully
   concealing his true opinion behind phrases with an orthodox sound. It is
   possible, in view of the fact, e.g., that he called the impersonal Logos
   “Son”, that there is some truth in this; but it is not probable. He was not
   understood, or rather he was misunderstood. Many theologians at the present
   day regard the theology of Hermas as positively Nicene, although it is
   hardly a whit more orthodox than that of Paul. If such a misunderstanding is
   possible to the scholars of to-day — and Hermas was certainly no dissembler,
   — why can Firmilian not have looked on Paul as orthodox for a time? He
   taught that there was an eternal Son of God, and that he dwelt in Jesus; he
   proclaimed the divinity of Christ, held there were two persons (God and
   Jesus), and with the Alexandrians rejected Sabellianism. On this very point,
   indeed, a sort of concession seems to have been made to him at the Synod. We
   know that the Synod expressly censured the term “homoousios”, [106] and this
   was done, Athanasius conjectures, to meet an objection of Paul. He is said
   to have argued as follows: — If Christ is not, as he taught, essentially
   human, then he is homoousios; with the Father. But if that be true then the
   Father is not the ultimate source of the deity, but Being (the ousia), and
   thus we have three ousiai; [107] in other words the divinity of the Father
   is itself derivative, and the Father is of identical origin with the Son,
   — “they become brothers”. This can have been an objection made by Paul. The
   Aristotelian conception of the ousia would correspond to his turn of
   thought, and so would the circumstance, that the possibility of a
   subordinate, natural, divinity on the part of the Son is left out of the
   question. The Synod again can very well have rejected homoousios in the
   interests of anti-sabellianism. [108] Yet it is just as possible that, as
   Hilarius says, the Synod condemned the term because Paul himself had
   declared God and the impersonal Logos (the Son) to be homoousios, i.e., “of
   the same substance, of one substance.” [109] However that may be, whenever
   Paul’s view was seen through, it was at once felt by the majority to be in
   the highest degree heretical. No one was yet quite clear as to what sort of
   thing this “naturally — divine” element in Christ was. Even Origen had
   taught that he possessed a divinity to which prayer might not be offered.
   [110] But to deny the divine nature (physis) to the Redeemer, was
   universally held to be an attack on the Rule of Faith. [111] They correctly
   perceived the really weak point in Paul’s Christology, his teaching, namely,
   that there were actually two Sons of God; [112] Hermas, however, had already
   preached this, and Paul was not in earnest about the “eternal Son”. Yet this
   was only a secondary matter. The crucial difference had its root in the
   question as to the divine nature (physis) of the Redeemer.

   Now here it is of the highest interest to notice how far, in the minds of
   many Bishops in Palestine and Syria, the speculative interpretation of the
   Rule of Faith had taken the place of that rule itself. If we compare the
   letter of Hymenæus of Jerusalem and his five colleagues to Paul with the
   regula fidei — not, say, that of Tertullian and Irenæus — but the Rule of
   Faith with which Origen has headed his great work: peri archōn then we are
   astonished at the advance in the times. The Bishops explain at the opening
   of their letter, [113] that they desired to expound,” in writing, the faith
   which we received from the beginning, and possess, having been transmitted
   and kept in the Catholic Church, proclaimed up to our day by the successors
   of the blessed Apostles, who were both eye-witnesses and assistants of the
   Logos, from the law and prophets and the New Testament.” (engraphon tēn
   pistin hēn ex archēs parelabomen kai echomen paradotheisan kai tēroumenēn en
   tē katholikē kai hagia ekklēsia, mechri tēs sēmeron hēmeras ek diadochēs apo
   tōn makariōn apostolōn, ohi kai autoptai kai hupēretai gegonasi tou logou,
   katangellomenēn, ek nomou kai prophētōn kai tēs kainēs diathēkēs.) But what
   they presented as “the faith” and furnished with proofs from Scripture, was
   the speculative theology, [114] In no other writing can we see the triumph
   in the sphere of religion of the theology of philosophy or of Origen, i.e.,
   of Hellenism, so clearly, as in this letter, in which philosophical
   dogmatics are put forward as the faith itself. But further. At the end of
   the third century even the baptismal confessions were expanded in the East
   by the adoption of propositions borrowed from philosophical theology; [115]
   or, to put it in another way, — baptismal confessions apparently now first
   formulated, were introduced in many Oriental communities, which also now
   contained the doctrine of the Logos. Since these statements were directed
   against Sabellianism as well as against “Ebionitism”; they will be discussed
   later on.

   With the deposition and removal of Paul the historian’s interest in his case
   is at an end. It was henceforth no longer possible to gain a hearing, in the
   great forum of Church life, for a Christology which did not include the
   personal pre-existence of the Redeemer: no one was permitted henceforth to
   content himself with the elucidation of the divinely-human life of Jesus in
   his work. It was necessary to believe in the divine nature (physis) of the
   Redeemer. [116] The smaller and remote communities were compelled to imitate
   the attitude of the larger. Yet we know from the circular letter of
   Alexander of Alexandria, A.D. 321, [117] that the doctrine of Paul did not
   by any means pass away without leaving a trace. Lucian and his famous
   academy, the alma mater of Arianism, were inspired by the genius of Paul.
   [118] Lucian — himself perhaps, a native of Samosata — had, during the
   incumbency of three Bishops of Antioch, remained, like Theodotus and his
   party in Rome, at the head of a school outside of the great Catholic Church.
   [119] In his teaching, and in that of Arius, the foundation laid by Paul is
   unmistakable. [120] But Lucian has falsified the fundamental thought of Paul
   in yielding to the assumption of a Logos, though a very subordinate and
   created Logos, and in putting this in the place of the man Jesus, while his
   disciples, the Arians, have, in the view sketched by them of the person of
   Christ, been unable to retain the features Paul ascribed to it; though they
   also have emphasised the importance of the will in Christ. We must conclude,
   however, that Arianism, as a whole, is nothing but a compromise between the
   Adoptian and the Logos Christology, which proves that after the close of the
   3rd century, no Christology was possible in the Church which failed to
   recognise the personal pre-existence of Christ.

   Photinus approximated to Paul of Samosata in the fourth century. Above all,
   however, the great theologians of Antioch occupied a position by no means
   remote from him; for the presupposition of the personal Logos Homousios in
   Christ, which they as Church theologians had to accept simply, could be
   combined much better with the thought of Paul, than the Arian assumption of
   a subordinate god, with attributes half-human, half-divine. So also the
   arguments of Theodore of Mopsuestia as to the relation of the Logos and the
   man Jesus, as to nature, will, disposition, etc., are here and there
   verbally identical with those of Paul; and his opponents, especially
   Leontius, [121] were not so far wrong in charging Theodore with teaching
   like Paul. [122] Paul was in fact condemned a second time in the great
   scholars of Antioch, and — strangely — his name was once more mentioned, and
   for the third time, in the Monothelite controversy. In this case his
   statements as to the one will (mia thelēsis sc. of God and Jesus) were
   shamefully misused, in order to show to the opposition that their doctrine
   had been already condemned in the person of the arch-heretic.

   We possess, however, another ancient source of information, of the beginning
   of the 4th century, the Acta Archelai. [123] This shows us that at the
   extreme eastern boundary of Christendom there persisted even among Catholic
   clerics, if we may use here the word Catholic, Christological conceptions
   which had remained unaffected by Alexandrian theology, and must be classed
   with Adoptianism. The author’s exposition of Christ consists, so far as we
   can judge, in the doctrine of Paul of Samosata. [124] Here we are shown
   clearly that the Logos Christology had, at the beginning of the 4th century,
   not yet passed beyond the borders of the Christendom comprehended in the
   Roman Empire.
     _________________________________________________________________

   [21] Merkel, Aufklärung der Streitigkaiten der Aloger, 1782. Heinichen, De
   Alogis, 1829; Olshausen, Echtheit der vier Kanonischen Evangelien, p. 241
   f.; Schwegler, Montanismus, p. 265 ff. etc.; Volkmar, Hippolytus, p. 112 f.;
   Döllinger, Hippolytus u. Kallistus, p. 229 ff.; Lipsius, Quellenkritik des
   Epiphanius p. 23 f., 233 f.; Harnack in d. Ztschr. L. d. histor. Theol.
   1874, p. 166 f.; Lipsius, Quellen der ältesten Ketzergeschichte, p. 93 f.,
   214 f.; Zahn in d. Ztschr. für die histor. Theol., 1875, p. 72 f.; Caspari,
   Quellen III., p. 377 f., 398 f., Soyres, Montanism, p. 49 f.; Bonwetsch,
   Montanismus vv. ll.; Iwanzov-Platonov, Häresien und Schismen der drei ersten
   Jahr. I, p. 233 f.; Zahn, Gesch. d. N. T. Kanons I., p. 220 ff.; Harnack,
   das N. T. um d. J. 200, p. 38 ff.; Jülicher, Theol. Lit. Ztg., 1889, No. 7;
   Salmon i. Hermathena, 1892, p. 161 ff.

   [22] Hær.51; after him Augustine H.30, Prædest. H.30 etc. The statement of
   the Prædest. that a Bishop named Philo refuted the Alogi is worthless.
   Whether the choice of the name was due to the Alexandrian Jew is unknown.

   [23] Nothing is reported as to the Letters. Epiphanius is perhaps right in
   representing that they were also rejected (1.c. ch. 34); but perhaps they
   were not involved in the discussion.

   [24] See the list of writings on the statue of Hippolytus: uper tou kata
   iōan[n]ēn euangeliou kai apokalupseōs; and Ebed Jesu, catal. 7 (Assemani,
   Bibl. Orient. III. 1, 15): “Apologia pro apocalypsi et evangelio Johannis
   apostoli et evangelistæ.” Besides this Hippolytus wrote: “Capita adversus
   Caium,” a Roman sympathiser with the Alogi. Of this writing a few fragments
   have been preserved (Gwynn, Hermathena VI., p. 397 f.; Harnack, Texte und
   Unters. VI. 3, p. 121 ff.; Zahn, Gesch. des N. T. Kanons, II., p. 973 ff.

   [25] It is certain that Epiphanius, besides the relative section of the
   Syntagma, also copied at least a second writing against the “Alogi”, and it
   is probable that this likewise came from Hippolytus. The date of its
   composition can still be pretty accurately determined from Epiphan. H.31,
   ch. 33. It was written about A.D. 234; for Epiphanius’ authority closes the
   period of the Apostles 93 years after the Ascension, and remarks that since
   that date 112 years had elapsed. Lipsius has obtained another result, but
   only by an emendation of the text which is unnecessary (see Quellen der
   ältesten Ketzergeschichte, p. 109 f.). Hippolytus treats his unnamed
   opponents as contemporaries; but a closer examination shows that he only
   knew them from their writings — of which there were several (see ch. 33),
   and therefore knew nothing by personal observation of the conditions under
   which they appeared. A certain criterion of the age of these writings, and
   therefore of the party itself, is given by the fact that, at the time when
   the latter flourished, the only Church at Thyatira was, from their own
   testimony, Montanist, while the above-mentioned authority was already able
   to tell of a rising catholic Church, and of other Christian communities in
   that place. A Christian of Thyatira, by name Papylus, appears in the
   Martyrium Carpi et Papyli (see Harnack, Texte u. Unters. III. 3, 4). The
   date when this movement in Asia Minor flourished can be discovered more
   definitely, however, by a combination, proved by Zahn to be justified, of
   the statements of Hippolytus and Irenæus III. 11. 9. According to this, the
   party existed in Asia Minor, A.D. 170-180.

   [26] Epiph. LI., ch 4: phaskousi hoti ou sumphōnei ta biblia tou Iōannou
   tois loipois apostolois, ch. 18: to euangelion to eis honoma Iōannou
   pseudetai . . . legousi to kata Iōannēn euangelion, epeidē mē ta auta tois
   apostolois ephē, adiatheton einai.

   [27] Epiphanius has preserved for us in part the criticism of the Alogi on
   John I. II., and on the Johannine chronology (ch. 3, 4, 15, 18, 22, 26, 28,
   29). In their conception the Gospel of John precluded the human birth and
   development of Jesus.

   [28] Epiph. LI. 3, 28: ton logon tou Theou apoballontai ton dia Iōannēn
   kētuchthenta.

   [29] Epiph. LI., ch. 6: legousin; Idou deuteron euangelion peri Christou
   sēmainon kai oudamou anōthen legon tēn gennēsin; alla, phēsin, En tō
   Iordanē katēlthe to tneuma 'ep' auton kai phōnē; Houtos estin ho huios ho
   agapētos, 'eph hon ēudokēsa.

   [30] This milder criticism — and neither Montanists nor Alogi stand in
   Irenæus’ catalogue of heretics — naturally did not prevent the view that
   those “unhappy people” had got into an extremely bad position by their
   opposition to the prophetic activity of the Spirit in the Church, and had
   fallen into the unforgivable sin against the Holy Ghost.

   [31] In Epiph. LI., ch. 4: dokusi kaì autoì ta isa hēmin pisteúein.

   [32] Quellen, p. 102 f., 112.

   [33] It is not quite certain whether we may appeal to the words in Epiph.
   LI., ch. 18 (20): nomizontes apo Marias kai deuro Christon auton kaleisthai
   kai huion Theou, kai heinai men proteron psilon anthrōpon, kata prokopēn de
   eilēphenai tēn tou Theou prosēgorian.

   [34] As regards the problem of the origin and gradual reception of the
   Johannine writings, and especially of the Gospel, their use by Montanus, and
   their abrupt rejection by the Alogi, are of the greatest significance,
   especially when we bear in mind the Churchly character of the latter. The
   rise of such an opposition in the very region in which the Gospel
   undoubtedly first came to light; the application to the fourth of a standard
   derived from the Synoptic Gospels; the denial without scruple, of its
   apostolic origin; are facts which it seems to me have, at the present day,
   not been duly appreciated. We must not weaken their force by an appeal to
   the dogmatic character of the criticism practised by the Alogi; the
   attestation of the Gospel cannot have been convincing, if such a criticism
   was ventured on in the Church. But the Alogi distinctly denied to John and
   ascribed to Cerinthus the Apocalypse as well as the Gospel. Of Cerinthus we
   know far too little to be justified in sharing in the holy horror of the
   Church Fathers. But even if the above hypothesis is false, and it is in fact
   very probable that it is, yet the very fact that it could be set up by
   Churchmen is instructive enough; for it shows us, what we do not know from
   any other source, that the Johannine writings met with, and had to overcome,
   opposition in their birth-place.

   [35] The Roman Caius took over this criticism from them, as is shown by
   Hippolytus’ Cap. adv. Caium. But, like Theodotus, to be mentioned presently,
   he rejected the view of the Alogi as regards John’s Gospel.

   [36] See Kapp, Hist. Artemonis, 1737; Hagemann, Die römische Kirche in den
   drei ersten Jahrh., 1864; Lipsius, Quellenkritik, p. 235 f.; Lipsius,
   Chronologie der römischen Bischöfe, p. 173 f.; Harnack, in the Ztschr. f. d.
   hist. Theol., 1874, p. 200; Caspari, Quellen III., pp. 318-321, 404 f.;
   Langen, Geschichte der römischen Kirche I., p. 192 f.; Caspari, Om
   Melchizedekiternes eller Theodotianernes eller Athinganernes Laerdomme og om
   hvad de herve at sige, naar de skulle bline optagne i. den kristelige Kirke,
   in the Tidsskr f. d. evang. luth. Kirke. Ny Raekke, Bd. VIII., part 3, pp.
   307-337. Authorities for the older Theodotus are; (1) the Syntagma of
   Hippolytus according to Epiph. H.54, Philaster H. 50. and Pseudo-Tertull. H.
   28; (2) the Philosophumena VII. 35, X. 23, IX. 3, 12, X. 27; (3) the
   fragment of Hippolytus against Noëtus, ch. 3. 4) the fragments from the
   so-called Little Labyrinth (in Euseb. H. E. V. 28), which was perhaps by
   Hippolytus, and was written in the fourth decade of the third century, and
   after the Philosophumena. This work was directed against Roman Dynamistic
   Monarchians under the leadership of a certain Artemas, who are to be
   distinguished from the Theodotians. (For the age and author of the Little
   Labyrinth, and for its connection with the writings against the Alogi and
   against Noëtus; also for the appearance of Artemas, which is not to be dated
   before ± 235: see Caspari, Quellen l.c., and my art. “Monarchianismus”, p.
   186). Eusebius has confined his extracts from the Little Labyrinth to such
   as deal with the Theodotians. These extracts and Philos. Lib. X. are used by
   Theodoret (H. F. II. 4. 5); it is not probable that the latter had himself
   examined the Little Labyrinth. A writing of Theodotus seems to have been
   made use of in the Syntagma of Hippolytus. As regards the younger Theodotus,
   his name has been handed down by the Little Labyrinth, the Philosoph. (VII.
   36) and Pseudo-Tertull. H. 29 (Theodoret H. F. II. 6). The Syntagma tells of
   a party of Melchizedekians, which is traced in the Philosoph. and by the
   Pseudo-Tertullian to the younger Theodotus, but neither the party nor its
   founder is named. Very mysterious in contents and origin is the piece,
   edited for the first time from Parisian MSS. by Caspari (see above): perì
   Melchisedekianōn kaì Theodotianōn kai Athinganōn. The only controversial
   writing known to us against Artemas (Artemon) is the Little Labyrinth.
   Unfortunately Eusebius has not excerpted the passages aimed at him. Artemas
   is, again, omitted in the Syntagma and in the Philosoph. For this reason
   Epiphanius, Pseudo-Tertull. and Philaster have no articles expressly dealing
   with him. He is, however, mentioned prominently in the edict of the last
   Synod of Antioch held to oppose Paul of Samosata (so also in the Ep.
   Alexandri in Theodoret H. E. I. 3 and in Pamphilus’ Apology Pro Orig. in
   Routh, Reliq. S. IV. p. 367); therefore many later writers against the
   heretics have named him (Epiph. H. 65. 1, esp. Theodoret H. F. II. 6. etc.).
   Finally, let it be noticed that the statements in the Synodicon Pappi, and
   in the Prædestinatus are worthless, and that the identification of the
   younger Theodotus with the Gnostic of the same name, extracts from whose
   works we possess, is inadmissable, not less so than the identification with
   Theodotus, the Montanist, of whom we are informed by Eusebius. In this we
   agree with Zahn (Forschungen III., p. 123) against Neander and Dorner. As an
   authority for the Roman Monarchians, Novatian, De Trinitate, also falls to
   be considered.

   [37] It is significant that this took place in Rome. The Syntagma is further
   able to tell that Theodotus had denied Christ during the persecution in his
   native city before he came to Rome. See on this point my article on
   Monarchianism) p. 187.

   [38] VII. 35: phaskōn ta peri men tēs tou pantos archēs sumphōna ek merous
   tois tēs alēthous ekklēsias, hupo tou Theou panta homologōn gegonenai.

   [39] Philos. VII. 35: Theon de oudepote touton gegonenai thelousin epi tē
   kathodō tou pneumatos, heteroi de meta tēn ek nekrōn anastasin. The
   description in the text is substantially taken from the Philos., with whose
   account the contents of the Syntagma are not inconsistent. The statement
   that Theodotus denied the birth by the virgin is simply a calumny, first
   alleged by Epiphanius. The account of the Philos. seems unreliable, at most,
   on a single point, viz., where, interpreting Theodotus, it calls the Spirit
   which descended at the baptism “Christ” But possibly this too is correct,
   seeing that Hermas, and, later, the author of the Acta Archelai have also
   identified the Holy Spirit with the Son of God. (Compare also what Origen
   [perì arch. pref.] has reported as Church tradition on the Holy Spirit.) In
   that case we would only have to substitute the “Son of God” for “Christ”,
   and to suppose that Hippolytus chose the latter term in order to be able to
   characterise the teaching of Theodotus as Gnostic (Cerinthian). On the
   possibility that the Theodotians, however, really named the Holy Spirit
   “Christ”, see later on.

   [40] Epiphanius mentions the appeal of the Theodotians to Deut. XVIII. 15;
   Jer. XVII. 9; Isa. LIII. 2 f.; Mat. XII. 31; Luke I. 35; John VIII. 40; Acts
   II. 22; 1 Tim. II. 5. They deduced from Mat. XII. 31, that the Holy Spirit
   held a higher place than the Son of Man. The treatment of the verses in
   Deut. and Luke is especially instructive. In the former Theodotus
   emphasised, not only the “prophḗtēn hōs emé”, and the “ek tōn adelphōn”,
   but also the “egerei”, and concluded referring the passage to the
   Resurrection: ho ek Theou egeiromenos Christos houtos ouk ēn Theos alla
   anthrōpos, epeidē ex autōn ēn, hōs kai Mōusēs anthrōpos ēn — accordingly the
   resuscitated Christ was not God. On Luke I. 35 he argued thus: “The Gospel
   itself says in reference to Mary: ‘the Spirit of the Lord will come upon
   thee’; but it does not say: ‘the Spirit of the Lord will be in thy body’,
   or, ‘will enter into thee.’” — Further, if we may trust Epiphanius,
   Theodotus sought to divide the sentence — diò kaì tò gennṓmenon ek sou
   hagion klēthḗsetai huiòs Theou — , from the first half of the verse, as if
   the words “dio kai” did not exist, so that he obtained the meaning that the
   Sonship of Christ would only begin later, — subsequent to the test. Perhaps,
   however, Theodotus entirely deleted “dio kai”, just as he also read “pneuma
   kuriou” for “pneuma hagion” in order to avoid all ambiguity. And since
   Hippolytus urges against him that John I. 14 did not contain “to pneuma sarx
   egeneto”, Theodotus must at least have interpreted the word “logos” in the
   sense of “ponuma”; and an ancient formula really ran: “Christos ōn men to
   prōton pneuma egeneto sarx” (2 Clem. IX. 5), where later “logos” was,
   indeed, inserted in place of “pneuma”. See the Cod. Constantinop.

   [41] Euseb. (H. E. V. 28): “They falsified the Holy Scriptures without
   scruple, rejected the standards of the ancient faith, and misunderstood
   Christ. For they did not examine what the Scriptures said, but carefully
   considered what logical figure they could obtain from it that would prove
   their godless teaching. And if any one brought before them a passage from
   Holy Scripture, they asked whether a conjunctive or disjunctive figure could
   be made of it. They set aside the Holy Scriptures of God, and employ
   themselves, instead, with geometry, being men who are earthly, and talk of
   what is earthly, and know not what comes from above. Some of them,
   therefore, study the geometry of Euclid with the greatest devotion;
   Aristotle and Theophrastus are admired; Galen is even worshipped by some.
   But what need is there of words to show that men who misuse the sciences of
   the unbelievers to prove their heretical views, and falsify with their own
   godless cunning the plain faith of Scripture, do not even stand on the
   borders of the faith? They have therefore laid their hands so unscrupulously
   on the Holy Scriptures under the pretext that they had only amended it
   critically (diōrthōkenai). He who will can convince himself that this is no
   calumny. For, if one should collect the manuscripts of any one of them and
   compare them, he would find them differ in many passages. At least, the
   manuscripts of Asclepiodotus do not agree with those of Theodotus. But we
   can have examples of this to excess; for their scholars have noted with
   ambitious zeal all that any one of them has, as they say, critically
   amended, i.e., distorted (effaced?). Again, with these the manuscripts of
   Hermophilus do not agree; and those of Apollonides even differ from each
   other. For if we compare the manuscripts first restored by them (him?) with
   the later re-corrected copies, variations are found in many places. But some
   of them have not even found it worth the trouble to falsify the Holy
   Scriptures, but have simply rejected the Law and the Prophets, and have by
   this lawless and godless doctrine hurled themselves, under the pretext of
   grace, into the deepest abyss of perdition.

   [42] See under.

   [43] See V. 28. 4, 5.

   [44] The triumph of Neo-platonic philosophy and of the Logos Christology in
   Christian theology is, in this sense, to be considered an advance. That
   philosophy, indeed, in the third century, triumphed throughout the empire
   over its rivals, and therefore the exclusive alliance concluded with it by
   Christian tradition was one which, when it took place, could be said to have
   been inevitable. Suppose, however, that the theology of Sabellius or of Paul
   had established itself in the Church in the 3rd century, then a gulf would
   have been created between the Church and Hellenism that would have made it
   impossible for the religion of the Church to become that of the empire.
   Neo-platonic tradition was the final product of antiquity; it disposed, but
   as a living force, of the intellectual and moral capital of the past.

   [45] As “genuine” scholars — and this is a very characteristic feature —
   they took very great care that each should have the credit of his own
   amendments on the text.

   [46] The Syntagma knows of these; Epiph. H. 55. c. 1: pláttousin heautois
   kaì bíblous epiplástous,

   [47] Even the great anti-gnostic teachers had come to this view (see Vol.
   II., p. 304) without indeed drawing the consequences which the Theodotians
   may have deduced more certainly.

   [48] L.c. Dei hēmas tō Melchisedek prospherein, phasin, hina di' autou
   prosenechthē huper hēmōn, kai heurōmen di' autou zōēn.

   [49] See Clem. Alex. Strom. IV. 25. 161; Hierakas in Epiph. H. 55, c. 5, H.
   67, c. 3; Philast. H. 148. Epiph. has himself to confess (H. 55, c. 7), that
   even in his time the view to be taken of Melchizedek was still a subject of
   dispute among Catholic Christians: hoi men gar auton nomizousi phusei ton
   huion tou Theou en idea anthrōpou tote tō Abraam pephēnenai. Jerome Ep. 73
   is important. The Egyptian hermit, Marcus, wrote, about A.D. 400, an
   independent work eis tòn Melchisedèk katà Melchisedekeiōn, i.e., against
   those who saw in Melchizedek a manifestation of the true Son of God (see
   Photius, Biblioth. 200; Dict. of Christ. Biog. III. p. 827; Herzog’s R. E.,
   2 Aufl. IX. p. 290); cf. the above described fragment, edited for the first
   time by Caspari; further Theodoret H. F. II. 6, Timotheus Presb. in
   Cotelier, Monum. Eccl. Græcæ III. p. 392 etc.

   [50] Kai Christos men, phasin, exelegē, hina hēmas kalesē ek pollōn hodōn
   eis mian tautēn tēn gnōsin, hupo Theou kechrismenos kai eklektos genomenos,
   epeidē apestrepsen hēmas apo eidōlōn kai hupedeixen hēmin tēn hodon. Ex
   houper ho apostolos apostaleis apekalupsen hēmin, hoti megas estin ho
   Melchisedek, kai hiereus menei eis ton aiōna, kai, Theōreite pēlikos houtos;
   kai hoti to elasson ek tou meizonos eulogeitai, dia touto, phēsi, kai ton
   Habaam ton patriarchēn eulogēsen hōs meizōn ōn; hou hēmeis esmen mustai,
   hopōs tuchōmen par' autou tēs eulogias.

   [51] Cf. the striking agreement with Sim. V., especially ch. VI. 3: autos
   katharisas tas hamartias tou laou edeixen autois tas tribous tēs zōēs.

   [52] The theologico-philosophical impress which, as distinguished from Sim.
   V., marks the whole passage, is of course unmistakable. Notice what is said
   as to Paul, and the expression “mustai”.

   [53] The Theodotians seem to have taken Christ in this verse to mean not
   Jesus, but the Holy Spirit, the eternal. Son of God, deleting the name Jesus
   (Epiph. H. 55, ch. 9). If that is so then the Philosophumena is right when
   it relates that the Theodotians had also given the name of Christ to the
   pre-existent Son of God, the Holy Ghost. Yet it is not certain whether we
   should regard the above quoted chapter of Epiphanius at all as reporting the
   Theodotian interpretation of 1 Cor. VIII. 6.

   [54] Epiph. H. 55, ch. 8: eis onoma de toutou tou Melchisedek hē
   proeirēmenē hairesis kai tas prosphoras anapherei, kai auton einai eisagōgea
   pros ton Theon kai di' autou, phēsi, dei tō Theō prospherein, hoti archōn
   esti dikaiosunēs, ep' autō toutō katastatheis hupo tou Theou en ouranō,
   pneumatikos tis ōn, kai huios Theou tetagmenos . . . . c. 1: Christos,
   phēsin, estin eti hupodeesteros tou Melchisedek.

   [55] See my art. in Herzog R. E., 2 Aufl. VI. p. 100 (Epiph. LV. 5; LXVII.
   3).

   [56] Hermas did not do this, in so far as in the language of religion he
   speaks only of a Son of God (Simil. IX.).

   [57] Euseb. H. E. V. 28. 3: phasi gar tous men proterous hapantas kai autous
   tous apostolous, pareilēphenai te kai dedidachenai tauta, ha nun houtoi
   legousi, kai tetērēsthai tēn alētheian tou kērugmatos mechri tōn chronōn tou
   Biktoros . . . apo de tou diadochou autou Zephurinou parakecharachthai tēn
   alētheian.

   [58] Euseb. H. E. V. 28. 4, 5.

   [59] We know that he still lived about 270 from tile document of the Synod
   of Antioch in the case of Paul of Samosata. We read there (Euseb. H. E. VII.
   30. 17): “Paul may write letters to Artemas and the followers of A. are said
   to hold communion with him.” We have probably to regard as Artemonites those
   unnamed persons, mentioned in Novatian De Trinitate, who explained Jesus to
   be a mere man (homo nudus et solitarius). Artemas is also named in Methodius
   Conviv. VIII. 10, Ed. Jahn, p. 37.

   [60] Even Tertullian used the Christological formula of Hermas when he was
   not engaged in Apologetics or in polemics against the Gnostics.

   [61] Hartel, Opp. Cypr. III., p. 104 sq.

   [62] Hilary’s work “De trinitate” also shows (esp. X. 18 ff., 50 ff.) what
   different Christologies still existed in the West in the middle of the 4th
   century. There were some who maintained: “quod in eo ex virgine creando
   efficax dei sapientia et virtus exstiterit, et in nativitate eius divinæ
   prudentiæ et potestatis opus intellegatur, sitque in eo efficientia potius
   quam natura sapientiæ.

   [63] Augustine, l.c. . . . Quia itaque vera scripta sunt (sc. the Holy
   Scriptures) totum hominem in Christo agnoscebam; non corpus tantum hominis,
   aut cum corpore sine mente animam, sed ipsum hominem, non persona veritatis,
   sed magna quadam natureæ humanæ excellentia et perfectiore participatione
   sapientiæ præferri cæteris arbitrabar. Alypius autem deum carne indutum ita
   putabat credi a Catholicis, ut præter deum et carnem non esset in Christo
   anima, mentemque hominis non existimabat in eo prædicari . . . Sed postea
   hæreticorum Apollinaristarum hunc errorem esse cognoscens, catholicæ fidei
   collætatus et contemperatus est. Ego autem aliquanto posterius didicisse me
   fateor, in eo quod “verbum caro factum est” quomodo catholica veritas a
   Photini falsitate dirimatur.

   [64] In the Fragment, only preserved in Arabic, of a letter of Pope Innocent
   I. to Severianus, Bishop of Gabala (Mai, Spicile.g. Rom. III., p. 702) we
   still read the warning: “Let no one believe that it was only at the time
   when the divine Word on earth came to receive baptism from John that this
   divine nature originated, when, i.e., John heard the voice of the Father
   from heaven. It was certainly not so, etc.”

   [65] Orig. on John II. 2, Lomm. I., p. 92: Kai to pollous philotheous einai
   euchomenous tarasson, eulaboumenous duo anagoreusai theous, kai para touto
   peripiptontas pseudesi kai asebesi dogmasin, ētoi arnoumenous idiotēta huiou
   heteran para tēn tou patros, homologountas Theon einai ton mechri onomatos
   par' autois huion prosagoreuomenon, ē arnoumenous tēn theotēta tou huiou,
   tithentas de autou tēn idiotēta kai tēn ousian kata perigraphēn tunchanousan
   heteran tou patros, enteuthen luesthai dunatai, see also what follows.
   Pseudo-Gregor. (Apollinaris) in Mai (Nov. Coll. VII. 1, p. 171) speaks of
   men who conceived Christ as being ‘filled with divinity’, but made no
   specific distinction between Him and the prophets, and worshipped a man with
   divine power after the manner of the heathens.

   [66] Pamphili Apolog. in Routh, IV., p. 367; Schultz in the Jahrbb. f.
   protest. Theol. 1875, p. 193 f. On Origen and the Monarchians, see Hagemann,
   l.c., p. 300 f.

   [67] See l.c., p, 368.

   [68] Orig. in Ep. ad Titum, Lomm. V., p. 287 “Sed et eos, qui hominem dicunt
   dominum Iesum præcognitum et prædestinatum, qui ante adventum carnalem
   substantialiter et proprie non exstiterit, sed quod homo natus patris solam
   in se habuerit deitatem, ne illos quidem sine periculo est ecclesiæ numero
   sociari.” This passage, undoubtedly, need not necessarily be applied to
   Dynamistic Monarchians, any more than the description about to be quoted of
   the doctrine of Beryll. There may have existed a middle type between
   Dynamistic and Modalistic Monarchianism, according to which the humanity as
   well as the deitas patris in Jesus Christ was held to be personal.

   [69] Euseb. H. E. VI. 33. See also Socrates H. E. III. 7.

   [70] L.c.: ton sōtēra kai kurion hēmōn mē prouphestanai kat' idian ousias
   perigraphēn pro tēs eis anthrōpous epidēmias, mēde theotēta idian echein,
   all empoliteuomenēn autō monēn tēn patrikēn. The word perigraphē is first
   found in the Excerpta Theodoti 19, where kata perigraphēn is contrasted in
   the sense of personality with the kat' ousian (tou Theou)). The latter was
   accordingly felt to be Modalistic: kai ho logos sarx egeneto, ou kata tēn
   parousian monon anthrōpos genomenos, alla kai en archē ho en tautotēti logos
   kata perigraphēn kai ou kat' ousian genomenos, ho huios; cf., ch. 10, where
   perigraphesthai also expresses the personal existence, i.e., what was
   afterwards termed hupostasis. This word was not yet so used, so far as I
   know, in the 3rd century. In Origen perigraphē is likewise the expression
   for the strictly self-contained personality; see Comm. on John I. 42, Lomm.
   I. 88: hōsper oun dunameis Theou pleiones eisin, hōn hekastē kata
   perigraphēn, hōn diapherei ho sōtēr, houtōs ho logos — ei kai par' hēmin ouk
   esti kata perigraphēn ektos hēmōn — noēthēsetai ho Christos k.t.l. In our
   passage and Pseudo-Hippol. c. Beron. 1, 4, it means simply “configuration”.

   [71] Dogmengesch. I., p. 202. See on Beryll, who has become a favourite of
   the historians of dogma, apart from the extended historical works, Ullmann,
   de Beryllo, 1835; Theod. Stud. u. Krit., 1836; Fock Diss. de Christologia B.
   1843; Rossel in the Berliner Jahrbb., 1844, No. 41 f.; Kober in the Theol.
   Quartalschr., 1848, I.

   [72] It is contained in the words of Origen given above, p. 35, note 3.

   [73] Euseb. H. E. VII. 24, 5. By the Epiphany we have to understand the
   future appearing; but thorough-going Millenarians in the East, in the
   country districts, hardly recognised the doctrine of the Logos.

   [74] The uncertainty which still prevailed in the 3rd century in reference
   to Christology is seen whenever we take up works not written by learned
   theologians. Especially the circumstance that, according to the Creed and
   the Gospel, the Holy Ghost took part in the conception of Jesus, constantly
   prompted the most curious phrases regarding the personal divinity of Christ,
   and the assumptio carnis of the Logos, see, e.g., Orac. Sibyll. VI. V. 6,
   where Christ is called “Sweet God whom the Spirit, in the white plumage of
   the dove, begot.”

   [75] Feuerlein, De hæresi Pauli Samosat., 1741; Ehrlich, De erroribus P.S.,
   1745; Schwab, Diss. de P.S. vita atque doctrina, 1839; Hefele,
   Conciliengesch. 2 Aufl. I., p. 135; Routh, Reliq. S. III., pp. 286-367;
   Frohschammer, Ueber die Verwerfung des homooúsios, in the Theol.
   Quartalschr. 1850, I.

   [76] Eusebius speaks (H. E. VII. 28. 2) of a whole party (hoi amphi ton
   Samosatea) having been able to conceal their heterodoxy at the time.

   [77] Basilius Diac., Acta Concilii Ephes., p. 427, Labb.

   [78] The most important authorities for Paul’s history and doctrine are the
   Acts of the Synod of Antioch held against him, i.e., the shorthand report of
   the discussion between Paul and Malchion, and the Synodal epistle. These
   still existed in the 6th century, but we now possess them only in a
   fragmentary form: in Euseb. H. E. VII. 27-30 (Jerome de vir. inl. 71); in
   Justinian’s Tract. c. Monophys.; in the Contestatio ad Clerum C.P.; in the
   Acts of the Ephesian Council; in the writing against Nestor. and Eutych. by
   Leontius of Byzant.; and in the book of Petrus Diaconus, “De incarnat. ad
   Fulgentium”: all in Routh l.c. where the places in which they are found are
   also stated. Not certainly genuine is the Synodal epistle of six Bishops to
   Paul, published by Turrianus (Routh, l.c., p. 289 sq.); yet its authenticity
   is supported by overwhelming reasons. Decidedly inauthentic is a letter of
   Dionysius of Alex. to Paul (Mansi, I., p. 1039 sq.), also a pretended Nicene
   Creed against him (Caspari, Quellen IV., p. 161 f.), and another found in
   the libel against Nestorius (Mansi, IV., p. 1010). Mai has published (Vet.
   Script. Nova Coll. VII., p. 68 sq.) five fragments of Paul’s speeches: hoi
   prós Sabinon lógoi (not quite correctly printed in Routh, l.c., p. 328
   sq.) which are of the highest value, and may be considered genuine, in spite
   of their standing in the very worst company, and of many doubts being roused
   by them which do not admit of being completely silenced. Vincentius mentions
   writings by Paul (Commonit. 35). In the second grade we have the testimony
   of the great Church Fathers of the 4th century, which rested partly on the
   Acts, partly on oral tradition: see, Athanas c. Apoll. II. 3, IX. 3; de
   Synod. Arim. et Seleuc. 26, 43-45, 51, 93; Orat. c. Arian. II., No. 43;
   Hilarius, De synod. §§ 81, 86, pp. 1196, 1200; Ephræm Junior in Photius,
   Cod. 229; Gregor Nyss, Antirrhet. adv. Apoll., § 9, p. 141; Basilius, ep. 52
   (formerly 300); Epiphan. H. 65 and Anaceph.; cf. also the 3 Antiochian
   formulas and the Form. Macrostich. (Hahn Biblioth. der Symbole, 2 Aufl.
   §§ 85, 89), as also the 19 Canon of the Council of Nicæa, according to which
   Paul’s followers were to be re-baptised before reception into the Catholic
   Church. One or two notes also in Cramer Catena on S. John. pp. 235, 259 sq.
   Useful details are given by Innocentius I., ep. 22; by Marius Mercator, in
   the Suppl. Imp. Theodos. et Valentinian adv. Nestor. of the Deacon Basilius;
   by Theodorus of Raithu (see Routh, l.c., pp. 327 sq. 357); Fulgentius, etc.
   In the later opponents of the heretics from Philaster, and in resolutions of
   Synods from the 5th century, we find nothing new. Sozom. H. E. IV. 15 and
   Theodoret H. F. II. 8 are still of importance. The Libellus Synodicus we
   must leave out of account.

   [79] Mē einai ton huion tou Theou enupostaton, alla en autō tō Theō — en
   Theō epistēmē enupostatos — heis Theos ho patēr kai ho huios autou en autou
   en autō hōs logos en anthrōpō.

   [80] Logos prophorikos — ho pro aiōnōn huios — ton logon egennēsen ho Theos
   aneu parthenou kai aneu tinos oudenos ontos plēn tou Theou; kai houtōs
   hupestē ho logos.

   [81] Sophia ouk ēn dunatos en schēmati heuriskesthai, oude en thea andros;
   meizōn gar tōn horōmenōn estin.

   [82] ‘Logos men anōthen, Iēsous de Christos anthrōpos enteuthen — Christos
   apo Marias kai deuro estin — anthrōpos ēn ho Iēsous, kai en autō enepneusen
   anōthen ho logos; ho patēr gar hama tō huiō (scil. tō logō) heis Theos, ho
   de anthrōpos katōthen to idion prosōpon hupophainei, kai houtōs ta duo
   prosōpa plērountai — Christos enteuthen tēs huparxeōs tēn archēn eschēkōs
   — legei Iēsoun Christon katōthen,

   [83] Hōs en naō — elthonta ton logon kai enoikēsanta en Iēsou anthrōpō onti;
   in support of this Paul appealed to John XIV. 10: “sapientia habitavit in
   eo, sicut et habitamus et nos in domibus” —

   [84] Logon energon ex ouranou en autō — sophias empneousēs exōthen.

   [85] Ou didōs, says Malchion, ousiōsthai en tō holō sōtēri ton monogenē.

   [86] Allos gar estin Iēsous Christos kai allos ho logos.

   [87] Ho logos meizōn ēn tou Christou; Christos gar dia sophias megas
   egeneto.

   [88] Maria ton logon ouk eteken oude gar ēn pro aiōnōn hē Maria, alla
   anthrōpon hēmin ison eteken — anthrōpos chrietai, ho logos ou chrietai; ho
   Nazōraios chrietai, ho kurios hēmōn,

   [89] Ouk estin ho ek Dabid christheis allotrios tēs sophias.

   [90] Hē sophia en allō ouch houtōs oikei — kreittōn kata panta, epeidē ek
   tneumatos hagiou kai ex epangeliōn kai ek tōn gegrammenōn hē ep' autō
   charis.

   [91] Paul has even spoken of a diaphora tēs kataskeuēs (sustaseōs) tou
   Christou.

   [92] From this point we refer to the Logoi pros Sabinon of Paul. We give
   them here on account of their unique importance: (1) Tō hagiō pneumati
   christheis prosēgoreuthē Christos, paschōn kata phusin, thaumatourgōn kata
   charin; tō gar atreptō tēs gnōmēs homoiōtheis tō Theō, kai meinas katharos
   hamartias hēnōthē autō, kai enērgēthē pou helesthai tēn tōn thaumatōn
   dunasteian, ex hōn mian autos kai tēn autēn pros tē thelēsei energeian
   echein deichtheis, lutrōtēs tou genous kai sōtēr echrēmatisen. — (2) Hai
   diaphoroi phuseis kai ta diaphora prosōpa hena kai monon henōseōs echousi
   tropon tēn kata thelēsin sumbasin, ex hēs hē kata energeian epi tōn houtōs
   sumbibasthentōn allēlois anaphainetai monas. — (3) Hagios kai dikaios
   gegenēmenos ho sōtēr, agōni kai ponō tas tou propatoras hēmōn kratēsas
   hamartias; hois katorthōsas tē aretē sunēphthē tō Theō, mian kai tēn autēn
   pros auton boulēsin kai energeian tais tōn agathōn prokopais eschēkōs; hēn
   adiaireton phulaxas to onoma klēroutai to huper pan onoma, storgēs epathlon
   autō charisthen. — (4) Ta krtoumena tō logō tēs phuseōs ouk echei epainon;
   ta de schesei philias kratoumena huperaineitai, mia kai tē autē gnōmē
   kratoumena, dia mias kai tēs autēs energeias bebaioumena, kai tēs kat'
   epauxēsin oudepote pauomenēs kinēseōs; kath' hēn tō Theō sunaphtheis ho
   sōtēr oudepote dechetai merismon eis tous aiōnas mian autos kai tēn autēn
   echōn thelēsin kai energeian, aei kinoumenēn tē phanerōsei tōn agathōn. —
   (5) Mē thaumasēs hoti mian meta tou Theou tēn thelēsin heichen ho sōtēr;
   hōster gar hē phusis mian tōn pollōn kai tēn autēn uparchousan phaneroi tēn
   ousian, houtōs hē schesis tēs agapēs mian; tōn pollōn kai tēn autēn
   ergazetai thelēsin dia mias kai tēs autēs phaneroumenēn euarestēseōs.
   Similar details are to be found in Theodorus of Mops.; but the genuineness
   of what is given here seems to me to be guaranteed by the fact that there is
   absolutely not a word of an ethical unification of the eternal Son of God
   (the Logos) with Jesus. It is God Himself Himself who is thus united with
   the latter.

   [93] Chrē de gignōskein, we read in the Catena S. Joh., hoti ho men Paulos
   ho Sam. houtō phēsin; edōken autō krisin poiein, hoti huios anthrōpou estin.

   [94] Athanas.: Paulos ho Sam. Theon ek tēs parthenou homologei, Theon ek
   Nazaret ophthenta.

   [95] Athanas.: Homologei Theon ek Nazaret ophthenta, kai enteuthen tēs
   huparxeōs tēn archēn eschēkota, kai archēn basileias pareilēphota, Logon de
   energon ex ouranou, kai sophian en autō homologei, tō men proorismō pro
   aiōnōn onta, tē de huparxei ek Nazaret anadeichthenta, hina heis eiē,
   phēsin, ho epi panta Theos ho patēr. Therefore it is said in the letter of
   the six Bishops that Christ is God from eternity, ou prognōsei, all' ousia
   kai hupostasei.

   [96] Prokatangeltikōs. See p.41, note 8.

   [97] Katōthen apotetheōsthai ton kurion — ex anthrōpou gegonenai ton
   Christon Theon — husteron auton ek prokopēs tetheopoiēsthai.

   [98] Vincentius, Commonit. 35 — Athanasius (c. Ariam IV. 30) relates that
   the disciples of Paul appealed to Acts X. 36 in support of their distinction
   between the Logos and Jesus: tòn lógon a̓pésteilen tois huiois Israḕl
   eu̓angelizómenos ei̓rḗnēn dià Iēsou Christou They said that there was a
   distinction here like that in the O. T. between the word of the Lord and of
   the prophets.

   [99] Epiphan. l.c., c. 3; see also the letter of the six Bishops in Routh,
   l.c., p. 291.

   [100] On the supreme interest taken by Paul in the unity of God see p. 42,
   note 3, Epiph. l.c., ch. I.

   [101] Euseb. H. E. VII. 30. 9.

   [102] Euseb. l.c.,§ 10.

   [103] The three fragments of “Ebion” given by Mai, l.c., p. 68, and
   strangely held by Hilgenfeld to be genuine (Ketzergeschichte, p. 437 f.),
   seem to me likewise to belong to Paul: at any rate they correspond to his
   doctrine: Ek tēs peri prophētōn exēgēseōs (1) Kat' epangeleian megas kai
   eklektos prophētēs estin, isōs mesitēs kai nomothetēs tēs kreittonos
   diathēkēs genomenos; hostis heauton hierourgēsas huper pantōn mian ephanē
   kai thelēsin kai energeian echōn pros ton Theon, thelōn hōsper Theos pantas
   anthrōpous sōthēnai kai eis epignōsin alētheias elthein tēs di' autou tō
   kosmō di' hōn eirgasato phanerōtheisēs. — (2) Schesei gar tē kata
   dikaiosunēn kai pothō tō kata philanthrōpian sunaphtheis tō Theō, ouden
   eschen memerismenon pros ton Theon, dia to mian autou kai tou Theou
   genesthai tēn thelēsin kai tēn energeian tōn epi tē sōtēria tōn anthrōpōn
   agathōn. — (3) Ei gar ethelēsen auton Theos staurōthēnai, kai katedexato
   legōn. Mē to emon, alla to son genesthō thelēma, dēlon hoti mian eschen meta
   tou Theou tēn thelēsin kai tēn praxin, ekeino thelēsas kai praxas, hoper
   edoxe tō Theō. The second and third fragments may be by Theodorus of Mops.,
   but hardly the first.

   [104] In Euseb. H. E. VII. 30. 10.

   [105] Epiph. l. c., ch. III.: Paulos ou legei monon Theon dia to pēgēn einai
   ton patera.

   [106] This was a well-known matter at the time of the Arian controversy, and
   the Semi-Arians, e.g., appealed expressly to the decision at Ancyra. See
   Sozomen H. E. IV. 15; Athanas., De Synod. 43 sq.; Basilius, Ep. 52; Hilarius
   de synodis 81, 86; Routh, 1.c., pp. 360-365. Hefele, Conciliengesch. I., 2,
   p. 140 f.: Caspari, Quellen IV., p. 170 f.

   [107] Athanas. l.c.; anankē treis ousias einai, mian men proēgoumenēn, tas
   de duo ex ekainēs.

   [108] This is also the opinion of Basilius (l.c.): ephasan gar ekeinoi (the
   Bishops assembled against Paul) tēn tou homoousiou phōnēn paristan ennoian
   ousias te kai tōn ap' autēs, hōste katameristheisan tēn ousian parechein tou
   homoousiou tēn prosēgorian tois eis ha diērethē.

   [109] Dorner’s view (l.c. I. p.513) is impossible because resting on a false
   interpretation of the word homoousios; Paul held the Father and Jesus to be
   homoousioi in so far as they were persons, and therefore the Synod condemned
   the term.

   [110] See De orat. 15, 16.

   [111] Euseb. H. E. VII. 30. 6, 16.

   [112] See Malchion in Leontius (Routh, l.c., p. 312): Paulos phēsin, mē duo
   epistasthai huious; ei de huios ho I. Chr. tou Theou, uios de kai hē sophia,
   kai allo men hē sophia, allo de I. Chr., duo huphistantai huioi. See also
   Ephraem in Photius, biblioth. cod. 229. Farther the Ep. II. Felicis II.
   papæ ad Petrum Fullonem.

   [113] See Routh, l.c., p. 289 sq.

   [114] The pistis ex archēs paralēphtheisa reads (l.c.): Hoti ho Theos
   agennētos, heis anarchos, aoratos, analloiōtos, hon eiden oudeis anthrōpōn,
   oude idein dunatai; hou tēn doxan ē to megethos noēsai ē exēgēsasthai kathōs
   estin axiōs tēs alētheias, anthrōpinē phusei anephikton; ennoian de kai
   hopōsoun metrian peri autou labein, agapēton, apokaluptontos tou huiou autou
   . . . touton de ton huion gennēton, monogenē huion, eikona tou aoratou Theou
   tunchanonta, prōtotokon pasēs ktiseōs sophian kai logon kai dunamin Theou,
   pro aiōnōn onta, ou prognōsei, all' ousia kai hupostasei Theon Theou huion,
   en te palaia kai nea diathēkē egnōkotes homologoumen kai kērussomen. hos d'
   an antimachētai ton huion tou Theou Theon mē einai pro katabolēs kosmou
   (dein) pisteuein kai homologein, phaskōn duo theous katangellesthai, ean ho
   huios tou Theou Theos kērussētai touton allotrion tou ekklēsiastikou kanonos
   hēgoumetha, kai pasai hai katholikai ekklēsiai sumphōnousin hēmin. The
   prehistoric history of the Son is now expounded, and then it goes on: ton de
   huion para tō patri onta Theon men kai kurion tōn genētōn hapantōn, hupo de
   tou patros apostalenta ex ouranōn kai sarkōthenta enēnthrōpēkenai. dioper
   kai to ek tēs parthenou sōma chōrēsan pan to plērōma tēs theotētos
   sōmatikōs, tē theotēti atreptōs hēnōtai kai tetheopoiētai and at the close:
   ei de Christos Theou dunamis kai Theou sophia pro aiōnōn estin; houtō kai
   katho Christos hen kai to auto ōn tē ousia; ei kai ta malista pollais
   epinoiais epinoeitai. See also Hahn, Bibl. d. Symbol. 2 Aufl. § 82.

   [115] The propositions are undoubtedly as a rule phrased biblically, and
   they are biblical; but they are propositions preferred and edited by the
   learned exegesis of the Alexandrian which certainly was extremely closely
   allied with philosophical speculation.

   [116] The followers of Paul were no longer looked upon as Christians even at
   the beginning of the fourth century, and therefore they were re-baptised.
   See the 19 Canon of Nicæa: Peri tōn Paulianisantōn, eita prosphugontōn tē
   katholikē ekklēsia, horos ektetheitai anabaptizesthai autous exapantos.

   [117] Theodoret H. E. I. 4.

   [118] See my article “Lucian” in Herzog’s R.E. 2 Aufl., Bd. VIII., p. 767
   ff.

   [119] See Theodoret 1.c.: autoi gar Theodidaktoi este, ouk agnoountes hoti
   hē enanchos epanastasa tē ekklēsiastikē eusebeia didaskalia Ebiōnos esti kai
   Artema, kai zēlos tou kat' Antiocheian Paulou tou Samosateōs, sunodō kai
   krisei tōn hapantachou episkopōn apokēruchthentos tēs ekklēsias — hon
   diadexamenos Loukianos aposunagōgos emeine triōn episkopōn polueteis
   chronous — hōn tēs asebeias tēn truga errophēkotes (scil. Arian and his
   companions) nun hēmin to Ex ouk ontōn epephuēsan, ta ekeinōn kekrummena
   moscheumata.

   [120] See esp. Athanas. c. Arian I. 5. “Arius says that there are two
   wisdoms, one which is the true one and at the same time exists in God;
   through this the Son arose and by participation in it he was simply named
   Word and Wisdom; for wisdom, he says, originated through wisdom according to
   the will of the wise God. Then he also says that there is another Word apart
   from the Son in God, and through participation therein the Son himself has
   been again named graciously Word and Son.” This is the doctrine of Paul of
   Samos., taken over by Arius from Lucian. On the distinction see above.

   [121] See in Routh, l.c., p. 347 sq.

   [122] See the careful and comprehensive collection of the arguments of
   Theodore in reference to christology, in Swete, Theodori Episcopi
   Mopsuesteni in epp. B. Pauli Commentarii, Vol. II. (1882), pp. 289-339.

   [123] We have to compare also the treatises of Aphraates, written shortly
   before the middle of the 4th century. He adheres to the designation of
   Christ as Logos according to John I. 1; but it is very striking that in our
   Persian author there is not even the slightest allusion in which one could
   perceive an echo of the Arian controversies (Bickell, Ausgewählte Schriften
   der syr. Kirchenväter 1874, p. 15). See tract 1, “On faith”, and 17, “Proof
   that Christ is the Son of God.”

   [124] On the origin of the Acta Archelai see my Texte und Unters. I. 3, 137
   ff. The principal passages are to be found in ch. 49 and 50. In these the
   Churchman disputes the view of Mani, that Jesus was a spirit, the eternal
   Son of God, perfect by nature. “Dic mihi, super quem spiritus sanctus sicut
   columba descendit? Si perfectus erat, si filius erat, si virtus erat, non
   poterat spiritus ingredi, sicut nec regnum potest ingredi intra regnum.
   Cuius autem ei cælitus emissa vox testimonium detulit dicens: Hic est filius
   meus dilectus, in quo bene complacui? Dic age nihil remoreris, quis ille
   est, qui parat hæc omnia, qui agit universa? Responde itane blasphemiam pro
   ratione impudenter allegas, et inferre conaris?” The following Christology
   is put in the lips of Mani: “Mihi pium videtur dicere, quod nihil eguerit
   filius dei in eo quod adventus eius procuratur ad terras, neque opus
   habuerit columba, neque baptismate, neque matre, neque fratribus.” On the
   other hand Mani says in reference to the Church views: “Si enim hominem eum
   tantummodo ex Maria esse dicis et in baptismate spiritum percepisse, ergo
   per profectum filius videbitur et non per naturam. Si tamen tibi concedam
   dicere, secundum profectum esse filium quasi hominem factum, hominem vere
   esse opinaris, id est, qui caro et sanguis sit?” In what follows Archelaus
   says: “Quomodo poterit vera columba verum hominem ingredi atque in eo
   permanere, caro enim carnem ingredi non potest? sed magis si Iesum hominem
   verum confiteamur, eum vero, qui dicitur, sicut columba, Spiritum Sanctum,
   salva est nobis ratio in utraque. Spiritus enim secundum rectam rationem
   habitat in homine, et descendit et permanet et competenter hoc et factum est
   et fit semper . . . Descendit spiritus super hominem dignum se . . . Poterat
   dominus in cælo positus facere quæ voluerat, si spiritum eum esse et non
   hominem dices. Sed non ita est, quoniam exinanivit semetipsum formam servi
   accipiens. Dico autem de eo, qui ex Maria factus est homo. Quid enim? non
   poteramus et nos multo facilius et lautius ista narrare? sed absit, ut a
   veritate declinemus iota unum aut unum apicem. Est enim qui de Maria natus
   est filius, qui totum hoc quod magnum est, voluit perferre certamen Iesus.
   Hic est Christus dei, qui descendit super eum, qui de Maria est . . . Statim
   (post baptismum) in desertum a Spiritu ductus est Iesus, quem cum diabolus
   ignoraret, dicebat ei: Si filius est dei. Ignorabat autem propter quid
   genuisset filium dei (scil. Spiritus), qui prædicabat regnum cælorum, quod
   erat habitaculum magnum, nec ab ullo alio parari potuisset; unde et affixus
   cruci cum resurrexisset ab inferis, assumptus est illuc, ubi Christus filius
   dei regnabat . . . Sicut enim Paracleti pondus nullus alius valuit sustinere
   nisi soli discipuli et Paulus beatus, ita etiam spiritum, qui de cælis
   descenderat, per quem vox paterna testatur dicens: Hic est filius meus
   dilectus, nullus alius portare prævaluit, nisi qui ex Maria natus est super
   omnes sanctos Iesus.” It is noteworthy that the author (in ch. 37) ranks
   Sabellius as a heretic with Valentinus, Marcion, and Tatian.
     _________________________________________________________________

   3. Expulsion of Modalistic Monarchianism.

   (a). The Modalistic Monarchians in Asia Minor and in the West: Noëtus,
   Epigonus, Cleomenes, Aeschines, Praxeas, Victorinus (Victor), Zephyrinus,
   Sabellius, Callistus. [125]

   The really dangerous opponent of the Logos Christology in the period between
   A.D. 180 and 300 was not Adoptianism, but the doctrine which saw the deity
   himself incarnate in Christ, and conceived Christ to be God in a human body,
   the Father become flesh. Against this view the great Doctors of the Church
   — Tertullian, Origen, Novatian, but above all, Hippolytus — had principally
   to fight. Its defenders were called by Tertullian “Monarchiani”, and, not
   altogether correctly, “Patripassiani” which afterwards became the usual
   names in the West (see e.g., Cypr., Ep. 73. 4). In the East they were all
   designated, after the famous head of the school, “Sabelliani” from the
   second half of the third century; yet the name of “Patripassiani” was not
   quite unknown there also. [126] Hippolytus tells us in the Philosophumena,
   that at that time the Monarchian controversy agitated the whole Church,
   [127] and Tertullian and Origen testified, that in their day the
   “economic” trinity, and the technical application of the conception of the
   Logos to Christ, were regarded by the mass of Christians with suspicion.
   [128] Modalism, as we now know from the Philosoph., was for almost a
   generation the official theory in Rome. That it was not an absolute novelty
   can be proved; [129] but it is very probable, on the other hand, that a
   Modalistic doctrine, which sought to exclude every other, only existed from
   the end of the second century. It was in opposition to Gnosticism that the
   first effort was made to fix theologically the formulas of a naïve Modalism,
   and that these were used to confront the Logos Christology in order (1) to
   avert Ditheism, (2) to maintain the complete divinity of Christ, and (3) to
   prevent the attacks of Gnosticism. An attempt was also made, however, to
   prove Modalism by exegesis. That is equivalent to saying that this form of
   doctrine, which was embraced by the great majority of Christians, [130] was
   supported by scientific authorities, from the end of the second century. But
   it can be shown without difficulty, how hurtful any contact with theology
   could not fail to be to the naïve conception of the incarnation of the deity
   in Christ, and we may say that it was all over with it — though of course
   the death-struggle lasted long — when it found itself compelled to attack
   others or to defend itself. When it required to clothe itself in a cloak
   manufactured by a scientific theology, and to reflect on the idea of God, it
   belied its own nature, and lost its raison d’être. What it still retained
   was completely distorted by its opponents. Hippolytus has in the
   Philosophumena represented the doctrine of Noëtus to have been borrowed from
   Heraclitus. That is, of course, an exaggeration. But once we grasp the whole
   problem “philosophically and scientifically” — and it was so understood even
   by some scientific defenders of Monarchianism — then it undoubtedly
   resembles strikingly the controversy regarding the idea of God between the
   genuine Stoics and the Platonists. As the latter set the transcendent,
   apathetic God of Plato above the logos-theos of Heraclitus and the Stoics,
   so Origen, e.g., has charged the Monarchians especially with stopping short
   at the God manifest, and at work, in the world, instead of advancing to the
   “ultimate” God, and thus apprehending the deity “economically”. Nor can it
   surprise us that Modalistic Monarchianism, after some of its representatives
   had actually summoned science, i.e., the Stoa, to their assistance, moved in
   the direction of a pantheistic conception of God. But this does not seem to
   have happened at the outset, or to the extent assumed by the opponents of
   the school. Not to speak of its uncultured adherents, the earliest literary
   defenders of Modalism were markedly monotheistic, and had a real interest in
   Biblical Christianity. It marks the character of the opposition, however,
   that they at once scented the God of Heraclitus and Zeno — a proof of how
   deeply they themselves were involved in Neo-platonic theology. [131] As it
   was in Asia Minor that Adoptianism first entered into conflict with the
   Logos Christology, so the Church of Asia Minor seems to have been the scene
   of the first Modalistic controversy, while in both cases natives of that
   country transferred the dispute to Rome.

   It is possible that Noëtus was not excommunicated till about A.D. 230, and,
   even if we cannot now discover his date more accurately, it seems to be
   certain that he first excited attention as a Monarchian, and probably in the
   last twenty years of the second century. This was perhaps in Smyrna, [132]
   his native place, perhaps in Ephesus. [133] He was excommunicated in Asia
   Minor, only after the whole controversy had, comparatively speaking, come to
   a close in Rome. [134] This explains why Hippolytus has mentioned him last
   in his great work against the Monarchians, while in the Philosoph. he
   describes him as the originator (IX. 6: archēgon) of the heresy. [135] A
   disciple of his, Epigonus, came to Rome in the time of Zephyrinus, or
   shortly before (+ 200), and is said to have there diffused the teaching of
   his master, and to have formed a separate party of Patripassians. At first
   Cleomenes, the disciple of Epigonus, was regarded as the head of the sect,
   and then, from c. A.D. 215, Sabellius. Against these there appeared, in the
   Roman Church, especially the presbyter Hippolytus, who sought to prove that
   the doctrine promulgated by them was a revolutionary error. But the
   sympathies of the vast majority of the Roman Christians, so far as they
   could take any part in the dispute, were on the side of the Monarchians, and
   even among the clergy only a minority supported Hippolytus. The
   “uneducated” Bishop Zephyrine, advised by the prudent Callistus, was himself
   disposed, like Victor, his predecessor (see under), to the Modalistic views;
   but his main effort seems to have been to calm the contending parties, and
   at any cost to avoid a new schism in the Roman Church, already sadly split
   up. After his death the same policy was continued by Callistus (217-222),
   now raised to the Bishopric. But as the schools now attacked each other more
   violently, and an agreement was past hoping for, the Bishop determined to
   excommunicate both Sabellius and Hippolytus, the two heads of the contending
   factions. [136] The Christological formula, which Callistus himself
   composed, was meant to satisfy the less passionate adherents of both
   parties, and this it did, so far as we may conjecture. The small party of
   Hippolytus “the true Catholic Church”, held its ground in Rome for only
   about fifteen years, that of Sabellius probably longer. The formula of
   Callistus was the bridge, on which the Roman Christians, who were originally
   favourable to Monarchianism, passed over to the recognition of the Logos
   Christology, following the trend of the times, and the science of the
   Church. This doctrine must have already been the dominant theory in Rome
   when Novatian wrote his work De Trinitate, and from that date it was never
   ousted thence. It had been established in the Capital by a politician, who,
   for his own part, and so far as he took any interest at all in dogmatics,
   had been more inclined to the Modalistic theory. [137]

   The scantiness of our sources for the history of Monarchianism in Rome, —
   not to speak of other cities — in spite of the discovery of the
   Philosophumena, is shown most clearly by the circumstance that Tertullian
   has not mentioned the names of Noëtus, Epigonus, Cleomenes, or Callistus; on
   the other hand, he has introduced a Roman Monarchian, Praxeas, whose name is
   not mentioned by Hippolytus in any of his numerous controversial writings.
   This fact has seemed so remarkable that very hazardous hypotheses have been
   set up to explain it. It has been thought that “Praxeas” is a nickname (=
   tradesman), and that by it we ought really to understand Noëtus, [138]
   Epigonus, [139] or Callistus. [140] The correct view is to be found in
   Döllinger [141] and Lipsius. [142] Praxeas [143] had come to Rome before
   Epigonus, at a date anterior to the earliest of Hippolytus’ personal
   recollections, accordingly about contemporaneously with Theodotus, or a
   little earlier, while Victor was Bishop; according to Lipsius, and this is
   probable, even during the episcopate of Eleutherus. [144] He probably
   resided only a short time in Rome, where he met with no opposition; and he
   founded no school in the city. When, twenty years afterwards, the
   controversy was at its height in Rome and Carthage, and Tertullian found
   himself compelled to enter the lists against Patripassianism, the name of
   Praxeas was almost forgotten. Tertullian, however, laid hold of him because
   Praxeas had been the first to raise a discussion in Carthage also, and
   because he had an antipathy to Praxeas who was a decided anti-montanist. In
   his attack, Tertullian has, however, reviewed the historical circumstances
   of about the year A.D. 210, when his work Adv. Prax. was written; nay, he
   manifestly alludes to the Roman Monarchians, i.e., to Zephyrinus and those
   protected by him. This observation contains what truth there is in the
   hypothesis that Praxeas is only a name for another well-known Roman
   Monarchian.

   Praxeas was a confessor of Asia Minor, and the first to bring the dispute as
   to the Logos Christology to Rome. [145] At the same time he brought from his
   birth-place a resolute zeal against the new prophecy. We are here, again,
   reminded of the faction of Alogi of Asia Minor who combined with the
   rejection of the Logos Christology an aversion from Montanism; cf. also the
   Roman presbyter Caius. Not only did his efforts meet with no opposition in
   Rome, but Praxeas induced the Bishop, by giving him information as to the
   new prophets and their communities in Asia, to recall the litteræ pacis,
   which he had already sent them, and to aid in expelling the Paraclete. [146]
   If this Bishop was Eleutherus, and that is probable from Euseb. H. E. V. 4,
   then we have four Roman Bishops in succession who declared themselves in
   favour of the Modalistic Christology, viz., Eleutherus, Victor, Zephyrine,
   and Callistus; for we learn from PseudoTertullian that Victor took the part
   of Praxeas. [147] But it is also possible that Victor was the Bishop whom
   Tertullian (Adv. Prax.) was thinking of, and in that case Eleutherus has no
   place here. It is at all events certain that when Dynamistic Monarchianism
   was proscribed by Victor, it was expelled not by a defender of the Logos
   Christology, but in the interests of a Modalistic Christology. The labours
   of Praxeas did not yet bring about a controversy in Rome with the Logos
   Doctrine; he was merely the forerunner of Epigonus and Cleomenes there. From
   Rome he betook himself to Carthage, [148] and strove against the assumption
   of any distinction between God and Christ. But he was resisted by
   Tertullian, who, at that time, still belonged to the Catholic Church, and he
   was silenced, and even compelled to make a written recantation. With this
   ended the first phase of the dispute. [149] The name of Praxeas does not
   again occur. But it was only several years afterwards that the controversy
   became really acute in Rome and Carthage, and caused Tertullian to write his
   polemical work. [150] Of the final stages of Monarchianism in Carthage and
   Africa we know nothing certain. Yet see under.

   It is not possible, from the state of our sources, to give a complete and
   homogeneous description of the doctrine of the older Modalistic
   Monarchianism. But the sources are not alone to blame for this. As soon as
   the thought that God Himself was incarnate in Christ had to be construed
   theologically, very various attempts could not fail to result. These could
   lead, and so far did lead, on the one hand, to hazardous conceptions
   involving transformation, and, on the other, almost to the border of
   Adoptianism; for, as soon as the indwelling of the deity of the Father
   (deitas patris) in Jesus was not grasped in the strict sense as an
   incarnation, as soon as the element that in Jesus constituted his
   personality was not exclusively perceived in the deity of the Father, these
   Christians were treading the ground of the Artemonite heresy. Hippolytus
   also charged Callistus with wavering between Sabellius and Theodotus, [151]
   and in his work against Noëtus he alludes (ch. III.) to a certain affinity
   between the latter and the leather-worker. In the writings of Origen,
   moreover, several passages occur, regarding which it will always be
   uncertain whether they refer to Modalists or Adoptians. Nor can this
   astonish us, for Monarchians of all shades had a common interest in
   opposition to the Logos Christology: they represented the conception of the
   Person of Christ founded on the history of salvation, as against one based
   on the history of his nature.

   Among the different expositions of the doctrine of the older Modalists that
   of Hippolytus in his work against Noëtus shows us it in its simplest form.
   The Monarchians there described are introduced to us as those who taught
   that Christ is the Father himself, and that the Father was born, suffered
   and died. [152] If Christ is God, then he is certainly the Father, or he
   would not be God. If Christ, accordingly, truly suffered, then the God, who
   is God alone, suffered. [153] But they were not only influenced by a decided
   interest in Monotheism, [154] a cause which they held to have been injured
   by their opponents, [155] whom they called ditheists (dítheoi), but they
   fought in behalf of the complete deity of Jesus, which, in their opinion,
   could only be upheld by their doctrine. [156] In support of the latter they
   appealed, like the Theodotians, chiefly to the Holy Scriptures, and, indeed,
   to the Catholic Canon; thus they quoted Exod. III. 6, XX. 2f.; Isa. XLIV. 6,
   XLV. 5, 14 f.; Baruch. III. 36; John. X. 30, XIV. 8f.; Rom. IX. 5. Even
   John’s Gospel is recognised; but this is qualified by the most important
   piece of information which Hippolytus has given about their exposition of
   the Scriptures. They did not regard that book as justifying the introduction
   of a Logos, and the bestowal on him of the title Son of God. The prologue of
   the Gospel, as well as, in general, so many passages in the book, was to be
   understood allegorically. [157] The use of the category of the Logos was
   accordingly emphatically rejected in their theology. We do not learn any
   more about the Noëtians here. But in the Philosoph. Hippolytus has discussed
   their conception of God, and has presented it as follows: [158] They say
   that one and the same God was creator and Father of all things; that he in
   his goodness appeared to the righteous of olden times, although he is
   invisible; in other words, when he is not seen, he is invisible, but when he
   permits himself to be seen, he is visible; he is incomprehensible, when he
   wills not to be apprehended, comprehensible when he permits himself to be
   apprehended. So in the same way he is invincible and to be overcome,
   unbegotten and begotten, immortal and mortal.” Hippolytus continues: “Noëtus
   says, ‘So far, therefore, as the Father was not made, he is appropriately
   called Father; but in so far as he passively submitted to be born, he is by
   birth the Son, not of another, but of himself.’” In this way he meant to
   establish the Monarchia, and to say that he who was called Father and Son,
   was one and the same, not one proceeding from the other, but he himself from
   himself; he is distinguished in name as Father and Son, according to the
   change of dispensations; but it is one and the same who appeared in former
   times, and submitted to be born of the virgin, and walked as man among men.
   He confessed himself, on account of his birth, to be the Son to those who
   saw him, but he did not conceal the truth that he was the Father from those
   who were able to apprehend it. [159] Cleomenes and his party maintain that
   “he who was nailed to the cross, who committed his spirit to himself, who
   died and did not die, who raised himself on the third day and rested in the
   grave, who was pierced with the lance and fastened with nails, was the God
   and Father of all.” The distinction between Father and Son was accordingly
   nominal; yet it was to this extent more than nominal, that the one God, in
   being born man, appeared as Son; it was real, so far, from the point of view
   of the history of salvation. In support of the identity of the
   “manifested” and the invisible, these Monarchians referred to the O. T.
   theophanies, with as good a right as, nay, with a better than, the defenders
   of the Logos Christology. Now as regards the idea of God, it has been said
   that “the element of finitude was here potentially placed in God himself,”
   and that these Monarchians were influenced by Stoicism, etc. While the
   former statement is probably unwarranted, the Stoic influence, on the
   contrary, is not to be denied. [160] But the foundation to which we have to
   refer them consists of two ancient liturgical formulas, used by Ignatius,
   the author of the II. Ep. of Clement, and Melito, [161] whom we include,
   although he wrote a work “Concerning the creation and genesis of Christ”
   (peri ktiseōs kai geneseōs Christou). Further, even Ignatius, although he
   held Christ to have been pre-existent, knew only of one birth of the Son,
   namely, that of God from the virgin. [162] We have here to recognise the
   conception, according to which, God, in virtue of his own resolve to become
   finite, capable of suffering etc., can and did decide to be man, without
   giving up his divinity. It is the old, religious, and artless Modalism,
   which has here been raised, with means furnished by the Stoa, to a
   theological doctrine, and has become exclusive. But in the use of the
   formula “the Father has suffered,” we have undoubtedly an element of
   novelty; for it cannot be indicated in the post-apostolic age. It is very
   questionable, however, whether it was ever roundly uttered by the
   theological defenders of Modalism. They probably merely said that “the Son,
   who suffered, is the same with the Father.”

   We do not learn what conception these Monarchians formed of the human sarx
   (flesh) of Jesus, or what significance they attached to it. Even the
   Monarchian formulas, opposed by Tertullian in “Adv. Prax”, and attributed to
   Callistus by Hippolytus, are already more complicated. We easily perceive
   that they were coined in a controversy in which the theological difficulties
   inherent in the Modalistic doctrine had become notorious. Tertullian’s
   Monarchians still cling strongly to the perfect identity of the Father and
   Son; [163] they refuse to admit the Logos into their Christology; for the
   “word” is no substance, but merely a “sound”; [164] they are equally
   interested with the Noëtians in monotheism, [165] though not so evidently in
   the full divinity of Christ; like them they dread the return of Gnosticism;
   [166] they hold the same view as to the invisibility and visibility of God;
   [167] they appeal to the Holy Scriptures, sometimes to the same passages as
   the opponents of Hippolytus; [168] but they find themselves compelled to
   adapt their teaching to those proof-texts in which the Son is contrasted, as
   a distinctive subject, with the Father. This they did, not only by saying
   that God made himself Son by assuming a body, [169] or that the Son
   proceeded from himself [170] — for with God nothing is impossible: [171] but
   they distinctly declared that the flesh changed the Father into the Son; or
   even that in the person of the Redeemer the body (the man, Jesus) was the
   Son, but that the Spirit (God, Christ) was the Father. [172] For this they
   appealed to Luke I. 35. They conceived the Holy Spirit to be identical with
   the power of the Almighty, i.e., with the Father himself, and they
   emphasised the fact that that which was born, accordingly the flesh, not the
   Spirit, was to be called Son of God. [173] The Spirit (God) was not capable
   of suffering, but since he entered into the flesh, he sympathised in the
   suffering. The Son suffered, [174] but the Father “sympathised” [175] — this
   being a Stoic expression. Therefore Tertullian says (ch. 23), “Granting that
   we would thus say, as you assert, that there were two separate (gods), it
   was more tolerable to affirm two separate (gods) than one dissembling
   (turn-coat) god” [Ut sic divisos diceremus, quomodo iactitatis, tolerabilius
   erat, duos divisos quam unum deum versipellem prædicare].

   It is very evident that whenever the distinction between caro (filius) and
   spiritus (pater), between the flesh or Son and the Spirit or Father, is
   taken seriously, the doctrine approximates to the Artemonite idea. It is in
   fact changing its coat (versipellis). But it is obvious that even in this
   form it could not satisfy the defenders of the Logos Christology, for the
   personal identity between the Father and the Spirit or Christ is still
   retained. On the whole, every attempt made by Modalism to meet the demands
   of the Logos doctrine could not fail logically to lead to Dynamistic
   Monarchianism. We know definitely that the formulas of Zephyrine and
   Callistus arose out of attempts at a compromise, [176] though the charge of
   having two gods was raised against Hippolytus and his party. Zephyrine’s
   thesis (IX. 11), “I know one God, Christ Jesus, and besides him no other
   born and suffering,” which he announced with the limiting clause, “the
   Father did not die, but the Son,” [177] agrees with the doctrines of
   “Praxeas”, but, as is clear from the Philos., is also to be understood as a
   formula of compromise. Callistus went still further. He found it advisable
   after the excommunication of Sabellius and Hippolytus, to receive the
   category of the Logos into the Christological formula meant to harmonise all
   parties, an act for which he was especially abused by Hippolytus, while
   Sabellius also accused him of apostasy. [178] According to Zephyrine: God is
   in himself an indivisible Pneuma, which fills all things, or, in other
   words, the Logos; as Logos he is nominally two, Father and Son. The Pneuma,
   become flesh in the virgin, is thus in essence not different from, but
   identical with, the Father (John XIV. 11). He who became manifest, i.e., the
   man, is the Son, but the Spirit, which entered into the Son, is the Father.
   “For the Father, who is in the Son, deified the flesh, after he had assumed
   it, and united it with himself, and established a unity of such a nature
   that now Father and Son are called one God, and that henceforth it is
   impossible that this single person can be divided into two; rather the
   thesis holds true that the Father suffered in sympathy with the Son” — not
   the Father suffered. [179]

   Hippolytus discovered in this formula a mixture of Sabellian and Theodotian
   ideas, and he was right. [180] The approximation to the Christology founded
   on the doctrine of substances (hypostases), and the departure from the older
   Monarchianism, are, in fact, only brought about by Callistus having also
   made use of a Theodotian idea. [181] He still kept aloof from the Platonic
   conception of God; nay, it sounds like a reminiscence of Stoicism, when, in
   order to obtain a rational basis for the incarnation, he refers to the
   Pneuma (Spirit) which fills the universe, the upper and under world. But the
   fact that his formulas, in spite of this, could render valuable service in
   Rome in harmonising different views, was not only due to their admission of
   the Logos conception. It was rather a result of the thought expressed in
   them, that God in becoming incarnate had deified the flesh, and that the
   Son, in so far as he represented the essentially deified sarx, was to be
   conceived as a second person, and yet as one really united with God. [182]
   At this point the ultimate Catholic interest in the Christology comes
   correctly to light, and this is an interest not clearly perceptible
   elsewhere in Monarchian theories. It was thus that men were gradually
   tranquillised in Rome, and only the few extremists of the Left and Right
   parties offered any resistance. Moreover, the formula was extraordinarily
   adapted, by its very vagueness, to set up among the believing people the
   religious Mystery, under whose protection the Logos Christology gradually
   made good its entrance.

   The latter was elaborated in opposition to Modalism by Tertullian,
   Hippolytus, and Novatian in the West. [183] While Adoptianism apparently
   played a very small part in the development of the Logos Christology in the
   Church, the Christological theses of Tertullian and the rest were completely
   dependent on the opposition to the Modalists. [184] This reveals itself
   especially in the strict subordination of the Son to the Father. It was only
   by such a subordination that it was possible to repel the charge, made by
   opponents, of teaching that there were two Gods. The philosophical
   conception of God implied in the Logos theory was now set up definitely as
   the doctrine of the Church, and was construed to mean that the unity of God
   was simply to be understood as a “unicum imperium”, which God could cause to
   be administered by his chosen officials. Further, the attempt was made to
   prove that Monotheism was satisfactorily guarded by the Father remaining the
   sole First Cause. [185] But while the reproach was thus repelled of making
   Father and Son “brothers”, an approach was made to the Gnostic doctrine of
   Æons, and Tertullian himself felt, and was unable to avert, the danger of
   falling into the channel of the Gnostics. [186] His arguments in his writing
   Adv. Praxeas are not free from half concessions and uncertainties, while the
   whole tenor of the work contrasts strikingly with that of the anti-gnostic
   tractates. Tertullian finds himself time and again compelled in his work to
   pass from the offensive to the defensive, and the admissions that he makes
   show his uncertainty. Thus he concedes that we may not speak of two Lords or
   two Gods, that in certain circumstances the Son also can be called Almighty,
   or even Father, that the Son will in the end restore all things to the
   Father, and, as it would seem, will merge in the Father; finally, and
   especially, that the Son is not only not aliud a patre (different in
   substance from the Father), but even in some way not alius a patre [187]
   (different in person etc). Yet Tertullian and his comrades were by no means
   at a disadvantage in comparison with the Monarchians. They could appeal (1)
   to the Rule of Faith in which the personal distinction between the Father
   and Son was recognised; [188] (2) to the Holy Scriptures from which it was,
   in fact, easy to reduce the arguments of the Monarchians ad absurdum; [189]
   (3) to the distinction between Christians and Jews which consisted, of
   course, in the belief of the former in the Son; [190] and lastly, and this
   was the most important point, they could cite the Johannine writings,
   especially in support of the doctrine of the Logos. It was of the highest
   importance in the controversy that Christ could be shown to have been called
   the Logos in John’s Gospel and the Apocalypse. [191] In view of the way in
   which the Scriptures were then used in the Church, these passages were fatal
   to Monarchianism. The attempts to interpret them symbolically [192] could
   not but fail in the end, as completely as those, e.g., of Callistus and Paul
   of Samasota, to combine the use of the expression “Logos” with a rejection
   of the apologetic conception of it based on Philo. Meanwhile Tertullian and
   Hippolytus did not, to all appearance, yet succeed in getting their form of
   doctrine approved in the Churches. The God of mystery of whom they taught
   was viewed as an unknown God, and their Christology did not correspond to
   the wants of men. The Logos was, indeed, to be held one in essence with God;
   but yet he was, by his being made the organ of the creation of the world, an
   inferior divine being, or rather at once inferior and not inferior. This
   conception, however, conflicted with tradition as embodied in worship, which
   taught men to see God Himself in Christ, quite as much as the attempt was
   opposed by doctrinal tradition, to derive the use of the name “Son of God”
   for Christ, not from His miraculous birth, but from a decree dating before
   the world. [193] For the rest, the older enemies of Monarchianism still
   maintained common ground with their opponents, in so far as God’s evolving
   of Himself in several substances (Hypostases) was throughout affected by the
   history of the world (cosmos), and in this sense by the history of
   revelation. The difference between them and at least the later Monarchians
   was here only one of degree. The latter began at the incarnation (or at the
   theophanies of the O. T.), and from it dated a nominal plurality, the former
   made the “economic” self-unfolding of God originate immediately before the
   creation of the world. Here we have the cosmological interest coming once
   more to the front in the Church Fathers and displacing the historical, while
   it ostensibly raised the latter to a higher plane.

   Wherever the doctrine of the Logos planted itself in the third century the
   question, whether the divine being who appeared on earth was identical with
   the Deity, was answered in the negative. [194] In opposition to this Gnostic
   view, which was first to be corrected in the fourth century, the Monarchians
   maintained a very ancient and valuable position in clinging to the identity
   of the eternal Deity, with the Deity revealed on earth. But does not the
   dilemma that arises show that the speculation on both sides was as untenable
   as unevangelical? Either we preserve the identity, and in that case defend
   the thesis, at once absurd and inconsistent with the Gospel, that Christ was
   the Father himself; or with the Gospel we retain the distinction between
   Father and Son, but then announce a subordinate God after the fashion of a
   Gnostic polytheism. Certainly, as regards religion, a very great advance was
   arrived at, when Athanasius, by his exclusive formula of Logos homoousios
   (consubstantial Logos), negatived both Modalism and subordinationist
   Gnosticism, but the Hellenic foundation of the whole speculation was
   preserved, and for the rational observer a second rock of offence was merely
   piled upon a first. However, under the conditions of scientific speculation
   at the time, the formula was the saving clause by which men were once for
   all turned from Adoptianism, whose doctrine of a deification of Jesus could
   not fail, undoubtedly, to awaken the most questionable recollections.

   (b) The last stages of Modalism in the West, and the State of Theology.

   Our information is very defective concerning the destinies of Monarchianism
   in Rome and the West, after the close of the first thirty years of the third
   century; nor are we any better off in respect to the gradual acceptance of
   the Logos Christology. The excommunication of Sabellius by Callistus in Rome
   resulted at once in the Monarchians ceasing to find any followers in the
   West, and in the complete withdrawal soon afterwards of strict and
   aggressive Modalism. [195] Callistus himself has, besides, not left to
   posterity an altogether clean reputation as regards his Christology,
   although he had covered himself in the main point by his compromise formula.
   [196] Hippolytus’ sect had ceased to exist about A.D. 250; nay, it is not
   altogether improbable that he himself made his peace with the great Church
   shortly before his death. [197] We can infer from Novatian’s important work
   “De trinitate”, that the following tenets were recognised in Rome about 250:
   [198] (1) Christ did not first become God. (2) The Father did not suffer.
   (3) Christ pre-existed and is true God and man. [199] But it was not only in
   Rome that these tenets were established, but also in many provinces. If the
   Roman Bishop Dionysius could write in a work of his own against the
   Sabellians, that “Sabellius blasphemed, saying that the Son was himself
   Father”, [200] then we must conclude that this doctrine was then held
   inadmissible in the West. Cyprian again has expressed himself as follows
   (Ep. 73. 4): “Patripassiani, Valentiniani, Appelletiani, Ophitæ, Marcionitæ
   et cetere hæreticorum pestes” ( — the other plagues of heretics), and we
   must decide that the strict Modalistic form of doctrine was then almost
   universally condemned in the West. Of the difficulties met with in the
   ejection of the heresy, or the means employed, we have no information.
   Nothing was changed in the traditional Creed — a noteworthy and momentous
   difference from the oriental Churches! But we know of one case in which an
   important alteration was proposed. The Creed of the Church of Aquileia
   began, in the fourth century, with the words “I believe in God the Father
   omnipotent, invisible, and impassible” (Credo in deo patre omnipotente,
   invisibili et impassibili), and Rufinus, who has preserved it for us, tells
   [201] that the addition was made, at any rate as early as the third century,
   in order to exclude the Patripassians.

   But the exclusion of the strict Modalists involved neither their immediate
   end, nor the wholesale adoption of the teaching of Tertullian and
   Hippolytus, of the philosophical doctrine of the Logos. As regards the
   latter, the recognition of the name of Logos for Christ, side by side with
   other titles, did not at once involve the reception of the Logos doctrine,
   and the very fact, that no change was made in the Creed, shows how reluctant
   men were to give more than a necessary minimum of space to philosophical
   speculations. They were content with the formula, extracted from the Creed,
   “Jesus Christus, deus et homo”, and with the combination of the Biblical
   predicates applied to Christ, predicates which also governed their
   conception of the Logos. In this respect the second Book of the Testimonies
   of Cyprian is of great importance. In the first six chapters the divinity of
   Christ is discussed, in terms of Holy Scripture, under the following
   headings. (1) Christum primogenitum esse et ipsum esse sapientiam dei, per
   quem omnia facta sunt; (2) quod sapientia dei Christus; (3) quod Christus
   idem sit et sermo dei; (4) quod Christus idem manus et brachium dei; (5)
   quod idem angelus et deus; (6) quod deus Christus. Then follows, after some
   sections on the appearing of Christ: (10) quod et homo et deus Christus. The
   later Nicene and Chalcedonian doctrine was the property of the Western
   Church from the third century, not in the form of a philosophically
   technical speculation, but in that of a categorical Creed-like expression of
   faith — see Novatian’s “De trinitate”, in which the doctrine of the Logos
   falls into the background. Accordingly the statement of Socrates (H. E. III.
   7) is not incredible, that the Western Churchman Hosius had already declared
   the distinction between ousía and hupóstasis (substantia and persona)
   before the Council of Nicæa. [202] The West welcomed in the fourth century
   all statements which contained the complete divinity of Christ, without
   troubling itself much about arguments and proofs, and the controversy
   between the two Dionysii in the middle of the third century (see under),
   proves that a declared interest was kept up in the complete divinity of
   Christ, as an inheritance from the Monarchian period in Rome. [203] Nay, a
   latent Monarchian element really continued to exist in the Western Church;
   this we can still study in the poems of Commodian. [204] Commodian, again,
   was not yet acquainted with speculations regarding the “complete” humanity
   of Jesus; he is satisfied with the flesh of Christ being represented as a
   sheath, (V. 224, “And suffers, as he willed, in our likeness”; [205] on the
   other hand, V. 280, “now the flesh was God, in which the virtue of God
   acted.”) [206] But these are only symptoms of a Christian standpoint which
   was fundamentally different from that of oriental theologians, and which
   Commodian was by no means the only one to occupy. He, Lactantius, and
   Arnobius [207] are very different from each other. Commodian was a practical
   Churchman; Arnobius was an empiricist and in some form also a sceptic and
   decided opponent of Platonism; [208] while Lactantius was a disciple of
   Cicero and well acquainted besides with the speculations of Greek Christian
   theology. But they are all three closely connected in the contrast they
   present to the Greek theologians of the school of Origen; there is nothing
   mystical about them, they are not Neoplatonists. Lactantius has, indeed,
   expounded the doctrine of Christ, the incarnate Logos, as well as any Greek;
   as a professional teacher it was all known and familiar to him; [209] but as
   he nowhere encounters any problems in his Christology, as he discusses
   doctrines with very few theological or philosophical formulas, almost in a
   light tone, as if they were mere matters of course, we see that he had no
   interest of his own in them. He was rather interested in exactly the same
   questions as Arnobius and Commodian, who again showed no anxiety to go
   beyond the simplest Christological formulas  —   that Christ was God, that
   he had, however, also assumed flesh, or united himself with a man, since
   otherwise we could not have borne the deity: “And God was man, that he might
   possess us in the future” (Et fuit homo deus, ut nos in futuro haberet).
   [210] [211] The Christianity and theology which these Latins energetically
   supported against polytheism, were summed up in Monotheism, a powerfully
   elaborated morality, the hope of the Resurrection which was secured by the
   work of the God Christ who had crushed the demons, and in unadulterated
   Chiliasm. [212] Monotheism — in the sense of Cicero “De natura deorum” —
   Moralism, and Chiliasm: these are the clearly perceived and firmly held
   points, and not only for Apologetic purposes, but also, as is proved
   especially by the second book of Commodian’s “Instructiones”, in independent
   and positive expositions. These Instructions are, along with the Carmen
   Apolog., of the highest importance for our estimate of Western Christianity
   in the period A.D. 250-315. We discover here, 100 years after the Gnostic
   fight, a Christianity that was affected, neither by the theology of the
   anti-gnostic Church Fathers, nor specially by that of the Alexandrians, one
   which the dogmatic contentions and conquests of the years 150-250 have
   passed over, hardly leaving a trace. Almost all that is required to explain
   it by the historian who starts with the period of Justin is to be found in
   the slightly altered conditions of the Roman world of culture, and in the
   development of the Church system as a practical power, a political and
   social quantity. [213] Even in the use of Scripture this Christianity of the
   West reveals its conservatism. The Books of the O. T. and the Apocalypse are
   those still most in vogue. [214] Commodian does not stand alone, nor are the
   features to be observed in his “Instructiones” accidental. And we are not
   limited to the Apologists Arnobius and Lactantius for purposes of
   comparison. We learn much the same thing as to African Christianity from the
   works of Cyprian, or, even from the theological attitude of the Bishop
   himself, as we infer from Commodian’s poems. And, on the other hand, Latin
   Church Fathers of the fourth century, e.g., Zeno and Hilary, show in their
   writings that we must not look for the theological interests of the West in
   the same quarter as those of the East. In fact the West did not, strictly
   speaking, possess a specifically Church “theology” at all. [215] It was only
   from the second half of the fourth century that the West was invaded by the
   Platonic theology which Hippolytus, Tertullian, and Novatian had cultivated,
   to all appearance without any thorough success. Some of its results were
   accepted, but the theology itself was not. Nor, in some ways, was it later
   on, when the Western structure of Monotheism, energetic practical morality,
   and conservative Chiliasm fell a prey to destruction. The mystical
   tendencies, or the perceptions that led to them, were themselves awanting.
   Yet there is no mistake, on the other hand, as we are taught by the
   Institutiones of Lactantius as well as the Tractates of Cyprian, that the
   rejection of Modalism and the recognition of Christ as the Logos forced upon
   the West the necessity of rising from faith to a philosophical and, in fact,
   a distinctively Neoplatonic dogmatic. It was simply a question of time when
   this departure should take place. The recognition of the Logos could not
   fail ultimately to produce everywhere a ferment which transformed the Rule
   of Faith into the compendium of a scientific religion. It is hardly possible
   to conjecture how long and where Monarchians maintained their ground as
   independent sects in the West. It is yet most probable that there were
   Patripassians in Rome in the fourth century. The Western Fathers and
   opponents of heretics from the middle of the fourth century speak not
   infrequently of Monarchians — Sabellians; but they, as a rule, have simply
   copied Greek sources, from which they have transferred the confusion that
   prevailed among the Greek representatives of Sabellianism, and to a still
   greater extent, we must admit, among the historians who were hostile to it.
   [216]

   (c) The Modalistic Monarchians in the East: Sabellianism and the History of
   Philosophical Christology and Theology after Origen. [217]

   After the close of the third century the name of “Sabellians” became the
   common title of Modalistic Monarchians in the East. In the West also the
   term was used here and there, in the same way, in the fourth and fifth
   centuries. In consequence of this the traditional account of the doctrines
   taught by Sabellius and his immediate disciples is very confused. Zahn has
   the credit of having shown that the propositions, especially, which were
   first published by Marcellus of Ancyra, were characterised by opponents as
   Sabellian because Monarchian, and in later times they have been imputed to
   the older theologian. But not only does the work of Marcellus pass under the
   name of Sabellius up to the present day, Monarchianism undoubtedly assumed
   very different forms in the East in the period between Hippolytus and
   Athanasius. It was steeped in philosophical speculation. Doctrines based on
   kenosis and transformation were developed. And the whole was provided by the
   historians with the same label. At the same time these writers went on
   drawing inferences, until they have described forms of doctrine which, in
   this connection, in all probability never existed at all. Accordingly, even
   after the most careful examination and sifting of the information handed
   down, it is now unfortunately impossible to write a history of Monarchianism
   from Sabellius to Marcellus; for the accounts are not only confused, but
   fragmentary and curt. It is quite as impossible to give a connected history
   of the Logos Christology from Origen to Arius and Athanasius, although the
   tradition is in this case somewhat fuller. But the orthodox of the fourth
   and fifth centuries found little to please them in the Logos doctrine of
   those earlier disciples of Origen, and consequently they transmitted a very
   insignificant part of their writings to posterity. This much is certain,
   however, that in the East the fight against Monarchianism in the second half
   of the third century was a violent one, and that even the development of the
   Logos Christology (of Origen) was directly and lastingly influenced by this
   opposition. [218] The circumstance, that “Sabelliansim” was almost the only
   name by which Monarchianism was known in the East, points, for the rest, to
   schisms having resulted only from, or, at any rate, after the appearance and
   labours of Sabellius in the East, therefore at the earliest since about
   230-240. So long as Origen lived in Alexandria no schism took place in Egypt
   over the Christological question. [219]

   Sabellius, perhaps by birth a Lybian from Pentapolis, [220] seems after his
   excommunication to have remained at the head of a small community in Rome.
   He was still there, to all appearance, when Hippolytus wrote the
   Philosophumena. Nor do we know of his ever having left the city, — we are
   nowhere told that he did. Yet he must have, at least, set an important
   movement at work abroad from Rome as his centre, and have especially
   fostered relations with the East. When, in Pentapolis, about A.D. 260, and
   several years after the death of Origen, the Monarchian doctrine took hold
   of the Churches there (Dionys., l.c.)  — Churches which, it is significant,
   were to some extent Latin in their culture — Sabellius can hardly have been
   alive, yet it was under his name that the heresy was promoted. [221] But it
   would seem as if this prominence was given to him for the first time about
   A.D. 260. Origen at least had not, so far as I know, mentioned the name of
   Sabellius in his discussions of Monarchianism. These date from as early as
   A.D. 215. At the time, Origen was in Rome, Zephyrine being still Bishop.
   From the relations which he then entered into with Hippolytus, it has been
   rightly concluded that he did not hold aloof from the contentions in Rome,
   and took the side of Hippolytus. This attitude of Origen’s may not have been
   without influence on his condemnation afterwards in Rome by Pontian, 231 or
   232. Origen’s writings, moreover, contain many sharp censures on Bishops
   who, in order to glorify God, made the distinction between Father and Son
   merely nominal. And this again seems to have been said not without reference
   to the state of matters in Rome. The theology of Origen made him an
   especially energetic opponent of the Modalistic form of doctrine; for
   although the new principles set up by him — that the Logos, looking to the
   content of his nature, possessed the complete deity, and that he from
   eternity was created from the being of the Father — approached apparently a
   Monarchian mode of thought, yet they in fact repelled it more energetically
   then Tertullian and Hippolytus could possibly have done. He who followed the
   philosophical theology of Origen was proof against all Monarchianism. But it
   is important to notice that in all places where Origen comes to speak about
   Monarchians, he merely seems to know their doctrines in an extremely simple
   form, and without any speculative embroidery. They are always people who
   “deny that Father and Son are two Hypostases” (they say: hen ou monon ousia,
   alla kai hupokeimeō), who “fuse together” Father and Son (suncheein), who
   admit distinctions in God only in “conception” and “name”, and not in
   “number”, etc. Origen considers them therefore to be untheological
   creatures, mere “believers”. Accordingly, he did not know the doctrine of
   Sabellius, and living in Syria and Palestine had even had no opportunity of
   learning it.

   That doctrine was undoubtedly closely allied, as Epiphanius has rightly seen
   (H. 62. 1), to the teaching of Noëtus; it was distinguished from the latter,
   however, both by a more careful theological elaboration, and by the place
   given to the Holy Ghost. [222] The opinion of Nitzsch and others, that we
   must distinguish between two stages in the theology of Sabellius, is
   unnecessary, whenever we eliminate the unreliable sources. The central
   proposition of Sabellius ran that Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were the
   same. Three names accordingly were attached to one and the same being. It
   was his interest in monotheism that influenced Sabellius. “What shall we
   say,” urge his followers in Epiphanius (ch. 2), “have we one God or three
   Gods?” (ti an eipōmen, hena Theon echoen, ē treis Theous); and Epiphanius
   (ch. 3) replies: “we do not propound polytheism” (ou polutheian
   eisēgoumetha). Whether Sabellius himself used the comparison between the
   threefold nature of man and the sun remains a question (one nature, three
   energies: to phōtistikon light giving, to thalpon heat giving, to schēma the
   form). [223] The one being was also called by Sabellius huiopatōr, [224] an
   expression which was certainly chosen to remove any misunderstanding, to
   make it impossible to suppose that two beings were in question. This
   huiopatōr (son-father) was in Sabellius the ultimate designation for God
   Himself, and not, say, merely for certain manifestations of a monas (unit)
   resting in the background. Sabellius, however, taught — according to
   Epiphanius and Athanasius — that God was not at the same time Father and
   Son; but that he had, rather, put forth his activity in three successive
   “energies”; first, in the Prosopon (= form of manifestation, figure; not =
   Hypostasis) of the Father as Creator and Lawgiver; secondly, in the Prosopon
   of the Son as Redeemer, beginning with the incarnation and ending at the
   ascension; finally, and up till the present hour, in the Prosopon of the
   Spirit as giver and sustainer of life. [225] We do not know whether
   Sabellius was able strictly to carry out the idea of the strict succession
   of the Prosopa, so that the one should form the boundary of the other. It is
   possible, indeed it is not improbable, that he could not fail to recognise
   in nature a continuous energy of God as Father. [226] It is self-evident
   that the Sabellians would approve of the Catholic Canon; that they did, is
   confirmed by Epiphanius. They are said to have appealed especially to
   passages like Deut. VI. 4, Exod. XX. 3, Isa. XLIV. 6 and John X. 38. [227]
   But Epiphanius remarks besides that the Sabellians derived their whole
   heresy and its strength from certain Apocrypha, especially the so-called
   Gospel of the Egyptians. [228] This note is instructive; for it not only
   recalls to our recollection a lost literature of the second century,
   especially the Gospel of the Egyptians, [229] but it also shows that the use
   of an uncanonical Gospel had long continued among Catholics in the
   Pentapolis, or at any rate in Egypt. [230] Finally, it confirms the view
   that the Christology of Sabellius cannot have been essentially different
   from the older, the so-called Patripassian doctrine. It is distinguished
   from the latter neither by the assumption of a transcendental Monas resting
   behind the Prosopa, nor by the introduction of the category of the Logos —
   which was made use of by Callistus, but not by Sabellius; nor by a
   speculative theory, borrowed from the Stoa, of the Deity, self-contained,
   and again unfolding itself; nor, finally, by a doctrine of the Trinity
   constructed in any fashion or by the expression huiopatōr, which, as used by
   Sabellius, simply affirmed the single personality of God. As to the doctrine
   of the Trinity, a triad was distinctly out of the question in Sabellius. The
   only noteworthy and real differences are found in these three points; first,
   in the attempt to demonstrate the succession of the Prosopa; secondly, as
   observed above, in the reference to the Holy Spirit; thirdly, in formally
   placing the Father on a parallel line with the two other Prosopa. The
   attempt mentioned above may be regarded as a return to the strict form of
   Modalism, which it was possible to hold was impugned by formulas like the
   compassus est pater filio (the Father suffered in sympathy with the Son). In
   the reference to the Holy Spirit, Sabellius simply followed the new
   theology, which was beginning to take the Spirit more thoroughly into
   account. Most important is the third point mentioned. For in ranging the
   Prosopon and energy of the Father in a series with the two others, not only
   was cosmology introduced into the Modalistic doctrine as a parallel to
   soteriology, but the preëminence of the Father over the other Prosopa was
   departed from in principle, and thus, in a curious fashion, the way was
   prepared for the Athanasian, and still more for the Western and Augustinian
   Christology. Here, undoubtedly, we have the decisive advance marked by
   Sabellianism within Monarchianism. It led up to the exclusive homooúsios
   (consubstantial); for it is probable that Sabellians employed this
   expression. [231] They could apply it with perfect right. Further, while up
   to this time no evident bond had connected cosmology and soteriology within
   Modalistic theology, Sabellius now made the histories of the world and
   salvation into a history of the God who revealed himself in them. In other
   words, this Monarchianism became commensurate in form with that theology
   which employed the conception of the Logos, and this fact may have
   constituted by no means the least part of the attractiveness which
   Sabellianism proved itself to possess in no small degree up to the beginning
   of the fourth century and even later. [232] However, it is not to be
   concealed that the teaching of Sabellius relative to the Prosopon of the
   Father is particularly obscure. The sentence attributed to him by
   Athanasius, [233] “as there are diversities of spiritual gifts, but the same
   spirit, so also the Father is the same, but unfolds himself in Son and
   Spirit” — seems at the first glance to contradict the details given above.
   Yet the different gifts are certainly the Spirit himself, which so unfolds
   himself in them that he does not remain an element behind them, but is
   completely merged in them. In the same way the Father unfolds himself in the
   Prosopa. The witnesses to the succession of the Prosopa in Sabellius are too
   strong to allow us to infer from this passage that the Father still remained
   Father after the unfolding (platusmos) in the Son. But this passage shows
   that philosophical speculations could readily attach themselves to the
   simple theory of Sabellius. Marcellus rejected his doctrine which he knew
   accurately. What he missed in it was the recognition of the Logos; therefore
   the idea of God had also not been correctly apprehended by him. [234] But
   the form given to Monarchianism by Marcellus [235] won few friends for that
   type of doctrine. Alexandrian theologians, or Western scholars who came to
   their assistance, had already perfected the combination of Origen’s doctrine
   of the Logos with the Monarchian Homoousios; in other words, they had turned
   the category used by Origen against the logos ktisma conception (the
   Logos-created) of Origen himself. The saving formula, ,the Logos of the same
   substance, not made” (logos homoousios ou poiētheis), was already uttered,
   and, suspiciously like Monarchianism as it sounded at first, became for that
   very reason the means of making Monarchianism superfluous in the Church, and
   of putting an end to it. [236]

   But that only happened after great fights. One of these we know, the
   controversy of the two Dionysii, a prelude to the Arian conflict. [237] In
   the Pentapolis the Sabellian doctrine had, soon after the death of Origen,
   won a great following even among the Bishops, “so that the Son of God was no
   longer preached.” Dionysius of Alexandria, therefore, composed various
   letters in which he tried to recall those who had been misled, and to refute
   Sabellianism. [238] In one of these, directed to Euphranor and Ammonius, he
   gave an extreme exposition of Origen’s doctrine of the subordination of the
   Son. This letter seemed very questionable to some Christians — probably in
   Alexandria, perhaps in Pentapolis. They lodged a complaint, soon after A.D.
   260, against the Alexandrian Bishop with Dionysius in Rome. [239] The latter
   assembled a synod at Rome, which disapproved of the expressions used by the
   Alexandrian, and himself despatched to Alexandria a didactic letter against
   the Sabellians and their opponents, who inclined to subordinationism. In
   this letter the Bishop so far spared his colleague as not to mention his
   name; but he sent him a letter privately, calling for explanations. The
   Alexandrian Bishop sought to justify himself in a long document in four
   books (eleg chos kai apologia), maintained that his accusers had wickedly
   torn sentences from their context, and gave explanations which seem to have
   satisfied the Roman Bishop, and which Athanasius at any rate admitted to be
   thoroughly orthodox. But the letter of the Roman Bishop appears to have had
   no immediate influence on the further development in Alexandria (see under);
   the universal collapse of the Empire in the following decades permitted the
   Alexandrian theologians to continue their speculations, without needing to
   fear further immediate reproofs from Roman Bishops.

   Two facts give a special interest to the controversy of the Dionysii. First,
   in spite of the acceptance of the sacred Triad, the Romans adhered simply,
   without any speculative harmonising, to the unity of the Deity, and decided
   that Origen’s doctrine of subordination was Tritheism. Secondly, no scruple
   was felt at Alexandria in carrying out the subordination of the Son to the
   Father until it involved separation, though it was well known that such a
   view was supported, not by the tradition of the Church, but by philosophy
   alone. The accusers of the Alexandrian Dionysius charged him with separating
   Father and Son; [240] denying the eternal existence of the Son; [241] naming
   the Father without the Son and vice versâ; [242] omitting to use the word
   homoousios; [243] and finally, with regarding the Son as a creature, related
   to the Father as the vine to the gardener, or the boat to the shipbuilder.
   [244] In these censures, which were not inaccurate, it is obvious that
   Dionysius, continuing the Neoplatonic speculations of his teacher, conceived
   the logos as portio and derivatio of the monas, thus, in order to meet
   Sabellianism, actually dividing him from the deity. Dionysius sought to
   excuse himself in his elenchos (Refutation), and emphasised exclusively the
   other side of Origen’s doctrine, at the same time admitting that in his
   incriminated writing he had incidentally employed somewhat unsuitable
   similes. Now he said that the Father had always been Father, and that Christ
   had always existed as the Logos and wisdom and power of God; that the Son
   had his being from the Father, and that he was related to the Father as the
   rays are to the light. [245] He explained that while he had not used the
   word homoousios, because it did not occur in Holy Scripture, figures were to
   be found in his earlier writings which corresponded to it; thus the figure
   of parents and children, of seed or root and plant, and of source and
   stream. [246] The Father was the source of all good, the Son the outflow;
   the Father the mind (nous), the Son the word (logos) — reminding us very
   forcibly of Neoplatonism — or the emanating mind (nous propēdōn), while the
   nous itself remains “and is what it was” (kai estin hoios ēn). “But being
   sent he flew forth and is borne everywhere, and thus each is in each, the
   one being of the other, and they are one, being two’ (Ho de exeptē
   propemphtheis kai pheretai pantachou kai houtōs estin hekateros en hekaterō
   heteros ōn thaterou, kai hen eisin, ontes duo). [247] But he now went
   further: any separation between Father and Son was to be repudiated. “I say
   Father, and before I add the Son, I have already included and designated him
   in the Father.” The same holds true of the Holy Spirit. Their very names
   always bind all three together inseparably. “How then do I who use these
   names think that these are divided and entirely separated from each other?
   (pōs oun ho toutois chrōmenos tois onomasi memeristhai tauta kai aphōristhai
   pantelōs allēlōn oiomai;). [248] In these words the retreat was sounded; for
   what the Roman Bishop rejected, but Alexandrian theology never ventured
   wholly to discard, was the “dividing” (merizesthai). [249] The reservation
   lies in the word “entirely” (pantelōs). Dionysius added in conclusion: “Thus
   we unfold the unit into the triad without dividing it, and we sum up the
   triad again into the unit without diminishing it,” (houtō men hēmeis eis te
   tēn triada tēn monada platunomen adiaireton, kai tēn triada palin ameiōton
   eis tēn monada sunkephalaioumetha). In this he has accommodated himself to a
   mode of looking at things which he could only allege to be his own under a
   mental reservation, as in the case of the qualification “entirely”
   (pantelōs). For the terms platunein and sunkephalaiousthai were not those
   current in the school of Origen, and admit of a different interpretation.
   Finally, Dionysius denied the charge of the “sycophants” that he made the
   Father the Creator of Christ. [250]

   The letter of Dionysius of Rome falls midway between these two manifestoes,
   which are so different, of the Alexandrian Bishop. We have to regret very
   deeply that Athanasius has only preserved one, though a comprehensive,
   fragment of this document. [251] It is extremely characteristic of the Roman
   Bishop, to begin with, that it seeks to settle the sound doctrine by
   representing it as the just mean between the false unitarian or Sabellian,
   and the false trinitarian or Alexandrian doctrine. [252] The second
   characteristic of the letter is that it regards the Alexandrian doctrine as
   teaching that there are three Gods, and draws a parallel between it and the
   Three principles of the Marcionites. This proves that the Roman Bishop did
   not trouble himself with the speculation of the Alexandrians, and simply
   confined himself to the result — as he conceived it — of three separate
   Hypostases. [253] Finally — and this is the third characteristic feature —
   the letter shows that Dionysius had nothing positive to say, further than
   that it was necessary to adhere to the ancient Creed, definitely
   interpreting it to mean that the three, Father, Son, and Spirit, were
   equally one. Absolutely no attempt is made to explain or to prove this
   paradox. [254] But here undoubtedly lies the strength of the Roman Bishop’s
   position. When we compare his letter with that of Leo I. to Flavian and
   Agatho’s to the Emperor, we are astonished at the close affinity of these
   Roman manifestoes. In form they are absolutely identical. The three Popes
   did not trouble themselves about proofs or arguments, but fixed their
   attention solely on the consequences, or what seemed to them consequences,
   of disputed doctrines. Starting with these deductions they refuted doctrines
   of the right and left, and simply fixed a middle theory, which existed
   merely in words, for it was self-contradictory. This they grounded formally
   on their ancient Creed without even attempting to argue out the connection:
   one God  —   Father, Son and Spirit; one Person — perfect God and perfect
   man; one Person  —   two wills. Their contentment with establishing a middle
   line, which possessed the attribute of that known in mathematics, is,
   however, a proof that they had not a positive, but merely a negative,
   religious interest in these speculations. Otherwise they would not have been
   satisfied with a definition it was impossible to grasp; for no religion
   lives in conceptions which cannot be represented and realised. Their
   religious interest centred in the God Jesus, who had assumed the substantia
   humana.

   The letter of the Roman Bishop produced only a passing impression in
   Alexandria. Its adoption would have meant the repudiation of science. A few
   years afterwards the great Synod of Antioch expressly rejected the term
   homoousios (consubstantial) as being liable to misconstruction. [255] The
   followers of Origen in his training school continued their master's work,
   and they were not molested in Alexandria itself, as it seems, up till about
   the close of the third century. If we review the great literary labours of
   Dionysius, of which we, unfortunately, only possess fragments, and observe
   his attitude in the questions debated in the Church in his time, we see how
   faithfully he followed in the track of Origen. The only difference lay in
   greater laxity in matters of discipline. [256] He proved, in his work “On
   Promises” (peri epangeliōn) that he possessed the zeal against all Chiliasm
   and the dexterity in critical exegesis which characterised the school of
   Origen; [257] and in his work “On Nature” (peri phuseōs) he introduced, and
   endeavoured to carry out, a new task in the science of Christian theology,
   viz., the systematic refutation of Materialism, i.e., of the Atomic theory.
   [258] Of the later heads of the training school we know very little; but
   that little is enough to let us see that they faithfully preserved the
   theology of Origen. Pierius, who also led a life of strict asceticism, wrote
   learned commentaries and treatises. Photius [259] testifies that he taught
   piously concerning the Father and Son, “except that he speaks of two
   “beings” and two natures; using the words being and nature, as is plain from
   the context, in place of Hypostasis, and not as those who adhere to Arius”
   (plēn hoti ousias duo kai phuseis duo legei; tō tēs ousias kai phuseōs
   onomati, hōs dēlon, ek te tōn hepomenōn kai proēgoumenōn tou chōriou anti
   tēs hupostaseōs kai ouch hōs hoi Areiō prosanakeimenoi chrōmenos). This
   explanation is hardly trustworthy; Photius himself is compelled to add that
   Pierius held impious doctrines as to the Holy Ghost, and ranked him far
   below the Father and Son. Now since he further expressly testifies that
   Pierius, like Origen, held the pre-existence of souls, and explained some
   passages in the O. T. “economically”, i.e., contested their literal meaning,
   it becomes obvious that Pierius had not parted company with Origen; [260]
   indeed, he was even called “Origen Junior”. [261] He was the teacher of
   Pamphilus, and the latter inherited from him his unconditional devotion to
   Origen's theology. Pierius was followed, in Diocletian's time, by
   Theognostus at the Alexandrian school. This scholar composed a great
   dogmatic work in seven books called “Hypotyposes”. It has been described for
   us by Photius, [262] whose account shows that it was planned on a strict
   system, and was distinguished from Origen's great work, in that the whole
   was not discussed in each part under reference to one main thought, but the
   system of doctrine was presented in a continuous and consecutive exposition.
   [263] Thus Theognostus invented that form of scientific, Church dogmatic
   which was to set a standard to posterity — though it was indeed long before
   the Church took courage to erect a doctrinal structure of its own.
   Athanasius had nothing but praise for the work of Theognostus, and has
   quoted a passage from the second book which undoubtedly proves that
   Theognostus did full justice to the Homoousian side of Origen’s Christology.
   [264] But even the Cappadocians remarked certain affinities between Arius
   and Theognostus, [265] and Photius informs us that he called the Son a
   “creature” (ktisma), and said such mean things about him that one might
   perhaps suppose that he was simply quoting, in order to refute, the opinions
   of other men. He also, like Origen, taught heterodox views as to the Holy
   Spirit, and the grounds on which he based the possibility of the incarnation
   were empty and worthless. As a matter of fact, Theognostus’ exposition of
   the sin against the Holy Ghost shows that he attached himself most closely
   to Origen. For it is based on the well-known idea of the master that the
   Father embraced the largest, the Son, the medium, and the Holy Spirit the
   smallest sphere; that the sphere of the Son included all rational beings,
   inclusive of the imperfect, while that of the Spirit comprehended only the
   perfect (teleioumenoi), and that therefore the sin against the Holy Ghost,
   as the sin of the “perfect”, could not be forgiven. [266] The only novelty
   is that Theognostus saw occasion expressly to attack the view “that the
   teaching of the Spirit was superior to that of the Son” (tēn tou pneumatos
   didaskalian huperballein tēs tou huiou didachēs). Perhaps he did this to
   oppose another disciple of Origen, Hieracas, who applied himself to
   speculations concerning Melchizedek, as being the Holy Spirit, and
   emphasised the worship of the Spirit. [267] This Copt, who lived at the
   close of the third and in the first half of the fourth century, cannot be
   passed over, because, a scholar like Origen, [268] he on the one hand
   modified and refined on certain doctrines of his master, [269] and on the
   other hand, emphasised his practical principles, requiring celibacy as a
   Christian law. [270] Hieracas is for us the connecting link between Origen
   and the Coptic monks; the union of ascetics founded by him may mark the
   transition from the learned schools of theologians to the society of monks.
   But in his proposition that, as regards practice, the suppression of the
   sexual impulse was the decisive, and original, demand of the Logos Christ,
   Hieracas set up the great theme of the Church of the fourth and following
   century.

   In Alexandria the system of faith and the theology of Origen were fused more
   and more completely together, and it cannot be proved that the immediate
   disciples of Origen, the heads of the training-school, corrected their
   master. [271] The first to do this in Alexandria was Peter, Bishop and
   Martyr. [272] In his writings “Concerning divinity” (peri theotētos),
   “Concerning the sojourn of our Saviour” (peri tēs sōtēros hēmōn epidēmias),
   and especially in his books “Concerning (the fact) that the soul does not
   preexist, nor has entered this body after having sinned” (peri tou mēde
   prouparchein tēn psuchēn mēde amartēsasan touto eis sōma blēthēnai), he
   maintains against Origen the complete humanity of the Redeemer, the creation
   of our souls along with our bodies, and the historical character of the
   events narrated in Gen. III., and he characterises the doctrine of a
   pre-mundane fall as a “precept of Greek philosophy which is foreign and
   alien to those who desire to live piously in Christ” (mathēma tēs Hellēnikēs
   philosophias, xenēs kai allotrias ousēs tōn en Christō eusebōs thelontōn
   zēn). [273] This utterance proves that Peter had taken up a position
   definitely opposed to Origen; [274] but his own expositions show, on the
   other hand, that he only deprived Origen’s doctrines of their extreme
   conclusions, while otherwise he maintained them, in so far as they did not
   come into direct conflict with the rule of faith. The corrections on
   Origen’s system were therefore not undertaken silently even in Alexandria. A
   compromise took place between scientific theology, and the ancient
   antignostically determined Creed of the Church, or the letter of Holy
   Scripture, to which all the doctrines of Origen were sacrificed that
   contradicted the tenor of the sacred tradition. [275] But above all, the
   distinction made by him between the Christian science of the perfect and the
   faith of the simple was to be abolished. The former must be curtailed, the
   latter added to, and thus a product arrived at in a uniform faith which
   should be at the same time ecclesiastical and scientific. After theology had
   enjoyed a period of liberty, the four last decades of the third century, a
   reaction seems to have set in at the beginning of the fourth, or even at the
   end of the third century, in Alexandria. But the man had not yet risen who
   was to preserve theology from stagnation, or from being resolved into the
   ideas of the time. All the categories employed by the theologians of the
   fourth and fifth centuries were already current in theology, [276] but they
   had not yet received their definite impress and fixed value. [277] Even the
   Biblical texts which in those centuries were especially exploited pro and
   contra, had already been collected in the third. Dionysius of Alexandria had
   already given warning that the word homoousios did not occur in Holy
   Scripture, and this point of view seems, as a rule, to have been thoroughly
   decisive even in the third century. [278]

   We get an insight into the state of religious doctrine about the middle of
   the third century and afterwards from the works of Gregory, [279] the
   miracle-worker, who was one of the most eminent of Origen’s disciples, and
   whose influence in the provinces of Asia Minor extended far into the fourth
   century. This scholar and Bishop who delivered the first Christian panegyric
   — one on Origen — and has in it given his autobiography, remained throughout
   his life an enthusiastic follower of Origen, and adhered, in what was
   essential, to his doctrine of the Trinity. [280] But Gregory felt compelled,
   in opposition to Christians whose conception of the Trinity was absolutely
   polytheistic, to emphasise the unity of the Godhead. He did this in his
   “Confession of faith”, [281] and in a still greater degree, according to the
   testimony of Basilius, in his lost work dialexis pros Alianon (Debate with
   Ailianus), [282] which contained a proposition, afterwards appealed to by
   Sabellians, and somewhat to the following effect, viz., Father and Son are
   two in thought, but one in substance (patēr kai huios epinoia men eisi duo,
   hupostasei de hen). Gregory, on the other hand, described the Logos as
   creature (ktisma) and created (poiēma) — so Basilius tells us, — and this
   form of expression can probably be explained by the fact that he thought it
   necessary, in this way and aggressively (agōnistikōs), to emphasise, on the
   basis of Origen’s idea of the Homoousia of the Son, the substantial unity of
   the deity, in opposition to a view of the divine Hypostases which
   approximated to polytheism. On the whole, however, we cannot avoid
   supposing, that at the time when theology was introduced into the faith — a
   work in which Gregory especially took part, —   and in consequence the worst
   confusions set in, [283] the tendency to heathen Tritheism had grown, and
   theologians found themselves compelled to maintain the “preaching of the
   monarchy” (kērugma tēs monarchias) to an increasing extent. This is proved
   by the correspondence of the Dionysii, the theology of Hieracas, and the
   attitude of Bishop Alexander of Alexandria; but we have also the evidence of
   Gregory. True, the genuineness of the writing ascribed to him, on the
   “essential identity” [284] (of the three Persons), is not yet decided, but
   it belongs, at all events, to the period before Athanasius. In this treatise
   the author seeks to establish the indivisibility and uniqueness of God,
   subject to the hypothesis of a certain hypostatic difference. In this he
   obviously approaches Monarchian ideas, yet without falling into them.
   Further, the very remarkable tractate, addressed to Theopompus, on the
   incapability and capability of suffering, [285] treats this very subject,
   without even hinting at a division between Father and Son in this
   connection; on the other hand, the author certainly does not call it in
   question. We can study in the works of Gregory, and in the two treatises
   [286] just mentioned, which bear his name, the state of theological
   stagnation, connected with the indeterminateness of all dogmatic ideas, and
   the danger, then imminent, of passing wholly over to the domain of abstract
   philosophy, and of relaxing the union of speculation with the exegesis of
   Holy Scripture. The problems are strictly confined to the sphere of
   Origen’s theology; but that theology was so elastic that they threatened to
   run wild and become thoroughly secular. [287] If, e.g., we review the
   Christological tenets of Eusebius of Cæsarea, one of Origen’s most
   enthusiastic followers, we are struck by their universal hollowness and
   emptiness, uncertainty and instability. While Monotheism is maintained with
   an immense stock of Bible texts and a display of all possible formulas, a
   created and subordinate God is, in fact, interposed between the deity and
   mankind.

   But there was also in the East a theology which, while it sought to make use
   of philosophy, at the same time tried to preserve in their realistic form
   the religious truths established in the fight with Gnosticism. There were
   theologians who, following in the footsteps of Irenæus and Hippolytus, by no
   means despised science, yet found the highest truth expressed in the tenets
   handed down by the Church; and who therefore, refusing the claim of
   philosophical Gnosis to re-edit the principles of faith, only permitted it
   to support, connect, and interpret them. These theologians were necessarily
   hostile to the science of religion cultivated in Alexandria, and enemies of
   its founder Origen. We do not know whether, during his life-time, Origen
   came into conflict in the East with opponents who met him in the spirit of
   an Irenæus. [288] From his own statements we must suppose that he only had
   to deal with untrained disputants. But in the second half of the third
   century, and at the beginning of the fourth, there were on the side of the
   Church antagonists of Origen’s theology who were well versed in
   philosophical knowledge, and who not merely trumped his doctrine with their
   psilē pistis (bare faith), but protected the principles transmitted by the
   Church from spiritualising and artificial interpretations, with all the
   weapons of science. [289] The most important among them, indeed really the
   only one of whom we have any very precise knowledge, besides Peter of
   Alexandria (see above), is Methodius. [290] But of the great number of
   treatises by this original and prolific author only one has been till now
   preserved complete in the original — Conviv. decem virg., while we have the
   greater part of a second — De resurr. [291] The rest has been preserved in
   the Slavic language, and only very lately been rendered accessible. The
   personality of Methodius himself, with his position in history, is obscure.
   [292] But what we do know is enough to show that he was able to combine the
   defence of the Rule of Faith as understood by Irenæus, Hippolytus, and
   Tertullian, [293] with the most thorough study of Plato’s writings and the
   reverent appropriation of Plato’s ideas. Indeed he lived in these. [294]
   Accordingly, he defended “the popular conception of the common faith of the
   Church” in an energetic counterblast to Origen, and rejected all his
   doctrines which contained an artificial version of traditional principles.
   [295] But on the other hand, he did not repudiate the basis on which
   Origen’s speculation rested. He rather attempted with its presuppositions
   and method to arrive at a result in harmony with the common faith. There
   seems to be no doubt that he took the great work of Irenæus as his model;
   for the manner in which Methodius has endeavoured to overcome dualism and
   spiritualism, and to establish a speculative realism, recalls strikingly the
   undertaking of Irenæus. Like the latter, Methodius sought to demonstrate the
   eternal importance of the natural constitution in spirit and body of the
   creatures made by God; and he conceived salvation not as a disembodying, not
   in any sense as a division and separation, but as a transfiguration of the
   corporeal, and a union of what had been unnaturally divided. He rejected the
   pessimism with which Origen had, like the Gnostics, viewed the world as it
   is, the sustasis tou kosmou, making it, if a well-ordered and necessary
   prison, yet a prison after all. This he confronted with the optimistic
   conviction, that everything which God has created, and as he has created it,
   is capable of permanence and transfiguration. [296] Accordingly, he opposed
   Origen’s doctrines of the pre-existence of souls, the nature and object of
   the world and of corporeality, the eternal duration of the world, a
   premundane Fall, the resurrection as a destruction of the body, etc. At the
   same time he certainly misrepresented them, as, e.g., Origen’s doctrine of
   sin, p. 68 sq. Like Irenæus, Methodius introduced curious speculations as to
   Adam for the purpose of establishing realism, i.e., the maintenance of the
   literal truth of sacred history. Adam was to him the whole of natural
   humanity, and he assumed, going beyond Irenæus, that the Logos combined the
   first man created (protoplast) with himself. [297] This union was conceived
   as a complete incorporation: “God embraced and comprehended in man;” and,
   starting from this incorporation, the attempt was made to explain redemption
   in terms of a mystical realism. Salvation was not consummated in knowledge
   (Gnosis), but it came to light, already achieved for mankind, in the
   constitution of the God-man. [298] But for this very reason Methodius
   borders, just like Irenæus, on a mode of thought which sees in the
   incarnation the necessary completion of creation, and conceives the
   imperfection of the first Adam to have been natural. [299] Adam, i.e.,
   mankind, was before Christ still in a plastic condition, capable of
   receiving any impression and liable to dissolution. Sin, which had
   exclusively an external source, had therefore an easy task; humanity was
   first consolidated in Christ. In this way freedom is retained, but we easily
   see that Origen’s idea of sin was more profound than that of Methodius.
   [300] The fantastic realism of the latter’s view is carried out in his
   speculations on the transference of salvation from Christ to individuals.
   The deep sleep of the Protoplast is paralleled in the second Adam by the
   sleep of death. Now as Eve was formed from, and was part of the being of
   sleeping Adam, so the Holy Spirit issued from Christ lying in the sleep of
   death, and was part of his being; [301] and from him the Church was
   fashioned.

   “The Apostle has excellently applied the history of Adam to Christ. So we
   will require to say with him that the Church is of the bone and flesh of
   Christ, since for her sake the Logos left the Heavenly Father, and came down
   that he might cleave to his spouse; and he fell asleep unconscious of
   suffering, dying voluntarily for her, that he might present the Church to
   himself glorious and faultless, after he had purified her by the bath; so
   that she might receive the spiritual and blessed seed, which he himself,
   instilling and implanting, scatters into the depths of the Spirit, whom the
   Church receives and, fashioning, develops like a spouse, that she may bear
   and rear virtue. For in this way the word is also excellently fulfilled
   ‘Grow and increase’; since the Church increases daily in greatness, beauty,
   and extent; because the Logos dwells with her, and holds communion with her,
   and he even now descends to us, and in remembrance (Anamnesis) of his
   suffering (continually) dies to himself. For not otherwise could the Church
   continually conceive believers in her womb, and bear them anew through the
   bath of regeneration, unless Christ were repeatedly to die, emptying himself
   for the sake of each individual, in order to find acceptance by means of his
   sufferings continuing and completing themselves; unless, descending from
   heaven, and united with his spouse, the Church, he imparted from his own
   side a certain power, that all who are edified in him should attain growth,
   those, namely, who, born again through baptism, have received flesh of his
   flesh, bone of his bone, i.e., of his holiness and glory. He, however, who
   calls bone and flesh wisdom and virtue, speaks truly; but the side is the
   Spirit of truth, the Paraclete, from whom the enlightened receiving their
   portion are born again, in a worthy manner, to immortality. But no one can
   participate in the Holy Spirit, and be accounted a member of Christ, unless
   the Logos has first descended upon him, and, falling asleep, has ‘emptied’
   himself, that he, rising again and rejuvenated, along with him who fell
   asleep for his sake, and re-fashioned in his own person, may participate in
   the Holy Spirit. For the side (pleura) of the Logos is really the spirit of
   truth, the seven-formed of the prophet, from whom God, in accordance with
   the self-sacrifice of Christ, that is, the incarnation and suffering of
   Christ, takes away something, and fashions for him his spouse, in other
   words, souls fit for him and prepared like a bride.” [302]

   Methodius accordingly, starts in his speculations from Adam and Eve as the
   real types of Christ and the Church; but he then varies this, holding that
   the individual soul rather must become the bride of Christ, and that for
   each the descent of the Logos from heaven and his death must be repeated —
   mysteriously and in the heart of the believer.

   This variation became, and precisely through the instrumentality of
   Methodius, of eminent importance in the history of dogma. [303] We would not
   have had in the third century all the premises from which Catholic
   Christianity was developed in the following centuries, unless this
   speculation had been brought forward, or, been given a central place, by a
   Christian theologian of the earlier period. It marks nothing less than the
   tapering of the realistic doctrinal system of the Church into the
   subjectivity of monkish mysticism. For to Methodius, the history of the
   Logos-Christ, as maintained by faith, was only the general background of an
   inner history, which required to repeat itself in each believer: the Logos
   had to descend from heaven, suffer, die, and rise again for him. Nay,
   Methodius already formulated his view to the effect that every believer
   must, through participation in Christ, be born as a Christ. [304] The
   background was, however, not a matter of indifference, seeing that what took
   place in the individual must have first taken place in the Church. The
   Church, accordingly, was to be revered as mother, by the individual soul
   which was to become the bride of Christ. In a word: here we have the
   theological speculation of the future monachism of the Church, and we see
   why it could not but pair with the loftiest obedience, and greatest devotion
   to the Church.

   But the evidence that we have really here the fundamental features of the
   monkish mysticism of the Church, is contained in the correct perception of
   the final object of the work from which the above details are taken. The
   whole writing seeks to represent the state of virginity as the condition of
   Christlikeness (I. 5, p. 13). Everything is directed to this end; yet
   marriage is not forbidden, but is admitted to possess a mystery of its own.
   Unstained virginity is ranked high above the married state; towards it all
   Christians must strive; it is the perfectly Christian life itself. Yet
   Methodius succeeds in maintaining, beside it, marriage and sin-stained birth
   from the flesh (II. 1 sq.). He had already arrived at the position of
   Catholic monasticism; the body belonging to the soul that would be the bride
   of Christ must remain virgin. The proper result of the work of Christ is
   represented in the state of virginity of the believers who still walk upon
   earth, and it is the bloom of imperishableness:

   “Exceedingly great and wonderful and glorious is virginity, and to speak
   plainly, following Holy Scripture, this most noble and fair practice is
   alone the ripe result, the flower and first fruits of incorruption, and
   therefore the Lord promises to admit “those who have preserved their
   virginity into the kingdom of heaven . . . for we must understand that
   virginity, while walking “upon the earth, reaches the heavens”:

   megalē tis estin huperphuōs kai thaumastē kai endoxos hē parthenia, kai ei
   chrē phanerōs eipein epomenēn tais hagiais graphais, to outhar tēs
   aphtharsias kai to anthos kai hē aparchē autēs touto to ariston kai
   kalliston epitēdeuma monon tunchanei, kai dia tauta kai ho kurios eis tēn
   basileian eiselasai tōn ouranōn tous apopartheneusantas sphas autous
   epangelletai . . . , parthenian gar bainein men epi gēs, epipsauein de tōn
   ouranōn hēgēteon (Conv. I. 1, p. 11).

   Methodius started from other premises than the school of Origen, and
   bitterly opposed the latter, but in the end he came to the same practical
   result — witness the followers of Hieracas. Their speculations also led to
   the depreciation of the objective redemption, and to monachism. But the
   concrete forms were very different. In Origen himself and his earliest
   disciples the Church was by no means really the mother, or, if it were, it
   was in a wholly different sense from that of Methodius. Asceticism and in
   particular virginity were not in themselves valuable, an end in themselves,
   but means to the end. Finally, Gnosis (knowledge) was different from Pistis
   (faith), and the ideal was the perfect Gnostic, who is freed from all that
   is alien and fleeting, and lives in the eternal and abiding. Methodius’
   teaching was different. Pistis and Gnosis were related to each other as
   theme and exposition: there is only one truth, which is the same for all;
   but on the soil of the Church there is room for the state of virginity,
   which is the goal of the incarnation, though all may not yet reach it. The
   important and momentous achievement of Methodius [305] consisted in
   subordinating a realistic Church theology, which yet was not destitute of a
   speculative phase, and even made a moderate use of the allegorical method,
   to the practical object of securing virginity, a life in which God and
   Christ were imitated, (Conv. I. 5, p. 13: to imitate God is to escape from
   corruption [homoiōsis Theō phthoras apophugē]; Christ is not only
   arch-shepherd and arch-prophet [archipoimēn-archiporophētēs], but also
   archetypal virgin [archiparthnos]). This doctrine, as well as the practical
   attitude of Hieracas, and many other features, as, e.g., the considerably
   earlier Pseudo-Clementine epistles “De virginitate,” [306] prove that the
   great aspiration of the time in the East was towards monachism, and
   Methodius succeeded in uniting this with a Church theology. In spite of his
   polemic against Origen he did not despise those phases of the latter’s
   theology, which were at all compatible with the traditional comprehension of
   religious doctrine. Thus he accepted the doctrine of the Logos implicitly in
   the form given to it by Origen’s school, without, of course, entangling
   himself in the disputed terminology (see, e.g., De creat. 11, p. 102); so
   far as I know, he made no express defence of Chiliasm, in spite of the high
   value he put on the Apocalypse. He is even said by Socrates (H. E. VI. 13)
   to have admired Origen, in one of his latest writings, “a sort of
   recantation” (hōs ek palinōdias). However that may be, the future belonged
   not to Origen, nor to the scientific religion that soared above faith, but
   to compromises, such as those, stamped with monachism, which Methodius
   concluded, to the combination of realistic and speculative elements, of the
   objectivity of the Church and the mysticism of the monks. [307] The great
   fight in the next decades was undoubtedly to be fought out between two forms
   of the doctrine of the Logos; the one, that of Lucian the martyr and his
   school, which had adopted elements distinctive of Adoptianism, and the
   other, professed by Alexander of Alexandria and the Western theologians,
   which with Sabellianism held fast the unity of the divine nature. But, in
   the case of the majority of Eastern Christians in the 4th century, the
   background or basis of these opposite views was formed, not by a theology
   purely Origenist, but by one of compromise, which had resulted from a
   combination of the former with the popular idea of the rules of faith, and
   which sought its goal, not in an absolute knowledge and the calm confidence
   of the pious sage, but in virginity, ecclesiasticism, and a mystical
   deification. Men like Methodius became of the highest consequence in the
   development of this theological genus, which, indeed, could not but gain the
   upper hand more and more, from the elemental force of factors existent in
   the Church. [308]

   But while as regards Origen’s theology reservations may have gradually grown
   stronger and more numerous in the course of the next decades, theological
   speculation aimed in the East, from about 250-320, at a result than which
   nothing grander or more assured could be imagined. In the West the old,
   short, Creed was retained, and, except in one case, [309] the Christological
   conflicts did not induce men to change it. But in the leading Churches of
   the East, and during the given period, the Creeds were expanded by
   theological additions, [310] and thus exegetical and speculative theology
   was introduced into the Apostolic faith itself. [311] Thus, in the Catholic
   Churches of the East, this theology was for ever fused with the faith
   itself. A striking example has been already quoted; those six Bishops who
   wrote against Paul of Samosata in the seventh decade of the third century,
   submitted a Rule of Faith, which had been elaborated philosophically and
   theologically, as the faith handed down in the holy Catholic Church from the
   Apostles [312] But we possess numerous other proofs. Gregory of Nyssa tells
   us that from the days of Gregory Thaumaturgus till his own, the Creed of the
   latter formed the foundation of the instruction given to catechumens in
   Neo-Cæsarea. But this Creed [313] was neither more nor less than a
   compendium of Origen’s theology, [314] which, here, was thus introduced into
   the faith and instruction of the Church. Further, it is clear from the
   letter of Alexander of Alexandria to Alexander of Constantinople, that the
   Church of Alexandria possessed at that time a Creed which had been
   elaborated theologically. [315] After the Bishop has quoted extensive
   portions of it, which he describes as “the whole pious Apostolic doctrine”
   (pasa hē apostolikē eusebēs doxa), he closes with the words “these things we
   teach and preach, that is the Apostolic dogmas of the Church” (tauta
   didaskomen, tauta kēruttomen, tauta tēs ekklēsias ta apostolika dogmata) But
   these dogmas belong to Origen’s theology. Finally, we perceive from the
   Nicene transactions, that many Churches then possessed Creeds, which
   contained the Biblical theological formulas of Origen. We may assert this
   decidedly of the Churches of Cæsarea, Jerusalem, and Antioch. [316] The
   entire undertaking of the Fathers of the Nicene Council to set up a
   theological Creed to be observed by the whole Church, would have been
   impossible, had not the Churches, or at least the chief Churches, of the
   East already been accustomed to such Symbols. These Churches had thus
   passed, in the generations immediately preceding the Nicene, through a
   Creed-forming period, to which little attention has hitherto been paid. In
   its beginning and its course it is wholly obscure, but it laid the
   foundation for the development of theological dogmatics, peculiar to the
   Church, in the fourth and fifth centuries. It laid the foundation  — for the
   following epoch was distinguished from this one by the fact that the precise
   definitions demanded by the doctrine of redemption, as contained within the
   frame-work of Origen’s theology, were fixed and made exclusive. Thus the
   dangers were guarded against, which rose out of the circumstance, that the
   philosophical theory of God, and the idea of the Logos which belonged to it,
   had been received into the system of religion, i.e., the Neo-platonic method
   and circle of ideas had been legitimised, without the traditional tenets of
   the faith having been sufficiently protected against them. In the new Creeds
   of the period 260-325 we find the conditions to hand for a system of
   religion based on the philosophical doctrine of God, a system specifically
   belonging to the Church, completely expressed in fixed and technical terms,
   and scientific. We find the conditions ready — but nothing more, or less.
   But it was also due to the Creeds that in after times every controversy of
   the schools necessarily became a conflict that moved and shook the Church to
   its very depths. The men, however, who in the fourth and fifth centuries
   made orthodox dogma, were undoubtedly influenced, to a greater degree than
   their predecessors of from A.D. 260-315, by specifically Church ideas; and
   their work, if we measure it by the mixture of ideas and methods which they
   received from tradition, was eminently a conservative reduction and securing
   of tradition, so far as that was still in their possession. It was really a
   new thing, a first step of immeasurable significance, when Athanasius staked
   his whole life on the recognition of a single attribute — the
   consubstantiality — of Christ, and rejected all others as being liable to
   pagan misinterpretation.

   At the beginning of the fourth century, Rules of Faith and theology were
   differently related to each other in the Churches of the East and West. In
   the latter, the phraseology of the primitive Creed was strictly adhered to,
   and a simple antignostic interpretation was thought sufficient, by means of
   formulas like “Father, Son, and Spirit: one God” — “Jesus Christ, God and
   man” — “Jesus Christ, the Logos, wisdom, and power of God” In the former,
   theological formulas were admitted into the Confession of Faith itself,
   which was thus shaped into a theological compendium ostensibly coming from
   the Apostles. But in both cases, the personal reality, and, with it, the
   pre-existence of the divinity manifested in Christ, were recognised by the
   vast majority; [317] they were included in the instruction given to
   Catechumens; they furnished the point of view from which men sought to
   understand the Person of Christ. And, accordingly, the accurate definition
   of the relation of the Deity to that other divine nature which appeared on
   earth necessarily became the chief problem of the future.
     _________________________________________________________________

   [125] Döllinger, Hippolytus und Kallistus, 1853. Volkmar, Hippolyt. und die
   röm. Zeitgenossen, 1855. Hagemann, Die römische Kirche, 1864. Langen, Gesch.
   d. römischen Kirche I., p. 192 ff. Numerous monographs on Hippolytus and the
   origin of the Philosophumena, as also on the authorities for the history of
   the early heretics, come in here. See also Caspari, Quellen III., vv. ll.
   The authorites are for Noëtus, the Syntagma of Hippolytus (Epiph.,
   Philaster, Pseudo-Tertull.), and his great work against Monarchianism, of
   which the so-called Homilia Hippolutou eis tēn hairesin Noētou tinos
   (Lagarde, Hippol. quæ feruntur, p. 43 sq.) may with extreme probability be
   held to be the conclusion. Both these works have been made use of by Epiph.
   H. 57. [When Epiph. (l.c. ch. 1) remarks that “Noëtus appeared ± 130 years
   ago”, it is to be inferred that he fixed the date from his authority, the
   anti-monarchian work of Hippolytus. For the latter he must have had a date,
   which he believed he could simply transfer to the period of Noëtus, since
   Noëtus is described in the book as ou pro pollou chronou genomenos. But in
   that case his source was written about A.D. 230-240, i.e., almost at the
   same time as the so-called Little Labyrinth. It is also possible, however,
   that the above date refers to the excommunication of Noëtus. In that case
   the work which has recorded this event, can have been written at the
   earliest in the fourth decade of the fourth century]. Most of the later
   accounts refer to that of Epiph. An independent one is the section Philos.
   IX. 7 sq. (X. 27; on this Theodoret is dependent H. F. III. 3). For Epigonus
   and Cleomenes we have Philos. IX. 7, 10, 11, X. 27; Theodoret H. F. III. 3.
   For Æschines: Pseudo-Tertull. 26; Philos. VIII. 19, X. 26; for Praxeas:
   Tertull. adv. Prax., Pseudo-Tertull. 30. The later Latin writers against
   heretics are at this point all dependent on Tertullian; yet see Optat., de
   schism. I. 9. Lipsius has tried to prove that Tertullian has used
   “Hippolytus against Noëtus” in his work adv. Prax. (Quellen-kritik, p. 43;
   Ketzergeschichte, p. 183 f.; Jahrbuch für deutsche Theologie, 1868, p. 704);
   but the attempt is not successful (see Ztschr. f. d. hist. Theol., 1874, p.
   200 f.). For Victorinus we have Pseudo-Tertull. 30. For Zephyrinus and
   Callistus: Philos. IX. 11 sq. Origen has also had Roman Monarchians in view
   in many of the arguments in his commentaries. On Origen’s residence in Rome
   and his relations with Hippolytus, see Euseb. H. E. VI. 14; Jerome, De vir.
   inl. 61; Photius Cod. 121; on his condemnation at Rome, see Jerome Ep. 33,
   ch. 4.

   [126] Orig. in Titum, Lomm. V., p. 287 “. . . sicut et illos, qui
   superstitiose magis quam religiose, uti ne videantur duos deos dicere, neque
   rursum negare salvatoris deitatem, unam eandemque substantiam patris ac
   filii asseverant, id est, duo quidem nomina secundum diversitatem causarum
   recipientes, unam tamen hupostasin subsistere, id est, unam personam duobus
   nominibus subiacentem, qui latine Patripassiani appellantur.” Athanas., de
   synod. 7 after the formula Antioch. macrostich.

   [127] IX. 6: megiston tarachon kata panta ton kosmon en pasin tois pistois
   emballousin.

   [128] Ad. Prax. 3: Simplices quique, ne dixerim imprudentes et idiotæ, quæ
   maior semper pars credentium est, quoniam et ipsa regula fidei a pluribus
   diis sæculi ad unicum et verum deum transfert, non intelligentes unicum
   quidem, sed cum sua oikonomía esse credendum, expavescunt ad oikonomía
   . . . Itaque duos et tres iam iactitant a nobis prædicari, se vero unius dei
   cultores præsumunt, . . . monarchiam inquiunt tenemus.” Orig., in Joh. II 3.
   Lomm. I. p. 95: Heteroi de hoi mēden eidotes, ei mē Iēsoun Christon kai
   touton estaurōnenon, ton genomenon sarka logon to pan nomisantes einai tou
   logou, Christon kata sarka monon gignōskousi toiouton de esti to plēthos tōn
   pepisteukenai nomizomenōn. Origen has elsewhere distinguished four grades in
   religion: (1) those who worship idols, (2) those who worship angelic powers,
   (3) these to whom Christ is the entire God, (4) those whose thoughts rise to
   the unchangeable deity. Clement (Strom. VI. 10) had already related that
   there were Christians who, in their dread of heresy, demanded that
   everything should be abandoned as superfluous and alien, which did not tend
   directly to blessedness.

   [129] See above (Vol. I., p. 195) where reference is made, on the one hand,
   to the Modalism reflected in Gnostic and Enkratitic circles (Gosp. of the
   Egypt., and Acta Lenc., Simonians in Iren. I. 231); on the other, to the
   Church formulas phrased, or capable of being interpreted, modalistically
   (see II. Ep. of Clement, Ign. ad Ephes., Melito [Syr. Fragments]; and in
   addition, passages which speak of God having suffered, died, etc.). It is
   instructive to notice that the development in Marcionite Churches and
   Montanist communities moved parallel to that in the great Church. Marcion
   himself, being no dogmatist, did not take any interest in the question of
   the relation of Christ to the higher God. Therefore it is not right to
   reckon him among the Modalists, as Neander has done (Gnost. Syxteme, p. 294,
   Kirchengesch. I. 2. p. 796). But it is certain that later Marcionites in the
   West taught Patripassianism (Ambros. de fide V. 13. 162, T. II., p. 579;
   Ambrosiaster ad I. Cor. II. 2, T. II., App. p. 117). Marcionites and
   Sabellians were therefore at a later date not seldom classed together. Among
   the Montanists at Rome there were, about A.D. 200, a Modalistic party and
   one that taught like Hippolytus; at the head of the former stood Æschines,
   at the head of the latter Proculus. Of the followers of Æschines, Hippolytus
   says (Philos. X. 26) that their doctrine was that of Noëtus: auton einai
   huion kai patera, horaton kai aoraton; gennēton kai agennēton, thnēton kai
   athanaton. It is rather an idle question whether Montanus himself and the
   prophetic women taught Modalism. They certainly used formulas which had a
   Modalistic sound; but they had also others which could afterwards be
   interpreted and could not but be interpreted “economically”. In the Test. of
   the XII. Patriarchs many passages that, in the Jewish original, spoke of
   Jehovah’s appearance among his people must now have received a Christian
   impress from their Christian editor. It is remarkable that, living in the
   third century, he did not scruple to do this, see Simeon 6: hoti ho kurios
   ho Theos megas tou Israēl, phainomenos epi gēs hōs anthrōpos kai sōzōn en
   autō ton Adam . . . hoti ho Theos sōma labōn kai sunesthiōn anthrōpois
   esōsen anthrōpous; Levi 5, Jud. 22, Issachar. 7: echontes meth' heautōn ton
   Theon tou ouranou, sumporeuomenon tois anthrōpois: Zebul. 9: hopsesthe Theon
   en schēmati anthrōpou; Dan. 5; Naphth. 8: ophthēsetai Theos katoikōn en
   anthrōpois epi tēs gēs: Asher 7: heōs hou ho hupsistos episkepsētai tēn gēn,
   kai autos elthōn hōs anthrōpos meta anthrōpōn esthiōn kai pinōn; Benjamin
   10. Very different Christologies, however, can be exemplified from the
   Testaments. It is not certain what sort of party Philaster (H. 51) meant
   (Lipsius Ketzergesch., p. 99 f.). In the third century Modalism assumed
   various forms, among which the conception of a formal transformation of God
   into man, and a real transition of the one into the other, is noteworthy. An
   exclusive Modalistic doctrine first existed in the Church after the fight
   with Gnosticism.

   [130] Tertull. l.c. and ch. I.: “simplicitas doctrinæ”, ch. 9, Epiphan. H.
   62. 2 aphelestatoi ē akeraioi. Philos. IX. 7, 11: Zephurinos idiōtēs kai
   agrammatos, l.c. ch. 6: amatheis.

   [131] That the scientific defenders of Modalism adopted the Stoic method —
   just as the Theodotians had the Aristotelian (see above) — is evident, and
   Hippolytus was therefore so far correct in connecting Noëtus with
   Heraclitas, i.e., with the father of the Stoa. To Hagemann belongs the merit
   (Röm. Kirche, pp. 354-371) of having demonstrated the traces of Stoic Logic
   and Metaphysics in the few and imperfectly transmitted tenets of the
   Modalists. (See here Hatch, The influence etc., p. 19 f. on the supaschein
   and the substantial unity of psuchē and sōma). We can still recognise,
   especially from Novatian’s refutation, the syllogistic method of the
   Modalists, which rested on nominalist, i.e., Stoic, logic. See, e.g., the
   proposition: “Si unus deus Christus, Christus autem deus, pater est
   Christus, quia unus deus; si non pater sit Christus, dum et deus filius
   Christus, duo dii contra scripturas introducti videantur.” But those
   utterances in which contradictory attributes, such as visible-invisible
   etc., are ascribed to God, could be excellently supported by the Stoic
   system of categories. That system distinguished idia (ousia, hupokeimenon)
   from sumbebēkota, or more accurately (1) hupokeimena (substrata, subjects of
   judgment); (2) poia (qualitatives); (3) pōs echonta (definite modifications)
   and (4) pros ti pōs echonta (relative modifications). Nos. 2-4 form the
   qualities of the idea as a sunkechuomenon; but 2 and 3 belong to the
   conceptual sphere of the subject itself, while 4 embraces the variable
   relation of the subject to other subjects. The designations Father and Son,
   visible and invisible etc., must be conceived as such relative, accidental,
   attributes. The same subject can in one relation be Father, in another Son,
   or, according to circumstances, be visible or invisible. One sees that this
   logical method could be utilised excellently to prove the simple unreasoned
   propositions of the old Modalism. There are many traces to show that the
   system was applied in the schools of Epigonus and Cleomenes, and it is with
   schools we have here to deal. Thus, e.g., we have the accusation which, time
   and again, Origen made against the Monarchians, that they only assume one
   hupokeimenon, and combine Father and Son indiscriminately as modes in which
   it is manifested. (Hagemann refers to Orig. on Matt. XVI. 14: hoi
   suncheontes patros kai huiou ennoian; and on John X. 21: suncheomenoi en tō
   peri patros kai huiou topō — but suncheein is the Stoic term). The
   proposition is also Stoic that while the one hupokeimenon is capable of
   being divided (diarein), it is only subjectively, in our conceptions of it
   (tē epinoia monē), so that merely onomata not differences kath' hupostasin,
   result. Further, the conception of the Logos as a mere sound is verbally
   that of the Stoics, who defined the phōnē (logos) as aēr peplēgmenos ē to
   ̓idion aisthēton akoēs. Tertullian adv. Prax.7; “quid est enim, dices, sermo
   nisi vox et sonus oris et sicut grammatici tradunt, aër offensus,
   intelligibilis auditu, ceterum vacuum nescio quid et inane et
   incorporale?” Hippolyt., Philos. X. 33: Theos logon apogenna, ou logon hōs
   phōnēn. Novatian, de trinit. 31: “sermo filius natus est, qui non in sono
   percussi aëris aut tono coactæ de visceribus vocis accipitur.” The
   application of Nominalist Logic and Stoic Methaphysics to theology was
   discredited in the controversy with the Modalists under the names of
   “godless science”, or “the science of the unbelievers”, just as much as
   Aristotelian philosophy had been in the fight with the Adoptians. Therefore,
   even as early as about A.D. 250, one of the most rancorous charges levelled
   at Novatian by his enemies was that he was a follower of another, i.e., of
   the Stoic, philosophy (Cornelius ap. Euseb. H. E. VI. 43. 16; Cypr. Ep. 55.
   24, 60. 3). Novatian incurred this reproach because he opposed the
   Monarchians with their own, i.e., the syllogistic, method, and because he
   had maintained, as was alleged, imitating the Stoics, “omnia peccata paria
   esse.” Now if the philosophy of Adoptian scholars was Aristotelian, and that
   of Modalistic scholars was Stoic, so the philosophy of Tatian, Tertullian,
   Hippolytus, and Origen, in reference to the One and Many, and the real
   evolutions (merismos) of the one to the many is unmistakably Platonic.
   Hagemann (l.c. pp. 182-206) has shown the extent to which the expositions of
   Plotinus (or Porphyry) coincide in contents and form, method and expression
   — see especially the conception of Hypostasis (substance) in Plotinus — with
   those of the Christian theologians mentioned, among whom we have to include
   Valentinus. (See also Hipler in the östr. Vierteljahrsschr. f. Kath. Theol.
   1869, p. 161 ff., quoted after Lösche, Ztschr. f. wiss. Theol. 1884, p.
   259). When the Logos Christology triumphed completely in the Church at the
   end of the third century, Neoplatonism also triumphed over Aristotelianism
   and Stoicism in ecclesiastical science, and it was only in the West that
   theologians, like Arnobius, were tolerated who in their pursuit of Christian
   knowledge rejected Platonism.

   [132] Hippol. c. Noët. I., Philos. IX. 7.

   [133] Epiph. l.c., ch. I.

   [134] According to Hippol. c. Noët. I., he was not condemned after the first
   trial, but only at the close of a second, — a proof of the uncertainty that
   still prevailed. It is impossible now to discover what ground there was for
   the statement that Noëtus gave himself out to be Moses, and his brother to
   be Aaron.

   [135] The fact that Noëtus was able to live for years in Asia Minor
   undisturbed, has evidently led Theodoret into the mistake that he was a
   later Monarchian who only appeared after Epigonus and Cleomenes. For the
   rest, Hippolytus used the name of Noëtus in his attack on him, simply as a
   symbol under which to oppose later Monarchians (see Ztschr. f. d. hist.
   Theol. 1874, p. 201); this is at once clear from ch. 2.

   [136] Philos. IX. 12: Houtōs ho Kallistos meta tēn tou Zephurinou teleutēn
   nomizōn tetuchēkenai hou ethērato, ton Sabellion apeōsen hōs mē phronounta
   orthōs, dedoikōs eme kai nomizōn houtō dunasthai apotripsasthai tēn pros tas
   ekklēsias katēgorian, hōs mē allotriōs phronōn. Hippolytus, whose treatment
   of Sabellius is respectful, compared with his attitude to Callistus, says
   nothing of his own excommunication; it is therefore possible that he and his
   small faction had already separated from Callistus, and for their part had
   put him under the ban. This cannot have happened under Zephyrine, as is
   shown directly by Philos. IX. 11, and all we can infer from ch. 7 is that
   the party of Hippolytus had ceased to recognise even Zephyrine as Bishop; so
   correctly Döllinger, l.c., p. 101 f., 223 f., a different view in Lipsius,
   Ketzergeschichte, p. 150. The situation was doubtless this: Epigonus and
   Cleomenes had founded a real school (didaskaleion) in the Roman Church,
   perhaps in opposition to that of the Theodotians, and this school was
   protected by the Roman bishops. (s. Philos. IX. 7: Zephurinos [tō kerdei
   prospheromenō teithomenos] sunechōrei tois prosiousi tō Kleomenei
   mathēteuesthai . . . Toutōn kata diadochēn diemeine to didaskaleion
   kratunomenon kai epauxon dia to sunairesthai autois ton Sephurinon kai ton
   Kalliston). Hippolytus attacked the orthodoxy and Church character of the
   school, which possessed the sympathy of the Roman community, and he
   succeeded, after Sabellius had become its head, in getting Callistus to
   expel the new leader from the Church. But he himself was likewise
   excommunicated on account of his Christology, his “rigourism” and his
   passionate agitations. At the moment the community of Callistus was no
   longer to him a Catholic Church, but a didaskaleion (see Philos. IX. 12, p
   458, 1; p. 462, 42).

   [137] The attempt has been made in the above to separate the historical
   kernel from the biassed description of Hippolytus in the Philos. His account
   is reproduced most correctly by Caspari (Quellen III., p. 325 ff.).
   Hippolytus has not disguised the fact that the Bishops had the great mass of
   the Roman community on their side (IX. 11), but he has everywhere scented
   hypocrisy, intrigues and subserviency, where it is evident to the present
   day that the Bishops desired to protect the Church from the rabies
   theologorum. In so doing, they only did what their office demanded, and
   acted in the spirit of their predecessors, in whose days the acceptance of
   the brief and broad Church confession was alone decisive, while beyond that
   freedom ruled. It is also evident that Hippolytus considered Zephyrine and
   the rest a set of ignorant beings (idiotes), because they would not accede
   to the new science and the “economic” conception of God.

   [138] According to Pseudo-Tertull. 30, where in fact the name of Praxeas is
   substituted for Noëtus.

   [139] De Rossi, Bullet. 1866, p. 170.

   [140] So, e.g., Hagemann, l.c., p. 234 f., and similarly at an earlier date,
   Semler.

   [141] L.c., p. 198.

   [142] Jahrb. f. deutsche Theologie, 1868, H. 4.

   [143] The name has undoubtedly not been shown elsewhere up till now.

   [144] Chronol. d. röm. Bischöfe, p. 173 f.

   [145] Adv. Prax.: Iste primus ex Asia hoc genus perversitatis intulit Romam,
   homo et alias inquietus, insuper de iactatione martyrii inflatus ob solum et
   simplex et breve carceris tædium.

   [146] L.c.: Ita duo negotia diaboli Praxeas Romæ procuravit, prophetiam
   expulit et hæresim intulit, paracletum fugavit et patrem crucifixit.

   [147] Pseudo-Tertull.: Praxeas quidem hæresim introduxit quam Victorinus
   corroborare curavit. This Victorinus is rightly held by most scholars to be
   Bishop Victor; (1) there is the name (on Victor = Victorinus, see Langen l
   c., p. 196; Caspari, Quellen III., p. 323, n. 102); (2) the date; (3) the
   expression “curavit” which points to a high position, and is exactly
   paralleled by the sunaíresthai used by Hippolytus in referring to Zephyrine
   and Callistus (see p. 58, note 1); lastly, the fact that Victor’s
   successors, as we know definitely, held Monarchian views. The
   excommunication of Theodotus by Victor proves nothing, of course, to the
   contrary; for the Monarchianism of this man was of quite a different type
   from that of Praxeas.

   [148] This is definitely to be inferred from the words of Tertullian (l.c.):
   “Fructicaverant avenæ Praxeanæ hic quoque superseminatæ dormientibus multis
   in simplicitate doctrinæ”; see Caspari, l.c.; Hauck, Tertullian, p. 368;
   Langen, l.c., p. 199; on the other side Hesselberg, Tertullian Lehre, p. 24,
   and Hagemann, l.c.

   [149] Tertullian, l.c.: Avenæ Praxeanæ traductæ dehinc per quem deus voluit
   (scil. per me), etiam evulsæ videbantur. Denique caverat pristinum doctor de
   emendatione sua, et manet chirographum apud psychicos, apud quos tunc gesta
   res est; exinde silentium.

   [150] Tertull., l.c. Avenæ vero illæ ubique tunc semen excusserant. Ita
   altquamdiu per hypocrisin subdola vivacitate latitavit, et nunc denuo
   erupit. Sed et denuo eradicabitur, si voluerit dominus.

   [151] Philos. IX. 12, X. 27. Epiph. H. 57. 2.

   [152] C. 1: ephē ton Christon auton einai ton patera kai auton ton patera
   gegennēsthai kai peponthenai kai apotethnēkenai.

   [153] C. 2: Ei oun Christon homologō Theon, autos ara estin ho patēr, ei ge
   estin ho Theos. epathen de Christos, autos ōn Theos, ara oun epathen patēr,
   patēr gar autos ēn.

   [154] Phaskousin sunistan hena Theon (c. 2).

   [155] Hippolytus defends himself, c. 11. 14: ou duo theous legō, s. Philos.
   IX. 11, fin. 12: dēmosia ho Kallistos hēmin oneidizei eipein; ditheoi este.
   From c. Noët. 11 it appears that the Monarchians opposed the doctrine of the
   Logos, because it led to the Gnostic doctrine of Æons. Hippolytus had to
   reply: tis apophaínetai plḗthun Theōn paraballoménēn katà kairoús. He
   sought to show (ch. 14 sq.) that the mustḗrion oikonomías, of the Trinity
   taught by him was something different from the doctrine of the Æons.

   [156] Hippol. (c. Noët. I.) makes his opponent say, ti oun kakon poiō
   doxázōn tòn Christón; see also ch. II. sq.; see again ch. IX. where
   Hippolytus says to his opponents that the Son must be revered in the way
   defined by God in Holy Scriptures.

   [157] S. c. 15: all' erei moi tis; Xenon phereis logon legōn huion. Iōannēs
   men gar legei logon, all' allōs allēgorei.

   [158] L. IX. 10. See also Theodoret.

   [159] We perceive very clearly here that we have before us not an unstudied,
   but a thought-out, and theological Modalism. As it was evident, in the
   speculations about Melchisedec of the Theodotians, that they, like Origen,
   desired to rise from the crucified Jesus to the eternal, godlike Son, so
   these Modalists held the conception, that the Father himself was to be
   perceived in Jesus, to be one which was only meant for those who could grasp
   it.

   [160] See above (p. 55, note 1). In addition Philos. X. 27: touton ton
   patera auton uion nomizousi kata kairous kaloumenon pros ta sumbainonta.

   [161] See Ignat. ad Ephes. VII. 2: heis iatros estin sarkikos te kai
   pneumatikos, gennētos kai agennētos, en sarki genomenos Theos, en thanatō
   zōē alēthinē, kai ek Marias kai ek Theou, prōton pathētos kai tote apathēs,
   Iēsous Christos; and see for Clement Vol. I., p. 186 ff.

   [162] It is interesting to notice that in the Abyssinian Church of to-day
   there is a theological school which teaches a threefold birth of Christ,
   from the Father in eternity, from the virgin, and from the Holy Ghost at the
   Baptism; see Herzog, R. E., 2 Aufl., Bd. I., p. 70.

   [163] C. 1: “Ipsum dicit patrem descendisse in virginem, ipsum ex ea natum,
   ipsum passum ipsum denique esse Iesum Christum.” c. 2: “post tempus pater
   natus et pater passus, ipse deus, dominus omnipotens, Iesus Christus
   prædicatur”; see also c. 13.

   [164] C. 7: “Quid est enim, dices, sermo nisi vox et sonus oris, et sicut
   grammatici tradunt, aër offensus, intellegibilis auditu, ceterum vanum
   nescio quid.”

   [165] C. 2: “Unicum deum non alias putat credendum, quem si ipsum eundemque
   et patrem et filium et spiritum s. dicat.” c. 3: “Duos et tres iam iactitant
   a nobis prædicari, se vero unius dei cultores præsamunt . . . monarchiam,
   inquiunt, tenemus.” c. 13: “inquis, duo dii prædicuntur.” c. 19: “igitur si
   propterea eundem et patrem et filium credendum putaverunt, ut unum deum
   vindicent etc.” c. 23: “ut sic duos divisos diceremus, quomodo iactitatis
   etc.”

   [166] C. 8: “Hoc si qui putaverit me probolēn aliquam introducer,” says
   Tertullian “quod facit Valentinus, etc.”

   [167] See C. 14. 15: “Hic ex diverso volet aliquis etiam filium invisibilem
   contendere, ut sermonem, ut spiritum . . . Nam et illud adiiciunt ad
   argumentationem, quod si filius tunc (Exod. 33) ad Moysen loquebatur, ipse
   faciem suam nemini visibilem pronuntiaret, quia scil. ipse invisibilis pater
   fuerit in filii nomine. Ac per hoc si eundem volunt accipi et visibilem et
   invisibilem, quomodo eundem patrem et filium . . . Ergo visibilis et
   invisibilis idem, et quia utrumque, ideo et ipse pater invisibilis, qua et
   filius, visibilis . . . Argumentantur, recte utrumque dictum, visibilem
   quidem in carne, invisibilem vero ante carnem, ut idem sit pater invisibilis
   ante carnem, qui et filius visibilis in carne.”

   [168] Thus to Exod. XXXIII. (ch. 14), Rev. I. 18 (ch. 17), Isa XXIV. 24 (ch.
   19), esp. John X. 30; XIV. 9, 10 (ch. 20), Isa. XLV. 5 (ch. 20). They admit
   that in the Scriptures sometimes two, sometimes one, are spoken of; but they
   argued (ch 18): Ergo quia duos et unum invenimus, ideo ambo unus atque idem
   et filius et pater.”

   [169] Ch. 10: “Ipse se sibi filium fecit.”

   [170] Ch. 11: “Porro qui eundem patrem dicis et filium, eundem et protulisse
   ex semetipso facis.”

   [171] To this verse the Monarchians, according to ch. 10, appealed, and they
   quoted as a parallel the birth from the virgin.

   [172] Ch. 27: “Æque in una persona utrumque distinguunt, patrem et filium,
   discentes filium carnem esse, id est hominem, id est Iesum, patrem autem
   spiritum, id est deum, id est Christum.” On this Tertullian remarks: “et qui
   unum eundemque contendunt patrem et filium, iam incipiunt dividere illos
   potius quam unare; talem monarchiam apud Valentinum fortasse didicerunt,
   duos facere Iesum et Christum.” Tertullian, accordingly, tries to retort on
   his opponents the charge of dissolving the Monarchia; see even ch. 4. The
   attack on the assumption of a transformation of the divine into the human
   does not, for the rest, affect these Monarchians (ch. 27 ff.).

   [173] See ch. 26, 27: “propterea quod nascetur sanctum, vocabitur filius
   dei; caro itaque nata est, caro itaque erit filius dei.”

   [174] Ch. 29: “mortuus est non ex divina, sed ex humana substantia.”

   [175] L. c.: “Compassus est pater filio.”

   [176] Philos. IX. 7, p. 440. 35 sq.; 11, p. 450. 72 sq.

   [177] Egō oida hena Theon Christon Iēsoun kai plēn autou heteron oudena
   gennēton kai pathēton — ouch ho patēr apethanen, alla ho huios.

   [178] L.c. IX. 12, p. 458, 78: alla kai dia to hupo tou Sabelliou suchnōs
   katēgoreisthai hōs parabanta tēn prōtēn pistin. It is apparently the very
   formula “Compassus est pater filio” that appeared unacceptable to the strict
   Monarchians.

   [179] Philos. IX. 12, p. 458, 80: Kallistos legei ton logon auton einai
   huion, auton kai patera onomati men kaloumenon, hen de hon to pneuma
   adiaireton. ouk allo einai patera, allo de huion, hen de kai to auto
   huparchein, kai ta panta gemein tou theiou pneumatos ta te anō kai katō; kai
   einai to en tē parthenō sarkōthen pneuma ouch heteron para ton patera, alla
   hen kai to auto. Kai touto einai to eirēmenon. John. 14. 11. To men gar
   blepomenon, hoper estin anthrōpos, touto einai ton huion, to de en tō huiō
   chōrēthen pneuma touto einai ton patera; ou gar, Bēsin, erō duotheous patera
   kai huion, all' hena. Ho gar en autō genomenos patēr proslabomenos tēn
   s8arka etheopoiēsen henōsas heautō, kai epoiēsen hen, hōs kaleisthai patera
   kai huion hena Theon. kai touto hen on prosōpon mē dunasthai einai duo, kai
   houtōs ton patera sumpeponthenai tō huiō; ou gar thelei legein ton patera
   peponthenai kai hen einai prosōpon . . . Here something is wanting in the
   text.

   [180] Catholic theologians endeavour to give a Nicene interpretation to the
   theses of Callistus, and to make Hippolytus a ditheist; see Hagemann, l.c.;
   Kuhn, Theol. Quartalschrift, 1885, II.; Lehir, Études bibliques, II., p.
   383; de Rossi and various others.

   [181] This is also Zahn’s view, Marcell., p. 214. The doctrine of Callistus
   is for the rest so obscure, — and for this our informant does not seem to be
   alone to blame — that, when we pass from it to the Logos Christology, we
   actually breathe freely, and we can understand how the latter simpler and
   compact doctrine finally triumphed over the laboured and tortuous theses of
   Callistus.

   [182] See the Christology of Origen.

   [183] See Vol. II., p. 256.

   [184] This can be clearly perceived by comparing the Christology of
   Tertullian and Hippolytus with that of Irenæus.

   [185] See Tertullian adv. Prax. 3; Hippol. c. Noët. 11.

   [186] Adv. Prax. 8, 13. It is the same with Hippolytus; both have in their
   attacks on the Modalists taken Valentine, comparatively speaking, under
   their protection. This is once more a sign that the doctrine of the Church
   was modified Gnosticism.

   [187] Ch. 18, in other passages otherwise.

   [188] Tertull. adv. Prax. 2. Hippol. c. Noët. I.

   [189] The Monarchian dispute was conducted on both sides by the aid of
   proofs drawn from exegesis. Tertullian, besides, in Adv. Prax., appealed in
   support of the “economic” trinity to utterances of the Paraclete.

   [190] See ad. Prax. 21: “Ceterum Iudaicæ fidei ista res, sic unum deum
   credere, ut filium adnumerare ei nolis, et post filium spiritum. Quid enim
   erit inter nos et illos nisi differentia ista? Quod opus evangelii, si non
   exinde pater et filius et spiritus, tres crediti, unum deum sistunt?”

   [191] Pisteusōmen, says Hippolyt. c. Noët. 17 — kata tēn paradosin tōn
   apostolōn hoti Theos logos ap' ouranōn katēlthen, — see already Tatian,
   Orat. 5 following Joh. I. 1: Theos ēn en archē, tēn de archēn logou dunamin
   pareilēphamen.

   [192] See above, p. 63.

   [193] In the Symbolum the “gennēthenta ek pneumatos hagiou” is to be
   understood as explaining ton huion tou Theou.

   [194] See Adv. Prax. 16.

   [195] On these grounds the doctrine of Sabellius will be described under, in
   the history of Eastern Modalism.

   [196] In forged Acts of Synod of the 6th century we read (Mansi, Concil.
   II., p. 621): “qui se Callistus ita docuit Sabellianum, ut arbitrio suo
   sumat unam personam esse trinitatis.” The words which follow later, “in sua
   extollentia separabat trinitatem” have without reason seemed particularly
   difficult to Döllinger (l.c., p. 247) and Langen (l.c., p. 215).
   Sabellianism was often blamed with dismembering the Monas (see Zahn,
   Marcell. p. 211.)

   [197] See Döllinger, l.c., Hippolytus was under Maximinus banished along
   with the Roman Bishop Pontian to Sardinia. See the Catal. Liber. sub
   “Pontianus” (Lipsius, Chronologic, pp. 194, 275).

   [198] This writing shows, on the one hand, that Adoptians and Modalists
   still existed and were dangerous in Rome, and on the other, that they were
   not found within the Roman Church. On the significance of the writing see
   Vol. II., p. 313 f.

   [199] The Roman doctrine of Christ was then as follows: He has always been
   with the Father (sermo dei), but he first proceeded before the world from
   the substance of the Father (ex patre) for the purpose of creating the
   world. He was born into the flesh, and thus as filius dei and deus adopted a
   homo; thus he is also filius hominis. “Filius dei” and “filius hominis” are
   thus to be distinguished as two substances (substantia divina — homo), but
   he is one person; for he has completely combined, united, and fused the two
   substances in himself. At the end of things, when he shall have subjected
   all to himself, he will subject himself again to the Father, and will return
   to and be merged in him. Of the Holy Spirit it is also true, that he is a
   person (Paraclete), and that he proceeds from the substance of the Father;
   but he receives from the Son his power and sphere of work, he is therefore
   less than the Son, as the latter is less than the Father. But all three
   persons are combined as indwellers in the same substance, and united by love
   and harmony. Thus there is only one God, from whom the two other persons
   proceed.

   [200] Sabellios blasphēmei, auton ton huion einai legōn ton patera. See
   Routh, Reliq. S. III., p. 373

   [201] Expos. Symboli Apost. ch. 19. The changes which can be shown to have
   been made on the first article of the Creed elsewhere in the West — see
   especially the African additions — belong probably at the earliest to the
   fourth century. Should they be older, however, they are all, it would seem,
   to be understood anti-gnostically; in other words, they contain nothing but
   explanations and comfirmatory additions. It is in itself incredible and
   incapable of proof that the Roman and after it the Western Churches should,
   at the beginning of the third century, have deleted, as Zahn holds, a hena
   which originally stood in the first article of the Creed, in order to
   confute the Monarchians.

   [202] See Vol. IV.

   [203] We, unfortunately, do not know on what grounds the Roman Bishop
   approved of the excommunication of Origen, or whether Origen’s doctrine of
   subordination was regarded in Rome as heretical.

   [204] Here follow in the original illustrations which we relegate to this
   footnote. Compare Instruct. II. 1 (Heading): “De populo absconso sancto
   omnipotentis Christi dei vivi;” II. 1, p. 28. 22, ed. Ludwig): “omnipotens
   Christus descendit ad suos electos;” II. 23, p. 43, 11 sq.: “Unde deus
   clamat: Stulte, hac nocte vocaris.” II. 39. 1, p. 52. Carmen apolog. 91 sq.:
   “Est deus omnipotens, unus, a semetipso creatus, quem infra reperies magnum
   et humilem ipsum. Is erat in verbo positus, sibi solo notatus, Qui pater et
   filius dicitur et spiritus sanctus;” 276: “Hic pater in filio venit, deus
   unus ubique.” (See also the following verses according to the edition of
   Dombart): 285: “hic erat Omnipotens;” 334: “(ligno) deus pependit
   dominus;” 353: “deum talia passum, Ut enuntietur crucifixus conditor
   orbis;” 359 sq.: “Idcirco nec voluit se manifestare, quid esset, Sed filium
   dixit se missum fuisse a patre;” 398: “Prædictus est deus carnaliter nasci
   pro nobis;” 455: “quis deus est ille, quem nos crucifiximus;” 610: “ipsa
   spes tota, deo credere, qui ligno pependit;” 612: “Quod filius dixit, cum
   sit deus pristinus ipse;” 625: “hic erat venturus, commixtus sanguine
   nostro, ut videretur homo, sed deus in carne latebat . . . dominus ipse
   veniet.” 630, 764: “Unus est in cælo deus dei, terræ marisque, Quem Moyses
   docuit ligno pependisse pro nobis;” etc. etc. Commodian is usually assigned
   to the second half of the third century, but doubts have recently been
   expressed as to this date. Jacobi, Commodian u. d. alt Kirchlich.
   Trinitätslehre, in der deutschen Ztschr. f. Christl. Wissensch., 1853, p,
   203 ff.

   [205] Et patitur, quomodo voluit sub imagine nostra.

   [206] Iam caro deus erat, in qua dei virtus agebat.

   [207] See Francke’s fine discussion, Die Psychologie und Erkentnisslehre des
   Arnobius (Leipzig, 1878).

   [208] We recall the Theodotians of Rome.

   [209] See Instit. IV. 6-30. The doctrine of the Logos is naturally worked
   out in a subordinationist sense. Besides this, many other things occur which
   must have seemed very questionable to the Latin Fathers 60 years afterwards:
   “Utinam,” says Jerome, “tam nostra confirmare potuisset quam facile aliena
   destruxit.”

   [210] Commod., Carmen apolog. 761.

   [211] See the Christological expositions, in part extremely questionable, of
   Arnobius I. 39, 42, 53, 60, 62, and elsewhere. A. demands that complete
   divinity should be predicated of Christ on account of the divine teaching of
   Christ (II. 60). In his own theology many other antique features crop up; he
   even defends the view that the supreme God need not be conceived as creator
   of this world and of men (see the remarkable chap. 46 of the second book,
   which recalls Marcion and Celsus). Many Church doctrines Arnobius cannot
   understand, and he admits them to be puzzles whose solution is known to God
   alone (see e.g., B. II. 74). Even in the doctrine of the soul, which to him
   is mortal and only has its life prolonged by receiving the doctrine brought
   by Christ, there is a curious mixture of antique empiricism and
   Christianity. If we measure him by the theology of the fourth century,
   Arnobius is heterodox on almost every page.

   [212] See the Carmen apolog. with its detailed discussions of the final
   Drama, Antichrist (Nero) etc.; Lactant IV. 12, VII. 21 sq.; Victorinus,
   Comm. on Revelation.

   [213] We can notice throughout in Commodian the influence of the institution
   of penance, that measuring-tape of the extent to which Church and World are
   entwined.

   [214] The oldest commentary preserved, in part, to us is that of Victorinus
   of Pettan on the Apocalypse.

   [215] The work of Arnobius is, in this respect, very instructive. This
   theologian did not incline as a theologian to Neoplatonism, at a time when,
   in the East, the use of any other philosophy in Christian dogmatics was ipso
   facto forbidden as heretical.

   [216] Epiphanius (H. 62. 1) tells us that there were Sabellians in Rome in
   his time. Since he was acquainted with no other province or community in the
   West we may perhaps believe him. This information seems to be confirmed by a
   discovery made in A.D. 1742 by Marangoni. “He found at the Marancia gate on
   the road leading to S. Paolo a stair closed in his time which, as the
   discoverer believed, led to a cubiculum of S. Callisto, and in which were
   painted Constantine’s monogram in very large letters, and, secondly, Christ
   sitting on a globe, between Peter and Paul. On the cover, in a mosaic of
   green stones, stood the inscription “Qui et filius diceris et pater
   inveniris” (Kraus, Rom. sott. 2 Aufl., p. 550). De Rossi, Kraus, and
   Schultze (Katakomben, p. 34) suppose that we have here the discovery of a
   burial place of Modalistic Monarchians, and that, as the monogram proves, of
   the fourth century. The sepulchre has again disappeared, and we have to
   depend entirely on Marangoni’s account, which contains no facsimile. It is
   not probable that a Sabellian burial-place lay in immediate proximity to
   Domitilla’s catacomb in the fourth century, or that the grave-yard of any
   sect was preserved. If we can come to any decision at all, in view of the
   uncertainty of the whole information, it seems more credible that the
   inscription belongs to the third century, and that the monogram was added to
   deprive it of its heretical character. Whether Ambrosius and Ambrosiaster
   refer in the following quotations to Roman or say Western Monarchians living
   in their time is at least questionable. (Ambrosius, de fide V. 13. 162, Ed.
   Bened. II. p. 579 “Sabelliani et Marcionitæ dicunt, quod hæc futura sit
   Christi ad deum patrem subjectio, ut in patrem filius refundatur”;
   Ambrosiaster in Ep. ad Cor. II. 2, Ed. Bened. App. II., p. 117, “quia ipsum
   patrem sibi filium appellatum dicebant, ex quibus Marcion traxit errorem”).
   Optatus (I. 9) relates that in the African provinces not only the errors,
   but even the names, of Praxeas and Sabellius had passed away; in I. 10, IV.
   5, V. 1 he discusses the Patripassians briefly, but without giving anything
   new. Nor can we infer from Hilary (de trinitate VII. 39; ad Constant. II. 9)
   that there were still Monarchians in his time in the West. Augustine says
   (Ep. 118 c. II. [12] ed. Bened. II., p. 498) “dissensiones quæstionesque
   Sabellianorum silentur.” Secondhand information regarding them is to be
   found in Augustine, Tract. in Joh. (passim) and Hær. 41. (The remarks here
   on the relation of Sabellius to Noëtus are interesting. Augustine cannot see
   why orientals count Sabellianism a separate heresy from Monarchianism).
   Again we have similar notices in Aug. Prædest. H. 41 — in H. 70 Priscillians
   and Sabellians are classed together; as already in Leo I — , in Isidor, H.
   43, Gennadius, Eccl. Dogm. I. 4 (“Pentapolitana hæresis”) Pseudo-hieron. H.
   26 (“Unionita” etc., etc. In the Consult. Zacch. et Appollon. l. II. 11 sq.
   (Gallandi -T. IX., p. 231 sq) — a book written about 430 — a distinction is
   made between the Patripassians and Sabellians. The former are correctly
   described, the latter confounded with the Macedonians. Vigilius Dial. adv.
   Arian. (Bibl. Lugd. T. VIII.).

   [217] S. Schleiermacher in the Theol. Zeitschr. 1822, part 3; Lange in the
   Zeitschr. f. d. histor. Theol. 1832, II. 2. S. 17-46; Zahn, Marcell. 1867.
   Quellen: Orig., peri arch. I. 2; in John. I. 23, II. 2. 3, X. 21; in ep. ad
   Titum fragm. II; in Mt. XVI. 8, XVII. 14; c. Cels. VIII. 12, etc. For
   Sabellius, Philosoph. IX. is, in spite of its meagreness, of fundamental
   importance. Hippolytus introduces him in a way that shows plainly he was
   sufficiently well known at the time in the Roman Church not to need any more
   precise characterisation (see Caspari, Quellen III., p. 327.). Epiphanius
   (H. 62) has borrowed from good sources. If we still possessed them, the
   letters of Dionysius of Alex. would have been our most important original
   authorities on S. and his Libyan party. But we have only fragments, partly
   in Athanasius (de sententia Dionysii), partly in later writers — the
   collection in Routh is not complete, Reliq S. III., pp. 371-403. All that
   Athanasius imparts, though fragmentary, is indispensable (espec. in the
   writings De synod.; de decret. synod. Nic. and c. Arian. IV. This discourse
   has from its careless use led to a misrepresentation of Sabellian teaching;
   yet see Rettberg, Marcell. Præf.; Kuhn, Kath. Dogmatik II. S. 344; Zahn,
   Marcell. S. 198 f.). A few important notices in Novatian, de trinit. 12 sq.;
   Method., Conviv. VIII. 10; Arius in ep. ad. Alex. Alexandriæ (Epiph., H. 69.
   7); Alexander of Alex. (in Theodoret , H. E. I.3); Eusebius, c. Marcell. and
   Præpar. evang.; Basilius, ep. 207, 210, 214, 235; Gregory of Nyssa, logos
   kata Areiou kai Saelliou (Mai. V. P. Nova Coll. VIII. 2, p. 1 sq.) — to be
   used cautiously — ; Pseudo-Gregor (Appollinaris) in Mai, 1.c. VII. 1., p.
   170 sq.; Theodoret. H. F. II. 9; Anonymus, pros tous Sabellizontas (Athanas.
   Opp. ed. Montfaucon II., p. 37 sq.); Joh. Damascenus; Nicephorus Call., H.
   E. VI. 25. For Monarchianism we have a few passages in Gregorius Thaumaturg.
   The theologians after Origen and before Arius will be cited under.

   [218] Emendations both to support and to refute Sabellianism were proposed
   in the valued works of the past; the N. T., as well as other writings
   belonging to primitive Christian literature, being tampered with. Compare
   Lightfoot’s excursus on I. Clem. II., where Cod. A reads tou Theou while C
   and S have tou Christou, the latter an emendation opposed to Monarchianism
   or Monophysitism (St. Clement of Rome, Appendix, p. 400 sq.). The old
   formulas to haima, ta pathēmata tou Theou and others came into disrepute
   after the third century. Athanasius himself disapproved of them (c. Apoll.
   II. 13. 141, I., p. 758), and in the Monophysite controversy they were
   thoroughly distrusted. Thus in Ignatius (ad. Eph. I.) en haimati Theou and
   (ad. Rom. VI.) tou pathous tou Theou mou were corrected. On the other hand
   (II. Clem. IX.) the title of pneuma for Christ was changed into logos. In
   the N. T. there are not a few passages where the various readings show a
   Monarchian or anti-Monarchian, a monophysite or dyophysite leaning. The most
   important have been discussed by Ezra Abbot in several essays in the
   “Bibliotheca Sacra” and the “Unitarian Review”. But we can trace certain
   various readings due to a Christological bias as far back as the second
   century: thus especially the famous ho monogenēs huios for monogenēs Theos
   John I. 18; on this see Hort., Two Dissertations I., on MONOGENĒS ThEOS in
   Scripture and Tradition, 1878; Abbot in the Unitarian Review, June 1875.
   Since the majority of the important various readings in the N. T. belong to
   the second and third century, a connected examination of them would be very
   important from the standpoint of the history of dogma. For dogmatic changes
   in the western texts, the remarkable passage in Ambrosiaster on Rom. V. 14
   falls especially to be noticed.

   [219] See Dionys. Alex. in Euseb. VII. 6. Dionysius speaks as if the
   appearance of Sabellian doctrine in his time in the Pentapolis were
   something new and unheard of.

   [220] This information, however, first appears in Basil, then in Philaster,
   Theodoret, and Nicephorus; possibly, therefore, it is due to the fact that
   Sabellius’ teaching met with great success in Libya and Pentapolis.

   [221] Athanas de sententia Dionysii 5.

   [222] This appears also from our oldest witness, the letter of Dionysius,
   Eusebius H. E. VII. 6: peri tou nun kinēthentos en tē Ptolemaidi tēs
   Pentapoleōs dogmatos, ontos asebous kai blasphēmian pollēn echontos peri tou
   pantokratoros Theou patros kai tou kuriou hēmōn Iēsou Christou, apistian te
   pollēn echontos peri tou monogenous paidos autou kai prōtotokou pasēs
   ktiseōs, tou enathrōpēsantos logou, anaisthēsian de tou hagiou pneumatos.

   [223] Epiph., l. c.: Dogmatizei gar houtos kai hoi ap' autou Sabellianoi ton
   auton einai patera, ton auton huion, ton auton einai hagion pneuma; hō einai
   en mia hupostasei treis onomasias, ē hōs en anthrōpō sōma kai psuchē kai
   pneuma. Kai einai men to sōna hōs eitein ton patera, psuchēn de hōs eipein
   ton huion, to pneuma de hōs anthrōpou, houtōs kai to hagion pneuma en tē
   theotēti. Ē hōs ean ē en hēliō onti men en mia hupostasei, treis de echonti
   tas energeias k.t.l. Method. Conviv. VIII. 10 (ed. Jahn, p. 37): Sabellios
   legei ton pantokratora peponthenai.

   [224] Athanas., de synod. 16; Hilar., de trin IV. 12.

   [225] Epiph. H. 62, c. 1: Pemphthenta ton huion kairō pote, hōsper aktina
   kai ergasamenon ta panta en tō kosmō ta tēs oikonmias tēs euangelikēs kai
   sōtērias tōn anthrōpōn, analēphthenta de authis eis ouranon, hōs hupo hēliou
   pemphtheisan aktina, kai palin eis ton hēlion anadramousan, To de hagion
   pneuma pempesthai eis ton kosmon, kai kathexēs kai kath' hekasta eis
   hekaston tōn kataxioumenōn k.t.l. C. 3 Epiphanius says: Ouch ho huios
   heauton egennēsen, oude ho patēr metabeblētai apo tou “patēr” tou einai
   “huios” k.t.l. . . . patēr aei patēr, kai ouk ēn kairos hote ouk ēn patēr
   patēr.

   [226] See Zahn, Marcell., p. 213.

   [227] Epiph., l. c., c. 2.

   [228] L. c.: Tēn de pasan autōn planēn kai tēn tēs planēs autōn dunamin
   echousin ex Apokruphōn tinōn, malista apo tou kaloumenou Aiguptiou
   euangeliou, hō tines to onoma epethento touto. En autō gar polla toiauta hōs
   en parabustō mustēriōdōs ek prosōpou tou sōtēros anapheretai, hōs autou
   dēlountos tois mathētais ton auton einai patera, ton auton einai huion, ton
   auton einai hagion tneuma.

   [229] In the 2nd Ep. of Clement where it is frequently used, though this is
   disputed by some, Modalistic formulas occur.

   [230] Clemens Alex. knew it; see Hilgenfeld, Nov. Testam. extra can.
   recept., 2 ed., fasc. 4, p. 42 sq.

   [231] See above, p. 45.

   [232] There were still Sabellians in Neo-Cæsarea in the time of Basilius;
   Epiphanius knows of them only in Mesopotamia (H. 62 c. 1). The author of the
   Acta Archelai (c. 37) also became acquainted with them there; he treats them
   like Valentinians, Marcionites, and followers of Tatian as heretics.

   [233] Orat. c. Arian IV. 25: hōsper diaireseis charismatōn eisi, to de auto
   pneuma, houtō kai ho patēr ho autos men esti, platunetai de eis huion kai
   pneuma.

   [234] Euseb. c. Marcell., p. 76 sq.

   [235] See on this Volume IV.

   [236] Sabellius seems to have been held a heretic all over the West about
   A.D. 300; see the Acta Archelai, Methodius etc.

   [237] Hagemann, l.c., p. 411 ff.; Dittrich, Dion. d. Gr. 1867; Förster, in
   the Ztschr. f. d. hist. Theol., 1871) p. 42 ff.; Routh, Reliq. S. III., pp.
   373-403. The main source is Athanasius de sentent, Dionysii, a defence of
   the Bishop, due to the appeal of the Arians to him; see also Basilius de
   spiritu, p. 29; Athan. de synod. 43-45.

   [238] Euseb., H. E. VII. 26. 1: Epi tautais tou Dionusiou pherontai kai
   allai pleious epistolai, hōsper hai kata Sabelliou pros Ammōna tēs kata
   Berenikēn ekklēsias episkopon, kai hē pros Telesphoron kai hē pros
   Euphranora, kai palin Ammōna kai Euporon. Suntattei de peri tēs autēs
   hupotheseōs kai alla tessara sungrammata, ha tō kata Rhōmēn homōnumō
   Dionusiō prosphōnei. Dionysius had already called the attention of Sixtus
   II., the predecessor of the Roman Dionysius, to the revolt in the
   Pentapolis.

   [239] Hagemann maintains that they first turned to the Alexandrian Bishop
   himself, and that he wrote an explanatory letter, which, however, did not
   satisfy them; but this cannot be proved (Athanasius de sentent. Dion. 13 is
   against it). The standpoint of the accusers appears from their appeal to the
   Roman Bishop, from the fact that he made their cause his own, and from the
   testimony of Athanasius. who describes them as orthodox Churchmen (de
   sentent. Dion. 13) — they were orthodox in the Roman sense. It is entirely
   wrong, with Dorner (Entwickelungsgesch. I., p. 748 f.) and Baur (Lehre v. d.
   Dreieinigkeit I., p. 313), to identify the accusers with those heretics,
   who, according to Dionysius’ letter, taught there were three Gods; for the
   heretics meant were rather the Alexandrian theologians.

   [240] De sententia 10. 16.

   [241] De sententia 14: ouk aei ēn ho Theos patēr, ouk aei ēn ho huios, all'
   ho men Theos ēn chōris tou logou, autos de ho huios ouk ēn prin genēthē,
   all' ēn pote hote ouk ēn, ou gar aidios estin, all' husteron epigegonen.

   [242] De sententia 16: patera legōn Dionusios ouk onomazei ton huion, kai
   palin huion legōn ouk onomazei ton patera, alla diairei kai makrunei kai
   merizei ton huion apo tou patros.

   [243] L. c. 18: prospherousin enklēma kat' emou pseudos on hōs ou legontos
   ton Kriston homoousion einai tō Theō.

   [244] L. c. 18: plēn egō genēta tina — says Dion. Alex. — kai poiēta tina
   phēsas noeisthai, tōn men toioutōn hōs achreioterōn ex epidromēs eipon
   paradeigmata, epei mēte to phuton ephēn (to auto einai) tō geōrgō, mēte tō
   naupēgō to skaphos; — Hena tōn genētōn einai — say the opponents of Dion.
   — ton huion kai mē homoousion tō patri. The passage in the letter to
   Euphranor ran (c. 4): poiēma kai genēton einai ton huion tou Theou, mēte de
   phusei idion, alla xenon kat' ousian auton einai tou patros, hōsper estin ho
   geōrgos pros tēn ampelon kai ho naupēgos pros to skaphos. kai gar hōs poiēma
   ōn ouk ēn prin genētai.

   [245] L. c. 15.

   [246] L. c. 18.

   [247] L. C. 23. The expositions of nous and logos which were found both in
   the 2 and 4 books of Dionysius quite remind us of Porphyry: kai estin ho men
   hoion patēr ho nous tou logou, ōn eph' eautou, ho de kathaper huios ho logos
   tou nou. pro ekeinou men adunaton, all' oude exōthen pothen, sun ekeinō
   genomenos, blastēsas de ap' autou. houtōs ho patēr ho megistos kai katholou
   nous prōton ton nhion logon hermēnea kai angelon heautou echei.

   [248] L. c. 17.

   [249] We see from the passages quoted by Basilius that Dionysius adhered to
   the expression “treis hupostaseis,” but discarded the “merismenas einai.”
   while his accusers must have attacked the former expression also: Ei tō
   treis einai tas upastaseis memerismenas einai legousi, treis eisi, kan mē
   thelōsin ē tēn theian triada pantelōs aneletōsan.. This accordingly is to be
   translated: “if they maintain that a separation is necessarily involved in
   the expression ‘three Hypostases,’ yet there are three — whether they admit
   it or no — or they must completely destroy the divine triad.”

   [250] L.c. 20, 21. It is very noteworthy, that Dionysius has not even
   brought himself to use the expression homoousios in his elenchos. If he had
   Athanasius would have given it in his extracts. For the rest, the attempt of
   Athanasius to explain away the doubtful utterances of Dionysius, by
   referring them to the human nature of Christ, is a makeshift born of
   perplexity.

   [251] De decret. synod. Nic. 26 (see besides de sentent. Dion. 13).

   [252] The attack on the latter has alone been preserved by Athanasius along
   with the concluding argument; it is thus introduced: Hoti de poiēma oude
   ktisma ho tou Theou logos, all' idion tēs tou patros ousias gennēma
   adiairet͙on estin, hōs egrapsen hē megalē sunodos, idou kai ho tēs Rhōmēs
   episkopos Dionusios graphōn kata tōn ta tou Sabelliou phronountōn,
   schetliazei kata tōn tauta tolmōntōn legein kai phēsin houtōs.

   [253] Hexēs d' an eikotōs legoimi kai pros tous diairountas kai
   katatemnontas kai anairountas to semnotaton kērugma tēs ekklēsias tou Theou,
   tēn monarchian — thus begins the fragment communicated by Athanasius, — eis
   treis dunameis tinas kai memerismenas hupostaseis kai theotētas treis;
   pepusmai gar einai tinas tōn par' humin katēchountōn kai didaskontōn ton
   theion logon, tautēs huphēgntas tēs phronēseōs; ohi kata diametron, hōs epos
   eipein, antikeintai tē Sabelliou gnōmē; ho men gar blasphēmei, auton ton
   huion einai legōn ton patera, kai empalin; hoi de treis theous tropon tina
   kēruttousin, eis treis hupostaseis xenas allēlōn, pantapasi kechōrismenas,
   diairountes tēn agian monada. hēnōsthai gar anankē tō Theō tōn holōn ton
   theion logon, emphilochōrein de tō Theō kai endiaitasthai dei to hagion
   pneuma, ēdē kai tēn theian triada eis hena, hōsper eis koruphēn tina (ton
   Theon tōn holōn ton pantokratora legō) sunkephalaiousthai te kai sunagesthai
   pasa anankē. Markiōnos gar tou mataiophronos didagma eis treis archas tēs
   monarchias tomēn kai diairesin (diorizei), paideuma on diabolikon, ouchi de
   tōn ontōs mathētōn tou Christou . . . houtoi gar triada men kēruttomenēn
   hupo tēs theias graphēs saphōs epistantai, treis de theous oute palaian oute
   kainēn diathēkēn kēruttousan According to Dionysius, then, some Alexandrian
   teachers taught “tropon tina” — this is the only limitation — a form of
   Tritheism. The whole effort of the Bishop was to prevent this. We recognise
   here the old Roman interest in the unity of God, as represented by Victor,
   Zephyrine, and Callistus, but Dionysius may also have remembered, that his
   predecessors, Pontian and Fabian, assented to the condemnation of Origen.
   Should we not connect the angry reproach, levelled at the Alexandrian
   teachers, that they were Tritheists, with the charge made by Callistus
   against Hippolytus, that he was a Ditheist; and may we not perhaps conclude
   that Origen himself was also accused of Tritheism in Rome?

   [254] The positive conclusion runs: Out' oun katamerizein chrē eis treis
   theotētas tēn thaumastēn kai theian monada, oute poiēsei kōluein to axiōma
   kai to huperballon megethos tou kuriou; alla pepisteukenai eis Theon patera
   pantokratora kai eis Christon Iēsoun ton huion autou kai eis to hagion
   pneuma, hēnōsthai de tō Theō tōn holōn ton logon; egō gar, phēsi. kai ho
   patēr hen esmen. kai egō en tō patri kai ho patēr en emoi — these are the
   old Monarchian proof-texts — houtō gar an kai hē theia trias kai to hagion
   kērugma tēs monarchias diasōzoito. We see that Dionysius simply places the
   “holy preaching of the Monarchy” and the “Divine Triad” side by side: “stat
   pro ratione voluntas.” Between this conclusion and the commencement of the
   fragment preserved by Athanasius given in the preceding note, we have a
   detailed attack on those who hold the Son to be a poiēma like other
   creatures, “while the Holy Scriptures witness to his having an appropriate
   birth, but not to his being formed and created in some way.” The attack on
   the ēn hote ouk ēn touches the fundamental position of the Alexandrian
   scholars as little as the opposition to three Gods; for Dionysius contents
   himself with arguing that God would have been without understanding, if the
   Logos had not always been with him; a thing which no Alexandrian doubted.
   The subtle distinction between Logos and Logos Dionysius leaves wholly out
   of account, and the explanation of the Roman Bishop on Proverbs VIII. 32
   (kurios ektise me archēn hodōn autou): ektise entautha akousteon anti tou
   epestēse tois up' autou gegonosin ergois, gegonosi de di' autou tou huiou,
   must merely have caused a compassionate smile among the theologians of
   Alexandria.

   [255] See above, page 45.

   [256] See the letter to Fabius of Antioch, and the attitude of Dionysius in
   the Novatian controversy, in which he sought at first to act as mediator
   precisely as he did in the dispute over the baptism of heretics (Euseb. H.
   E. VI. 41, 42, 44-46, VII. 2-9).

   [257] See the fragments in Euseb. H. E. VII. 24, 25. The criticism of the
   Apocalypse is a master-piece.

   [258] See Euseb. H. E. VII. 26, 2; the fragments of the work in Routh,
   Reliq. S. IV., p. 393 sq. On this, Roch, die Schrift des Alex. Bischofs,
   Dionysius d. Gr. über die Natur (Leipzig 1882) and my account of this
   dissertation in the Th. L. Z. 1883, No. 2. Dionysius' work, apart from a few
   Biblical quotations which do not affect the arguments, might have been
   composed by a Neo-platonic philosopher. Very characteristic is the opening
   of the first fragment preserved by Eusebius. Poteron en esti sunaphes to
   pan, hōs hēmin te kai tois sophōtatois Hellēnōn Platōni kai Puthagora kai
   tois apo tēs Stoas kai Hērakleitō phainetai; there we have in a line the
   whole company of the saints with whom Epicurus and the Atomists were
   confronted. We notice that from and after Justin Epicurus and his followers
   were extremely abhorred by Christian theologians, and that in this
   abhorrence they felt themselves at one with Platonists, Pythagoreans, and
   Stoics. But Dionysius was the first Christian to take over from these
   philosophers the task of a systematic refutation.

   [259] Photius Cod. 119.

   [260] Routh, Reliq. S. III., pp. 425-435.

   [261] Jerome, de vir. 76 ; see also Euseb. H. E. VII. 32.

   [262] Cod. 106.

   [263] The first book dealt with the Father and Creator; the second, with the
   necessity that God should have a son, and the Son; the third, took up the
   Holy Ghost; the fourth, angels and demons; the fifth and sixth, the
   possibility and actuality of the Son's incarnation; the seventh, God's
   creative work. From the description by Photius it appears that Theognostus
   laid the chief stress on the refutation of two opinions, namely, that matter
   was eternal, and that the incarnation of the Logos was an impossibility.
   These are, however, the two theses with which the Neoplatonic theologians of
   the 4th and 5th centuries confronted Christian science, and in whose
   assertion the whole difference between Neo-platonism, and the dogmatic of
   Alexandrian churchmen at bottom consisted. It is very instructive to notice
   that even at the end of the 3rd century the antithesis thus fixed came
   clearly to the front. If Theognostus, for the rest, rejected the opinion
   that God created all things from a matter equally eternal with himself, this
   did not necessarily imply his abandonment of Origen's principle of the
   eternity of matter; yet it is at any rate possible that in this point he
   took a more guarded view of the master's doctrine.

   [264] The fragment given by Athanasius (de decr. Nic. syn. 25) runs as
   follows: Ouk exōthen tis estin epheuretheisa hē tou huiou ousia, oude ek mē
   ontōn epeisēchthē; alla ek tēs tou patros ousias ephu, hōs tou phōtos to
   apaugasma, hōs hudatos atmis; oute gar to apaugasma oute hē atmis auto to
   hudōr estin ē autos ho hēlios, oute allotrion; kai oute autos estin ho patēr
   oute allotrios alla aporrhoia tēs tou patros ousias, ou merismon
   hupomeinasēs tēs tou patros ousias; hōs gar menōn ho hēlios ho autos ou
   meioutai tais ekcheomenais hup' autou augais, houtōs oude hē ousia tou
   patros alloiōsin hupemeinen, eikona heautēs echousa ton huion. Notice that
   the merismos is here negatived; but this negative must have been limited by
   other definitions. At all events we may perhaps regard Theognostus as midway
   between Pierius and Alexander of Alexandria.

   [265] See Gregory of Nyssa, c. Eunom. III. in Routh, l.c., p. 412; he
   proscribes the proposition of Theognostus: ton Theon boulomenon tode to pan
   kataskeuasai, prōton ton huion hoion tina kanona tēs dēmiourgias
   proupostēsasthai. Stephanus Gobarus has expressly noted it as a scandal that
   Athanasius should nevertheless have praised Theognostus (in Photius, Cod.
   282). Jerome did not admit him into his catalogue of authors, and it is
   remarkable that Eusebius has passed him over in silence; this may, however,
   have been accidental.

   [266] See Athanas. Ep. ad Serap. IV., ch. 11; Routh, l.c., pp. 407-422,
   where the fragments of Theognostus are collected.

   [267] See Epiph. H. 67. 3, 55. 5.

   [268] Epiphanius (H. 67) speaks in the highest terms of the knowledge,
   learning, and power of memory, possessed by Hieracas.

   [269] H. understood the resurrection in a purely spiritual sense, and
   repudiated the restitutio carnis. He would have nothing to do with a
   material Paradise; and Epiphanius indicates other heresies, which H. tried
   to support by a comprehensive scriptural proof. The most important point is
   that he disputed, on the ground of 2 Tim. II. 5, the salvation of children
   who died even when baptised; “for without knowledge no conflict, without
   conflict no reward.” Epiphanius expressly certifies his orthodoxy in the
   doctrine of the Trinity; in fact. Arius rejected his Christology along with
   that of Valentinus, Mani, and Sabellius, in his letter to Alexander of Alex.
   (Epiph. H. 69. 7). From his short description of it (oud hōs Hierakas
   luchnon apo luchnou, ē hōs lampada eis duo — these are figures already
   employed by Tatian) we can only, however, conclude that H. declared the
   ousia of the Son to be identical with that of the Father. He may have
   developed Origen’s Christology in the direction of Athanasius.

   [270] See my Art. in Herzog’s R. E. 2 Aufl. VI., p. 100 f. Hieracas
   recognised the essential difference between the O. and N. T. in the
   commandments as to agneia, enkrateia, and especially, celibacy. “What then
   did the Logos bring that was new?” or what is the novelty proclaimed and
   instituted by the Only-begotten? The fear of God? The law already contained
   that. Was it as to marriage? The Scriptures (= the O. T.) had already dealt
   with it. Or as to envy, greed, and unrighteousness? All that is already
   contained in the O. T. Hen de monon touto katorthōsai ēlthe, to tēn
   enkrateian kēruxai en tō kosmō kai heautō analexasthai hagneian kai
   enkrateian. Aneu de toutou mē dunasthai zēn (Epiph. H. 67, ch. 1). He
   appealed to 1 Cor. VII., Hebr. XII. 14, Math. XIX. 12, XXV. 21.

   [271] Procopius undoubtedly maintains (Comm. in Genes., ch. III., p. 76, in
   Routh, Reliq. S. IV., p. 50) that Dionysius Alex., in his commentary on
   Ecclesiastes, contradicted the allegorical explanation of Gen. II., III; but
   we do not know in what the contradiction consisted.

   [272] Eusebius, H. E. IX. 6: Peter was made a martyr, probably in A.D. 311.

   [273] See the fragments of Peter’s writings in Routh, l.c., pp. 21-82,
   especially pp. 46-50. Vide also Pitra, Analecta Sacra IV., p. 187 sq., 425
   sq.

   [274] Decidedly spurious is the fragment of an Mustagōgia alleged of Peter,
   in which occur the words: ti de eipō Hēraklan kai Dēmētrion tous makkarious
   episkopous, hoious peirasmous hupestēsan hupo tou manentos Ōrigenous, kai
   autou schismata ballontos en tē ekklēsia, ta heōs sēmeron tarachas autē
   egeiranta (Routh, l.c., p. 81).

   [275] We have unfortunately no more precise information as to Peter’s
   attitude; we may determine it, however, by that of Methodius (see under).

   [276] So monas — trias — ousia – phusis — hupokeimenon — hupostasis —
   prosōpon — perigraphē — merizesthai — diairein — platunein —
   sunkephalaiousthai — ktizein — poiein — gignesthai gennan — homoousios — ek
   tēs ousias tou patros — dia tou thelēmatos — Theos ek Theou — phōs ek phōtos
   — gennēthenta ou poiēthenta — ēn hote ouk ēn — ouk ēn hote ouk ēn — ēn hote
   ouk ēn — heteros kat' ousian — atreptos — analloiōtos — agennētos —
   allotrios — pēgē tēs theotētos — duo ousiai — ousia ousiōmenē —
   enanthrōpēsis — theanthrōpos — henōsis ousiōdēs — henōsis kata metousian —
   sunapheia kata mathēsin kai metousian — sunkrasis — enoikein etc. Hipler in
   the Oesterr. Vierteljahrschrift für kathol. Theol. 1869, p. 161 ff. (quoted
   after Lösche, Ztschr. f. wiss. Theol. 1884, S. 259) maintains that
   expressions occurred in the speculations of Numenius and Porphyry as to the
   nature of God, which only emerged in the Church in consequence of the Nicene
   Council. Those technical terms of religio-philosophical speculation, common
   to the Neoplatonists of the 3rd century, the Gnostics and Catholic
   theologians, require reexamination. One result of this will be perhaps the
   conclusion that the philosophy of Plotinus and Porphyry was not uninfluenced
   by the Christian system, Gnostic and Origenistic, which they opposed. We
   await details under this head from Dr. Carl Schmidt.

   [277] The meaning which was afterwards attached to the received categories
   was absolutely unthinkable, and corresponded perfectly to none of the
   definitions previously hit upon by the philosophical schools. But this only
   convinced men that Christianity was a revealed doctrine, which was
   distinguished from philosophical systems by mysterious ideas or categories.

   [278] But we have not yet ascertained the method followed in the earlier
   period of collecting the verdicts of the older Fathers, and of presenting
   them as precedents; yet it is noteworthy that Irenæus and Clement already
   delighted in appealing to the presbuteroi, which meant for them, however,
   citing the Apostles’ disciples, and that Paul of Samosata was accused in the
   epistle of the Synod of Antioch, of despising the ancient interpreters of
   the Divine Word (Euseb. VII. 30).

   [279] See Caspari IV., p. 10 ff.; Ryssel, Gregorius Thaumaturgus, 1880. Vide
   also Overbeck in the Th. L.–Z., 1881, No. 12, and Dräscke in the Jahrb. f.
   protest. Theol. 1881, H. 2. Edition by Fronto. Ducäus, 1621. Pitra, Analecta
   Sacra III.; also Loofs, Theol. L. Z., 1884, No. 23.

   [280] See Caspari’s (l.c.) conclusions as to Gregory’s confession of faith,
   whose genuineness seems to me made out. Origen’s doctrine of the Trinity
   appears clearly in the Panegyric. The fragment printed by Ryssel, p. 44 f.,
   is not by Gr. Thaumaturgus.

   [281] See Caspari, l.c., p. 10: trias teleia, doxē kai aidiotēti kai
   basileia mē merizomenē mēde apallotrioumenē. Oute oun ktiston ti ē doulon en
   tē triadi oute epeisakton, hōs proteron men ouch huparchon, husteron de
   epeiselthon; oute gar enelipe pote huios patri, oute thiō pneuma, all'
   atreptos kai analloiōtos hē autē trias aei.

   [282] Basil., ep. 210.

   [283] It remained a matter of doubt in the East up to the beginning of the
   fourth century, whether one ought to speak of three Hypostases (essences,
   natures), or one.

   [284] Ryssel, p. 65 f., 100 f.; see Gregor. Naz., Ep. 243, Opp, p. II., p.
   196 sq., ed. Paris, 1840.

   [285] Ryssel, p. 71 f., 118 f. The genuineness of the tractate is not so
   certain as its origin in the 3rd century; yet see Loofs, l.c.

   [286] See also the Sermo de incarnatione attributed to Gregory (Pitra III.,
   p. 144 sq., 395 sq.)

   [287] Origen himself always possessed in his unconditional adherence to the
   Bible a kind of corrective against the danger of passing entirely over to
   philosophy. Though thoroughly versed in philosophical science, he sought
   never to be more than a scriptural theologian, and urged his disciples —
   witness his letter to Gregor. Thaum. — to give up their philosophical
   studies, and devote themselves wholly to the Bible. No professedly
   philosophical expositions occur in Origen himself, so far as I know, like
   those transmitted by his disciples. For the latter the comprehensive chapter
   of Eusebius (H. E. VII. 32) is very instructive. Here we meet with Bishops
   who seem to have been scholars first and clerics afterwards. This Eusebius
   (§ 22) has to tell of one: logōn men philosophōn kai tēs allēs par' Hellēsi
   paideias para tois pollois thaumastheis, ouch homoiōs ge nēn peri tēn theian
   pistin diatetheimenos.

   [288] It is unknown who was the kalliōn hēmōn presbutēs kaì makaristos anēr
   quoted by Epiph. (H. 64, ch. 8 and 67) as an opponent of Origen.

   [289] Besides these we have Eastern theologians, who, while they did not
   write against Origen, show no signs in their works of having been influenced
   by Alexandrian theology, but rather resemble in their attitude Irenæus and
   Hippolytus. Here we have especially to mention the author of five dialogues
   against the Gnostics, which, under the title “De recta in deum fide,” bear
   the name of Adamantius; see the editio princeps by Wetstein, 1673, and the
   version of Rufinus discovered by Caspari (Kirchenhistorische Anecdota, 1883;
   also Th. L.–Z. 1884, No. 8) which shows that the Greek text is interpolated.
   The author, for whom we have perhaps to look in the circle of Methodius, has
   at any rate borrowed not a little from him (and also from the work of
   Theophilus against Marcion?). See Jahn, Methodii, Opp. I., p. 99, II. Nos.
   474, 542, 733-749, 771, 777. Möller in Herzog’s R. E., 2 Ed., IX., p. 725.
   Zahn, Ztschr. f. Kirchengesch., Vol. IX., p. 193 ff.: “Die Dialoge des
   Adamantius mit den Gnostikern.” The dialogues were written ± 300, probably
   somewhere in East Asia Minor, or in West Syria, according to Zahn about
   300-313 in Hellenic Syria, or Antioch. They are skilfully written and
   instructive; a very moderate use is made of philosophical theology. Perhaps
   the Ep. ad Diogn. also came from the circle of Methodius. Again, there is
   little philosophical theology to be discovered in the original edition of
   the first six books of the apostolic Constitutions, which belongs to the
   third century. See Lagarde in Bunsen’s Analecta Ante-Nicæna T. II. The
   author still occupied the standpoint of Ignatius, or the old anti-gnostic
   teachers. The dogmatic theology, in the longer recension of the work,
   preserved in Greek, belongs entirely to the reviser who lived in or after
   the middle of the 4th century (so App. Const. II. 24, VI. 11, 14, 41 [Hahn,
   Biblioth. der Symbole, 2 Aufl., §§ 10, 11, 64]; see my edition of the
   Didachē, p. 241 ff. That Aphraates and the author of the Acta Archelai were
   unaffected by Origen’s theology will have been clear from what was said
   above, p. 50 f.

   [290] Jahn, S. Methodii Opp., 1865; Pars II. S. Methodius Platonizans, 1865;
   Bonwetsch, M. von Olympus I. 1891. Vide also Pitra, Analecta Sacra T. III.,
   IV. (see Loofs, Th. L.–Z., 1884, No. 23, col. 556 ff.). Möhler, Patrologie,
   pp. 680-700. Möller, l.c., p. 724 ff. Salmon Dict. of Christian Biogr. III.
   p. 909 sq.

   [291] Besides smaller fragments are found, increased by Pitra.

   [292] See Zahn, Ztschr. f. Kirchengesch. Vol. VIII., p. 15 ff. Place:
   Olympus in Lycia.

   [293] He was ranked in later times with Irenæus and Hippolytus (see Andreas
   Cæs. in præf. in Apoc., p. 2.) and that as a witness to the inspiration of
   John’s Apocalypse.

   [294] See Jahn, l.c.

   [295] See the long fragments of the writing de resurrectione which was
   directed against Origen, as also the work peri tōn genētōn. Methodius called
   Origen a “Centaur” (Opp. I. 100, 101), i.e., “Sophist,” and compared his
   doctrine with the Hydra (I. 86). See the violent attack on the new-fashioned
   exegetes and teachers in De resurr. 8, 9 (Opp I. 67 sq.) and 20, (p. 74),
   where the osta noēta and sarkas noētas of Origen’s school are ridiculed; ch.
   21, p. 75; 39, p. 83.

   [296] See the short argument against Origen, De resurr. 28, p. 78: Ei gar
   kreitton to mē einai tou einai ton kosmon, dia ti to cheiron hēreito poiēsas
   ton kosmon ho Theos; all' ouden ho Theos mataiōs ē cheiron epoiei. oukoun
   eis to einai kai menein tēn ktisin ho Theos diekosmēsato. Wisdom I. 14 and
   Rom. VIII. 19 follow. The fight waged by Methodius against Origen presents
   itself as a continuation of that conducted by Irenæus against the Gnostics.
   It dealt in part with the same problems, and used the same arguments and
   proofs. The extent to which Origen hellenised the Christian tradition was in
   the end as little tolerated in the Church as the latitude taken by the
   Gnostics. But while Gnosticism was completely ejected in two or three
   generations it took much longer to get rid of Origenism. Therefore, still
   more of Origen’s theology passed into the “revealed” system of Church
   doctrine, than of the theology of the Gnostics.

   [297] See Conviv. III. 6 (p. 18 sq.): tautē gar ton anthrōpon aneilēphen ho
   logos, hopōs dē di' autou katalusē tēn ep' olethrō gegonuian katadikēn,
   hēttēsas ton ophin. hērmoze gar mē di' heterou nikēthēnai ton ponēron alla
   di' ekeinou, hon dē kai ekompazen apatēsas auton teturannēkenai, hoti mē
   allōs tēn hamartian luthēnai kai tēn katakrisin dunaton ēn, ei mē palin ho
   autos ekeinos anthrōpos, di' hon eirēto to “gē ei kai eis gēn apeleusē,”
   anaplastheis aneluse tēn apophasin tēn di' auton eis pantas exenēnegmenēn.
   hopōs, kathōs en tō Adam proteron pantes apothnēskousin, houtō dē palin kai
   en tō aneilēphoti Chpistō ton Adam pantes zōopoiēthōsin. Still clearer is
   III. 4, where it is expressly denied that Adam is only a type of Christ:
   phere gar hēmeis episkepsōmetha pōs orthodoxōs anēgage ton Adam eis ton
   Christon, ou monon tupon auton hēgoumenos einai kai eikona, alla kai auto
   touto Christon kai auton gegonenai dia to ton pro aiōnōn eis auton
   enkataskēpsai logon. hērmoze gar to prōtogonon tou Theou kai prōton blastēma
   kai monogenes tēn sophian tō prōtoplastō kai prōtō kai prōtogonō tōn
   anthrōpōn anthrōpō kerastheisan enēnthrōpēkenai, touto gar einai ton
   Christon, anthrōpon en akratō theotēti kai teleia peplērōmenon kai Theon en
   anthrōpō kechōrēmenon; ēn gar prepōdestaton ton presbutaton tōn aiōnōn kai
   prōton tōn archangelōn, anthrōpois mellonta sunomilein, eis ton presbutaton
   kai prōton tōn anthrōpon eisoikisthēnai ton Adam. See also III. 7 8:
   progegumnasthai gar . . . hōs ara ho prōtoplastos oikeiōs eis auton
   anapheresthai dunatai ton Christon, ouketi tupos ōn kai apeikasma monon kai
   eikōn tou monogenous, alla kai auto touto sophia gegonōs kai logos. dikēn
   gar hudatos sunkerastheis ho anthrōpos tē sophia kai tē zōē touto gegonen,
   hoper ēn auto to eis auton enkataskēpsan akraton phōs.

   [298] Yet see, under, the new turn given to the speculation.

   [299] S. Conviv. III. 5: eti gar pēlourgoumenon ton Adam, hōs estin eipein,
   kai tēkton onta tai hudarē, kai mēdepō phthasanta dikēn ostrakou tē
   aphtharsia krataiōthēnai kai pagiōthēnai, hudōr hōsper kataleibomenē kai
   kapastazousa dielusen auto hē hamartia. dio dē palin anōthen anadeuōn kai
   pēloplastōn ton auton eis timēn ho Theos en tē parthenikē krataiōsas prōton
   kai pēxas mētra kai sunenōsas kai sunkerasas tō logō, atēkton kai athrauston
   exēgagen eis ton bion, hina mē palin tois tēs phthoras expsthen epiklustheis
   hieumasin, tēkedona gennēsas diapesē. Methodius, like Irenæus, gave much
   study to Paul’s Epistles, because they were especially quoted by Origen and
   his school (see ch. 51 fin., p. 90); on the difficulties which he felt see
   De resurr. 26, p. 77; 38, p. 83.

   [300] The expositions of concupiscence, sin, and death, are distinguished
   very strongly from those of Origen. (For death as means of salvation see De
   resurr. 23, 49). They resemble the discussions of Irenæus, only Methodius
   maintains — a sign of the times — that sinlessness is impossible even to the
   Christian. See De resurr. 22 (I., p. 75): zōntos gar eti tou sōmatos pro tou
   tethnēxesthai suzēn anankē kai tēn hamartian, endon tas rhizas autēs en
   hēmin apokruptousan, ei kai exōthen tomais tais apo tōn sōphronismōn kai tōn
   nouthetēseōn anestelleto, epei ouk an meta to phōtisthēnai sunebainen
   adikein, hate pantapasin eilikrinōs aphērēmenēs aph' hēmōn tēs amartias; nun
   de kai meta to pisteusai kai epi to hudōr elthein tou hagnismou pollakis en
   amartiais ontes heuriskometha; oudeis gar houtōs hamartias ektos einai
   heauton kauchēsetai, hōs mēde kan enthumēthēnai to sunolon holōs tēn
   adikian. To this conception corresponds the view of Methodius that
   Christianity is a cultus of mysteries, in which consecration is unceasingly
   bestowed on the teleioumenoi. Methodius also referred Rom. VII. 18 f. to
   those born again.

   [301] The allegory receives another version Opp. I., p. 119: mē pōs ara hai
   treis hautai tōn progonōn kephalai pasēs tēs anthrōpotētos homoousioi
   hupostaseis kat' eikona tina, hōs kai Methodiō dokei — the passage occurs in
   Anastasius Sin. ap. Mai, Script. Vet. N. Coll. IX. p. 619 — tupikōs gegonasi
   tēs hagias kai homoousiou triados, tou men anaitiou kai agennētou Adam tupon
   kai eikona echontos tou anaitiou kai pantōn haitiou pantokratoros Theou kai
   patros, tou de gennētou huiou autou eikona prodiagraphontos tou gennētou
   huiou kai logou tou Theou. tēs de ekporeutēs Euas sēmainousēs tēn tou hagiou
   pneumatos ekporeutēn hupostasin.

   [302] Conviv. III. 8.

   [303] It was not altogether absent in earlier times, and on this see ch. V.
   § 2. As we have remarked above, individualism in this extreme form occurs
   also in Origen; see, e.g., “De orat.” 17.: “He who has perceived the beauty
   of the bride whom the Son of God loves as bridegroom, namely, the soul.”

   [304] Conviv. VIII. 8: Egō gar ton arsena (Apoc. XII. 1 f.) tautē gennan
   eirēsthai nomizō tēn ekklēsian, epeidē tous charaktēras kai tēn ektupōsin
   kai tēn arrenōpian tou Christou proslambanousin hoi phōtizomenoi, tēs kath'
   homoiōsin morphēs en autois ektupoumenēs tou logou kai en autois gennōmenēs
   kata tēn akribē gnōsin kai pistin hōste en hekastō gennasthai ton Christon
   noētōs; kai dia touto hē ekklēsia sparga kai hōdinei, mechriper an ho
   Christos en hēmin morphōthē gennētheis, hopōs hekastos tōn hagiōn tō
   metechein Christou Christos gennēthē, kath' hon logon kai en tini graphē
   pheretai “mē hapsēsthe tōn Christōn mou” hoionei Christōn gegonotōn tōn kata
   metousian tou pneumatos eis Christon bebaptismenōn, sumballousēs entautha
   tēn en tō logō tranōsin autōn kai metamorphōsin tēs ekklēsias. Even
   Tertullian teaches (De pud. 22) that the martyr who does what Christ did,
   and lives in Christ, is Christ.

   [305] The theology of Methodius was in the Eastern Church, like
   Tertullian’s in the West, a prophecy of the future. His method of combining
   tradition and speculation was not quite attained even by the Cappadocians in
   the 4th century. Men like Cyril of Alexandria were the first to resemble
   him. In Methodius we have already the final stage of Greek theology.

   [306] See Funk, Patr. App. Opp. II. pp. 1-27, and Harnack, Sitzungsberichte
   d. Preuss. Akad. d. Wissensch. 1891, p. 361 ff.

   [307] On the authority of Methodius in later times, see the Testimonia
   Veterum in Jahn, 1. c. I., p. 6 sq. The defence of Origen against Methodius
   by Pamphilus and Eusebius has unfortunately been preserved only to a very
   small extent. See Routh, Reliq. S. IV., p. 339 sq.

   [308] It is instructive to notice how Athanasius has silently and calmly
   shelved those doctrines of Origen which did not harmonise with the wording
   of the rule of faith, or allegorised facts whose artificial interpretation
   had ceased to be tolerated.

   [309] See above, p. 75.

   [310] It is possible, and indeed probable, that Creeds were then set up for
   the first time in many Churches. The history of the rise of Creeds — further
   than the Baptismal formula — in the East is wholly obscure. Of course there
   always were detailed Christological formulas, but the question is whether
   they were inserted into the Baptismal formula.

   [311] It has been already pointed out on p. 48, note 1, that the Biblical
   character of some of those additions cannot be used against their being
   regarded as theological and philosophical formulas. The theology of Origen
   — witness his letter to Gregory — was throughout exegetical and speculative;
   therefore the reception of certain Biblical predicates of Christ into the
   Creeds meant a desire to legitimise the speculation which clung to them as
   Apostolic. The Churches, however, by setting up theological Creeds only
   repeated a development in which they had been anticipated about 120 years
   before by the “Gnostics.” The latter had theologically worked out Creeds as
   early as in the second century. Tertullian, it is true, says of the
   Valentinians (adv. Valent. I.) “communem fidem affirmant,” i.e., they adapt
   themselves to the common faith; but he himself relates (De carne, 20; see
   Iren. I. 7, 2) that they preferred “dia Marias” to “ek Marias”; in other
   words, of these two prepositions, which were still used without question
   even in Justin’s time, they, on theological grounds, admitted only the one.
   So also they said “Resurrection from the dead” instead of “of the body.”
   Irenæus as well as Tertullian has spoken of the “blasphemous” regulæ of the
   Gnostics and Marcionites which were always being changed (Iren. I. 21 5,
   III. 11 3, I. 31 3; II præf.; II. 19 8, III. 16, I. 5; Tertull., De præscr.
   42; Adv. Valent. 4; Adv. Marc. I. 1, IV. 5, IV. 17). We can still partly
   reconstruct these “Rules” from the Philosoph. and the Syntagma of Hippolytus
   (see esp. the regula of Apelles in Epiphan. H. XLIV. 2). They have mutatis
   mutandis the most striking similarity to the oriental confessions of faith
   published since the end of the third century; compare, e.g., the Creed,
   given under, of Gregorius Thaumaturgus with the Gnostic rules of faith which
   Hippolytus had before him in the Philosoph. There is, further, a striking
   affinity between them in the fact that the ancient Gnostics already appealed
   in support of their regulæ to secret tradition, be it of one of the Apostles
   or all, yet without renouncing the attestation of these rules by Holy
   Scripture through the spiritual (pneumatic) method of Exegesis. Precisely
   the same thing took place in the Eastern Churches of the next age. For the
   tenor and phrasing of the new Creeds which seemed to be necessary, the
   appeal to Holy Scripture was even here insufficient, and it was necessary to
   resort to special revelations, as in the case alluded to, p. 115, note 3, or
   to a paradosis agraphos of the Church. That the new theology and Christology
   had found their way into the psalms sung in the Church, can be seen from the
   Synodal document on Paul of Samosata (Euseb. VII. 30, 11), where it is said
   of the Bishop: psalmous tous men eis ton kurion hēmōn I. Chr. pausas hōs dē
   neōterous kai neōterōn andrōn sungrammata; i.e., Paul set aside those Church
   songs which contained the philosophical or Alexandrian christology. In this
   respect also the Church followed the Gnostics: compare in the period
   immediately following, the songs of Arius, on the one hand, and the orthodox
   hymns on the other; for we know of Marcionite, Valentinian, and Bardesanian
   psalms and hymns. (See the close of the Muratorian Fragment, further my
   investigations in the Ztschr. f. wissensch. Theol., 1876, p. 109 ff.;
   Tertull., De Carne Chr. 17; Hippol., Philos. VI. 37; the psalms of
   Bardesanes in Ephraim; the Gnostic hymns in the Acts of John and Thomas, in
   the Pistis Sophiæ, etc.). It is self-evident that these psalms contained the
   characteristic theology of the Gnostics; this also appears from the
   fragments that have been preserved, and is very clearly confirmed by
   Tertullian, who says of Alexander the Valentinian (1. c.): “sed remisso
   Alexandro cum suis syllogismis, etiam cum Psalmis Valentini, quos magna
   impudentia, quasi idonei alicuius auctoris interserit.” The scholastic form
   of the Church was more and more complete in the East in the second half of
   the third century Alexandrian Catechists, had finally succeeded in partly
   insinuating its teaching into the Church. Where Valentine Basilides, etc.,
   had absolutely failed, and Bardesanes partly succeeded, the School of Origen
   had been almost entirely successful. It is very characteristic that the
   ecclesiastical parties which opposed each other in the third century applied
   the term “school” (didaskaleion) as an opprobrious epithet to their
   antagonists. This term was meant to signify a communion which rested on a
   merely human, instead of a revealed doctrine. But the Church nearly
   approximated, in respect of doctrine, to the form of the philosophic
   schools, at the moment when her powerful organisation destroyed every
   analogy with them, and when the possession of the two Testaments marked her
   off definitely from them. Much might be said on “schola” and “ecclesia”; a
   good beginning has been made by Lange, Haus und Halle, 1885, p. 288 ff. See
   also v. Wilamowitz-Möllendorff, “Die rechtliche Stellung der
   Philosophenschulen,” 1881.

   [312] See also the document in Eusebius, H. E. VIII. 30, 6, where it is said
   of Paul: apostas tou kanonos epi kibdēla kai notha didagmata metelēluthen.

   [313] Caspari, l. c. IV., p. 10. 27. Hahn, § 114.

   [314] It runs: Heis Theos, patēr logou zōntos, sophias huphestōsēs kai
   dunameōs kai charaktēros aidiou, teleios teleiou gennētōr, patēr huiou
   monogenous, Heis kurios, monos ek monou, Theos ek Theou, charaktēr kai eikōn
   tēs theotētos, logos energos, sophia tēs tōn holōn sustaseōs periektikē kai
   dunamis tēs holēs ktiseōs poiētikē, huios alēthinos aklēthinou patros,
   aoratos aoratou kai aphthartos aphthartou kai athanatos athanatou kai aidios
   aidiou. Kai hen pneuma hagion, ek Theou tēn huparxin echon kai di' huiou
   pephēnos [dēladē tois anthrōpois], eikōn tou huiou, tekeiou tekeia, zōē
   zōntōn aitia, [pēgē hagia] hagiotēs hagiasmou chorēgos, en hō phaneroutai
   Theos ho patēr ho epi pantōn kai en pasi, kai Theos ho huios ho dia
   pantōn-trias teleia, doxē kai aidiotēti kai basileia mē merizomenē mēde
   apallotrioumenē. Oute oun ktiston ti ē doulon en tē triadi, oute epeisakton,
   hōs proteron men ouch huparchon, husteron de epeiselthon; oute gar enelipe
   pote huios patri oute huiō pneuma, all' atreptos kai analloiōtos hē autē
   trias aei. It ought to be distinctly noticed that the genuineness of this
   Creed is, in spite of Caspari’s brilliant defence, not raised above all
   doubt. But the external and internal evidence in support of its authenticity
   seem to me overwhelming. According to Gregory of Nyssa it was said to have
   been revealed to Gregory Thaumaturgus immediately before entering on his
   Bishopric, by the Virgin Mary and the Apostle John. If this legend is old,
   and there is nothing to show it is not, then we may regard it as proving
   that this confession of faith could only be introduced into the Church by
   the use of extraordinary means. The abstract, unbiblical character of the
   Creed is noteworthy; it is admirably suited to a follower of Origen like
   Gregory; but it is less suited to a post-Nicene Bishop. Origen himself would
   hardly have approved of so unbiblical a Creed. It points to a time in which
   there was imminent danger of theological speculation relaxing its connection
   with the Books of Revelation.

   [315] See Theodoret, H. E. I. 4; Hahn, l. c., § 65: Pisteuomen, hōs tē
   apostolikē ekklēsia dokei, eis monon agennēton patera, oudena tou einai
   autō ton aition echonta . . . kai eis hena kurion Iēsoun Christon, ton huion
   tou Theou ton monogenē, gennēthenta ouk ek tou mē ontos, all' ek tou ontos
   patros . . . pros de tē eusebei tautē peri patros kai huiou doxē, kathōs
   hēmas hai theiai graphai didaskousin, hen pneuma hagion homologoumen, to
   kainisan tous te tēs palaias diathēkēs hagious anthrōpous kai tous tēs
   chrēmatizousēs kainēs paideutas theious. mian kai monēn katholikēn, tēn
   apostolikēn ekklēsian, akathaireton mēn aei, kan pas ho kosmos autē polemein
   bouleuētai . . . Meta toutōn tēn ek nekrōn anastasin oidamen, hēs aparchē
   gegonen ho kurios hēmōn I. Chr., sōma phoresas alēthōs kai ou dokēsei ek tēs
   theotokou (one of the earliest passages, of which we are certain, for this
   expression; yet it was probably already used in the middle of the third
   century; a treatise was also written peri tēs theotokou by Pierius) Marias
   epi sunteleia tōn aiōnōn, eis athetēsin hamartiase pidēmēsas tō genei tōn
   anthrōpōn, staurōtheis kai apothanōn, all' ou dia tauta tēs heautou
   theotētos hēttōn gegenēmenos, anastas ek nekrōn, analēmphtheis en ouranois,
   kathēmenos en dexia tēs megalōsunēs.

   [316] The Cæsarean Creed in Athanasius, Socrates, Theodoret and Gelasius,
   see. Hahn, § 116 and Hort, Two Dissertations, pp. 138, 139. It runs:
   Pisteuomen eis hena Theon patera pantokratora, ton tōn hapantōn horatōn te
   kai aoratōn poiētēn. Kai eis hena kurion I. Chr., ton tou Theou logon, Theon
   ek Theou, phōs ek phōtos, zōēn ek zōēs, huion monogenē, prōtotokon pasēs
   ktiseōs, pro pantōn tōn aiōnōn ek tou patros gegennēmenon, di' hou kai
   egeneto ta panta; ton dia tēn hēmeteran sōtērian sarkōthenta kai en
   anthrōpois politeusamenon, kai pathonta, kai anastanta tē tritē hēmera, kai
   anelthonta pros ton patera, kai hēxonta palin en doxē krinai zōntas kai
   nekrous. Kai eis pneuma hagion. This Creed is also remarkable from its
   markedly theological character. On the Creeds of Antioch and Jerusalem,
   which are at any rate earlier then A.D. 325. see Hort, (l.c 73) and Hahn,
   § 63. We cannot appeal, as regards the phrasing, to the so-called Creed of
   Lucian (Hahn, § 115). Yet it is extremely probable that it is based on a
   Creed by Lucian.

   [317] See the interesting passage in Eusebius’ letter to his Church, in
   which he (sophistically) so defends the rejection of the ouk ēn pro tou
   gennēthēnai, as to fall back upon the universally recognised pre-existence
   of Christ (Theodoret, H. E. I. 12).
     _________________________________________________________________

   [3] See Dorner, Entw.-Gesch. d. Lehre v. d. Person Christi, 1 Thl. 1845;
   Lange, Gesch. u. Entw. der Systeme der Unitarier vor der nic. Synode, 1831;
   Hagemann, Die römische Kirche und ihr Einfluss auf Disciplin und Dogma in
   den ersten drei Jahrh. 1864, (the most important and most stimulating
   monograph on the subject); and my art. ‘Moriarchianismus’ in Herzog’s R. E.,
   2nd ed., vol. X., pp. 178-213, on which the following arguments are based.
     _________________________________________________________________
     _________________________________________________________________
     _________________________________________________________________

                                 DIVISION II.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE DOGMA OF THE CHURCH.
     _________________________________________________________________

                                    BOOK I.

  THE HISTORY OF THE DEVELOPMENT OF DOGMA AS THE DOCTRINE OF THE GOD-MAN ON THE
  BASIS OF NATURAL THEOLOGY.

   Ta kratoumena tō logō tēs phuseōs ouk echei epainon, ta de schesei philias
   kratoumena huperaineitai.

   Paul of Samosata.

   Ohne Autorität kann der Mensch nicht existiren, und doch bringt sie
   ebensoviel Irrthum als Wahrheit mit sich; sie verewigt im Einzelnen. was
   einzeln vorübergehen sollte, lehnt ab und lässt vorübergehen, was
   festgehalten werden sollte, und ist hauptsächlich Ursache dass die
   Menschheit nicht vom Flecke kommt.

BOOK I.

THE HISTORY OF THE DEVELOPMENT OF DOGMA AS THE DOCTRINE OF THE GOD-MAN ON THE
BASIS OF NATURAL THEOLOGY.
     _________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER I.

  HISTORICAL SITUATION. [318]

   The first main division of the history of dogma closed with the adoption of
   the Logos doctrine as the central dogma of the Church, and with the
   accompanying revision in the East of the old formulas of the faith under the
   influence of philosophical theology. The testament of primitive Christianity
   — the Holy Scriptures — and the testament of Antiquity — Neoplatonic
   speculation — were intimately and, as it seemed, inseparably connected in
   the great Churches of the East. The system of doctrine established by the
   Church in the third century corresponded to the Church whose structure
   appeared complete in the same period. As the political powers of the Roman
   Empire were conserved in the Catholic Church, so also were the spiritual
   forces of Antiquity in its faith. Both required to be invested with divine
   lustre in order to live through storms and amid universal ruin. [319] But
   Christianity was by no means completely Hellenised in Catholicism; that is
   proved, if we needed proof, by the attacks of Porphyry and Julian.
   Undoubtedly all the institutions and ideas felt to be necessary were
   included in the “Apostolic tradition” to an increasing extent. But since a
   place had been given in that tradition to the O. T. and the written
   memorials of primitive Christianity, these really furnished aids to the
   comprehension of the Gospel, which had certainly been obscured in the
   “Gnosis” as well as in the “New Law”. The theology of Origen, in spite of
   some very earnest attacks upon it, was held in the East to be the pattern
   and the inexhaustible source of the theology of the Church, so far as a
   scientific system was desired. Even its opponents, like Methodius, could not
   escape its influence. From its rich store of formulas were more fully
   elaborated, in opposition to what was called Ebionitism and Sabellianism,
   those confessions which were employed in the cultus and instruction of the
   Church, and which, thus enriched, were then invested with some sort of
   Apostolic authority. [320] The West did not go. so far; yet it was perfectly
   defenceless against the “advances” made by the Church in the Eastern half of
   the Empire; for certain theological and Christological conceptions to which
   it also clung, made any counter-movement impossible, though many teachers,
   preachers, and apologists went ways of their own, and in their doctrines of
   Christ and salvation mixed up obsolete Christian traditions with the popular
   philosophy of the West. Looking to theological metaphysics as wrapped up in
   the official formulas of the Church, the difference was finally only one of
   degree. It showed itself among those less interested and scholarly, who were
   therefore conservative in their instincts and looked with distrust on the
   theology of Origen; they thought with perfect simplicity that their own
   formulas: “Father, Son, and Spirit; one God”, “Christ, the Logos, wisdom,
   and power of God”, “duæ substantiæ, una persona”, “Jesus Christ, God and
   man”, constituted the “faith” which needed no explanation. The element of
   speculative philosophy was as a rule weak in the system of religion of the
   West. In place of it, the West of Tertullian possessed a series of juristic
   “plans” which were destined to have a great future.

   In spite of many far-reaching differences in their practical and theoretical
   interests, in spite of the development in ecclesiastical affairs, Christians
   in East and West felt that they belonged to one united Church. The Novatian
   and Samosatian controversies ultimately resulted in strengthening the
   consciousness of unity, [321] even though a not altogether insignificant
   part of Christendom cast itself adrift. These controversies showed plainly
   that the Western and Eastern communities held substantially the same
   position in the world, and that both required to use the same means to
   maintain it. Communities everywhere adopted the character of the Church of
   the world. Their union preserved all the features of a political society,
   and, at the same time, of a disciplinary institution, equipped with sacred
   sanctions and dreadful punishments, in which individual independence was
   lost. [322] Of course, in proportion as this confederacy of Christians
   adapted itself to civic, national, and political relationships, in order to
   maintain and strengthen itself, the integrity of the Church was most gravely
   imperilled, when these very relationships lost their last shreds of unity in
   the collapse of the Empire. Above all, the great cleavage between the
   Eastern and Western halves of the Empire could not fail to be prejudicial to
   the Church. But about the close of the third century the latter, in spite of
   discontent in its midst, held more firmly together than the Empire, and its
   unity was still maintained after the fourth century by great Emperors and
   influential theologians. [323]

   In addition to the episcopal constitution, uniformly and strictly carried
   out, the common basis of the Churches was due to the recognition of the same
   authorities and designs, the uniform appreciation of sacramental rites, and
   the strong tendency to asceticism for the sake of a future life. It was, at
   first, too stable for the different forces which threatened to shatter the
   Empire, and also, in consequence, beat upon the Imperial Church. But this
   basis was nevertheless insufficient. It can be easily shown that the
   elements composing it were as incapable of guaranteeing the unity, as of
   protecting the Christianity, of the Church, through a prolonged period.

   Among the authorities the two Testaments, combined by the evidence of
   prophecy and allegorical explanation, took the first, indeed, strictly
   speaking, a unique place. But not only was their extent not absolutely
   decided, but their interpretation was wholly uncertain. In addition to this,
   the scope to be left to the “Apostolic tradition”, i.e., the illusion of
   “antiquity”, and to the decision of episcopal synods, was by no means
   defined; for the sufficiency of Holy Scripture was placed, theoretically,
   beyond doubt. But where elementary wants, felt by the great majority, were
   to be satisfied, where a reassuring sanction was required for the advancing
   secularisation, men did not rack their brains, if no inconvenient monitors
   were in the way, to find precedents in Holy Scripture for what was novel.
   They went right back to the Apostles, and deduced from secret traditions
   what no tradition ever possessed. Huge spheres of ecclesiastical activity
   embracing new and extensive institutions — the reception of national customs
   and of the practices of heathen sects — were in this way placed under
   “Apostolic” sanction, without any controversy starting worth mention. This
   is true, e.g., of the ritual of worship and ecclesiastical discipline, “The
   sacred canons” or “the apostolic canons” constituted from the close of the
   third century, a court of appeal, which practically held the same rank as
   the sacred writings, and which, especially in the East, cast its protection
   to an increasing extent over national customs and traditional morals in the
   face of attacks of every kind. It is obvious that authorities so obtained
   were likely, in the end, to divide the Churches of the different nations.

   The crudest superstition was thus consecrated by “apostolic” decrees, or
   legitimised, after the event, from the O. T., [324] and from the middle of
   the third century it ascended from the lower strata of Christians to the
   upper, which had lost all spiritual stability. And now in the fourth
   century, when Church and State were fused into one, everything was assigned
   to the former which had ever, or anywhere been regarded as venerable or
   holy. As it had submitted to the Church, it demanded indulgent treatment.
   The religion of pure reason and of the strictest morality, the Christianity
   which the ancient apologists had once portrayed, had long changed into a
   religion of the most powerful rites, of mysterious means, and an external
   sanctity. The historical tradition of Christ and the founding of
   Christianity was turned into a romance, and this historical romance, which
   was interwoven with the religion, constantly received new chapters. The
   stream of the history of salvation ended in a waste swamp of countless and
   confused sacred tales, and in its course took in heathen fictions and the
   stories of gods and heroes. Every traditional holy rite became the centre of
   new sacred ceremonies, and every falling off in morality was covered by
   increasing the religious apparatus. The idea of forgiveness of sins was to
   many a cloak for frivolity and wickedness. Up to the middle of the third
   century, every Catholic Christian was, in all probability, a genuine
   monotheist. That can no longer be said of the generations who afterwards
   pressed into the Church. Polytheism had lost its name, indeed, but not its
   influence in the Church of the fourth century. Great masses preserved, in
   spite of their baptism, the piety to which they had been accustomed.
   Christian priests had to respect and adjust superstition, in order to keep
   the leadership in their hands, and theologians had no difficulty in finding,
   in the O. T. and in many views and usages of Christian antiquity, means of
   justifying what was most novel, alien, and absurd. Miracles were of everyday
   occurrence, and they were barbarous and detestable miracles, directed to
   meet the meanest instincts, and offensive to even moderately clear heads.
   [325] The Christian religion threatened to become a new paganism; [326]
   while, at the same time, making shipwreck of its own unity and common
   character. For even if priests and theologians were always to be in a
   position to keep the reins in their hands, dissolution threatened the one
   undivided Church which girt the Empire, if the local rites, customs, usages
   of men were consecrated as Christian in every province, and might establish
   themselves without any decided counterpoise.

   But where was such a counterpoise to be found? In the constitution? That was
   indeed a firm structure, binding Christendom strongly together; but even it
   presented sides on which the centrifugal forces, destructive of unity, found
   entrance. Love of rule and ambition were encouraged by the episcopal chair.
   And when the danger of dismemberment into independent bishoprics was met by
   a rigid metropolitan leadership, the way was opened up to that lofty
   ambition which desired the first place and the highest influence in the
   province, and which sought to domineer over the civil powers and to master
   neighbouring provinces. The Patriarchs and Metropolitans who — to use an
   expression of Socrates — played at being “hereditary lords” (Dynastai) no
   longer protected, but undermined the unity of the Church. The great Bishops
   of Rome and Alexandria, who sought to rule over the Church in order to
   preserve its unity and independence, entangled themselves in an ambitious
   policy, and produced division. The Emperors were really patrons of unity,
   and the supreme means at their disposal, the Œcumenical Synod, was their
   contrivance; in all cases it was a political institution, invented by the
   greatest of politicians, a two-edged sword which protected the endangered
   unity of the Church at the price of its independence.

   But was not the bond of unity, the common ground, to be found in the common
   ideal, in the certain hope of a future life, and in asceticism? This bond
   was assuredly a strong one. The Church would hardly have succeeded in
   following out the free path opened up to it by Constantine had it not had in
   its midst, besides its transcendent promises, a power to which all, Greek
   and barbarian, polytheist and monotheist, learned and unlearned required
   ultimately, if reluctantly, to bow. And that power was the asceticism which
   culminated in monachism. The ancient world had arrived, by all the routes of
   its complicated development, at the bitterest criticism of and disgust at
   its own existence; but in no other faith was religion itself as effectively
   combined with asceticism, in none did the latter come so powerfully to the
   front, yet in none did it submit itself so pliably to Church government, as
   in Catholicism. A religion comprehended in a mere sacramental communion
   could not have gained the allegiance of the more clear-sighted and earnest.
   One that imposed on all, as an inalienable duty, the perfect fulfilment of
   the positive moral law, could not have held its ground. One that commanded
   all alike to renounce the world would have closed the world against it. But
   a religion which graded its members as priests, monks, and laity, embraced a
   threefold piety of initiated, perfect, and novices, and succeeded in the
   hardest task of all, that of reconciling priest with monk, [327] and of
   admitting the layman to a share in the blessings of both, was superior to
   all others, and possessed in its organisation, generally established, a
   strong bond of association.

   Protestants at the present day can hardly form a conception of the hold
   which asceticism possessed over the mind in the fourth and fifth centuries,
   or of the manner in which it influenced imagination, thought, and the whole
   of life. At bottom only a single point was dealt with, abstinence from
   sexual relationships; everything else was secondary; for he who had
   renounced these, found nothing hard. Renunciation of the servile yoke of sin
   (servile peccati iugum discutere) was the watchword of Christians, and an
   extraordinary unanimity prevailed as to the meaning of this watchword,
   whether we turn to the Coptic porter or the learned Greek teacher, to the
   Bishop of Hippo, or Jerome, the Roman presbyter, or the biographer of Saint
   Martin. Virginity was the specifically Christian virtue, and the essence of
   all virtues: in this conviction the meaning of the evangelical law was
   summed up. [328] But not only did the evangelical law culminate in
   virginity, but to it also belonged all promises. Methodius’ teaching that it
   prepared the soul to be the bride of Christ, was from the fourth century
   repeated by everyone. Virginity lies at the root of the figure of bridegoom
   (Christ) and bride (the soul) which is constantly recurring in the greatest
   teachers of East and West, and it is the key to the corresponding exposition
   of the Song of Songs, in which often appear a surprising religious
   individualism and an impassioned love of Christ. [329]

   But the ascetic ideal did not succeed in establishing itself, especially in
   the West, without severe conflicts, and it concealed within it dangers to
   the Church. Asceticism threatened to become an end in itself, and to depart
   from the historical foundation of the Christian religion. When the Church
   authorised the Christianity of ‘the perfect’, it really declared the great
   mass of its divine and apostolic institutions to be mere apparatus,
   meaningless to him who had resolved to renounce the world, and to prepare
   for eternity. Those settlers in Egypt, who sought to obtain redemption by
   torturing themselves, in the end imperilled religion not less than the great
   crowds who simply submitted to certain sacramental observances, and with the
   approval of the priests dragged into Christianity whatever pleased them. It
   was possible, and in fact the danger was imminent, for the ascetic ideal to
   lose any assured connection with Jesus Christ. Asceticism had also been
   proclaimed indeed by Greek science. But in that case the common character of
   religion disappeared; for a merely negative ideal of life, which at the same
   time was without a close dependence on history, could not form a lasting
   bond of connection among men.

   Our information is exceptionally bad, and not from accident, as to the
   internal state of the Church, at the time when Constantine chose it to be
   the support of the Empire. But what we know is enough to establish the fact
   that the internal solidity by no means corresponded to the external. We may
   with greater propriety affirm that the Churches of the East were in danger
   of relapsing into worldliness, and that not only in the form of worldly
   modes of action. [330] The peril went deeper. Theology, the power which, as
   matters then were, could alone give an energetic protection to the
   distinctive character of religion, was at the point of dissolving it and
   abandoning it to the world.

   We have already described in this volume the state of Eastern theology at
   the beginning of the fourth century. Conceptions of the faith which began
   and ended with the historical personality of Jesus Christ were equally
   condemned with the attempts, whether unstudied or philosophical, to identify
   the Person of Jesus with the Deity. [331] The realistic and eclectic
   theology of Irenaæus had probably very few defenders in the West. The
   theology of the Apologists had triumphed, and all thinkers stood under the
   influence of Origen. But the genius of this great man was too powerful for
   the Epigoni. The importance of his system lay in a threefold direction:
   first, in the sharp distinction between Pistis and Gnosis, which he kept
   apart, and connected only by unity of aim; secondly, in the abundant
   material in his speculations, the conservatism that he showed in inweaving
   all that was valuable, and the balance which he knew how to preserve between
   the different factors of his system, relating them all to one’ uniform aim;
   thirdly, in the Biblical impress which he gave his theology by strict
   adherence to the text of Holy Scripture. In all these respects the Epigoni
   introduced changes. The most important in its consequences was the mingling
   of Pistis and Gnosis, of faith and theology. Origen had not published his
   system, in which the faith of the Church was reconciled with science, as
   Church doctrine. To him the distinction between the faith of the Church and
   the science of faith remained fixed. But in the next period  — following the
   precedent of Methodius [332] and opposing Basil’s principle  —   it was
   thought necessary to identify them. Reactionary and progressive tendencies
   met in these efforts. The Pistis (faith) was supplied with the formulas of
   Origen’s theology, and Gnosis was to stop short at certain tenets of
   tradition, and to receive them without revision. The point was to find a new
   medium which should be at once tradition and speculation, Pistis and Gnosis.
   This endeavour was undoubtedly justified by an actual change accomplished
   before this and promoted by Origen himself, viz., the incorporation of the
   doctrine of the Logos in the faith of “the simple.” These simple Christians
   already possessed a dogma which was shaped by exegesis and speculation, and
   confronted them as an external authority, a law of faith. This creation had
   forced its way from the circumference of the ecclesiastical system into its
   centre. Besides, the sharp distinction between a traditional doctrine of the
   Church and a science of religion contradicted the whole ecclesiastical
   tradition as established in the fight with Gnosticism. But the intermingling
   at first produced a kind of stagnation. It threat. ened to make faith lose
   its certainty, speculation its reasoning power, and the Church the unity of
   its confession. If we review the new religious formulas, which were brought
   into circulation about the year 300, and if we compare the theologies of the
   period — which unfortunately we only know in part — the theologies, namely,
   of the Alexandrian teachers, Gregory Thaumaturgus, Lucian, Methodius,
   Hieracas etc., we see a wealth of forms which, if blood-relations, are
   extremely different. How could the unity of the Church continue under their
   sway? and if it continued, was it Christianity after all that furnished the
   common element?

   And this has brought us to the second point Origen had recognised the full
   significance of the historical Christ for the stage of Pistis; while he
   directed the Gnostic to the eternal Logos. Now uncertainties arose here
   also. The historical Christ threatened to fall entirely into the background.
   We can observe this in the works of two of the Epigoni, which have no
   affinity to each other. Gregory Thaumaturgus has in his famous Symbol dealt
   only with the Logos “apart from the flesh” (logos asarkos), [333] and
   Methodius intended to declare the loftiest truth when he demanded that
   Christ should be born in every man ‘consciously’ (noētōs), and that each
   must become a Christ by participation in Christ. [334] Further, in Origen
   the cosmological and soteriological interests balanced each other. We
   recognise this in his formulas which relate to the Logos. But here also a
   displacement was introduced, one that favoured cosmology. The word
   Homoousios (consubstantial) was, indeed, retained by some, perhaps by many
   theologians; but as it was in itself ambiguous, so also it was no evidence
   of an interest in soteriology. The crowd of rhetorical and philosophical
   predicates heaped upon the Logos, did not serve to illustrate and establish
   the significance of the Logos as the principal factor in redemption; it was
   rather a term for the reason and order reigning in the universe, and for the
   spiritual forces with which humanity had been gifted. Men indeed held
   firmly, on all hands, to the incarnation; nay, it was regarded, as is proved
   by the great work of Theognostus, as being, next to the doctrine of the
   creation of matter, the feature that distinguished the speculation of the
   Church from that of the Neo-platonists. But the whole stress was laid on the
   question, what idea was to be formed of the constitution of the subject of
   which incarnation was predicated. A great school, that of Lucian of Antioch,
   distinguished, in the manner of Paul of Samosata, between wisdom proper,
   eternal, existent in God, and a created wisdom or Logos; and identified the
   latter alone with the incarnate Son — ‘wisdom arose through wisdom according
   to the will of the wise God’. But in drawing this line, not only was the
   incarnation of the Deity rendered impossible, but every form of His personal
   activity on earth. The theological interest in Christ threatened to resolve
   itself entirely into cosmology and morality, or, as in Methodius, to be
   deprived of its meaning by a mystical alloy.

   The liberty which theology enjoyed in the East up to the beginning of the
   fourth century, and the influence which it exerted on the Church in the same
   period, could not but produce complete confusion and loss of meaning. All
   the elements united by Origen in his vast system sought to establish them.
   selves independently. Even tritheistic tendencies were not wanting; but,
   above all, the idea of a subordinate God and semidivine beings began to be
   familiar. The idea of the subordinate God is indeed as old as the theology
   of the Christian Church; even the Apologists shared it, and Origen, with all
   caution, adopted and justified it in working out his doctrine of the Son.
   But in the earlier period the simplices et rudes (the simple and uncultured)
   were still startled at the suggestion; theologians provided the idea with
   strong safe-guards, and Origen himself, who in many points bordered on
   Polytheism, on the other hand restored the Logos to the being of God, and
   united Father and Son as closely as possible. But opposition to
   ‘Sabellianism’ evidently rendered a later age much more careless. And it is
   indubitable that the idea of the created God, the God who came into being,
   coalesced with ancient polytheistic inclinations. The claims of Monotheism
   were considered to be satisfied by the effort to protect the supreme Deity,
   as against Modalism,. from change and plurality; and the Logos and other
   beings entitled to worship were suffered calmly to spring up side by side
   with God; they could not, it was presumed, endanger Monotheism, because they
   belonged to the domain of the created. Add that theologians dealt in their
   speculations with a plethora of philosophical categories destitute of a
   fixed impress, or fixed value; [335] further, that this terminology,
   unsifted and uncontrolled, everywhere forced its way into the faith of the
   community, and we can form a conception of the danger which hovered over the
   Church. We find a Monotheism which did not exclude polytheism, a
   Logos-Christ, who, as a cosmological quantity, was of shifting nature and
   origin, ideas of the incarnation and redemption as designed to “enlighten”
   the human race, and to effect an incarnation of God in every individual
   soul. All this, too, was clothed in a rank growth of artificial
   philosophical expressions, identical with that used in contemporary science.
   And we may well ask whether such a theology was in a condition to protect
   even the scanty remains of the evangelic tradition, above all, at the moment
   when the partition between State and Church was torn down and the Church was
   brought face to face with its greatest task. A deism — if the term may be
   allowed — was at hand, surrounded by the shifting forms of a speculation
   which had neither a settled boundary nor an assured object. It almost seemed
   as if the special characteristics of the Christian religion were to be
   reduced to the evidence of antiquity and prophecy, what Porphyry called
   ‘foreign fables’. Yet even Scriptural proof was no longer everywhere called
   for and given with the zeal so noticeable in Origen; although it was just
   the school of Lucian which neglected it least. But what could Scripture
   avail against the method? If a Bishop so capable and learned, and so well
   versed in tradition as Eusebius of Caesarea was satisfied in his Christology
   with the formulas we read there, if he could praise the religious edicts and
   manifestoes of his Emperor, though they substantially celebrated “God in
   nature”, as brilliant specimens of his Christian conviction, we must
   conclude that the Logos doctrine settled in the Church was the strongest
   means of completely effacing the figure of the historical Christ, and of
   resolving everything into mist. [336] Even the rationalist, who in his study
   of the history of religions always follows with sympathy the progress to
   ‘natural’ religion, would require to restrain his sympathy here. For the
   pure religion of humanity could not have resulted from this development, but
   one that was wholly indefinite, and therefore capable of being influenced
   from any quarter, one in whose centre was throned that hollow and helpless
   figment of thought, the on, the prōtē ousia (being-primal being). And men
   would have gone on proclaiming this religion to be Christianity, simply
   because they possessed in Holy Scripture the means of proving it, and of
   dating it back to the beginning of the world as the universal religion. And
   they would have adopted sacred media, charms, and intermediary powers more
   and more boldly, because they were incapable of understanding and applying
   either to God or to Jesus Christ the tradition that God redeemed men through
   Jesus Christ.

   The Bishops and theologians in the East about A.D. 320, whose views were
   similar to those of Eusebius, had on their side the strongest power to be
   found in an ecclesiastical communion — tradition: they were the
   conservatives. Conservative theology, the theology that took its stand on
   Origen, limited the idea of Deity to the primal being (prōtē ousia),
   inoperative and really incapable of being revealed, i.e., to the Father. It
   accordingly ignored the Logos and Christ in determining the conception of
   God. Further, it deduced, like the Neoplatonists, a second or third Ousia
   (being) from the first, and adorned the Logos created by the will of the
   Father with the loftiest, yet vacillating, predicates. It taught the
   incarnation of the Logos, and celebrated its result, yet once more in
   indefinite, in high-sounding and meaningless, Biblical phrases. Finally, it
   subordinated everything spiritual and moral to the thought of free-will and
   human independence. Any attempt at precision could not fail, on this domain,
   to be regarded as an innovation. Anything might establish itself as long as
   it did not claim to be exclusive. [337] There never did exist in the Church
   a general tendency to form new dogmas — the terms ‘new’ and ‘dogma’ are
   mutually exclusive; least of all did it exist in the East; there was either
   indifference to philosophical speculation, or a desire that it should have
   liberty, or it was regarded with suspicion. For the rest, men reverenced in
   the cultus the mystery, i.e., the complex of formulas whose origin had
   already become obscure. [338]

   Nevertheless, there probably never was a time in the East when a reaction
   did not exist against the development of the Logos doctrine towards complete
   separation of the Son from the Father. [339] It sprang not only from
   Modalists, but also from disciples of Origen, and it celebrated at Nicæa an
   amazingly rapid triumph. In opposition to a school which had ventured too
   far forward, and had embroidered the doctrines of Paul of Samosata with
   questionable tenets of Origen, the term Homoousios, once banned at Antioch,
   was successfully elevated to the dignity of the watchword of faith.

   The importance of this rapid triumph for the history of dogma cannot be
   rated too highly. But procured as it was by the Emperor, the victory would
   have been resultless, had it not been for the man whose biography coincides
   with the history of dogma of the fourth century — Athanasius.

   The second division of the history of dogma, the account of its development,
   opens with Athanasius, but his conception of the faith also dominated
   following centuries. Augustine alone surpassed him in importance; for
   Augustine was an Origen and Athanasius in one  —   and he was still more.
   [340] However, the future course of history has yet to decide whether
   Athanasius’ thought will not in the end live longer than the conceptions of
   Augustine. At the present day at least Augustine is given up sooner than
   Athanasius in the Churches.

   But it is really not permissible to compare these great men. Augustine was a
   loftier genius, a man of inexhaustible wealth of ideas and sentiment;
   Athanasius’ greatness consisted in reduction, in the energy with which, from
   a multitude of divergent speculations claiming to rest on tradition, he gave
   exclusive validity to those in which the strength of religion then lay.
   Augustine opened up a new view of the highest blessings and of human nature
   in the Church, he scattered a thousand germs for the future; Athanasius,
   like every reformer, reduced, he first secured a sphere of its own to the
   Christian religion on the soil, already won, of Greek speculation, and he
   referred everything to the thought of redemption. Augustine invented a new
   speculation, and the fascinating language of the deepest religious feeling,
   beyond which changed times and manners seem unable to go; Athanasius was
   unable to put forward either gifts of speculation or of eloquence on behalf
   of the thought in which he lived. His strength arose out of his conviction
   and his office.

   Athanasius was a reformer, though not in the highest sense of the word.
   Behind and beside him existed a speculation which led on a shoreless sea,
   and the ship was in danger of losing its helm. [341] He grasped the rudder.
   We may compare the situation with that in which Luther found himself when
   confronting the mediæval Church and Scholasticism. It was not for a word, or
   a formula, [342] that he was concerned, but a crucial thought of his faith,
   the redemption and raising of humanity to divine life through the God-man.
   It was only from the certainty that the divinity manifest in Jesus Christ
   possessed the nature of the Deity (unity of being) and was for this reason
   alone in a position to raise us to divine life, that faith was to receive
   its strength, life its law, and theology its direction. But Athanasius in
   thus giving the chief place to faith in the God-man who alone delivers from
   death and sin, furnished practical piety, then almost exclusively to be
   found in monkish asceticism, with its loftiest motive. To speak briefly,
   this combined as closely as possible the Homoousios (consubstantial), which
   guaranteed the deification of human nature, with monkish asceticism, and
   raised the latter from its still under-ground or, at least, insecure realm
   to the public life of the Church. While fighting against the phrase the
   created Logos (logos-ktisma) as heathen and as a denial of the power of the
   Christian religion, he at the same time as strenuously opposed worldly
   pursuits. He subordinated Scripture, tradition, and theology to the thought
   that the Redeemer was God by nature, but he also strove to work out the
   Christian life which received its motive from close communion with the
   God-Christ, [343] and the prospect of being invested both the divine nature.
   If we would do justice to Athanasius, both these facts must be kept in mind.
   He became the father of Catholic orthodoxy and the patron of ecclesiastical
   monachism, and that he never would have been, had he not also set the
   practical ideal of the piety of the time ‘on the candlestick’. [344]

   There is here nothing new in the common sense of the word; Athanasius had
   really on his side, the best part of the tradition of the Church, to which
   he also appealed. Irenæus had already given the central place to the object,
   nature, and accomplishment of redemption in the categories: Logos,
   incarnation, Godman, deification, and sons of God. Athanasius could refer to
   a series of ideas in Origen and other Alexandrian catechists in support of
   his distinctive treatment of the Logos doctrine. New alone was the fact, the
   energy and exclusiveness of his view and action at a time when everything
   threatened to undergo dissolution.

   Athanasius was no scientific theologian in the strict sense of the term;
   from theology he descended to piety, and found the exact word required. A
   man of authority, and attached to the tradition of his school, he was not in
   a position to disentangle the problem from the context in which the
   Apologists and Origen had set it. He was a disciple of Origen, but his
   attitude first to Marcellus, and then to the recent defenders of
   Homooúsios, the Cappadocians, proves that he was as destitute of scientific
   interest in a philosophical theory of life, as of the obstinacy of
   theologians. He had to deal with that which transcended theology. He was the
   first to raise to honour in the Church in all its force the old maxim that
   we must think of Christ as God (hōs peri theou), and therefore he paved the
   way for the new principle, that we must think of God as in Christ (hōs en
   Christō).

   In this he stood aloof from the rational thought of his time. While
   admitting its premises, he added an element, which neutral speculation was
   incapable of assimilating completely. Nothing certainly was more
   unintelligible to it, than the assumption of an essential unity of the
   quiescent and the active Deity. Athanasius fixed a gulf between the Logos of
   the philosophers, and the Logos whose redeeming work he proclaimed. What he
   said of the latter, declaring the mystery strongly and simply, and by no
   means committing himself to new distinctions, could not but appear to the
   Greeks ‘an offence and folly’. But he did not shrink from reproach; with
   firm hand, though in awkward lines, he marked off a sphere of its own for
   the Christian faith. [345]

   And this man respected science and its free development. We can observe this
   in his criticisms of Origen and the Alexandrian catechists. Undoubtedly it
   must have been important to him to obtain reliable witnesses (testes
   veritatis) for his doctrine, and the effort to do this explains frequently
   his practice of making the best of everything. But it does not entirely
   explain his conduct. Christian faith was in his view exhausted in faith in
   the God-man, the incarnation, and the redemption which constituted a divine
   nature; for this reason he permitted liberty in everything else. It would
   seem that he had no desire to abolish Origen’s distinction between the
   Christian science of the perfect and the faith of the imperfect. He did not
   sit as a judge of heretics on Origen’s doubtful tenets and correct them by
   the regula fidei, nor did he follow the course first taken by Bishop Peter,
   one of his predecessors, in Alexandria. [346] This is all the more
   remarkable, as for his own part he could hardly find a single point in the
   Gnostic heterodoxies of Origen with which he could agree.

   Athanasius did not see beyond the horizon of his own time. He attributed the
   highest efficacy to the mysteries of the cultus. He regarded them as the
   personal legacy of Christ, immediate emanations of his life as God-man, and
   as containing the means of applying salvation. If in succeeding centuries
   the religious interest attached itself more and more closely to ritual, that
   did not imply any contradiction of the conception of the great Alexandrian.
   He also laboured on behalf of the dogma which was to obtain its practical
   and effective presentation in the monks on the one hand, and in ritual on
   the other, until the transitory was exalted into the permanent.

   Athanasius’ importance to posterity consisted in this, that he defined
   Christian faith exclusively as faith in redemption through the God-man who
   was identical in nature with God, and that thereby he restored to it fixed
   boundaries and specific contents. [347] Eastern Christendom has been able to
   add nothing up to the present day. Even in theory it has hit on no change,
   merely overloading the idea of Athanasius; but the Western Church also
   preserved this faith as fundamental. Following on the theology of the
   Apologists and Origen, it was the efficient means of preventing the complete
   Hellenising and secularisation of Christianity.

   The history of dogma in the East after the Nicene Council reveals two
   interlacing lines of development. First, the idea of the God-man from the
   point of view of the redemption and elevation of the human race to divine
   life, in other words, the faith of Athanasius, was elaborated on all sides.
   In this the history of dogma, in the strict sense of the term, exhausted
   itself, for dogma was faith in the God-man. But with this a second
   development was closely connected, one which dealt with the relations of
   dogma and theology. Here also one man can be named: it was the science that
   Origen had cultivated which formed the centre of interest. However, since
   his days the problem had become more complicated, for theological principles
   that penetrated deeply had been received into faith itself, and the great
   development up to the Council of Chalcedon, and still later, consisted in
   the incorporation of theological results and formulas in the general belief
   of the Church. The question, accordingly, was not merely whether a freer and
   more independent theology, like Origen’s in spirit and method, could receive
   an acknowledged position and latitude in the Church; whether, in general,
   the phases of criticism and idealistic spiritualism, included in Origen’s
   science, were to be tolerated. It was a much harder problem that arose,
   though one that from its nature was always half concealed. If the
   theological dogma, at the moment when it became a creed of the Church,
   received the value of an apostolic doctrine which had never been wanting in
   the Church, how were the theologians to be regarded who had really created
   it, and how were the most venerated men of the past to be looked upon who
   had either been wholly ignorant of the dogma, or had incidentally, or
   avowedly, contradicted it? The conclusion is clear. The former were to
   receive special honour as witnesses to, but not as creators of, the truth.
   The latter it was necessary to abandon, however real and constructive their
   labours may once have been, or their works were to be coloured, corrected,
   or even amended by the insertion of glosses. But how long will a theology
   receive room to work on dogma, if the work is again and again to be
   disguised and how long will theologians be found to continue the dangerous
   business? “Theology is the most thankless of sciences. It crushes its
   builders with the very stones which they have helped to erect.” The relation
   of theology to dogma recalls the myth of Chronos. But here it is not the
   father who swallows his children, it is the creature that devours its
   creators up to the third and fourth generations. As, moreover, the age from
   the fourth to the sixth centuries is the classic period of all dogma, so in
   no other period does it so clearly exhibit to the historian its
   characteristic of demanding living sacrifices.

   Accordingly we observe two phenomena in these centuries. First, we have a
   continuous fight against the free theology of Origen, against the
   heterodoxies which it embraced, its critical phase, and its idealistic
   speculation. At any rate, more than two centuries elapsed before it was
   finally refused all right of citizenship in the Church, and at the same time
   Hellēnikē paideia Greek culture) was deprived of any greater influence on
   dogma, than what the latter required for its correct exposition and
   justification. [348] But, in the second place, a traditionalism arose which
   looked distrustfully on theology taking any share in the work of the Church
   at the time, which substituted authority for science, while it either
   exalted ancient teachers to heaven as saints, or hurled them down to hell as
   heretics. It was due to the secret logic of events that such a tendency
   gained strength and finally triumphed; for if even the most capable and
   independent theologians were compelled to live under the delusion that what
   was new in their teaching could never be true, or that the true could not
   possibly be new, it necessarily followed that fewer and fewer would be found
   to undertake their dangerous work. [349] Accordingly, after dogma had
   developed to a certain extent, held a certain number of conceptions capable
   of employing the intelligence, and was adapted to scholastic treatment, it
   became so sensitive that it ceased to tolerate a theology that would carry
   it further, even under all possible safe-guards. The theology that did
   independent work, that at no time professed to produce dogma, and therefore
   really had not existed, now came actually to an end. The date coincides with
   that at which Origen was condemned (the sixth century). The history of this
   process ran its course very gradually. On the other hand, there was no want
   of important actions in the history of the ejection of Origen’s doctrine. We
   have here to mention the ‘Origenist controversies’, though we must not limit
   them, as has been customary, to a few decades. Along with them the
   opposition to the school of Antioch and its condemnation come before us. But
   we must not look at the victory of the creed of the Church over theological
   liberties merely from the point of view of a decline of science in the
   Church. We have rather to consider what a more liberal speculative and
   critical science had to offer at the time to the Church. In view of the way
   in which the pursuit of theology and the exposition of the faith were
   intertwined, there were gifts which the Church had to decline in order to
   maintain its tradition, i.e., the standard left to it of its Christianity.
   But the heterodoxies of the theologians presented neither an incentive to
   nor the means for a revision of the whole doctrine in its possession.
   Besides, the entire process of expelling the freer theology was carried out
   without crises worth mentioning, as if spontaneously. That is the strongest
   evidence of the weakness of the speculations and critical views which sought
   to hold their ground alongside the doctrine of the Church. The condition of
   affairs at the close, when we have (1) dogma (2) a theology of scholastic
   mysticism, and (3) antiquarian and formal science not confused with
   religion, was in many respects an improvement, and the value of the product
   received its strongest attestation in the duration of the system. Leaving
   out of account a few oscillations, that had been actually attained, which
   the ‘conservatives’, i.e., the great majority in all phases of violent
   dogmatic conflicts, had longed for, and had therefore always contemplated. A
   mysterious dogma had been arrived at, one elevated above the schools, which
   gave theologians liberty to be antiquarians, philologists, or philosophers;
   for what independent work was left in the pursuit of dogma was subject to
   the jurisdiction of these specialists, so far as it did not come under the
   review of the experts in mysteries and liturgies. But the great loss
   consisted in the fact that men no longer possessed a theological system
   complete in itself. Origen’s was the only one that the Greek Church had
   produced. After its rejection there existed, besides dogma, a vast sum of
   incongruous fragments, bound artificially together by quotations from
   Scripture and tradition and from Aristotelian scholasticism. The great
   dogmatic work of John of Damascus only appears to be a logically connected
   system; it is in reality far from that.

   As regards the periods, the dividing lines are formed by the Œcumenical
   Synods, namely, the so-called 2nd, then the 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th. But we
   can also use the names of Theodosius I., Pope Leo I., Justinian, and Pope
   Agatho. The unification of the Churches was rendered possible by the fact
   that they obtained a forum publicum (a public tribunal) in the universal
   Synods. [350] For the Creeds of the provincial Churches, which agreed only
   in the main points, and not even in all these, the Councils substituted a
   dogmatic confession whose proclamation, enactment, and extension excited the
   most violent conflicts. At the same time the confederation of the Churches
   became a reality through the imperial policy, which sought to come into
   touch with the strongest dogmatic currents, though not infrequently it
   supported trivialities. The last traces of independence possessed by
   individual communities were destroyed; along with unity, uniformity in
   doctrine, discipline, and worship was almost re-established, and the
   constitution of the Church, even in the higher ranks, was gradually so
   adapted to that of the empire that the hierarchical organisation and
   administration of the Church corresponded to the order of the State. But
   this re-arrangement required, in part, to be carried out by force (turannis
   of the Emperors and a few great Bishops), and speaking strictly, was a
   reality for only a few decades. It excited counter-movements; in opposition
   to it nationalistic feeling first really gained strength, especially in the
   East, and the great schisms of the national Churches there were also a
   consequence of the absolutist attempts at unification. [351] In the West the
   State collapsed under the storms of the tribal migration at the moment when,
   in the. East, the dismemberment of the imperial Church into national
   Churches began. The attempts of the East Roman emperors to recover the
   Western half of the realm, or at least parts of it, more than once thwarted
   the oriental policy imperatively required of them, and are also, from the
   complications to which they led, of great importance for the history of
   dogma. While the Emperors of Byzantium were involved in a double task, which
   constituted an insoluble dilemma, the Roman Bishops served themselves heirs
   to the West Roman kingdom. In the revolution in political and social
   affairs, Christians and Latins were compelled to postpone their separate
   interests and to attach themselves closely to the most powerful defender of
   the old institutions. The Germans, who apparently broke up the Empire,
   brought about the internal unity of all that was Catholic and Latin, and
   strengthened the position of ecclesiastical Rome. The East, on the contrary,
   which had been less endangered actually did break up. In the Western
   Catholic Church the ancient Roman Empire was preserved after a fashion with
   its order and culture. This Church had no longer beside it a state similar
   in character and closely related to itself and thus its Bishop could train
   the new peoples to his service, and soon undertook an independent policy
   against the Western schemes of the East Roman Emperors. The internal
   separation between East and West was complete, when neither understood the
   language of the other. Yet the West still took an active interest in the
   controversy of the ‘Three Chapters’, and at the same time obtained, in the
   translation of the Antiochene and Persian Instituta regularia divinæ legis,
   and in the great works translated at the instigation of Cassiodorus,
   valuable gifts from the East which stand comparison with those made by
   Hilary, Ambrose, Rufinus, and Jerome. Even in the seventh century Rome and
   the East were for a time engaged in a lively correspondence. But the rule of
   Byzantium over Rome was felt to be that of the foreigner, and conversely the
   Roman spirit was alien to the Orientals. Their relations were forced.
   Augustine hardly left a trace in the Eastern Church. That was its greatest
   calamity. Of course it was less disposed by its past to understand him than
   the Western Church, and it was at no time really inclined to accept
   instruction from its rival.

   The first period of the History of Dogma closes with the Synods of
   Constantinople (381-383). At them faith in the complete divinity of the
   Redeemer was finally settled as the creed of the Catholic Church, and his
   complete humanity was also expressly acknowledged. Next to Athanasius the
   chief part in the decision was taken by the Cappadocians on the one hand,
   and by the Roman Bishop and Ambrose on the other. It would not have been
   arrived at, however, so early, if it had not been carried through in
   Constantinople by a powerful ruler who came from the West. The theologians,
   so far as any took part in it, were men who were equipped with the full
   culture of the period, and were also devoted to the ideals of monastic
   piety. The Cappadocians were still relatively independent theologians,
   worthy disciples and admirers of Origen, using new forms to make the faith
   of Athanasius intelligible to contemporary thought, and thus establishing
   them, though with modifications, on a secure basis. Beside them stood
   Apollinaris of Laodicea, a man who anticipated the problems of the future,
   who was their equal in scholarship, and surpassed them in many respects in
   theology. But Arianism revealed its weakness by nothing more than its rapid
   decline after it ceased to possess the imperial favour. The impression made
   by it on the German nations, and its. prolonged popularity with them, must
   be described as an ‘accident’ in history. Catholicism was first made a
   reality by Theodosius I. — ‘the idea of a communion which should unite East
   and West in the same confession, beyond which no other form of confession
   was recognised.’ But Ranke remarks rightly [352] that the Christian idea (of
   Nicene orthodoxy) gained the upper hand over Hellenistic and heretical
   systems, not from the doctrine alone, but from the course of events. The
   victory of the Nicene Council was also decided at the Tigris by the defeat
   of Julian, and at Adrianople by the death of Valens. In this first period
   the Christian Church was still in constant touch with Hellenism, and adopted
   from it whatever it could use. But the history of dogma can only give a very
   meagre view of these relations. Its boundaries gradually become altogether
   more restricted. In the first three centuries it can hardly be separated
   from the universal history of the Church; in those following the general
   life of the Church is less and less clearly reflected in it. He who desires
   to become acquainted with that life, must study the monachism, worship,
   ethics, and especially the theological science of the age. There is nothing
   in the history of dogma to require us to portray a figure like that of
   Synesius, and, if we define our task strictly, we can make little use of the
   rich epistolary literature of the time.

   The second period extends to the Council of Chalcedon (451). Its first and
   longer half covers the time in which the imperial Church, resting on the
   Nicene basis and directed by emperor, priest, and monk, established itself.
   But after a time of comparative peace, [353] the question again emerged as
   to the relation of the divine and human in the person of the Redeemer. The
   opposition between the school of Antioch and the new Alexandrian theology,
   which felt itself to be the sole teaching of the Church, culminated in this
   question, and the Alexandrian Bishop succeeded in making it the centre of
   ecclesiastical interest. The theologians of the school of Antioch still
   wrought in freedom; nay, even among their opponents there were to be found
   men who defined the faith by its aim, and were not overawed by
   traditionalism. Yet traditionalism grew more and more powerful. Under the
   leadership of Epiphanius the great reaction against Origen began, [354] and
   not only the Alexandrian Bishop, but the greatest scholar of the age took
   part in it. [355] To this was added another fact. The constitution of the
   Patriarchate began to reveal its effect in threatening the unity of the
   Church. The Cappadocian Churches of Asia Minor receded into the background
   simply because they possessed no patriarch of their own, dogmatics began to
   constitute an instrument of provincial ecclesiastical policy, and the
   dogmatic formula to be a mark of the diocese and nationality. In proportion
   as this took place, the state was compelled to intervene. Dogmatic questions
   became vital to it, and the appointment in the capital to the Patriarchate,
   which it had fostered, was now a political problem of the first rank; for
   the occupant of the chair stood at the head of the spiritual affairs of the
   empire. The great controversy was not settled at the two Synods of Ephesus
   (431, 449), but it was, ostensibly, at the Synod of Chalcedon (451) by means
   of a long formula. This formula was proposed and dictated by the West in the
   person of Bishop Leo and was approved by the Emperor; it was regarded in the
   West as the simple and unchanged creed of the Fathers, in the East as a
   compromise which was felt by some not to be sufficiently orthodox, and by
   others to require interpretation. Meanwhile the East hardly possessed as yet
   the rudiments of a theology capable of interpreting it. Therefore the
   formula of Chalcedon has not unjustifiably been called a ‘national
   misfortune’ for the Byzantine Empire. But even as regards the Church its
   advantages no more than balanced its disadvantages. During this period the
   monks obtained the mastery over the Church. Although their relations with
   the hierarchy were not infrequently strained, they added very greatly to its
   strength. The clergy would have been completely eclipsed in the world and
   the state, if they had not obtained a new support from the ‘religiosi’ and
   ‘religiosity’. But while monachism became an important element in the
   Church, the prestige of the state declined in the minds of men; nothing was
   left to the Emperors but to adopt certain monkish fashions for themselves,
   and along with the state the life of social morality was depreciated in
   favour of ‘religiosity’ and a magical cultus. For monachism merely promotes
   itself and next to that a religion of idol-worship; it quits the field where
   a vigorous morality arises. On the other hand, however, the State was
   delivered at the close of this period from its most powerful opponent, the
   Bishop of Alexandria, though at much too high a cost.

   The third period extends up to the fifth Œcumenical Council (Constantinople
   A.D. 553). The disadvantages of the Chalcedonian formula made themselves
   felt in the first half of this century. Great ecclesiastical provinces were
   in revolt, and threatened to secede from the membership of the universal
   Church. Greek piety everywhere showed itself to have been unsettled by the
   decree of Chalcedon. Theology could not follow it; nay, it appeared to be
   stifled by the decision, while in Monophysitism life and movement prevailed.
   The perplexed Emperors were at their wits’ end, and tried provisionally to
   recall, or at any rate to tone down, the formula, but in doing so they
   prejudiced the union with the West. This was changed under Justin I., but
   above all under Justinian I. As the reign of the latter was signalised
   politically by the restoration of the Byzantine supremacy, and the
   codification of its laws, it was ecclesiastically distinguished by the
   restoration and establishment of the constitution and dogmatics of the
   Church. The creed of Rome was recognised so far as its wording was
   concerned, but Rome itself was humbled; the Chalcedonian formula remained in
   force, but it was interpreted in terms of Cyril’s teaching, and its future
   position was assured by the condemnation of the writings of the Antiochene
   schools on the one hand, and of Origen on the other. Thus was the theology
   of the past judged: ‘solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant’. The Justinian
   Church condemned the glorious Fathers, and the fifth Œcumenical Council
   blotted out the freer theological science. However, this measure was only
   possible because an orthodox Church theology had developed in the first half
   of the sixth century. [356] It presupposed the Chalcedonian formula, which
   had become more venerable by age, and explained it by means of the
   philosophy of Aristotle, which had then come once more to the front, in
   order to reconcile it with the spirit of Cyril’s theology, and to make it in
   some measure comprehensible. Here we have the rise of ecclesiastical
   scholasticism which now took its place beside the mystical Neo-platonic
   theology that had been most comprehensively stated by the Pseudo-areopagite,
   and which corrected and defined it, uniting with and balancing it. The
   effect of this development was extremely significant. Men now began for the
   first time to feel themselves at home on the ground of the Chalcedonian
   formula; piety also was reconciled to it. Productive dogmatic work ceased
   entirely; its place was taken by the mystical theology of scholasticism
   based on the inheritance from antiquity and the enumeration of authorities.
   Justinian in reality closed not only the school of Athens, but also that of
   Origen, the schools, i.e., of productive theological science and criticism.
   [357] Henceforth theology only existed as a servant to the tradition of
   Justinian and Chalcedon. It was served in turn by the dialectic of Aristotle
   on the one hand, and the Neo-platonic mysticism of the Areopagite on the
   other. It did important work in the way of elaboration and adaptation; we
   are not warranted in passing a sweeping verdict of stultification and sleep;
   [358] but it made no further change in the creed of the Church and was bound
   hand and foot. [359]

   As regards the history of dogma the fourth period possesses no real
   independence. The dogmatic activity which characterised it was exclusively
   political; but since it created a new formula, we may here assume a special
   period. It ends with the sixth Œcumenical Council (A.D. 680). ‘Justinian’s
   policy of conquest was in the highest degree unstable, and went far beyond
   the resources of the Empire’. Whether his dogmatic policy was correct, which
   maintained union with the West at the cost of losing a large section of the
   Oriental Churches, is a question which may be debated. But whether an open
   and consistently monophysite policy was then still possible in
   Constantinople is very doubtful. Egypt, Syria, and Armenia were lost, not
   only to the state, but also to Greek language and culture. In order to keep
   them, or win them back from the Persians and Arabians, an energetic Emperor
   resolved to publish a monophysite rallying cry without prejudicing the
   wording of the Chalcedonian Creed. Monothelitism on the basis of the
   doctrine of the two natures is in itself no artificial creation; it is
   founded on the old consideration rising out of the doctrine of redemption;
   but at that time it had its origin in policy. Yet this still-born child of
   politics set the Eastern Church in an uproar for more than two generations.
   To prevent the loss not only of the East but of Italy also, the Emperor
   required the help of the Roman Bishop. Justinian’s success in curbing the
   latter’s authority had only continued for a little under his successors. The
   pontificate of Gregory I. still exerted an influence, and, at the sixth
   Council, Agatho, repairing the fault of one of his predecessors, dictated
   the formula, as Leo had done at Chalcedon. This bore the impress of the
   West, and did not correspond perfectly to the eastern conception. It further
   became manifest at the Council that, when it was a question of defining
   dogma, theology had been completely transformed into a rehearsal of
   authorities. Next to the older synodal decisions, the decisive precedent was
   formed by the immense, and frequently forged, collection of the dicta
   patrum.

   After the sixth Council, orthodoxy and Monophysitism were definitively
   separated, though attempts were not wanting to harmonise them in the
   following centuries, in keeping with the monophysite tendencies, never
   wholly destroyed, of eastern orthodoxy. The mystery was firmly established,
   and obtained further definition; for the doctrine taught by John of Damascus
   of the enhypostasis of the human nature in the Logos) had been accepted,
   even in the age of Justinian, to be the correct interpretation of the
   doctrine of the two natures. The movement of thought in the Church passed
   accordingly to a new sphere; or, more correctly, the old absorbing interest
   of the Church in the mysteries of the cultus [360] now came to light
   undisguised, because the pursuit of theology, converted as it was into
   scholasticism, had become the business of scholars and experts in the
   mysteries, and it was only temporarily that a controversy springing out of
   it agitated the Church. Dogma, designed by the Nicene and Chalcedonian
   Creeds to be looked at and treated formally, henceforth revealed this its
   character thoroughly. The philosophy appropriate to it was found, or
   invented — that compound of Neoplatonism and Aristotelianism, with which no
   one could dispense who desired to unfold or comment on dogma orthodoxly.
   [361] He who passed over the philosophy of the Church stood in danger of
   becoming a heretic. [362] But dogmatics, undoubtedly the foundation, did not
   dominate the Church as a living power. The conception of the natures of
   Christ found its continuation in that of the sacraments and sacramental
   things by which men became participators in Christ. The perceived
   (aisthēton) thereby obtained side by side with the conceived (noēton) an
   ever loftier, and independent significance. Symbolism was more and more
   expunged; the mystery became more and more sensuous. But, in proportion as
   the latter was made operative in the cultus, the cultus itself was regarded,
   in all its setting and performance, in the light of the divino-human. [363]
   All its sensuous side, which was presented for his benefit to the
   worshipper, was regarded as deified and as promoting deification. Now in so
   far as the believer derived his life entirely from this cultus, a ritual
   system, to which the character of the divino-human attached, took the place
   of the God-man, Christ. Piety threatened to be submerged in a contemplation
   of wonders, the spiritual in the sensuous, and theology, in so far as not
   identified with scholasticism and polemics, in a science of mysteries. [364]
   From this point of view we can understand the worship of images and the
   reaction of iconoclasm which opened the fifth period. But this explanation
   is not complete; another factor coöperated. This was the relation of Church
   and State which was also involved in the controversy about images. There
   always were discords between them; but these became more and more acute when
   the priesthood fell completely under the sway of the monks. Even from the
   fifth century the practice had begun of transferring monks to episcopal
   chairs, and it had almost become the rule in the following centuries. But
   the monks both strove zealously to make the Church independent and claimed
   sovereignty among the people, and as a rule, though interested on behalf of
   the nations, they also cherished a strong hostility to the State: in other
   words they endangered the settlement of Church and State established in the
   fifth and sixth centuries. Their most powerful instrument was the sensuous
   cultus which had captivated the people, but which undoubtedly, barbarous and
   mechanical as it was with all its appliances and amulets, was yet connected
   with the ideal forces still to be credited to the age, with science, art,
   and especially piety. Here we have the miserable dilemma of the period, and
   of the Church; the worship of images was barbarous, but iconoclasm
   threatened to introduce an increased degree of barbarism. For the
   ‘enlightened’ (Aufklärung) were at the disposal of an iron military
   despotism, and despised science, art, and religion.

   The Church of Byzantium was at that time engaged in a life and death
   struggle. Its existence was really at stake, and with it the existence of
   the old form of society and culture, in opposition to forces which as yet
   had no positive policy, but at first merely ruled by brute force. The
   priestly caste was arrayed against the military, the hosts of shaven monks
   against the standing army, which from the fourth century had played a great
   rôle, but now sought to be master in the state. These fearful fights ended
   in the restoration of the status quo ante, in so far as dogma and cultus
   were concerned, and the old order seemed all the more sacred after the
   attacks that had been made upon it. But on the political side, the state
   supported by the army carried off the victory — and this was not without
   consequences for the system and life of the Church. The monks were given a
   free hand in dogma, but their activity as ecclesiastical politicians was
   checked. The Emperor remained chief priest, in spite of some patriarchs who,
   until after the eleventh century, attempted to maintain an independent and
   equal position side by side with him. With the support of his army he
   resisted them. The independence of the Church was gone, in so far as it
   sought to rise above the level of an institution devoted to ritual and
   worship. Its activity was completely restricted to the mysteries and the
   preparation for death. It became an institution of the state, impressing it
   only by the unchangeableness of its doctrine and ceremonies. To the new
   peoples to whom this Church came, the Slavs, it was far more than to the
   Greeks an unchangeable, heavenly creation. A thousand years have passed away
   since the Slavs were hellenised; and they have not yet ventured, like the
   Germans, to think and feel freely and at their ease in the Church, although
   they recognise in it a main defence of their national characteristics
   against the West. From the West these ‘Greek Slavs’ were spiritually
   separated, after Augustine’s ideas were admitted there. The external
   cleavage, though only complete in the eleventh century, began immediately
   after the image controversy. The states in the territory of the Greek Church
   still really stand under a military dictatorship: where this has fallen, as
   in the kingdom of Greece, a final stage has not yet been reached. States
   like the former support an ecclesiastical department, but no Church.

   The path into which Athanasius led the Church has not been abandoned; but
   the other forces of life completely restricted it. Orthodox dogma
   corresponds on the whole to the conception of Athanasius; but the balance
   which he held between the religious creed and the cultus has been disturbed
   to the disadvantage of the former. The creed still shows life when it is
   called in question, or when the nation it serves requires a flag. In other
   cases it lives in the science of scholastic mysticism, which has already
   become by degrees stereotyped and sacred, and in its presentation in public
   worship. Theology also is bound to the latter; it has thus received a
   standard of which Athanasius knew nothing. [365]

   Our sources are the works of the Church Fathers and the Acts of Councils
   (Mansi). We still want a history of Greek ecclesiastical literature after
   Eusebius, capable of satisfying the most reasonable demands. Of more recent
   works on the subject that of Fessler is the best (Instit. Patrologiæ,
   1850-52), Alzog’s is the most familiar, and Nirschl’s the newest.
     _________________________________________________________________

   [318] Walch, Entw. einer vollst. Historie der Ketzereien, 1762 ff. Hefele,
   Konciliengesch., 2 Bd. I.–IV. Histories of the Roman Empire by Tillemont,
   Gibbon, Richter und Ranke (Weltgesch., Bd. IV. und V.). Réville, Die
   Religion z. Rom unter den Severern (German translation by Krüger, 1888). V.
   Schultze, Gesch. des Untergangs des griechisch-römischen Heidenthums, 2
   Bde., 1887 f. Boissier, La fin du paganisme, 2 Bde. 1891. Dorner,
   Entw.-Gesch. d. L. v. d. Person Christi, II., 1853. H. Schultz, Die L. v. d.
   Gottheit Christi, 1881. Gass, Symbolik d. griech. Kirche, 1872. Kattenbusch,
   Lehrbuch d. vergleichenden Konfessionskunde. 1 Bd., 1890. Denzinger, Ritus
   Orientalium, 2 Bde. 1863 f.

   [319] Tiele, Kompendium der Relig. Gesch. (German transl.), p. 283: “the
   Catholic Church is the secular Roman rule, modified and consecrated by
   Christian ideas.”

   [320] See above, p. 47 ff., 113 ff.

   [321] See on this the correspondence between the oriental Bishops and Julius
   of Rome; Socr., H. E., II. 15; Ep. Julii ap Athan., Apolog. c. Arian, ch. 21
   sq.

   [322] See Vol. II., p. 122 f.

   [323] Reuter, Augustinische Studien, in the Zeitschr. f. K.-Gesch. V., p.
   349 ff., VI., p. 155 ff., 190.

   [324] See my Edition of the Didachē, Prolegg. pp. 222 ff., 239 ff.

   [325] Compare the criticism by Julian and his friends of the Christian
   religion and the worship paid to saints and relics, or read the writings in
   which Sulpicius Severus attempts to recommend Christianity to the refined
   society of Aquitania. We can study in the works of the historians Socrates
   and Sozomen the attitude of cultured Catholic Christians, after the complete
   triumph of the Church over paganism. Even Sozomen cannot be regarded as
   having reached the stage of the “dry tree,” and yet into what a superstition
   the Christian faith is transformed in his pages! We see how paganism thrust
   itself into worship, in — to quote a well-known instance — August. Confess.
   VI. 2 ff. Let us, above all, remember that from the beginning of the fourth
   century special chapels and churches were built to the different saints. The
   saints took the place of the local deities; their festivals of the old
   provincial services of the gods. We have just begun to investigate the
   transformation of heathen tales of gods and heroes into legends of the
   saints, and ancient light literature has contributed its quota in works of
   travel and adventure by land and sea. These researches promise, if
   instituted critically and soberly, to give interesting results; yet I doubt
   if the state of our materials will admit of confident conclusions. Besides
   the worship of the saints, the cultus of the Emperor threatened in the
   fourth century to intrude itself into the Church. Philostorgius relates (H.
   E. II. 17) that Christians presented offerings to the picture of
   Constantine, and honoured it with lanterns and incense; they also seem to
   have offered vota to him that they might be protected from calamities.

   [326] Besides the worship of saints, martyrs, and relics, we have to notice
   the new forms of faith in demons. It would be impossible to believe more
   sincerely in demons than Christians did in the second century. But that age
   was yet ignorant of the fantastic tricks with them, which almost turned
   Christendom into a society of deceived deceivers. (The expression was first
   applied to Christians by Plotinus: see Vita Plot. by Porphyrius 16: exēpatōn
   kai autoi ēpatēmenoi). When we reflect that the Vita Antonii was written by
   an Athanasius, nothing can again surprise us. Spiritualism with all its
   absurdity, which we are once more conversant with in the nineteenth century,
   had long been familiar in heathen circles, and then, as now, it was
   connected with religious ideas on the one hand, and physical experiments and
   speculations on the other. It forced its way into the Church, in spite of
   all protests, from the third, still more, however, from the fourth century,
   after it had long been wide-spread in “Gnostic circles.” As a religious
   phenomenon it signified a renaissance of the lowest forms of religion. But
   even the most enlightened minds could not keep clear of it. Augustine proves
   this.

   [327] The order of the monks had to pass through crises and conflicts before
   it was able to establish itself side by side with, and to influence a
   secularised priesthood; we possess the key to this struggle in the East in
   the writings of the forger who composed the Apostolic constitutions and the
   longer recension of the Ignatian Epistles; in the West in the works, written
   from the opposite standpoint, of Sulpicius, as also in those of Jerome,
   Augustine, and the Gallican authors of the fifth century. Compare Hauck,
   K.-Gesch. Deutschlands, I., p. 49 ff. The order of the monks was imported
   into the West. It was not till about the middle of the fifth century that
   its opponents, inside and outside the ranks of the clergy, were silenced.
   For a time — at the end of the fourth century — it was in danger of being
   included in the condemnation of the Ascetics who held dualistic views.

   [328] The Fathers of the fourth century could not proceed so consistently as
   Hieracas (see Vol. III., p. 98, n. 5) since they had to sanction the
   “lower” morality in the Church. The Eustathians who condemned marriage — see
   the decrees of the Synod of Gangra in Hefele, Concil. Gesch., I. 2, p. 777
   ff. — were therefore opposed. But the numerous tractates “De virginitate”
   show how near the great Fathers of the Church came to the Eustathian view.
   We can hardly point to one who did not write on the subject. And the same
   thing is, above all, proved by Jerome’s polemic against Jovinian, in spite
   of its limitation, in the Ep. (48) ad Pammachium. For the rest, Augustine
   did not differ from Jerome. His Confessions are pervaded by the thought that
   he alone can enjoy peace with God who renounces all sexual intercourse. Like
   Hieracas, Ambrose celebrated virginity as the real novelty in Christian
   morality; see De virginibus, I. 3 sq.: “Since the Lord wrapped himself in a
   bodily form, and consummated the marriage of deity with humanity, without
   the shadow of a stain, he has infused poor frail men with heavenly life over
   the whole globe. That is the race which the angels symbolised when they came
   to serve the Lord in the wilderness . . . That is the heavenly host which on
   that holy Christmas the exulting choirs of angels promised to the earth. We
   have the testimony of antiquity therefore from the beginning of time, but
   complete submission only since the word became flesh. This virtue is, in
   fact, our exclusive possession. The heathens had it not; it is not practised
   by the still uncivilised barbarians; there are no other living creatures
   among whom it is to be found. We breathe the same air as they do, we share
   in all the conditions of an earthly life, we are not distinguished from them
   in birth, and so we only escape from the miseries of a nature otherwise
   similar to theirs through the virgin chastity, which, apparently extolled by
   the heathens, is yet, even if placed under the patronage of religion,
   outraged by them, which is persecuted by the barbarians, and is known to no
   other creatures.” Compare with this Chrysostom’s tractate on the state of
   virginity. Much thought was given after the middle of the fourth century to
   the relation of priest and monk, especially by those who wished to be monks
   and had to be priests. The virgin state (of the monks) was held by the
   earnest to be the easier and safer, the priestly condition the more perilous
   and responsible; yet in many respects it was regarded as also loftier,
   because the priest consummated the holy sacrifice and had to wield authority
   (Chrysostom de sacerdotio, esp. VI. 6-8 and III. 4-6, VI. 4). But the danger
   to which priests and bishops were subject of becoming worldly, was felt, not
   only by men like Gregory of Nasianzus and Chrysostom, but by countless
   earnest-minded Christians. A combination of the priestly (episcopal) office
   and professional asceticism was therefore early attempted and carried out.

   [329] See Vols. II., p. 294, III., p. 109. The allegory of the soul of the
   Gnostic as the bride received its first lofty treatment in the Valentinian
   school. Thence Origen got it. The sources drawn upon by later writers were
   Origen’s homilies and commentary on the Song of Songs (Lommatzsch. XIV., p.
   233 sq.): the prologue of the latter in Rufinus begins with the words:
   “Epithalamium libellus hic, id est, nuptiale carmen, dramatis in modum mihi
   videtur a Salomone conscriptus, quem cecinit instar nubentis sponsæ, et erga
   sponsum suum, qui est sermo dei, cœlesti amore flagrantis. Adamavit enim
   eum, sive anima, quæ ad imaginem eius facta est, sive ecclesia.” Jerome, who
   has translated the book, says that Origen surpassed himself in it.
   Methodius’ writing “Convivium” in which the same thought often occurs, was
   also much read. The purest and most attractive form of the conception in the
   East appears in Gregory of Nyssa; see e.g., his homilies on the Song of
   Songs, and his description of the life of Macrina (Ed. Oehler, 1858, p. 172
   sq.); we read p. 210 sq.: Dia touto moi dokei ton theion ekeinon kai
   katharon erōta tou aoratou numphiou. hon enkekrummenon eichen en tois tēs
   psuchēs aporrētois trephomenon, endēlon poiein tote tois parousi kai
   dēmosieuein tēn en kardia diathesin, to epeigesthai pros ton pothoumenon,
   hōs an dia tachous sun autō genoito tōn desmōn eklutheisa tou sōmatos.
   Besides Gregory we have to mention Macarius with his “Spiritual Homilies”
   (Migne T. XXXIV.; see Floss, Macarii Aegypt. epp. etc., 1850, German
   translation by Jocham, Kempten, 1878); compare especially the 15th homily
   which contains already the figure, repeated a hundred times afterwards, of
   the soul as the poor maiden who possesses nothing but her own body and whom
   the heavenly bridegroom loves. If she worthily cherishes chastity and love
   for him, then she becomes mistress of all the treasures of her Lord, and her
   transfigured body itself shares in his divinity. Further, Hom. IV., ch. 6
   sq., 14 sq. Compare also Ep. 2. “A soul which has cast aside the ignominy of
   its outward form, which is no longer ruled by shameful thoughts or violated
   by evil desires, has manifestly become a partner of the heavenly bridegroom;
   for henceforth it has only one requirement. Stung by love to him it demands
   and, to speak boldly, longs for the immediate fulfilment of a spiritual and
   mysterious union that it may enter the indissoluble embrace of communion in
   sanctification.” See Cyril Catech. III., ch. 16; kai genoito pantas humas
   amōmōs tō noētō numphiō parastantas k.t.l. Before this: hē gar proteron
   doulē psuchē nun adelphidoun auton ton despotēn epegrapsato, hos tēn
   anupokriton apodechomenos proairesin epiphōnēsei; Idou ei kalē hē plēsion
   mou, idou ei kalē; odontes sou hōs agelai tōn kekarmenōn (Cantic. 4, 1) dia
   tēn eusuneidēton homologian. We can point to very few Greek Fathers in whom
   the figure does not occur. All the greater is the contrast presented by the
   depreciatory verdict of Theodore of Mopsuestia on the Song of Songs (Kihn,
   Theodor v. M. 1880, p. 69 f.). It may be expressly noticed, besides, that
   Clement of Alex. as well as Methodius and Macarius had already transferred
   the figure of the bride to the married woman. Indeed, Macarius was conscious
   that he was acting boldly in doing so. Western nuns and monks were
   distinguished by lavishing those sexual feelings which were forbidden them
   on Christ (and Mary). Ambrose especially taught the West the conception of
   the soul as the bride of Christ; while Augustine was, apart from a few
   passages, more reserved, and Jerome wanted strength in sentiment and
   language. Not only in Ambrose’s tractate “De Isaac et anima”, really a
   commentary on the Song of Songs, but in innumerable passages in his works
   — even when it is least expected, as in the consolatory discourse on
   Valentinian’s death (ch. 59 sq.) — the idea of a special tie between the
   virgin soul and Christ comes to the front. But Ambrose gave it a colouring
   of his own due to the deep sentiment of a great man, and his peculiar
   faculty of giving a warm expression to his personal love of Christ (see also
   Prudentius); compare passages like De pœnit. II. 8. We cannot appreciate too
   highly the important influence exerted on after times, and first on
   Augustine, by Ambrose’s expression of his personal religion. The light that
   dawned in Augustine’s confessions already shone from the works of Ambrose,
   and it was the latter, not the former, who conducted western piety to the
   specific love of Christ. On the mysticism of Macarius, who was in many
   respects allied to these western Christians, compare also the details in
   Förster (in the Jahrb. f. deutsche Theol. 1873, p. 439 f.). Bigg (the
   Christian Platonists of Alex., p. 188 f.) has very rightly seen that
   Origen’s homilies on the Song of Songs were at the root of Christian
   mysticism: “This book gave welcome expression to what after the triumph of
   Athanasius was the dominant feeling, and redeemed in some degree the name of
   its author, damaged by his supposed inclination to Arianism. And thus
   Origen, the first pioneer in so many fields of Christian thought, the father
   in one of his many aspects of the English Latitudinarians, became also the
   spiritual ancestor of Bernard, the Victorines, and the author of the De
   Imitatione, of Tauler, and Molinos and Mme. de Guyon.”

   [330] Church history has at this point in its investigations to collect the
   numerous data which prove how deeply members of the Church had become
   involved in heathen polytheistic morals, usages, customs, and conceptions,
   how strong reliance on sacred witchcraft, amulets, and sacramental vehicles
   had grown, and how far stability and peace of heart and mind had been lost.
   For the latter we can especially compare Eusebius (H. E. VIII. 1), (further
   the epitaph of Damasus on Euseb. the Roman Bishop, in Duchesne, Le liber
   Pontificalis, Tom. I., 1885, p. 167); of a later date, Cyril, Catech. 15,
   ch. 7. As regards syncretism, see the work on the Egyptian mysteries (ed.
   Parthey).

   [331] See the short disclaimers in the fourth Catechism of Cyril of
   Jerusalem, (ch. 7. 8): Ouch, hōs tines enomisan, ho huios meta to pathos
   stephanōtheis hōsper hupo tou Theou dia tēn hupomonēn elabe ton en dexia
   thronon, all' aph' houper estin echei to basilikon axiōma . . . Mēte
   apallotriōsēs tou patros ton huion, mēte sunaloiphēn ergasamenos huiopatrian
   pisteusēs.. Further, the 11th Catechism. So also Athanasius steadily
   disavows the heresy of the Adoptians as well as of the Sabellians.

   [332] See Vol. III, p. 103.

   [333] See Vol. III., p. 1157 the words run: heis kurios, monos ek monou,
   Theos ek Theou, charaktēr kai eikōn tēs theotētos, logos energos, sophia tēs
   tōn holōn sustaseōs periektikē kai dunamis tēs holēs ktiseōs poiētikē, huios
   alēthinos alēthinou patros, aoratos aoratou kai aphthartos aphthartou kai
   athanatos athanatou kai aidios aidiou..

   [334] See Vol. III., p. 110.

   [335] See Vol. III, p. 102.

   [336] On Eusebius’ Christology see Dorner, Lehre v. d. Person Christi, I.
   (1845) p. 792 ff. Lee, on the Theophan. 1843, Preliminary Dissert. The
   Christology of Euseb. is that of the ancient apologists, approximating in
   its terms to Neoplatonic speculations and richer in its phases on account of
   the many antitheses. In spite of his dependence on Origen, Euseb. was chary
   of receiving all the ideas and predicates which the former applied to the
   Son and to which orthodoxy afterwards appealed. That is of consequence.
   Euseb. was more convinced than Origen that the idea of deity was completely
   exhausted in that of the strictly one and unchangeable on the prōtē ousia;
   he separated the deuteros Theos much further from God than the Apologists;
   see Zahn, Marcell., p. 37 f.

   [337] Gwatkin says very justly in Studies of Arianism (1882), p. 52: “In
   fact Christendom as a whole was neither Arian nor Nicene. If the East was
   not Nicene, neither was it Arian, but conservative: and if the West was not
   Arian, neither was it Nicene, but conservative also. Conservatism, however,
   had different meanings in East and West.” In the East it was considered
   conservative to uphold the formulas of Origen strengthened against
   Sabellianism. On the doctrine of the Logos and Christ in Origen Bigg says
   very truly (The Christian Platonists of Alex., p. 182): “What struck later
   ages as the novelty and audacity of Origen’s doctrine was in truth its
   archaism and conservatism.”

   [338] When theology is engaged in forming dogmas, it has never, as is really
   self-evident, enjoyed the sympathy of any large section in the Church. There
   is nothing to support the contention that the Christian Church passed
   through a period — from Origen up to the Synod of Chalcedon or A.D. 431 —
   during which there prevailed universally, or even to a great extent, a
   supreme interest in the abstract form of the contents of Religion, and an
   effort, with all the means at hand, to expound it as exactly as possible.
   The great mass of Bishops, monks, and laity, were then wholly occupied in
   satisfying themselves with what had been given. This was the highest demand
   of the Catholic religion itself, which presupposed the “Apostolic” as its
   foundation, which called everything else “heresy” (neōterismos), and as an
   institution for worship) did not permit changes. Undoubtedly, the period
   from Origen, or say, from Athanasius up to the Ephesian Council, appears
   unique in the history of the Church. But that was an episode enacted in
   opposition to the great body of Christians, and the theological leaders
   themselves, in proportion to their piety, conceived their task to be
   compulsory, dangerous, and ensnaring them in guilt. To prove the former read
   Socrates’ Church History (see my discussion in Herzog R. E., Vol. XIV. p.
   408 ff.). This man was, on the one hand, orthodox at every point, on the
   other, an enthusiastic partisan of Hellēnikē paideia, full of veneration for
   the great Origen and his science, which he held was to be fostered
   continually. But the production of dogma by scientific theology was
   repugnant to him in every sense, i.e., he accused and execrated dogmatic
   controversies as much in the interest of a dogma fixed once for all as in
   that of science. The Nicene Symbol belonged sufficiently to the past to be
   accepted by him as holy and apostolical; but beyond this every new formula
   seemed to Socrates, pernicious, the controversies sometimes fights in the
   dark (nyktomachies), sometimes an outflow of deceptive sophistry and
   ambitious rivalry: siōpē proskuneisthō to arrēton, i.e., the mystery of the
   trinity. Had Socrates lived 100 years earlier, he would not have been a
   Nicene, but a Eusebian Christian. He therefore passes very liberal judgments
   on, and can make excuses for, the latest “heretics”, i.e., theologians who
   have been recently refuted by the Church. In this he stood by no means
   alone. Others, even at a later date, went still further. Compare Evagrius
   (H. E. I. 11) whose argument recalls Orig. c. Cels. III. 12. Dogma has been
   created by the small number of theologians who sought for precise notions,
   in the endeavour to make clear the characteristic meaning of the Christian
   religion (Athanasius, Apollinaris, Cyril). That these notions, separated
   from their underlying thought, fell into the hands of ambitious
   ecclesiastical politicians, that the latter excited the fanaticism of the
   ignorant in their support, and that the final decision was often due to
   motives which had nothing to do with the case, is admittedly undeniable. But
   the theologians are not therefore to blame, who opposed in the Church a lazy
   contentment with mystery, or an unlimited pursuit of scientific speculation.
   Their effort to make clear the essence of Christianity, as they understood
   it, and at the same time to provide a logikē latreia, was rather, next to
   the zealous order of monks with whom they were intimately connected, the
   sole great feature in the epoch. They set themselves to stem the vis
   inertiæ of the pious, and with the highest success. When indolence in the
   end held the field, an important result had at any rate been attained. The
   period from Athanasius till about the middle of the fifth century was in
   many respects the brilliant epoch of theology in the Church. Not even the
   age of Scholasticism can compare with it. That the work of the theologians
   became faith according to the Church — a thing Origen never thought of —
   involved its strength and weakness alike. The fanaticism of the masses for
   dogmatic and philosophical catch-words — see the amusing narrative of
   Gregory of Nyssa, Opp. ed. Paris, 1638, T. III. p. 466 — affords no
   information as to the measure of their comprehension; for the dogmatic
   catch-word is merely a fetish in wide circles.

   [339] Origen’s doctrine of subordination was felt in the West simply to
   constitute ditheism; see Vol. III., p. 89 ff.

   [340] See Ranke, Weltgeschichte Vol. IV. 1, p. 307: “Augustine’s system is,
   if I mistake not, the second that arose in the Church; it set aside the
   peculiar characteristics of the first, that of Origen, and then made good
   its position.” We can only admit that it held its ground in a modified
   sense. In fact we see here a parallel of the highest significance in the
   history of the world. The Church has produced two fundamental systems,
   Origen’s and Augustine’s. But the history of theology in the East is the
   history of the setting aside of Origen’s system, and the same is to be said
   of the Augustinian in the Catholic West. Only the procedure in the East was
   more thorough-going and open than in the West. In the former Origen was
   condemned, in the latter Augustine was constantly celebrated as the greatest
   Doctor ecclesiæ. In both cases, however, the rejection of the theological
   system caused the loss of a coherent and uniform Christian conception of the
   world.

   [341] It might seem as if we ought to grant the same credit to Arius of
   having reduced and given fixity to vacillating and divergent speculations.
   But apart from the contents and value of his doctrine, Arius was always
   disposed to make concessions, and as semi-opponents defended him, so he
   unhesitatingly accepted half friends for complete allies. This very fact
   proves, however, that he would never have succeeded in clearing up the
   position.

   [342] Athanasius always made a sparing use of the catch-word Homoousios in
   his works. The formula was not sacred to him, but only the cause which he
   apprehended and established under cover of the formula. His conduct at the
   Synod of Alexandria shows that he laid no stress on words. For his theology
   he needed no Creed. The existence of one in the Nicene was valuable to him,
   but he was far from worshipping Symbols. While many of his friends sought
   support in the authority of the formula, he sought and found it solely in
   the cause.

   [343] Bigg (l. c., p. 188) has very rightly called attention to the high
   value attached by orthodox Fathers after Athanasius’ triumph to the Song of
   Songs in Origen’s exposition.

   [344] See the Vita Anton. of Athanasius and Gregory of Naz., Orat. 21. It is
   noteworthy that Paul of Samosata and the Eusebians were worldly Christians.
   On the other hand, the puritanism of Arius is, of course, famous.

   [345] The Cappadocians, theologians who reconciled the faith of Athanasius
   with the current philosophy, and apprehended it abstractly, did not retain
   his teaching pure and simple. This is especially shown by their doubtful
   contention that the Christian idea of God was the true mean between the
   Jewish and Greek. They boldly characterised the plurality of Hypostases,
   e.g., as a phase of truth preserved in Greek polytheism. Athanasius,
   therefore, did not take unmixed pleasure in their work. Cf. the logos
   katēchētikos of Gregory of Nyssa (ch. 4, ed. Oehler): “Jewish dogma is
   refuted by adoption of the Word, and by faith in the Spirit, but the
   illusion of the Greeks (Ellēnizontes) in worshipping a multiplicity of Gods
   is dispelled by the (doctrine of the) unity of nature which destroys the
   extravagant opinion of a (divine) plurality. We must, in turn, retain the
   unity of being from the Jewish type of faith, and only the distinction of
   personal (divine) existences. from the Greek; and by this means godless
   conceptions are met on the left and right in correspondingly salutary ways.
   For the trinity is a corrective for those who err as to unity, just as the
   doctrine of the unity (of God) is for those who have made shipwreck by
   belief in plurality.”

   [346] See Vol. III., p. 99 ff.

   [347] In the cleverly written introduction to his description of “Western
   Church architecture “ (Stuttgart, 1884), Dehio works out the idea that the
   classical period of ancient Christian architecture, the fourth century, was
   distinguished not by the multiplicity of ideas and forms of construction,
   but rather by the simplification or reduction of the forms. The Church,
   confronted by the number of models in ancient architecture, laid hold of one
   of them, the Basilica, and transmitted it alone to the Middle Ages. That,
   however, meant not a loss, but an advance. “The genius of Christianity
   contributed nothing new to the architectural creations of Rome and
   Alexandria. The great revolution it evoked lay in another direction. It
   consisted in the reduction of the multiplicity of styles to one dominant and
   sole form, not so much by a metamorphosis of artistic feeling, as by making
   religion once more the central motive of life. It thus assigned to the
   future architecture of the Middle Ages conditions analogous to those which
   governed the beginnings of Greek art; and thus the birth of Gothic art was
   possible at the climax of the Middle Ages — for the second time in history,
   a true organic style, like that of the Greek temple.” This observation is
   extremely instructive to the historian of dogma. The thought of Athanasius
   corresponds in theology to the meaning of the Basilica in the history of
   architecture in the fourth century. Both were happy simplifications from a
   wealth of ideas — reductions which concealed full and varied contents.

   [348] The prestige of Origen in the Church was still in the first half of
   the fifth century almost absolute and incomparable in wide circles. As we
   have above remarked, the Church history of Socrates is in this respect
   particularly instructive. The belittlers and enemies of this man were vain
   and ambitious obscurantists, hero-levelling fellows; against them —
   Methodius, Eustathius, Apollinaris, and Theophilus — he appealed to the
   testimony of Athanasius on behalf of Origen’s orthodoxy (VI. 13). Even the
   view that Origen’s works and utterances required to be sifted, appeared to
   him folly (VI. 17). He defended everything that the master wrote. It was
   incomprehensible to him how the Arians could study and value Origen, without
   becoming orthodox (VII. 6) — to the Arians the opposite was incomprehensible
   — and he declares with absolute conviction that Porphyry and Julian would
   not have written what they did if they had read the great teacher (III. 23).
   Further, Origen was once more quoted in the Monophysite controversies. Apart
   from special uses of it, his name represented a great cause, namely, no less
   than the right of science, Hellēnikē paideia, in the Church, a right
   contested by traditionalism in conjunction with the monks.

   [349] It was pointed out above, p. 138, note I, that even orthodox
   theological leaders were not comfortable in their (dogmatic work, so that
   the position from the middle of the sixth century, the sovereign rule of
   traditionalism, was really the goal desired from the beginning. The works of
   all prominent theologians testify to this. Some deplored the fact that the
   mystery could not be worshipped in silence, that they were compelled to
   speak; and the rest say explicitly, that the truth of their propositions lay
   in their negations alone. Hilary expresses himself perhaps most strongly (De
   trinit. II. 2): “Compellimur hæreticorum et blasphemantium vitiis illicita
   agere, ardua scandere, ineffabilia eloqui, inconcessa præsumere. Et cum sola
   fide explorari, quæ præcepta sunt, oporteret, adorare scilicet patrem et
   venerari cum eo filium, sancto spiritu abundare, cogimur sermonis nostri
   humilitatem ad ea, quæ inenarrabilia sunt extendere et in vitium vitio
   coarctamur alieno, ut, quæ contineri religione mentium oportuisset, nunc in
   periculum humani eloquii proferantur.”

   [350] But for Constantine the Nicene Council would not have been carried
   through, and but for the Emperor’s uniform creeds would not been arrived at.
   They were Athanasius’ best coadjutors. Nay, even the Emperors hostile to him
   helped him; for they used every effort to unite the Church on the basis of a
   fixed confession. It is therefore absurd to abuse the State Church, and yet
   to regard the establishment of the orthodox creed as a gain.

   [351] See Hatch, The Councils and the Unity of the Church, in his Social
   Constitution of the Christian Churches, p. 172 ff.; he has given an
   excellent account of the share of the State in this unity and its
   limitations; compare also my Analekten, p. 253 ff. In the process by which
   Christendom was united externally and ecclesiastically, we can distinguish
   in the East three, and in the West four, epochs. The first three were common
   to the Churches of both East and West. The first was characterised by the
   recognition of the apostolic rule of faith in opposition to the erroneous
   creeds of heretical associations, after a common ideal and a common hope had
   united Christians up to the middle of the second century. The kanōn tēs
   pisteōs became the basis of adelphotēs. The second epoch, in which
   organisation became already of supreme importance, was represented in the
   theory of the episcopal office, and in the creation of the metropolitan
   constitution. While this was struggling to establish itself amid violent
   crises, the State of Constantine brought about the third epoch, in which the
   Church, by becoming completely political, was united, and thus arrived at an
   external and uniform unity, so that in it the essential nature of the Empire
   was continued. The Church became the most solid organisation in the Empire,
   because it rested on the imperial order of the ancient kingdom. It got no
   further than this organisation in the East; indeed, several great provincial
   Churches soon separated from it; for the creation of Constantine concealed
   germs of dissolution; see Zahn, Konstantin d. Gr. 1876, p. 31 f. In the
   West, on the contrary, the Roman Bishop began to engage in those enterprises
   which, favoured by circumstances, succeeded in the course of centuries in
   substituting a new and distinctively ecclesiastical unity for that created
   by the state.

   [352] Weltgeschichte IV. 1, p. 305 f.

   [353] On these decades, which are to be described as in many respects the
   most prosperous period of the Byzantine Church, see Herzog R. E., Vol. XIV.,
   p. 403 ff. Heathenism was then first completely overthrown, and the
   heretics, even finally the Novatians, were hard pressed. The regime of
   Chrysostom seems to have been especially signalised by the suppression of
   heretics in the patriarchate of Constantinople; see the account of Socrates.
   We know of other Bishops who were active in extirpating heresy in the first
   half of the fifth century, a work in which Theodoret took part. The reigns
   of Gratian and Theodosius, on the one hand, the indefatigable labours of
   Epiphanius on the other, laid the foundation. Their programme was carried
   out from the end of the fourth century. But from about the middle of the
   fifth century, when the last traces of the ancient Gnostics, Novatians and
   Manichæans were substantially removed, great schisms began to take place on
   the basis of the Chalcedonian decree.

   [354] See before this Demetrius, Peter, Methodius, Eustathius, Marcellus,
   and Apollinaris.

   [355] “Babylon is fallen, fallen,” — with these words of triumph did Jerome
   accompany the overthrow of Chrysostom in the Origenist controversy (Ep. 88).

   [356] See Loofs, Leontius von Byzanz in the “Texten und Unters. z.
   alt-christl. Literaturgesch.,” Vol. III., parts 1 and 2, p. 37 ff., 303 ff.

   [357] The closing of the school of Athens has been disputed. It was
   certainly not a great, formal action; see Krummacher, Gesch. d. Byzant.
   Litt., p. 4.

   [358] See the works of Gass and Gelzer, especially the latter’s interesting
   lecture: “Die politische und kirchliche Stellung von Byzanz.

   [359] Noteworthy, but not surprising, is the parallel capable of being drawn
   between the history of theology and that of (heathen) philosophy during the
   whole period from Origen to Justinian. The history of Greek philosophy finds
   its limits in the middle of the fifth century, and again in the age of
   Justinian; the same is true of the science of the Church. In the general
   history of science Plato comes to be supplanted by Aristotle from the close
   of the fifth century; in dogmatics the influence of the Stagirite makes
   itself felt to an increased extent from the same date. Justinian’s
   epoch-making measures, the codification of the law, the closing of the
   school of Athens, and the restoration of the Byzantine Church and Empire,
   point to an inner connection. This has not escaped Ranke. On account of the
   importance of the matter I give here his excellent discussion (Vol. IV. 2,
   p. 20 ff.): “Justinian closed the school of Athens . . . An event of
   importance for the whole continued development of the human race; any
   further development in a direct line on the basis laid in classical
   antiquity was rendered impossible to the Greek spirit, while to Roman genius
   such an advance was left open and was only now rendered truly possible for
   after ages by means of the law-books. The philosophical spirit perished in
   the contentions of religious parties; the legal found a mode of expression
   which, as it were, concentrated it. The close of Greek philosophy recalls
   its beginning; nearly a thousand years had elapsed during which the greatest
   transformations in the history of the world had taken place. May I be
   permitted to add a general reflection, as to which I merely desire that it
   may not be rejected by the general feeling of scholars. The Christian
   religion had risen upon earth in the conflict of religious opinions waged by
   nations, and had then in opposition to these developed into a Church.
   Christian theology which set itself to appropriate the mysterious and to
   come to terms with the intellect had grown up in constant contact, sometimes
   of a friendly, more often of a hostile kind, with Greek philosophy. That was
   the business of those centuries. Then appeared the great Christian
   theologians from Origen onwards; as we said in passing, they passed through,
   without exception, Greek or closely related Latin schools, and framed their
   doctrines accordingly. Greek philosophy had produced nothing comparable to
   them; it had, as regards public life, been thrust into the background and
   now it had perished. But it is striking that the great Christian theologians
   also came to an end. Never again do we find in later times men like
   Athanasius, the Gregories of Cappadocia, Chrysostom, Ambrose and Augustine.
   I mean that along with Greek philosophy the original development of
   Christian theology also came to a stand-still. The energy of the Church
   doctors, or the importance of the Church assemblies in these centuries
   cannot be parallelled by analogous phenomena belonging to later times.
   Different as they are in themselves we find a certain resemblance in the
   state of Roman law and of Christian theology. The old Roman jurisprudence
   now appeared as universally valid law in a redaction which while historical
   was yet swayed by the conditions of the day. At the same time, limits were
   set by the triumph of orthodoxy, especially of the dogmas declared in the
   Chalcedonian resolutions, to all the internal divisions of theology in which
   the divergent opinions were also defended with ability and thoroughness
   . . . Justinian who reinstated orthodoxy, and gave the force of law to
   juridical conceptions, takes a high place in the rivalry of the centuries.
   Yet, while he raised his government to such a pinnacle of authority, he felt
   the ground shake momentarily under his feet.” Greek science and the monkish
   view of the world, leagued as they were, dominated the spiritual life of the
   Church before as well as after the Justinian age; they were at bottom indeed
   far from being opposed, but possessed a common root. But how differently it
   was possible to combine them, what variations they were capable of! If we
   compare, e.g., Gregory of Nyssa with John of Damascus it is easy to see that
   the former still really thinks independently, while the latter confines
   himself to editing what is given. It is above all clear that the critical
   elements of theology had been lost. They only held their ground in the
   vagaries of mystical speculation; in all ages they are most readily
   tolerated there.

   [360] It is said of Polycarp in his Vita per Pionium (sæc. IV.): hermēneusai
   te hikanos mustēria, ha tois pollois ēn apokrupha, houtō phanerōs auta
   exetitheto, hōste tous akouontas marturein, hoti ou monon akouousin alla kai
   horōsin auta. That was accordingly the supreme thing; to be able also to see
   the mystery, the Christian possession of salvation.

   [361] The fight between Platonism and Aristotelianism was accordingly acute
   among theologians in the following centuries; they often indeed made
   heretics of one another. Up till now we only know these disputes in part;
   they are important for the later conflicts in the West, but they do not
   belong to the history of dogma.

   [362] Even to-day simple-minded Catholic historians of dogma exist who
   frankly admit that he becomes necessarily a heretic who does not, e.g., use
   the conceptions “nature” and “person” correctly; and they even derive heresy
   from this starting-point. Thus Bertram (Theodoreti, Ep. Cyrensis, doctrina
   christologica, 1883) writes of Theodore of Mopsuestia: “Manifesto declarat,
   simile vel idem esse perfectam naturam et perfectam personam . . . Naturæ
   vox designat, quid sit aliqua res, vel essentiam vel quidditatem; hypostasis
   vero modum metaphysicum existendi monstrat. Ex quo patet, ad notionem
   perfectæ naturæ modum illum perfectum existendi non requiri. Hac in re
   erravit Mopsuestenus, et hæresis perniciosa ex hoc errore nata est. What a
   quid pro quo! The ignorance of the terminology, which was yet first created
   ad hoc, in order to escape Scylla and Charybdis, is held to be the real
   ground of the origin of the heresy. Such a view of things, which is as old
   as scholasticism, undoubtedly needed mysticism as its counterpoise, in order
   not to perish wholly from the religious sphere. Atzberger (Die Logoslehre d.
   h. Athan., 1880) has expressed himself still more unsophisticatedly, and
   therefore more instructively, on the relation of philosophy and dogma (p. 8,
   29). But see also Hagemann (Röm Kirche, p. 361): “The Patripassians arrived
   at their doctrines of God, his attributes, his creation, and incarnation,
   because they took their stand on Stoic logic and with it cherished the most
   extreme nominalism, and because they absolutely rejected the objective
   existence of ideas.”

   [363] For the history of the development of the Greek liturgy after the
   fourth century. Swainson’s The Greek Liturgies, chiefly from original
   authorities (London 1884), is the standard work. For the doctrine of the
   mysteries cf. Steitz’ Abhandlungen in the Lehrbb. f. deutsche Theol. 1864
   ff.

   [364] If we collect the fourth-century evidence of crude sensuous
   superstition intimately combined with Christian piety, we might believe that
   it could go no further. And yet it did go further from century to century,
   as anyone can easily convince himself by reading the tales of saints and
   relics, among which those of the oriental monophysites are the worst. But
   apart from this increase, we have to call attention to the fact that this
   barbarous superstition ascended into higher and more influential circles and
   was systematically cultivated by the monks, while the corrective of a more
   rational theology grew ever weaker. Theology became more defenceless,
   because it had to adapt itself to sacred ceremony. The worst gift bequeathed
   by moribund antiquity to the Church was the ritual of magic and the
   monstrous number of great and little aids in need and means of atonement. It
   is not the case that this state of matters was produced by the inrush of
   barbarian peoples; on the contrary, the decomposition of ancient culture and
   religion takes the first place in the process, and even the Neo-platonic
   philosophers are not free from blame. In view of this circumstance it is
   natural to conclude that the reformation of Athanasius bore little fruit,
   that it only checked for a time the polytheistic under-current, and, in a
   word, that the Church could not have got into a worse state than, in spite
   of Athanasius, it did, as regards the worship of Mary, angels, saints,
   martyrs, images and relics, and the trickery practised with amulets. But
   even if we were to go further and suggest that the later development of
   dogma itself, as e.g., in the worship of Mary and images, directly promoted
   religious materialism, yet we cannot rate too highly the salutary importance
   of this dogma. For it kept the worship of saints, images and the rest at the
   stage of a christianity of the second order, invested with doubtful
   authority, and it prevented the monks from cutting themselves wholly adrift
   from the religio publica. Finally, it is to be pointed out that superstition
   has brought with it at all times ideas and conceptions extremely
   questionable from the point of view of dogmatics, ideas which seem to be
   affected by no amount of censure. Overbeck (Gött. Gel.-Auz. 1883, no. 28, p.
   870) has rightly described it as a phenomenon requiring explanation that the
   gnat-straining centuries which followed Nicæa, could have swallowed such
   camels as, e.g., delighted the readers of the Acts of Thomas (even in the
   Catholic edition) or of the numerous Apocalypses (see the edition of the
   Apoc. Apocal. by Tischendorf and James, Apocrypha anecdota, 1893).

   [365] It is very characteristic as regards this, that while Cyril of
   Jerusalem described the Christian religion as mathēma tōn dogmatōn kai
   praxeis agathai, Photius defined it as mathēsis kai mustagōgia. From the
   fourth century interest was more and more transferred from the regulation of
   the whole life by religion, to its external consecration through the
   mysteries. The distinctions are indeed only gradual, but the descent was
   very significant. The Greek Church ultimately gave up the regulation of
   moral social life, and therewith renounced the power to determine private
   morality so far as the latter was not dominated by fear of death. The
   ultimate reason of this is to be sought in the order of the monks and the
   constitution of the Græco-Slavic states.
     _________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER II.

  THE FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTION OF SALVATION AND GENERAL OUTLINE OF THE DOCTRINAL
  SYSTEM.
     _________________________________________________________________

   I. The dogmatic conflicts in the East from the fourth up to the seventh
   century have this in common, that they centred almost entirely in
   Christology in the narrower sense, as well as in the incarnation of the
   Deity. Since men of all parties were meanwhile conscious that they were
   contending for the essence of Christianity, it follows that the conception
   of the salvation offered in the Christian religion is to be deduced from the
   formulas over which they fought, and which then made good their ground. This
   conclusion is, however, made further certain from the fact that the oriental
   Church took no interest in dogma, apart from those formulas, at least in the
   time of these conflicts. [366] Anything else, therefore, outside of the
   formulas, which was either fixed as matter of course, or maintained in
   ambiguous propositions in opposition to Manichæism, Fatalism, and
   Epicureanism, did not possess the value of a dogmatic declaration in the
   strict sense. Remembering this, there can be no doubt that the essence of
   the Christian religion, and therefore the contents of its creed, are summed
   up in the following proposition. The salvation presented in Christianity
   consists in the redemption of the human race from the state of mortality and
   the sin involved in it, that men might attain divine life, i.e., the
   everlasting contemplation of God, this redemption having already been
   consummated in the incarnation of the Son of God, and being conferred on men
   by their close union with him: Christianity is the religion which delivers
   from death and leads to the contemplation of God. [367] This proposition can
   be more precisely defined as follows: the highest blessing bestowed in
   Christianity is adoption into the divine sonship, which is assured to the
   believer, and is completed in participation in the divine nature, or more
   accurately, in the deification of man through the gift of immortality. This
   gift includes the perfect knowledge and the lasting vision of God, in a
   blessedness void of suffering, but it does not do away with the interval
   between Christ and the believer. [368] From this it follows: (1) that
   redemption, as seen in its final effect, was conceived to be the abrogation
   of the natural state by a miraculous transformation of our nature; that
   accordingly (2) the supreme good was definitely distinguished from the
   morally good; and that (3) an atonement was not included in it. For
   atonement can only be thought of where the division between God and man is
   regarded as an opposition of the will. But it further follows from this that
   this theology, in agreement with the apologetic and old Catholic doctrine,
   admitted no independent object to our present life. The work of the
   Christian consisted wholly in preparing for death (to ergon tou Christianou
   ouden allo estin ē meletan apothnēskein In the present there only existed a
   preliminary possession of salvation. This was represented (1) in the
   knowledge of God and of the accomplished incarnation of the Son of God, and
   therewith in the certain hope of being deified; (2) in power over demons;
   (3) in the call to salvation and perfect acquaintance with the conditions of
   its reception; (4) in certain communications of divine Grace which supported
   believers in fulfilling those conditions—the forgiveness of sin in baptism,
   the power of certain holy rites, and holy vehicles, the example of the
   God-man etc.; and (5) in participation in the mysteries—worship and the
   Lord’s supper—and in the enjoyment of the consecration they imparted, as
   also, for ascetics, in a foretaste of the future liberation from the senses
   and deification. [369]

   The certainty of faith in the future deification, however, because its
   possibility and reality, rested exclusively on the fact of the incarnation
   of the Son of God. The divine had already appeared on earth and had united
   itself inseparably with human nature.

   This conception formed the universal foundation for the development of
   dogmas in the fourth to the seventh century, though all might not equally
   understand it or see its consequences clearly. Only thus can we comprehend
   how the Church could perceive, define, and establish the nature of salvation
   in the constitution of the incarnate Son of God. Faith simply embraces the
   correct perception of the nature of the incarnate Logos, because this
   perception of faith includes the assured hope of a change of human nature
   analogous to the divinity of Jesus Christ, and therewith everything worth
   striving for. ‘We become divine through him, because for our sake he became
   man’. But the dogmatic formulas corresponding to this conception only
   established their position after severe fights; they never arrived at a
   perfectly exact expression; and they never obtained the exclusive supremacy
   which they demanded.

   The reasons for this delay, inexactness, and failure to obtain supremacy are
   numerous and various. The most important deserve to be emphasised.

   Firstly, every new formula, however necessary it might appear, had the
   spirit of the Catholic Church against it, simply because it was new; it
   could only gain acceptance by deceiving as to its character of novelty, and
   as long as the attempt to do so was unsuccessful, it was regarded by the
   pious with suspicion. [370] Secondly, the ability of the Catholic Fathers
   really to explain their faith, and to deduce dogmatic consequences, was
   extremely slight. Grown up in the schools of philosophy and rhetoric, they
   never clearly felt it to be their duty to give an abstract account of their
   faith, however they might understand it. Far from describing the system of
   doctrine as a statement of the nature and contents of Christian piety, and
   from evolving the latter from its distinctive conditions, they found it
   difficult even to make a simple inference from their conception of salvation
   to the person of Christ and vice versa. Their reasoning was always being
   disturbed by apologetic or other considerations foreign to it. Energetic
   men, to whom the matter of religion should be all in all, were accordingly
   required, if an advance were to take place in the work of formulating it.
   But such men have been extremely rare. There have been few in all periods of
   the history of dogma who clearly perceived and duly appreciated the final
   interests which moved themselves. This is true of the ancient Church, though
   then matters were a little better than in later centuries. Thirdly, the
   formulas required conflicted with every kind of philosophy; they amounted to
   an offence to the thought of the schools. This circumstance undoubtedly
   might afterwards prove an advantage; it was possible to show the divinity
   and sacredness of the formulas by referring to their inscrutability and
   therefore to the mystery that surrounded them. But as long as the formula
   was still new, this confirmation encountered doubts, and even afterwards, in
   spite of the ‘mystery’, it was impossible to do without a philosophy which
   should interpret it, and should restore confidence, as to the
   contradictions, by new combinations of categories. Now, as long as no such
   philosophy was created, faith was not satisfied, and the formula was not
   guaranteed permanence. Fourthly, it was of the highest importance that by
   almost all the Fathers their conception of the salvation procured by the
   God-man (deification) was appended to, or bolstered up by, the system of
   ‘natural theology’. But under this system knowledge and virtue were the
   highest blessings, and God was exclusively the judge who rewarded the good
   and punished the wicked. Now, it was undoubtedly possible so to combine
   these two lines of thought that neither was prejudiced, and we will see that
   such a combination alone corresponded to the ideas of those Christians, and
   was actually brought about. But it was impossible to prevent natural
   theology from intruding more and more into dogmatics, and from interfering
   with the success of the mystical doctrine of redemption—for so we may well
   name it. Men were not in a position to strike at the roots of those views of
   Christian salvation which did not definitely conceive the latter to be
   distinctive, and which therefore did not sufficiently differentiate it from
   virtue and the natural knowledge of God.

   Fifthly, the complete acceptance of the mystical doctrine of redemption was
   imperilled from another side, and this menace also could never be completely
   averted. The picture of the life of Jesus contained in the Gospels, in spite
   of all the arts of exegesis, contradicted in a way it was impossible to
   disregard the Christological formulas called for by the doctrine. The life
   even influenced the form given to the dogma of the incarnation and its
   consequences [371] to an extent which, from the standpoint of the theory of
   redemption, was questionable; and it subsequently always accompanied the
   dogmatic formulas, keeping alive in the Church the remnant of a conception
   of the Redeemer’s personality which did not agree with them. The Church
   indeed never lost recollection of the human individuality of Jesus in its
   simple loftiness, its heart-winning love, and its holy earnestness; it never
   forgot the revelation of God in humanity. Scripture reading and, in part
   also, preaching preserved the memory, and with and by it thought was ever
   again led to the simplest and highest of facts, the love of God which is
   loftier than all reason, the rendering of service to our neighbour, sincere
   humility, and patience. But as the gospel prevented dogma from obtaining an
   exclusive supremacy, so also Pauline theology, and kindred views found in
   Holy Scripture, exerted an important influence, which maintained its ground
   side by side with the dogma, and often very strongly decided its exposition.
   That the work of Christ consisted in what he achieved, culminating in his
   sacrificial death, and signifying the overcoming and removal of guilt; that
   salvation accordingly consisted in the forgiveness, justification and
   adoption of men, are ideas absolutely wanting in none of the Church Fathers,
   and very prominent in a few, while in the majority they find their way into
   the exposition of the dogma of redemption. They do not agree with the
   latter, nay, in this combination can hardly be held to have deepened the
   conception in any point; for they rather menaced the finality of the
   fundamental dogmatic thought in which men lived. In fact they wrought
   mischief, i.e., they led to moral laxity, as in all cases where they are
   only allowed a secondary authority. But their existence must be expressly
   stated if our view is to be complete. New Testament reminiscences and
   thoughts and in general Biblical theological ideas of the most varied kind,
   always accompanied and impinged on dogma growing or full-grown. [372] They
   helped to delay its reduction into formulas, and prevented the mystical
   doctrine of redemption and its corresponding dogmas obtaining a completely
   exclusive supremacy in the Eastern Churches.

   Sixthly and finally, the scheme of Christology, distinctive of the West,
   forced on the Church by the policy of the emperors, brought a disturbing and
   confusing influence into the Eastern history of dogma. The Eastern Church,
   left to itself, could only, if it had simply given expression to its own
   idea of redemption, have raised to a dogma the one nature, made flesh, of
   God, the Logos (mia phusis theou logou sesarkōmenē), and must have left the
   paradox standing that the humanity of Christ was consubstantial (homoousios)
   with ours, and was yet from the beginning not only without sin, but free
   from any kind of corruption (phthora). This dogma was condemned as heretical
   in the process, as we know, of forming an exclusive authoritative doctrine,
   and another was set up in its place which it required the most elaborate
   efforts of theologians to connect closely with the idea of redemption.
   Conversely, as regards the doctrine of the Trinity in the fourth century,
   while the correct formula—correct, i.e., when gauged by the conception of
   redemption—triumphed, yet the considerations springing from natural theology
   and science were here so strong that the Eastern Church could only reconcile
   itself to the doctrine by the aid of a complicated theology, which in this
   case, however, was really heterodox, because it weakened the meaning of the
   formula. In the fourth century the correct formula triumphed, but the
   triumph was procured by a theology really heterodox; in the fifth and up to
   the seventh an incorrect formula, if gauged by the idea of redemption,
   became supreme, but theology was able to treat it orthodoxly. In view of
   these incongruities one is almost tempted to believe in the ‘cunning of the
   idea’; for this development alone made possible, or demanded, the
   application of the whole apparatus of Platonic and Aristotelian philosophy
   to dogma. Neither the conception of the homoousios (consubstantial) as given
   by Athanasius, nor the strictly Monophysite form of the incarnation dogma,
   would have conjured philosophy anew to its aid, and to a greater extent than
   was contained in the dogma itself. This happened and could not but happen,
   because men would not understand omoousios as tautousios (of the same
   substance); and because they were forced to fit the two natures into their
   system. Dogmatics (the doctrines of the Trinity and the Incarnation) became
   the high school of Philosophy. By them the Middle Ages received all that
   they ever did of philosophical thought. And these facts were due to the
   circumstance that the idea of redemption was not expressed purely and
   absolutely in dogma, that rather in the doctrine of the Trinity, as well as
   in the Christology, the formula overlapped its support, or the support the
   formula, and therefore necessarily called for endless exertions. Where would
   Plato and Aristotle have been in the Church or the Middle Ages if the East
   had honoured Athanasius and Julian of Halicarnassus as the sole
   authoritative Fathers of the Church, and how nearly was this the case with
   both! How much the East owes to the interference of the West, and yet, on
   the other hand, how greatly did the same West disturb it! But it is to be
   described as a gain from another point of view, that the correct
   formulas—those which corresponded to the Greek idea of redemption—did not
   establish their position. The evangelical conception of Christ was preserved
   to a greater degree in the Byzantine and Nestorian Church, based on the
   doctrine of the two natures, than in the Monophysite Churches. The latter
   only prove that the consistent development of the materialistic idea of
   redemption reduces Christianity to barbarism. The Arabians taught Aristotle
   to the Nestorians and not to the Monophysites. But those Churches also show
   that the Christ who possessed one incarnate nature—that phantom—reduced the
   historical Christ almost to the vanishing point. All the features of the man
   Christ of history, which the Byzantine and Nestorian Church still kept alive
   in their communities, are so many evidences that the old idea of redemption
   was forced to submit to limitations.

   But in spite of this the dogma of the God-man which sprang from the doctrine
   of redemption assumed a unique and predominant position and alone
   constituted dogma in the strict sense. Theology = the doctrine of the
   Trinity, Economy = the idea and realisation of the Incarnation. The course
   of development also shows by its inner logic, which indeed, as already
   pointed out, was not so stringent as more recent scholars would have us
   believe, that it was in this dogma that the strongest interest was taken.
   After Athanasius had proved the necessity and realisation of redemption
   through the incarnation of the Son of God, the consubstantiality (Homoousia)
   of the Son of God with God himself was first established. Then the fact was
   emphasised that the Incarnate was constituted similarly with man, and
   finally, the unity of deity and humanity in the incarnate Son of God was
   settled. The historian of dogma has here simply to follow the course of
   history. It is in this connection by no means clear how besides this the
   work of the God-man is to be treated. As regards the work of Christ we can
   only deal with ‘conceptions’ which are not firmly allied to the dogma. But
   we have to remark finally, that not only in theory was the dogma planned
   eschatologically, i.e., with a view to the future life, but that also in
   practice faith in the imminent approach of the end of the world still
   influenced the pious. In a few Fathers this faith undoubtedly held a
   subordinate place; but yet it formed the rule, and the storms caused by the
   invasion of the tribes as well as the political revolutions constantly gave
   it strength.
     _________________________________________________________________

   [366] Very instructive in this respect is the Church History of Socrates. A
   man’s orthodoxy is completely decided for him by his attitude to the dogma
   of the Trinity (see H. E. III. 7, VI. 13, VII. 6, 11). The Cappadocians and
   the theologians after Socrates held similar views; see Gregory of Naz. Orat.
   XXVII. 10: “Philosophise about the world and worlds, matter, the soul,
   rational beings, good and bad alike, about resurrection, judgment, and
   retribution, and the sufferings of Christ. For if on these points you hit on
   the truth it is not without service, but if you fail, you can suffer no
   harm” (cf. Ullmann, Gregory of Naz., 1867, p. 217 f.). We have also to
   consider here the contents of the oriental symbols, creed-decalogues etc.
   The interest taken to an increasing extent from the fifth century in the
   tenets levelled against Origen was biblical and traditional. It only became
   dogmatic at a time when in theology and Christology the influence of
   “antiquity” had taken the place of that of dogma. On the place and
   importance of the doctrine of the Trinity in Gregory, see Ullman, p. 232 ff.

   [367] I share fully the view of Kattenbusch ( Confessionskunde I., p. 296)
   that the dogma was not merely supported by one idea, and that in the Greek
   Church of to-day the idea of redemption held by the ancient Church no longer
   rules directly; but this view does not contradict the exposition given in
   the text.

   [368] The fact that the idea of deification was the ultimate and supreme
   thought is not a discovery of recent times, but it is only in recent times
   that it has been appreciated in all its importance. After Theophilus,
   Irenæus, Hippolytus, and Origen, it is found in all the Fathers of the
   ancient Church, and that in a primary position, We have it in Athanasius,
   the Cappadocians, Apollinaris, Ephraem Syrus, Epiphanius, and others, as
   also in Cyril, Sophronius, and late Greek and Russian theologians. In proof
   of it Psalm LXXXII. 6 is very often quoted — “I said ye are gods and all
   sons of the most High.” Just as often are theopoiēsis and athanasia
   expressly combined. Some Fathers feel the boldness of the formula; but that
   is very rare. I select merely a few from my collection of passages: Athanas.
   de incarn. 54: “Autos enēnthrōpēsen, hina hēmeis theopoiēthōmen, kai autos
   ephanerōsen heauton dia sōmatos, hina hēmeis tou aoratou patros ennoian
   labōmen, kai autos hupemeinen tēn par' anthrōpou hubrin, hina hēmeis
   athanasian klēronomēsōmen, cf. Ep. ad Serap. I. 24, Orat. c. Arian. I. 38,
   39, and often; Vita Antonii, c. 74, Ephraem, Comment. in Diatess., init.
   (ed. Moesinger, p. 1): “Quare dominus noster carnem induit? Ut ipsa caro
   victoriæ gaudia gustaret et dona gratiæ explorata et cognita haberet. Si
   deus sine carne vicisset, quæ ei tribuerentur laudes? Secundo, ut dominus
   noster manifestum faceret, se initio creationis nequaquam ex invidia
   prohibuisse, quominus homo fieret deus, quia maius est, quod dominus noster
   in homine humiliabatur, quam quod in eo, dum magnus et gloriosus erat,
   habitabat. Hinc illud: ‘Ego dixi, dii estis’.” Gregory of Nyss., Colloq. cum
   Macrina (ed. Oehler, p. 170): Tōn oun toioutōn tais dia tou puros iatreiais
   ekkatharthentōn te kai aphagnisthentōn, hekaston tōn pros to kreitton
   nooumenōn anteiseleusetai, hē aphtharsia, hē zōē, hē timē, hē charis, hē
   doxa, hē dunamis, kai ei ti allo toiouton autō te tō Theō epitheōreisthai
   eikazomen. Gregory of Naz., Orat. 40, c. 45 (Decalogus fidei, ed Caspari,
   Alte und Neue Quellen, 1879, p. 21): pisteue ton huion tou Theou . . .
   tosouton anthrōpon dia se, hoson su ginē di' ekeinon Theos. So also Orat. I.
   5: “We become like Christ, since Christ also became like us; we become gods
   on his account, since he also became man for our sake.” On the other hand,
   compare Orat. XLII. 17: meth' hēmōn to ktisma, tōn ou Theōn; ei ktisma de,
   ou Theos, and XXXIX. 17: "How should he not be God, to insert in passing a
   bold deduction, by whom thou also dost become God?" Apollinaris Laod., Kata
   meros pistis (ed. Lagarde, p. 110): phamen anthrōpon gegenēsthai ton tou
   Theou logon, hina tēn homoiōsin tou epouraniou labōmen kai theopoiēthōmen.
   Macar., hom. 39. Pseudo-hippolytus, Theophan. (ed. Lagarde, p. 41, 21): ei
   oun athanatos gegonen ho anthrōpos, estai kai theos. Dionys. Areopag.,
   sæpissime, e.g., de cælesti hierar. c. 1: hē hēmōn analogos theōsis.
   Sophronius, Christmas Sermon (ed. Usener, Rhein. Mus. für Philologie, 1886,
   p. 505): theōthōmen theiais metabolais kai mimēsesin. Leo, Patriarch of
   Russia ( Pawlow, p. 126): etheōthēmen Theou tē metalēpsei. Gennadius,
   Confess. (ed. Kimmel, p. 10): “dixit deus: Induam me carne . . . et erit
   omnis homo tamquam deus non secundum naturam sed secundum
   participationem.” We have, however, to notice that this deification, as
   understood by the Greek Church, did not by any means signify roundly
   “Becoming like God”. The Greeks in the main did not connect any clear
   conception with the thought of the possession of salvation (felicity)
   further than the idea of imperishableness; and this very fact was their
   characteristic feature. It is the ineffable, the transcendent which may
   therefore be described as the theia phusis, because it is enjoyed for ever.
   The interval between Christ — who was born, and did not become, Son of God
   — and the sons by adoption is always very strongly emphasised; compare (the
   precise expositions in Augustine, De remiss. pace. II. 24) and above all,
   Athanasius’ third discourse against the Arians; further, Cyril Catech. II.,
   ch. 4-7 and 19. Yet the theōsis of Mary forms a kind of exception. The idea
   of deification is also found in Western writers, especially Augustine. But
   if I am not deceived Augustine himself brought it to an edifying end.

   [369] Athanasius (Ep. encycl. ad episc. Ægypt. et Lib. ch. I.) mentions as
   the gifts of grace already possessed by Christians: (1) the type of the
   heavenly mode of life, (2) power over demons, (3) adoption to be sons, (4)
   and what is exalted and rises high above every gift—the knowledge of the
   Father and the Word himself and the grant of the Holy Spirit. This list is
   not quite complete.

   [370] See above, p. 137, f.

   [371] In the introductory fourth Catechism in which Cyril summarises the,
   main points of the faith, he says (ch. IX.): pisteue de hoti houtos ho
   monogenēs huios tou Theou dia tas hamartias hēmōn ex ouranōn katēlthen epi
   tēs gēs. (ch. X.): houtos estaurōthē huper tōn hamartiōn hēmōn. Nothing is
   said of the abolition of death. So also in the Homilies of Chrysostom who
   generally tried to follow Paul, sin comes to the front. The saying “Let us
   not fear death, but only sin,” is often repeated with variations by
   Chrysostom. Alexander of Alex. also in his letter to Alexander (Theodoret H.
   E. I. 4) gives as the only ground of the incarnation of the Son of God, that
   he came eis athetēsin hamartias, but he is unable to carry out the thought.

   [372] The contradictions and inconsistencies were not felt if it was
   possible to support the separate propositions by an appeal to Holy
   Scripture: see on this Vol. II., p. 331, n. 1.
     _________________________________________________________________

   II. In relation to the blessing of salvation man is receptive and passive.
   He receives it in this world in the hope of his faith, and enjoys it in the
   other as a transcendently glorious gift of grace. God alone can grant it,
   and no human effort can deserve it. As we have already noticed, this
   religious blessing of salvation is wholly different from moral goodness; for
   moral goodness cannot be presented, but must be gained by our own actions.
   On the other hand, Christianity as a religion cannot take up a neutral
   attitude to moral goodness, but must rather embrace the loftiest morality.
   That was also the universal conviction of the Greek Church and its
   theologians. The problem which thus arose was solved without noteworthy
   vacillations, and in the sense of the theology of the apologists and Origen.
   It was assumed that freedom in the moral sphere corresponded to receptivity
   in the domain of religion and the blessings of salvation conferred by it;
   and that God attached the grant of the religious blessing of salvation to
   the achievement of a perfectly moral life, whose law, though not new, had
   first found expression in the Christian religion as something perfect and
   capable of being easily recognised. The scheme of nature and grace current
   in the West since Augustine, was not entirely unknown in the East, so far as
   words were concerned. [373] But the latter already found “grace” in
   “nature”, i.e., in the inalienable natural disposition to freedom, and, on
   the other hand, conceived “grace” to be the communication of a higher
   nature. Hence the above scheme was not adapted to express Greek thought.
   Christianity was rather, on the one hand, the perfect law of goodness, and,
   on the other, a promise and sure pledge of immortality. [374] It was
   therefore holy living and correct faith. The convictions that God himself is
   the good; that he is the creator of the inalienable reason and freedom of
   man; that the perfect morality of man represents the only form of his
   similarity to God attainable in the sphere of the temporal and created; that
   the supreme law of goodness, hitherto obscured, has been once more revealed
   to men in the Christian religion, and that in the most impressive way
   imaginable—by the deity in a human form; finally, that the religious
   blessing of salvation procured by Christ contains the strongest motive to
   practise morality, [375] while it also includes mysterious forces which
   promote it: these convictions, according to the conception of Greek
   theologians, bound religion and morality together as closely as possible,
   and, since only the good man could receive salvation, guaranteed the
   character of Christianity as the moral religion. The monk Sophronius
   (seventh century) says in his Christmas Sermon: “Therefore the Son of God
   assumed human poverty, that he might make us gods by grace; and the divine
   father David sings in his psalms . . . I said, ye are gods and all sons of
   the highest. God is in us; let us become gods by divine transformations and
   imitations” (Dia touto ho huios tou Theou anthrōpinēn ptōcheian enduetai ina
   theous hēmas apergasētai chariti. kai tauta melōdōn ho theopatōr Dabid
   . . . . Egō eipa; Theoi este kai huioi hupsistou pantes. Theos en hēmin;
   theōthōmen theiais metabolais kai mimēsesin). [376] In the last phrase the
   Greek fundamental thought is put into a classic form. Only we must not take
   “metabolais” and “mimēsesin” to be equivalent. The former signifies the
   actual process, the latter its condition and form; not the sufficient
   reason, as is proved by “chariti.” [377] There is, however, a form of
   morality which does not appear to be merely subordinate to religious faith
   and hope, but which anticipates the future blessings, or puts man into the
   condition of being able to receive them immediately. This is negative
   morality, or asceticism. It corresponds in a true sense to the
   characteristic of the religious gift of salvation; it is also therefore no
   longer a mere adjunct to the latter, but it is the adequate and essential
   disposition for the reception of salvation. But in so far as ecstasy,
   intuition, and the power of working miracles can be combined with it, it
   forms the anticipation of the future state. The ultimate rule of this
   conception of Christianity may accordingly be compressed, perhaps, into the
   saying: “Dost thou desire the supreme good, incorruption (aphtharsia), then
   divest thyself of all that is perishable.” Side by side with this we have
   the more general rule “Dost thou desire the supreme good, then first be good
   and nourish the new nature implanted in thee in Baptism by the Eucharist and
   the other mysterious gifts.” The extent to which all this was connected with
   Christ is shown by the saying of Clemens Alex. (Protrept. I. 7)—a saying
   which retained its force in after times: “Appearing as a teacher he taught
   the good life, in order that afterwards as God he might grant everlasting
   life” (to eu zēn edidaxen epiphaneis hōs didaskalos, hina to aei zēn
   husteron hōs Theos chorēgēsē).

   This whole conception of the importance of morality needed, however, no
   doctrinal and specific description, any more than the nature of morality and
   the principles of natural theology in general. All that was already settled
   in its fundamental lines; man knew it by his own reason; it formed the
   self-evident presupposition of the doctrine of redemption. The very freedom
   used by the Church Fathers in dealing with details shows that here they were
   treating matters generally recognised and only called in question by
   Manichæans, Fatalists, etc., and that it was therefore unnecessary to have
   recourse to revelation. In describing the dogma of the Greek Fathers,
   therefore, we have to consider their views of the nature of salvation, [378]
   of God as the Good and the Giver of salvation, of the state and duties of
   man, etc., on the one hand, as a kind of a priori presuppositions of the
   doctrine of redemption; but, on the other, as individual conceptions, framed
   partly from contemporary philosophy, and partly from the Bible. They
   certainly have a right to a place in a description of the complete view
   taken by the ancient Church of Christianity; but as certainly they cannot be
   called dogmas; for dogmas are as essentially different from self-evident
   presuppositions as from fluctuating conceptions. Our only reason for
   discussing them in the history of dogma is that we may guard dogma from
   misunderstanding and correctly mark off the space due to it. [379] The Greek
   conception of Christianity has, like an ellipse, two centres: the doctrine
   of liberty, which embraces the whole of rational theology, Stoic and
   Platonic, and the doctrine of the actual redemption, which is supranatural.
   Supranatural as it was it admitted a relationship to natural theology, just
   as, conversely, freedom was regarded as a gift of divine grace. We find,
   indeed, that the two centres were first brought into the greatest possible
   proximity by the negative morality. Therefore from this point also the
   achievements of positive morality necessarily appear as a minimum to which
   the shadow of essential imperfection always clings.

   It follows from the above exposition that the doctrines of God, the world,
   and man—with freedom and sin, are to be prefixed, as presuppositions and
   conceptions, to dogma, i.e., the doctrines of the godman, while they are
   only to be discussed in so far as such discussion is required for the
   comprehension of dogma. But this does not complete the list of our tasks;
   the whole presentment of dogma must be prefaced by a chapter treating of the
   sources of our knowledge and our authorities, i.e., Scripture, tradition,
   and the Church. So also we must at the close examine the mysterious
   application of redemption—the mysteries—and all that is connected with
   it.The following arrangement of our material, in which a systematic
   exposition forms the basis of the historical, because the foundations of our
   view have not changed since the time of Origen, will thus be appropriate.

   Ch. III. Of the sources of knowledge and the authorities, or of Scripture,
   tradition, and the Church.

   A. The Presuppositions of the Doctrine of Redemption, or Natural Theology.

   Ch. IV. The presuppositions and conceptions of God the Creator as bestower
   of salvation.

   Ch. V. The presuppositions and conceptions of man as recipient of salvation.

   B. The Doctrine of Redemption in the Person of the God-man in its Historical
   Development.

   Ch. VI. The doctrine of the necessity and realisation of redemption through
   the incarnation of the Son of God.

   Appendix. The ideas of redemption from the devil and atonement through the
   work of the God-man.

   Ch. VII. The doctrine of the consubstantiality of the Son of God with God
   himself.

   Appendix. The doctrine of the Holy Spirit and the Trinity.

   Ch. VIII. The doctrine of the perfect similarity of constitution between the
   incarnate Son of God and humanity.

   Ch. IX. Continuation. The doctrine of the personal unity of the divine and
   human nature in the incarnate Son of God.

   C. The Foretaste of Redemption.

   Ch. X. The mysteries and the like.

   Ch. XI. Conclusion. Sketch of the history of the genesis of the orthodox
   system.

   Supplement 1.—The Greek conception of Christianity appears undoubtedly to be
   exceedingly compact and clear, as long as we do not look too deeply into the
   heart of it. The freeing of dogmatics of all matters which do not fall
   within the scope of the doctrine of redemption is very remarkable. But these
   advantages are purchased, first, by abandoning any attempt to establish an
   inner unity between the supreme notions of “moral good” and “blessedness”
   (imperishableness); secondly, by the depreciation of positive morality in
   favour of asceticism; thirdly, by completely caricaturing the historical
   Christ. But the knowledge of the Christian faith possessed by the Fathers up
   to the middle of the fifth century was still far from being in the desolate
   state in which theology makes no resolute attempt to deduce the consequences
   of a doctrine, while it does not venture to abandon it, but contents itself
   with perceiving “a profound element of truth” in any or every theologoumenon
   brought to it by tradition. The idea of the Greek Fathers, to which
   everything was subordinate, that Christianity is the religion which delivers
   from perishableness and death, was derived from the ancient Catholic Church.
   It presents itself as a specific limitation of primitive Christian hopes
   under the influence of views held by the ancients. It is possible to express
   it in a grand and awe-inspiring form, and this the Greek Fathers understood.
   Further, where misery, mortality, and finitude are felt to be the heaviest
   burdens laid upon men, the supreme good can be nothing but endless, blessed
   rest. In so far as the Greek Fathers perceived and firmly believed in this
   gift being conferred by the Christian religion, while they connected its
   bestowal with Jesus Christ, they assigned to Christianity the highest
   conceivable significance, and to its founder the highest conceivable
   dignity, within their range of vision. But the mood which looked on
   Christianity from this point of view and regarded it as consolatory, was
   that of the fall and ruin of the ancient world, which no longer possessed
   the power to turn earnestly to an energetic life. Without premising this the
   dogmatic developments are not intelligible. But we cannot retain the
   formulas of the Greek faith without self-deception, if we change or refuse
   to admit the validity of its premises. But if we are ready honestly to
   retain them, then let us clearly understand to what Orthodoxy and
   Monophysitism came in the East. After they had piled one monstrosity on the
   top of the other, they were—to use a strong figure of Goethe’s—almost choked
   in chewing the cud of moral and religious absurdities. Originally their
   doctrine was good for nothing in the world but for dying; afterwards they
   became deadly sick on this very doctrine.

   Supplement 2.—If the conception of the supreme good may be regarded as a
   revised version, made by Greek philosophy, of the ancient Christian hopes of
   the future, yet this philosophy always rejected the idea of the incarnation
   of God, and therefore could not, in its definition of the supreme good,
   attain the certainty which was given in the Christian conception. In the
   fourth and fifth centuries, however, there were even Christian
   theologians—Synesius, for example—who would not admit the incarnation of God
   without revision, and yet held by the thought of deification; who
   accordingly approached, not rationalistic, but rather pantheistic views. At
   any rate, faith in the incarnation of God, along with the idea of creation,
   formed the dividing line between Greek philosophy and the dogmatics of the
   Church. “For what,” says Athanasius, de incarn. 41, “is absurd or ridiculous
   in our teaching, except merely our saying that the Logos was made manifest
   in a human body?” (ti gar atopon, ē ti chleuēs par' hēmin axion, ē pantōs
   hoti ton logon en sōmati pephanerōsthai legomen;). [380] On the other hand,
   the Christian says (Cyril, Catech. 4, ch. 9): “If the incarnation was a
   dream, then salvation is also a dream.” (Ei phantasma ēn hē enanthrōpēsis,
   phantasma kai hē sōtēria). That is the confession which in the Greek Church
   was the equivalent of 1 Cor. XV. 17 f.

   Supplement 3.—In order to learn the classical form of Greek piety, the
   strongest root of dogma, it is necessary to study the literature of
   asceticism. For it seldom comes clearly to light in the dogmatic,
   apologetic, and polemical works, with the exception of the writings of
   Athanasius, and in the homiletic literature, apart from Chrysostom, it is
   always greatly disguised by rhetoric. But a distinction must be made even in
   ascetic literature. The descriptions of the piety of monkish heroes lose
   themselves as a rule in extravagance and eccentricity, and are not typical
   because the writers set out to prove the already supramundane character of
   those heroes. We have especially to examine numerous writings on “the
   resurrection,” “virginity,” “perfection,” and similar subjects, and also the
   practical homilies. We obtain perhaps the clearest and truest impression of
   the piety of the Greek Church from reading the biography of sister Macrina,
   by Gregory of Nyssa (Oehler, Biblioth. d. KVV. I. 1, 1858, p. 172 ff.). The
   dying prayer put in her lips (p. 213 f.) is given here because it expresses
   inimitably the hopes and consolation of Greek Christianity, yet without
   omitting the characteristic warmth of feeling which belonged to its very
   essence.

   “Her prayer was such that one could not doubt that she was with God, and
   heard his voice. She said: Thou, Lord, hast for us destroyed the fear of
   death. Thou hast made the end of this earthly life the beginning of the true
   life. Thou makest our bodies rest for a time in sleep, and dost awaken them
   again with the last trumpet. Thou givest our clay, which Thou didst fashion
   with Thy hands, to the earth to keep it, and Thou takest again what Thou
   didst give, and dost transform into imperishableness and beauty that which
   was mortal and unseemly. Thou hast snatched us from the curse and sin,
   having Thyself become both for us. Thou hast crushed the heads of the
   dragon, which had grasped man with its jaw in the abyss of disobedience.
   Thou hast paved the way of the resurrection for us, having shattered the
   gate of Hades, and destroyed him who had the power of death. Thou has given
   those who fear Thee the image of Thy holy cross for a sign for the
   destruction of the adversary and the safety of our life. Eternal God, to
   Whom I was dedicated from the womb, Whom my soul has loved with all its
   power, to Whom I have consecrated my flesh and my soul from my youth and
   till now! Place Thou an angel of light by my side to lead me to the place of
   quickening where is the source of rest in the bosom of the Holy Fathers. Oh
   Thou who didst break the flaming sword, and didst restore to Paradise the
   man crucified with Thee who begged Thy mercy. Remember me, too, in Thy
   kingdom, because I also am crucified with Thee, piercing my flesh with nails
   from fear of Thee, and fainting in dread of Thy judgments! May the awful
   abyss not divide me from Thine elect, nor the calumniator block my way; may
   my sin not be found before Thine eyes, if I, having failed through the
   weakness of our nature, should have sinned in word, or deed, or thought!
   Thou who hast power on earth to forgive sins, grant me forgiveness, that I
   may be quickened, and when I put off my body may I be found by Thee without
   stain in my soul, so that my soul, spotless and blameless, may be received
   into Thy hands like a sacrifice before Thy presence.”

   Supplement 4.—For centuries after the great work of Theognostus, which we
   only know very imperfectly, no complete system of scientific theology was
   written in the East. The idea of a system was in itself a philosophical one,
   and for its execution all that was in existence were examples whose
   authority was already shaken. Platonism only contributed to form a heterodox
   system. Aristotelianism with its formal logic, which triumphed over all
   difficulties, first succeeded in creating an orthodox system. Systematic
   works, in the period up to Johannes Damascenus, fall into the following
   lists.

   (1) On the incarnation of the Logos—or Son of God. In these works the
   central question of Greek dogma is discussed. The title varies, or is more
   precise, according to the standpoint of each: “On the two natures”, “On not
   confounding the natures”, etc. Under this head come also the polemical,
   dogmatic tractates—against Arius, Marcellus, Eunomius, Apollinaris,
   Nestorius, etc.—as well as dogmatic monographs—on the Holy Ghost, the
   Trinity, etc. We have to notice finally the Expositiones veritatis at the
   close of the writings against the heretics, like those found, after the
   precedent of Hippolytus, in, e.g., Epiphanius and Theodoret.

   (2) Exposition of Christian doctrines in catechetical form. Here Cyril’s
   catechisms are especially important. [381] The catechism was always bound by
   the Symbol, but the Symbol necessitated the treatment of the main points of
   Jesus’ history as points of doctrine, and the expiscation of their exact
   value for faith. Thus dogma gained an important supplement from the
   exposition of the Symbol. The decalogue of the creed by Gregory of Nazianzus
   also falls to be mentioned here. In the great catechism of Gregory of Nyssa
   catechetic treatment is combined with apologetic. Instructions how to pursue
   theological science came from the Antiochene school and thence penetrated
   into the West—Junilius—where Augustine had already written his work De
   doctrina Christiana. So far as I know, the older Byzantine Church possessed
   no such instructions.

   (3) Apologetic works in reference to heathens and Jews. In these, natural
   theology—the monotheistic faith and doctrine of freedom—is unfolded, and the
   Christian view of history, as well as the proof of its antiquity, presented
   in opposition to polytheism and ceremonial religions; so in several works by
   Eusebius, Apollinaris, Cyril of Alexandria, etc.

   (4) Monographs on the work of the six days, on the human soul, the body, the
   immortality of the soul, etc. In these, also, natural theology is developed
   and the scientific cosmology and psychology in the oldest sources of the
   Bible stated.

   (5) Monographs on virginity, monachism, perfection, the virtues, the
   resurrection. Here the ultimate and supreme practical interests of piety and
   faith find expression.

   (6) Monographs on the mysteries, cultus and priesthood. These are not
   numerous in the earlier period—yet instruction in the sacraments and their
   ritual was regularly attached to the training in the Symbol; see the
   Catechisms of Cyril which form a guide to the mysteries Their number,
   however, increased from the sixth century.

   Copious, often intentionally elaborated, dogmatic material, finally, is also
   contained in scientific commentaries on the Biblical books and in the
   Homilies.

   The right use for the history of dogma of these different kinds of sources
   is an art of method for which rules can hardly be given. The rhetorical,
   exegetical, philosophical, and strictly dogmatic expositions must be
   recognised as such and distinguished. At the same time we have to remember
   that this was an age of rhetoric which did not shrink from artifices and
   untruths of every kind. Jerome admits that in the works of the most
   celebrated Fathers one must always distinguish between what they wrote
   argumentatively (dialektikōs), and what they set down as truth. Basilius
   also (Ep. 210) was at once prepared to explain a. heterodox passage in
   Gregory Thaumaturgus, by supposing that he had been speaking not
   dogmatically (dogmatikōs), but for the sake of argument (agōnistikōs). So
   also Athanasius excuses Origen on the ground that he wrote much for the sake
   of practice and investigation (De decretis synod. Nic.27, cf. ad Serap. IV.
   9); and while completely defending the Christology of Dionysius Alex., he
   remarks that the latter in many details spoke from policy (kat' oikonomian).
   The same stock excuse was seized upon by the Fathers at Sardica in the case
   of Marcellus. According to this, how often must the great writers of the
   fourth and fifth centuries themselves have written for the sake of argument
   (agōnistikōs)! Moreover, Gregory of Nazianzus speaks of a necessary and
   salutary oikonomēthēnai tēn alētheian, i.e., of the politic and prudent
   disguise and the gradual communication of the truth; and he appeals in
   support of this to God himself who only revealed the truth at the fitting
   time, oikonomikōs (Orat. 41. 6, Ep. 26). Cyrus declares, in the monothelite
   controversy, that one must assume kat' oikonomian a not altogether correct
   dogma, in order to attain something of importance.

   Some, however, went much farther in this matter. As they did not hold
   themselves bound to stick to the truth in dealing with an opponent, and thus
   had forgotten the command of the gospel, so they went on in theology to
   impute untruthfulness to the Apostles, citing the dispute between Paul and
   Peter, and to Christ (he concealed his omniscience, etc.). They even charged
   God with falsehood in dealing with his enemy, the devil, as is proved by the
   views held by Origen, Gregory of Nyssa, and most of the later Fathers, of
   redemption from the power of the devil. But if God himself deceived his
   enemy by stratagem (pia fraus), then so also might men. Under such
   circumstances it cannot be wondered at that forgeries were the order of the
   day. And this was the case. We read even in the second century of numerous
   falsifications and interpolations made under their very eyes on the works of
   still living authors. Think of the grievances of the Church Fathers against
   the Gnostics, and the complaints of Dionysius of Corinth and Irenæus. But
   what did these often naïve and subjectively innocent falsifications signify
   compared with that spirit of lying which was powerfully at work even in
   official compositions in the third and fourth centuries? Read Rufinus’ De
   adulterat. libr. Origenis, and weigh Rufinus’ principles in translating the
   works of Origen. And the same spirit prevailed in the Church in the fifth
   and sixth centuries; see a collection of the means employed to deceive in my
   altchrist. Litt.-Gesch. I., p. xlii ff. In these centuries no one continued
   to put any trust in a documentary authority, a record of proceedings, or
   protocol. The letters by Bishops of this period throng with complaints of
   forgeries; the defeated party at a Synod almost regularly raises the charge
   that the acts of Synod are falsified; Cyril and the great letter-writers
   complain that their letters are circulated in a corrupt form; the epistles
   of dead Fathers—e.g., that of Athanasius to Epictetus—were falsified, and
   foreign matter was inserted into them; the followers of Apollinaris and
   Monophysites, e.g., systematically corrupted the tradition. See the
   investigations of Caspari and Dräseke. Conversely, the simplest method of
   defending an ancient Church Father who was cited by the opposition, or on
   whose orthodoxy suspicion was cast, was to say that the hereties had
   corrected his works to suit themselves and had sown weeds among his wheat.
   The official literature of the Nestorian and Monophysite controversy is a
   swamp of mendacity and knavery, above which only a few spots rise on which
   it is possible to find a firm footing. Gregory I. (Ep. VI. 14) at once
   recalls in a given case the forging of the acts of the Ephesian Synod. What
   was not published as Nicene in later times, and to some extent very soon!
   Much indeed was even then dismissed as mendacity and deceit, much has been
   laid bare by the scholars of the seventeenth century. But if one considers
   the verdicts, anxieties, and assertions of suspicion of contemporaries of
   those conflicts, he cannot avoid the fear that present-day historians are
   still much too confiding in dealing with this whole literature. The
   uncertainties which remain in the study precisely of the most important
   alterations of the history of dogma, and of the Church of the Byzantine
   period, necessarily awaken the suspicion that we are almost throughout more
   or less helpless in face of the systematically corrupted tradition. All the
   same I would not recommend so bold a handling of the sources as that
   formerly practised by the Jesuits, and to-day by Vincenzi (Ketzertaufstreit,
   Acten des 5 Concils, Honoriusfrage).

   Supplement 5.—The form assumed by the substance of the faith in the Greek
   Church shows very clearly the