_________________________________________________________________ Title: History of Dogma - Volume IV Creator(s): Harnack, Adolf (1851-1930) CCEL Subjects: All; History; Theology LC Call no: BT21.H33 V.4 LC Subjects: Doctrinal theology Doctrine and dogma _________________________________________________________________ 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 IV and VOLUME V Published in the United Kingdom by Constable and Company Limited, 10 Orange Street, London W. C. 2. This new Dover edition, first published in 1961, is an unabridged republication of the English translation of the third German edition that appeared circa 1900. This Dover edition is an unaltered re-publication except that minor typographical errors in Volume VII have been corrected. The original English edition appeared as seven separate volumes, whereas this Dover edition is published complete in four separate volumes. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 61-4455 Manufactured in the United States of America Dover Publications, Inc. 180 Varick Street New York 14, N.Y. _________________________________________________________________ HISTORY OF DOGMA BY DR. ADOLPH HARNACK Volume IV _________________________________________________________________ EDITORIAL NOTE. The volume now issued finishes Volume II. of the original, of which a portion appears in Volume III. of the English Translation. The first chapter of this volume corresponds to Chapter VII. of Volume II. of the original, which treats of the Divinity of Christ. The remaining third volume of the German Edition will occupy three volumes in the English Translation, making seven volumes in all. A. B. BRUCE. CONTENTS. Page CHAPTER I.—The Doctrine of the Homousia of the Son of God with God Himself 1-107 (1) From the Beginning of the Controversy to the Council of Nice 2-59 Lucian and the Lucianists 3 Account and explanation of Lucian’s doctrine 4 Arius and the outbreak of the Arian Controversy, the parties, the first developments up to the Nicene Council 7 The Formulæ to which Arius took exception 12 The Doctrine of Arius 14 The Doctrine of Bishop Alexander 21 The Doctrine of Athanasius 26 Estimate of the two opposing Christologies 38 The Council of Nice, the parties 50 The Nicene Creed 53 The Homousios and the influence of Hosius 56 Apparent result 59 (2) To the Death of Constantius 59-80 The situation after the Nicene Council 59 The policy of Constantine 60 Constantine’s sons: Constantius 62 The predominance of the Eusebians 64 Marcellus of Ancyra 65 The Councils of Antioch 67 The Council of Sardica 68 The Formula of Antioch 69 Councils at Milan, Photinus of Sirmium 70 Constantius sole ruler; Councils at Sirmium, Arles, Milan 72 The strict Arians, the Homoiousians and the Homœans 74 The imperial policy of union at Sirmium, Rimini, Seleucia, Nice and Constantinople; victory of the Homuœan Confession 77 (3) To the Councils of Constantinople 381, 383 80-107 The agreement between the Homoiousians and Homousians 81 The Synod of Alexandria and the concession of the orthodox 83 The new orthodoxy in the East; the Cappadocians and their scientific doctrine of the Trinity 84 The split at Antioch 89 Valens; the domination of the Arians in the East; the Homoiousians go over to orthodoxy; alliance with the West 90 Damasus; tension between the old and the new orthodoxy 92 Gratian and Theodosius 93 Theodosius takes his stand on the new orthodoxy 94 Council and Creed of Constantinople in the year 381, triumph of the new orthodoxy in consequence of politics and science 94 Serious tension with the West 101 Adjustment of differences in 382; service rendered by Ambrose l01, 103 End of Arianism; Council of 383 104 APPENDIX.—The Doctrine of the Holy Spirit and of the Trinity 108-137 I. The wholly indefinite condition of the doctrine of the Holy Spirit in the first centuries; Irenæus, Tertullian, Origen; development of the doctrine in accordance with the analogy of the doctrine of the Logos 109 Arians and Athanasius 112 Macedonians (Pneumatomachians) and Athanasius 114 The doctrine of the Cappadocians; consubstantiality of the Spirit; uncertainties 115 The Westerns 117 Condemnation of the Macedonians in 381 118 II. The doctrine of the Trinity held by Apollinaris and the Cappadocians 119 Comparison with Tertullian’s doctrine of the Trinity 121 Aristotelian and Subordinationist element in the doctrine of the Trinity 124 Tritheists, Johannes Damascenus 125 Doctrine of the Procession of the Holy Spirit in the East and West 126 Photius maintains the old doctrine of the Trinity 127 Philosophy and Trinitarian dogma 128 The Western doctrine of the Trinity; Augustine 129 The filioque and the Athanasian Creed 133 The three so-called Ecumenical Creeds 135 Concluding remarks on the form in which the doctrine of the Trinity came to be accepted 137 CHAPTER II.—The Doctrine of the Perfect Likeness of the Nature of the Incarnate Son of God with that of Humanity 138-163 Introduction: Views regarding the humanity of Christ up to the middle of the Fourth Century 138 Close connection between the Trinitarian and Christological problems from that time 143 Tertullian’s doctrine, the root of the orthodox doctrines 144 The humanity of Christ according to the Arians mere sarx 146 The Christology of Athanasius and Marcellus; origin of the formulæ, mia phusis, duo phiseis 147 The doctrine of Apollinaris of Laodicea as the first rigidly developed Christology 149 The condemnation of this doctrine; the perfect likeness of the humanity of Christ with human nature is elevated to the rank of dogma 158 The doctrine of the Cappadocians regarding the humanity and the unity of the God-Man 160 The difficulty of the Problem which now emerged 163 CHAPTER III.—Continuation: The Doctrine of the Personal Union of the Divine and Human Natures in the Incarnate Son of God 164-267 Introduction 164 (1) The Nestorian Controversy 165-190 The Christology of the Antiochians 165 The Christology of Cyril 174 Outbreak of the Controversy, Nestorius 180 The attitude of the Roman Bishop Cœlestin, his repudiation of the Western view 182 The Anathemas 186 The Council of Ephesus 186 The Formula of union of the year 433 189 Cyril gains the upper hand 190 (2) The Eutychian Controversy 190-226 Survey of the position of the Alexandrian Patriarchs in the Church; Rome, Alexandria and the Byzantine State 190 Significance of the political conditions for the Eutychian Controversy 195 The Church after the union of the year 433 197 Eutyches and the charge against him; Flavian and the Council of 448 199 The appeal to Leo I 201 Dioscurus, the Master of the Eastern Church 201 Leo’s Letters, the Ep. ad Flavianum 202 The Council of Ephesus of 499; triumph of Dioscurus 207 The period until the death of Theodosius II 210 Entire change in the situation; Pulcheria and Marcian 212 Leo I.; he seeks to prevent the calling of a Council 213 The Council of Chalcedon 215 The dogmatic formula 219 Significance and estimate of the formula 222 The twenty-eighth Canon of Chalcedon 225 (3) The Monophysite Controversies and the Fifth Council 226-252 The Chalcedonian Creed occasions serious conflicts in the East; imperial attempts to set it aside 226 The Henoticon and the Great Schism of the years 484-519 228 The Theopaschitian Controversy 230 The new scholastic orthodoxy reconciles itself to the Chalcedonian Creed; Leontius of Byzantium 232 Internal movements and divisions amongst the Monophysites: Severians, Julianists, etc. 235 Justinian’s ecclesiastical policy 241-252 Justinian and the new orthodoxy 241 Conference with the Severians 242 Failure of a Monophysite re-action, the assistance of Rome 243 The condemnation of Origen and of the Antiochene theology, the Three Chapter’s Controversy 245 Vigilius of Rome 248 The Fifth Ecumenical Council of Constantinople 249 Solemn recognition of the Chalcedonian Creed, but as interpreted by Cyril; Eastern victory over the West; reactions in the West; Justinian’s latest views; Justin II 251 (4) The Monergist and Monothelite Controversies; the Sixth Council and John of Damascus 252-267 Introduction 252 Political conditions, the Monergist Controversy 254 The Ecthesis 256 The Typus 257 The Monothelite Controversy: Rome, the Byzantine Church and the State 257 The Sixth Ecumenical Council, sanction given to dyothelitism 261 The Scholasticism of John of Damascus 264 C.—The enjoyment of Redemption in the Present. CHAPTER IV.—The Mysteries and Kindred Subjects 268-330 Introduction; emergence of what constitutes mysteries; legitimation of a religion of the second rank; mystagogic theology 268 § I. The Lord’s Supper and the other mysteries; Antiochene and Alexandrian mysticism, their union in cultus; Dionysius the Areopagite 276 Details regarding Baptism 283 History of development of the doctrine of the Supper in its sacramental and sacrificial aspect; the Lord’s Supper and the Incarnation 283 More detailed history of the doctrine of the Supper; Origen 290 Eusebius, Athanasius, Basil, Macarius 291 Cyril of Jerusalem, Gregory of Nyssa 292 Chrysostom 297 Dionysius 298 Cyril of Alexandria and the Monophysites 299 John of Damascus.—Conclusion 301 § II. Worship of Saints; Relics, Martyrs and Pictures 304 The Seven Points of Contact for the legitimising of this Religion of the Second Rank, or heathenism, within the doctrina publica 305 Reservations 310 Details regarding Angel-worship 311 Worship of Saints and Relics 312 Mariolatry 314 Worship of pictures, the definitive expression of Greek Piety 317 Pictures, Monachism and the State; the controversy over images 319 Synods of 754, 787 and 842 324 Images remain the property of the Church, but the Church remains the property of the State 329 CHAPTER V.—Appendix: Historical Sketch of the Rise of the Orthodox System 331-353 _________________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________________ CHAPTER I. [1] _________________________________________________________________ THE DOCTRINE OF THE HOMOUSIA OF THE SON OF GOD WITH GOD HIMSELF. [2] Is the Divine which appeared on the earth and has made its presence actively felt, identical with the supremely Divine that rules heaven and earth? Did the Divine which appeared on the earth enter into a close and permanent union with human nature, so that it has actually transfigured it and raised it to the plane of the eternal? These two questions necessarily arose out of the combination of the incarnation of the Logos and the deification of the human nature (See Vol. III., p. 289 ff.) Along with the questions, however, the answers too were given. But it was only after severe conflicts that these answers were able to establish themselves in the Church as dogmas. The reasons of the delay in their acceptance have been partly already indicated in Vol. III., pp. 167 ff. and will further appear in what follows. In the fourth century the first question was the dominant one in the Church, and in the succeeding centuries the second. We have to do with the first to begin with. It was finally answered at the so-called Second Œcumenical Council, 381, more properly in the year 383. The Council of Nicæa (325) and the death of Constantine (361) mark off the main stages in the controversy. _________________________________________________________________ [2] See the Opp. Athanas., and in addition the works of the other Church Fathers of the fourth century, above all, those of Hilary, the Cappadocians and Jerome; the Church Histories of Sulpicius, Rufinus, Socrates, Sozomen, Theodoret, Gelasius, the Vita Constantini of Eusebius, the Panarion of Epiphanius, and the Codex Theodosianus ed. Hænel; on the other side, the fragments of the Church History of Philostorgius; of the secular historians, Ammian in particular. For the proceedings of the Councils see Mansi Collect. Conc. v. II. and III.; Hefele, Conciliengesch. 2nd ed. v. I. and II.; Walch, Historie der Ketzereien v. II. and III.; Munscher, Ueber den Sinn der nicän. Glaubensformel, in Henke’s Neues Magazin, VI., p. 334 f.; Caspari, Quellen zur Gesch. des Taufsymbols, 4 vols., 1866 ff.; Hahn, Bibliothek der Symbole, 2nd ed. 1877; Hort, On the Constantinop. Creed and other Eastern Creeds of the fourth century, 1876; Swainson, The Nicene and Apostles’ Creeds, 1875; Bright, Notes on the Canons of the first four General Councils, 1882; my art. “Konstantinop. Symbol” in Herzog’s R.-Encykl., 2nd ed. Besides the historical works of Baronius, Tillemont, Basnage, Gibbon, Schröckh, de Broglie, Wietersheim, Richter, Kaufmann, Hertzberg, Chastel, Schiller, Victor Schultze, and Boissier, above all, Ranke, (also Löning, Gesch. d. deutschen Kirchenrechts, vol. I.) and others, the references in Fabricius-Harless, the careful biographies of the Fathers of the fourth century by Böhringer, and the Histories of Dogma by Petavius, Schwane, Baur, Dorner (Entw. Gesch. d. L. v. d. Person Christi), Newman (Arians of the fourth century), Nitzsch, Schultz, and Thomasius may be consulted. On Lucian: see my article in Herzog’s R.-Encyklop. v. VIII. 2, and in my Altchristl. Lit. Gesch. vol. I. On Arius: Maimbourg, Hist. de l’Arianisme, 1673, Travasa, Storia della vita di Ario, 1746; Hassenkamp, Hist. Ariana controversiæ, 1845; Revillout, De l'Arianisme des peuples germaniques, 1850; Stark, Versuch einer Gesch. des Arianism, 2 vols., 1783 f.; Kölling, Gesch. der arianischen Häresie, 2 vols., 1874, 1883; Gwatkin, Studies of Arianism, 1882. On Athanasius: Möhler, Athan. d. Gr., 1827; Voigt, Die Lehre d. Athan., 1861; Cureton, The Festal Letters of Athan., 1848; Larsow, Die Festbriefe des hl. Athan., 1852; Sievers, Ztschr. f. d. hist. Theol., 1868, I.; Fialon, St. Athanase, 1877; Atzberger, Die Logoslehre d. hl. Athan., 1880 (on this ThLZ., 1880, No. 8) Eichhorn, Athan. de vita ascetica, 1886. On Marcellus: Zahn, M. von Ancyra, 1867; Klose, Gesch. d. L. des Marcel and Photin, 1837. Reinkens, Hilarius, 1864; Krüger, Lucifer, 1886, and in the Ztschr. f. wiss. Theol., 1888, p. 434 ff.; Klose, Gesch. and Lehre des Eunomius, 1833; Rode, Gesell. der Reaction des Kaiser Julian, 1877 (also the works of Naville, Rendall and Mücke); Ullmann, Gregor v. Naz., 2nd ed. 1867; Dräseke, Quæst. Nazianz. Specimen, 1876; Rupp, Gregor v. Nyssa, 1834; Klose, Basilius, 1835; Fialon, St. Basile, 2nd edit. 1869; Rade, Damasus, 1882; Förster, Ambrosius, 1884; Zöckler, Hieronymus, 1875; Güldenpenning and Ifland, Theodosius d. Gr., 1878; Langen, Gesch. d. röm. Kirche, I. 1881. In addition the articles on the subject in Herzog’s R.-Encykl. (particularly those by Möller) and in the Dict. of Christ. Biography, and very specially the article Eusebius by Lightfoot. The most thorough recent investigation of the subject is that by Gwatkin above mentioned. The accounts of the doctrines of Arius and Athanasius in Böhringer are thoroughly good and well-nigh exhaustive. The literary and critical studies of the Benedictines, in their editions, and those of Tillemont form the basis of the more recent works also, and so far they have not been surpassed. _________________________________________________________________ 1. FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE CONTROVERSY TO THE COUNCIL OF NICÆA. At the great Oriental Council which met at Antioch about the year 268, the Logos doctrine was definitely accepted, while the “Homoousios” on the other hand was rejected. [3] The most learned man whom the East at that time possessed, Lucian (of Samosata) took up the work of the excommunicated metropolitan, Paul of Samosata. First educated at the school of Edessa, where since the days of Bardesanes a free and original spirit had prevailed, then a follower of Paul, he got from the latter his dislike to the theology of “the ancient teachers”, and with this he united the critical study of the Bible, a subject in which he became a master. He founded in Antioch an exegetical-theological school which, during the time of the three episcopates of Domnus, Timäus and Cyril, was not in communion with the Church there, but which afterwards, shortly before the martyrdom of Lucian, made its peace with the Church. This school is the nursery of the Arian doctrine, and Lucian, its head, is the Arius before Arius. Lucian started from the Christology of Paul, but, following the tendency of the time, and perhaps also because he was convinced on exegetical grounds, he united it with the Logos Christology, and so created a fixed form of doctrine. [4] It is probable that it was only gradually he allowed the Logos doctrine to have stronger influence on the Adoptian form. This explains why it was not till towards the end of his life that he was able to bridge over his differences with the Church. He was revered by his pupils both as the teacher par excellence, and in his character as ascetic; his martyrdom, which occurred in the year 311 or 312, increased his reputation. The remembrance of having sat at the feet of Lucian was a firm bond of union amongst his pupils. After the time of persecution they received influential ecclesiastical posts. [5] There was no longer anything to recall the fact that their master had formerly been outside of the Church. These pupils as a body afterwards came into conflict more or less strongly with the Alexandrian theology. So far as we know, no single one of them was distinguished as a religious character; but they knew what they wanted; they were absolutely convinced of the truth of their school-doctrine, which had reason and Scripture on its side. This is what characterises the school. At a time when the Church doctrine was in the direst confusion, and was threatening to disappear, and when the union of tradition, Scripture, and philosophical speculation in the form of dogma had been already called for, but had not yet been accomplished, this school was conscious of possessing an established system of doctrine which at the same time permitted freedom. This was its strength. [6] The accounts of Lucian’s Christology which have been handed down are meagre enough, still they give us a sufficiently clear picture of his views. God is One; there is nothing equal to Him; for everything besides Him is created. He has created the Logos or Wisdom—who is to be distinguished from the inner divine Logos—out of the things that are not (ex ouk ontōn), and sent him into the world. [7] This Logos has taken a human body though not a human soul, and accordingly all the feelings and spiritual struggles of Christ are to be attributed to the Logos. Christ has made known the Father to us, and by being man and by his death has given us an example of patience. This exhausts his work, by means of which—for so we may complete the thought—he, constantly progressing, has entered into perfect glory. It is the doctrine of Paul of Samosata, but instead of man it is a created heavenly being who here becomes “Lord”. Lucian must have put all the emphasis on the “out of the things that are not” (ex ouk ontōn) and on the “progress” (prokopē). The creaturehood of the Son, the denial of his co-eternity with the Father, and the unchangeableness of the Son achieved by constant progress and constancy, constitute the main articles in the doctrine of Lucian and his school. Just because of this he refuses to recognise in the Son the perfectly equal image of the ousia or substance of the Father (Philost. II. 15). [8] There can be no doubt as to the philosophy to which Lucian adhered. He worked with the means supplied by the critical and dialectic philosophy of Aristotle, although indeed his conception of God was Platonic, and though his Logos doctrine had nothing in common with the teaching of Aristotle. His opponents have expressly informed us that his pupils turned to account the Aristotelian philosophy. [9] If one recollects that in the third century the Theodotian-Adoptian Christology was founded by the help of what was supplied by Aristotelianism, and that the Theodotians were also given to the critical study of the Bible, [10] the connection between Arianism and Adoptianism thus becomes clear. It is incorrect to trace the entire opposition between the Orthodox and the Arians to the opposition between Platonism and Aristotelianism, incorrect if for no other reason because a strong Platonic element is contained in what they possess in common—namely, the doctrine of God and of the Logos; but it is correct to say that the opposition cannot be understood if regard is not had to the different philosophical methods employed. [11] In Lucian’s teaching Adoptianism is combined [12] with the doctrine of the Logos as a creature (ktisma), and this form of doctrine is developed by the aid of the Aristotelian philosophy and based on the critical exegesis of the Bible. Aristotelian Rationalism dominated the school. The thought of an actual redemption was put in the background. The Christian interest in monotheism is exhausted by the statement that the predicate “underived” attaches to one single being only. This interest in the “unbegotten begetter”, and also, what is closely connected with it, the ranging of all theological thoughts under the antithesis of first cause or God, and creation, are also Aristotelian. Theology here became a “Technology”, that is, a doctrine of the unbegotten and the begotten [13] which was worked out in syllogisms and based on the sacred codex. A pupil of Lucian named Arius, perhaps a Lybian by birth, became when already well up in years, first deacon in Alexandria, and afterwards presbyter in the church of Baukalis. The presbyters there at that period still possessed a more independent position than anywhere else. [14] Owing, however, to the influence of the martyr bishop Peter (+ 311) a tendency had gained ascendency in the episcopate in Alexandria, which led to Christian doctrine being sharply marked off from the teachings of Greek philosophy (mathēmata tēs Hellēnikēs philosophias) the presence of which had been observed in Origen, and in general shewed itself in a distrust of “scientific” theology, while at the same time the thought of the distinction between the Logos and the Father was given a secondary place. [15] Arius nevertheless fearlessly advanced the views he had learned from Lucian. The description we get of him is that of a man of grave appearance and a strict ascetic, but at the same time affable and of a prepossessing character, though vain. He was highly respected in the city; the ascetics and the virgins were specially attached to him. His activity had been recognised also by the new bishop Alexander who began his episcopate in 313. The outbreak of the controversy is wrapped in obscurity, owing to the fact that the accounts are mutually contradictory. According to the oldest testimony it was an opinion expressed by Arius when questioned by the bishop on a certain passage of Scripture, and to which he obstinately adhered, which really began the controversy, [16] possibly in the year 318. Since the persecution had ceased, the Christological question was the dominant one in the Alexandrian Church. Arius was not the first to raise it. On the contrary he was able later on to remind the bishop how the latter had often both in the Church and in the Council of Presbyters (en mesē tē ekklēsia kai sunedriō pleistakis) refuted the Valentinian Christology, according to which the Son is an emanation,—the Manichæan, according to which the Son is a consubstantial part of the Father (meros homoousion tou patros),—the Sabellian, according to which the Godhead involves the identity of the Son and Father (huiopatōr),—that of Hieracas. according to which the Son is a torch lighted at the torch of the Father, that Son and Father are a bipartite light and so on,—and how he, Arius, had agreed with him. [17] It was only after considerable hesitation and perhaps vacillation too, that Alexander resolved on the excommunication of Arius. It took place at a Synod held in 321 or 320 in presence of about one hundred Egyptian and Lybian bishops. Along with Arius some presbyters and deacons of Alexandria, as well as the Lybian bishops Theonas and Secundus, were deposed. This did not quieten Arius. He sought and forthwith found support amongst his old friends, and above all, got the help of Eusebius of Nicomedia. This student-friend had an old cause of quarrel with Alexander, [18] and, contrary to ecclesiastical law, had been transferred to Nicomedia by Berytus, the most influential bishop [19] at the court of the Empress, a sister of Constantine. Arius, driven out of Alexandria “as an atheist”, had written to him from Palestine. [20] He was able to appeal to a number of eastern bishops, and above all, to Eusebius of Cæsarea; in fact he asserted that all the eastern bishops agreed with him and had on this account been put under the ban by Alexander (?). Eusebius of Nicomedia espoused the cause of Arius in the most energetic fashion in a large number of letters. [21] Alexander on his part also looked about for allies. He wrote numerous letters to the bishops, two of which have been preserved—namely, the Encyclica, i.e., the official report of what had occurred, [22] and the epistle to Alexander, Bishop of Constantinople. (?) [23] In the latter letter, which is written in a very hostile tone, Alexander sought to check the powerful propaganda of Arianism. He appealed to the bishops of the whole of Egypt and the Thebaid and further to the Lybian, Pentapolitan, Syrian, Lycio-Pamphylian, Asiatic, Cappadocian, and other bishops. Arius betook himself to Nicomedia and from there addressed a conciliatory epistle to the Alexandrian bishop which we still possess. [24] He also composed at that time his “Thalia,” of whose contents which were partly in prose and partly in verse, we cannot form any very correct idea from the few fragments handed down to us by Athanasius. His supporters thought a great deal of this. work while his opponents condemned it as profane, feeble, and affected. [25] A Bithynian Synod under the leadership of Eusebius decided for Arius, [26] and Eusebius of Cæsarea entered into communication with Alexander of Alexandria in the character of mediator, in order to induce him to take a more favourable view of the doctrine of the excommunicated presbyter. [27] It may have been, more than anything else, the political state of things which allowed Arius to find his way back once more to Alexandria. Under the patronage of some distinguishes bishops with whom he had entered into correspondence, but who were not able to bring about any amicable arrangement with Alexander, Arius resumed his work in the city. [28] In the autumn of 323 Constantine, after his victory over Licinius, became sole ruler in the Roman Empire. The controversy had already begun to rage in all the coast-provinces of the East. Not only did the bishops contend with each other, but the common people too began to take sides, and the dispute was carried on in such a base manner that the Jews scoffed at the thing in the theatres, and turned the most sacred parts of the doctrine of the Church into ridicule. [29] Constantine forthwith interfered. The very full letter which he sent to Alexander and Arius, [30] in 323-24, is one of the most important monuments of his religious policy. The controversy is described as an idle wrangle over incomprehensible things, since the opponents are, he says, at one as regards the main point. [31] But the letter had no effect, nor was the court-bishop, Hosius of Cordova, who brought it, and who as an Occidental appeared to be committed to neither side, able to effect a reconciliation between the parties. In all probability, however, Hosius had already come to an understanding [32] in Alexandria with Alexander, and the latter shortly after took a journey to Nicomedia, thoroughly completed the understanding, talked over some other bishops there, and so prepared the way for the decision of the Council of Nicæa. [33] The Emperor was won over by Hosius after he perceived the fruitlessness of his union-policy. [34] He now summoned a General Council to meet at Nicæa, apparently on the advice of Hosius, [35] and the latter had the main share also in determining the choice of the formula proposed. [36] But before we take up the Council of Nicæa, we must get some idea of the doctrines of the contending parties. We still know what were the Christological formulæ of Bishop Alexander which were attacked by Arius. [37] They were the words: Aei theos, aei huios, hama patēr, hama huios, sunuparchei ho huios agennētōs [38] tō theō, aeigenēs, agenētogenēs, out' epinoia, out' atomō tini proagei ho theos tou huiou, aei theos, aei huios, ex autou tou theou ho huios; always God, always Son, at the same time Father, at the same time Son, the Son exists unbegotten with the Father, everlasting, uncreated, neither in conception nor in any smallest point does God excel the Son, always God, always Son, from God Himself the Son. Alexander thus maintains the beginningless, eternal co-existence of Father and Son: the Father is never to be thought of without the Son who springs from the Father. It is not improbable that Alexander was led thus to give prominence to the one side of the Logos doctrine of Origen, owing to the influence of the theology of Irenæus or Melito. [39] The doctrine which Arius opposed to this is above all dominated by the thought that God, the Only One, is alone eternal, and that besides Him there exists only what is created, and that this originates in His will, that accordingly the Son also is not eternal, but a creation of God out of the non-existent. [40] From this thesis there necessarily follows the rejection of the predicate homoousios for the Son. Arius and his friends already before the Council of Nicæa give expression to it, incidentally indeed, but without ambiguity. [41] The doctrine of Arius is as follows: [42] (a) God, the Only One, besides whom there is no other, is alone unbegotten, without beginning and eternal; He is inexpressible, incomprehensible, and has absolutely no equal. These are the notes which express His peculiar nature. He has created all things out of His free will, and there exists nothing beside Him which He has not created. The expression “to beget” is simply a synonym for “to create”. If it were not, the pure simplicity and spirituality of God’s nature would be destroyed. God can put forth nothing out of His own essence; nor can He communicate His essence to what is created, for this essence is essentially uncreated. He has accordingly not been Father always; for otherwise what is created would not be created, but eternal. [43] (b) Wisdom and Logos dwell within this God as the powers (not persons) which are coincident with His substance, and are by their very nature inseparable from it; there are besides many created powers. [44] (c) Before the world existed, God of His free will created an independent substance or hypostasis (ousia, hupostasis) as the instrument by means of which all other creatures were to be created, since without it the creatures would not have been able to endure the contact of the Godhead. This Being is termed in Scripture Wisdom, also Son, Image, Word; this Wisdom, which, compared with the inner divine Wisdom, is called Wisdom only in a loose sense, has like all creatures been created out of nothing. It originates in God only in so far as it has been created by God; it is in no sense of the substance or essence of God. It has had a beginning; it accordingly did not always exist, there was a time in which it was not. That the Scriptures use the word “begotten” of this Substance does not imply that this is peculiar to it any more than is the predicate “Son”; for the other creatures are likewise described here and there as “begotten,” and men are called “sons of God”. [45] (d) As regards his Substance, the “Son” is consequently an unrelated and independent being totally separated from, and different from, the substance or nature of the Father. He has neither one and the same substance together with the Father, nor a nature and constitution similar to that of the Father. If he had, then there would be two Gods. On the contrary, like all rational creatures he has a free will and is capable of change. He might consequently have been good or bad; but he made up his mind to follow the good, and continued in the good without vacillation. Thus he has by means of his own will come to be unchangeable. [46] (e) Since the Son is, as regards his substance, unrelated to the Godhead, [47] he is not truly God, and accordingly has not by nature the divine attributes; he is only the so-called Logos and Wisdom. As he is not eternal, neither is his knowledge in any sense perfect; he has no absolute knowledge of God, but only a relative knowledge, in fact he does not even know his own substance perfectly, accordingly he cannot claim equal honour with the Father. [48] (f) Still the Son is not a creature and a product like other creatures; he is the perfect creature, ktisma teleion; by him everything has been created; he stands in a special relation to God, but this is solely conditioned by grace and adoption; the bestowal of grace on the other hand, is based on the steadfast inclination of this free being to the good which was foreseen by God. Through God’s bestowal of grace and by his own steady progress he has become God, so that we may now call him “only-begotten God”, “strong God” and so on. [49] (g) All that Scripture and tradition assert in reference to the incarnation and the humanity of this being holds good; he truly took a human body (sōma apsuchon); the feelings shewn by the historical Christ teach us that the Logos to whom they attach—for Christ had not a human soul—is a being capable of suffering, not an absolutely perfect being, but one who attains by effort absolute perfection. [50] (h) Amongst the number of created powers (dunameis) the Holy Ghost is to be placed beside the Son as a second, independent Substance or Hypostasis, (ousia, hupostasis); for the Christian believes in three separate and different substances or persons, (ousiai, hupostaseis); Father, Son and Spirit. Arius apparently, like his followers, considered the Spirit as a being created by the Son and subordinate to him. [51] Alexander expressly notes that the Arians appeal to Scripture in support of their doctrine, and Athanasius says that the Thalia contained passages of Scripture. [52] The passages so frequently cited later on by the Arians; Deut. VI. 4, XXXII. 39; Prov. VIII. 22; Ps. XLV. 8; Mt. XII. 28; Mk. XIII. 32; Mt. XXVI. 41, XXVIII. 18; Lk. II. 52, XVIII. 19; John XI. 34, XIV. 28, XVII. 3; Acts II. 36; 1 Cor. I. 24, XV. 28; Col. I. 15; Philipp. II. 6 f.; Hebr. I. 4, III. 2; John XII. 27, XIII. 21; Mt. XXVI. 39, XXVII. 46, etc., will thus already have been used by Arius himself. Arius was not a systematiser, nor were his friends systematisers either. In this respect their literary activity was limited to letters in which they stirred each other up, and which were soon put together in a collected form. The only one amongst them before Eunomius and Aëtius who undertook to give a systematic defence of the doctrinal system, was the Sophist Asterius, called by Athanasius the advocate (sunēgoros) of the sects. He was a clever, clear-headed man, but he was quite unable to wipe out what was in everybody’s eyes the blot on his character, his denial of the Faith during the time of persecution. [53] There were various shades of opinion amongst the followers and supporters of Arius. In Arianism in its more rigid form the tradition of Paul of Samosata and Lucian predominated, in its milder form the subordination doctrine of Origen. Both types were indeed at one as regards the form of doctrine, and the elements traceable to Origen won over all enlightened “Conservatives”. We may count Asterius too amongst. the latter, at all events the unbending Philostorgius was not at all pleased with him, and Asterius subsequently approached near to the Semiarians. Previous to the Council of Nicæa, the letters of the bishop Alexander are, for us at all events, the sole literary manifestos of the opposite party. The Encyklica already shews that the writer is fully conscious he has got to do with a heresy of the very worst type. The earlier heresies all pale before it; no other heretic has approached so near to being Antichrist. Arius and his friends are the enemies of God, murderers of the divinity of Christ, people like Judas. Alexander did not enter into theoretical and theological explanations. After giving a brief but complete and excellent account of the Logos doctrine of Arius, he sets in contrast with the statements contained in it, numerous passages from the Gospel of John and other quotations from Scripture. [54] The sole remarks of a positive kind he makes are that it belongs to the substance or essence of the Logos, that he perfectly knows the Father, and that the supposition of a time in which the Logos was not, makes the Father alogos kai asophos. The latter remark, which for that matter of it does not touch Arius, shews that Alexander included the Logos or Son in the substance of the Father as a necessary element. The second epistle goes much more into details, [55] but it shews at the same time how little Alexander, in solving the problem, was able definitely to oppose fixed and finished formulæ to those of the Arians. The main positions of Arius are once more pertinently characterised and refuted. Alexander is conscious that he is contending for nothing less than the divinity of Christ, the universal Faith of the Church, when he refutes the statements that the Son is not eternal, that He was created out of the non-existent, that He is not by nature (phusei) God, that He is capable of change, that He went through a moral development (prokopē), that He is only Son by adoption, like the sons of God in general, and so on. [56] He not only adduces proofs from the Bible in large numbers, [57] he has unmistakably in his mind what is for him a central, religious thought. Christ must belong to God and not to the world, because all other creatures require such a being in order to attain to God and become the adopted sons of God. In order to make clear the possibility of such a being, Alexander uses by preference for the Son the expression which had been already preferred by Origen—“the perfect image,” “the perfect reflection.” But even this expression does not suffice him; it gains deeper meaning by the thought that the Son as the image of the Father at the same time first clearly expresses the peculiar character of the Father. In the Wisdom, the Logos, the Power, the “Son is made known and the Father is characterised. To say that the reflection of the divine glory does not exist is to do away also with the archetypal light of which it is the reflection; if there exists no impress or pattern of the substance of God, then he too is done away with who is wholly characterised by this pattern or express image:”—gnōrizetai ho huios kai ho patēr charaktērizetai. To gar apaugasma tēs doxēs mē einai legein sunanairei kai to prōtotupon phōs, hou estin apaugasma . . . tō mē einai ton tēs hupostaseōs tou Theou charaktēra sunanaireitai kakeinos, ho pantōs par autou charaktērizomenos. While in laying down this thesis and others of a similar kind, e.g., that the Son is the inner reason and power of the Father Himself, he approaches “Sabellianism,” the latter doctrine is repudiated in the most decided and emphatic way. But on the other hand again, not only is the supposition of two unbegottens (agen[n]ēta) rejected as a calumny, but he repeatedly emphasises in a striking fashion the fact that the begetting of the Son is not excluded by the application to Him of the predicate always (aei), that the Father alone is unbegotten, and that He is greater than the Son. [58] Alexander thus asserts both things—namely, the inseparable unity of the substance of the Son with that of the Father [59] and their difference, and yet the one is held to be unbegotten and the other to be not unbegotten. In order to be able to maintain these contradictory theses he takes up the standpoint of Irenæus, that the mystery of the existence and coming forth of the Son is an inexpressible one even for Evangelists and angels, and is no proper object of human reflection and human statement. Even John did not venture to make any pronouncement regarding the anekdiēgētos hupostasis tou monogenous Theou, [60] —the ineffable substance of the only begotten God. “How could anyone waste his labour on the substance of the Logos of God, unless indeed he were afflicted with melancholy?” Pōs an periergasaito tis tēn tou Theou logou hupostasin, ektos ei mē melancholikē diathesei lēphthei tunchanoi. [61] Alexander’s actual standpoint is undoubtedly plainly expressed here. He does not wish to speculate; for the complete divinity of Christ is for him not a speculation at all, but a judgment of faith, and the distinction between Father and Son is for him something beyond doubt. But he sees that he is under the necessity of opposing certain formula to the doctrine of Arius. These are partly vague and partly contradictory: [62] “The Son is the inner reason and power of God,” “Father and Son are two inseparable things” (duo achōrista pragmata), “Between Father and Son there is not the slightest difference” (diastēma), “not even in any thought” (oud' achri tinos ennoias), “There is only one unbegotten,” “The Son has come into being in consequence of a genesis kai poiēsis” (an act of generation and production), “The Son has, compared with the world, an ineffable substance peculiarly his own” (idiotropos anekdiēgētos hupostasis), “He is monogenēs Theos” (only begotten God), “His Sonship is by its nature in possession of the deity of the Father” (kata phusin tunchanousa tēs patrikēs theotētos), [63] “Father and Son are two natures in the hypostasis” (tē hupostasei duo phuseis [64] ), between the Underived and he who has come into being out of the non-existent there is a mesiteuousa phusis monogenēs (the Son) di' ēs ta hola ex ouk ontōn epoiēsen ho patēr tou Theou logou, ē ex autou tou ontos patros gegennētai,” (a mediating only begotten nature by which the Father of the God-Logos has made all things out of the non-existent, and which has been begotten out of the existent Father), “The Son has not proceeded out of the Father kata tas tōn sōmatōn homoiotētas, tais tomais ē tais ekdiaireseōn aporroiais (in the manner in which bodies are formed, by separation or by the emanation of parts divided off);” still we may speak of a fatherly generation! (patrikē theogonia) which certainly is beyond the power of human reason to grasp.” “The expressions ēn, aei, etc., (was, always), used of the Son, are undoubtedly too weak, but on the other hand, they are not to be conceived so as to suggest that the Son is unbegotten (agennētos); the unbeginning genesis from the Father (anarchos gennēsis para tou patros) is his,—“the Father is greater than the Son, to Him honour in the strict sense (oikeion axiōma) is due, to the Son the dignity that is fitting (timē harmozousa).” [65] These confused thoughts and formulæ contrast unfavourably with the clear and definitely expressed statements of Arius. Alexander’s opponents had a better right to complain of the chameleon-like form of this teaching than he had of that of theirs. When they maintained that it offered no security against dualism (two unbegotten, [agenēta]), [66] or against Gnostic emanationism (probolē, aporroia), or against Sabellianism (huiopatōr), or against the idea of the corporeality of God, and that it contained flagrant contradictions, [67] they were not far wrong. But they cannot have been in the dark as to what their opponents meant to assert, which was nothing else than the inseparable, essential unity of Father and Son, the complete divinity of Christ who has redeemed us and whom every creature must necessarily have as redeemer. Along with this they taught a real distinction between Father and Son, though they could assert this distinction only as a mystery, and when they were driven to describe it, had recourse to formulæ which were easily refuted. We may at this point give an account of the doctrine of Athanasius; for although it was not till after the Nicene Council that he took part in the controversy as an author, [68] still his point of view coincides essentially with that of Bishop Alexander. It underwent no development, and considered from the stand-point of technical theology it partly labours under the same difficulties as that of Alexander. Its significance does not lie in the nature of his scientific defence of the faith, but solely in the triumphant tenacity of the faith itself. His character and his life are accordingly the main thing. The works he composed, like all the theological formulae he uses, were wrung out of him. The entire Faith, everything in defence of which Athanasius staked his life, is described in the one sentence: God Himself has entered into humanity. [69] The theology and christology of Athanasius are rooted in the thought of Redemption, and his views were not influenced by any subordinate considerations. [70] Neither heathenism nor Judaism has brought men into fellowship with God, the point on which everything turns. It is through Christ that we are transported into this fellowship; He has come in order to make us divine, i e., to make us by adoption the sons of God and gods. But Christ would not have been able to bring us this blessing if He Himself had possessed it merely as a gift secundum participationem, for in this case He only had just as much as He needed Himself and so could not proceed to give away what was not His own. [71] Therefore Christ must be of the substance of the Godhead and be one with it. Whoever denies that is not a Christian, but is either a heathen or a Jew. [72] This is the fundamental thought which Athanasius constantly repeats. Everything else is secondary, is of the nature of necessary controversy. In the Son we have the Father; whoever knows the Son knows the Father. [73] This confession is at bottom the entire Christian confession. The adoration of Christ, which according to tradition, has been practised from the first, and which has not been objected to by their opponents, already, he says, decides the whole question. God alone is to be adored; it is heathenish to worship creatures. [74] Christ therefore shares in the divine substance. Athanasius did not draft any system of theology or christology. The real point at issue appeared to him to be quite simple and certain. We have to put together his doctrinal system for ourselves, and the attempts to construct such a system for him is not something to be entered upon lightly. A body of theoretical propositions resulted solely from the polemic in which he was engaged and also from his defence of the “Homoousios.” Throughout, however, his thought in the final resort centres not in the Logos as such, [75] but in the Divine, which had appeared in Jesus Christ. He has no longer any independent Logos doctrine, on the contrary he is a Christologist. We accordingly give merely some of the main lines of his teaching. 1. To acknowledge that the substantial or essential element in Christ is “God,” is to assert that there is nothing of the creature in this, that it does not therefore belong in any sense to what has been created. Athanasius insisted as confidently as Arius on the gulf which exists between created and uncreated. This constitutes the advance made by both in clearness. [76] Arius, however, drew the dividing line in such a way that with him the Son belongs to the world side, while with Athanasius He, as belonging to God, stands over against the world. 2. Since the Divine, which has appeared in Christ, is not anything created, and since there can be no “middle” substance, [77] it follows, according to the reasoning of Athanasius, that this Divine cannot in any sense be postulated as resulting from the idea of the creation of the world. God did not require any agent for the creation of the world; He creates direct. If He had required any such intervening agent in order to effect a connection with the creature that was to come into existence, this Divine could not have supplied Him with it, for it itself really belongs to His substance. In this way the idea of the Divine, which in Christ redeemed men, is severed from the world idea; [78] the old Logos doctrine is discarded; Nature and Revelation no longer continue to be regarded as identical. The Logos-Son-Christ is at bottom no longer a world principle, but, on the contrary, a salvation principle. [79] 3. Scripture and tradition know of only one Godhead; they, however, at the same time pronounce Christ to be God: they call the Divine which has appeared in Christ, Logos, Wisdom and Son; they thus distinguish it from God, the Father. Faith has to hold fast to this. But in accordance with this we get the following propositions: (a) The Godhead is a unity (monas). Therefore the Divine which appeared in Christ, must form part of this unity. There is only one underived or unbegotten principle; this is the Father. [80] (b) The very name Father implies, moreover, that a second exists in the Godhead. God has always been Father, and whoever calls Him Father posits at the same time the Son; for the Father is the Father of the Son, and only in a loose sense the Father of the world and of men; for these are created, but the divine Trinity is uncreated, for otherwise it might either decrease again, or further increase in the future. [81] (c) This Son, the offspring of the Father (gennēma tou patros), [82] was not, however, begotten in a human fashion as if God were corporeal. On the contrary, He has been begotten as the sun begets light and the spring the brook; He is called Son, because He is the eternal, perfect reflection of the Father, the image [83] proceeding from the substance of the Father; He is called Wisdom and Logos not as if the Father were imperfect without Him, [84] but as the creative power of the Father. [85] “To be begotten” simply means completely to share by nature in the entire nature of the Father, implying at the same time that the Father does not therefore suffer or undergo anything. [86] (d) Consequently the assertions of the Arians that the Son is God, Logos, and Wisdom in a nominal sense only, that there was a time in which the Son was not, that He has sprung from the will of the Father, that He was created out of the non-existent or out of some other substance, that He is subject to change, are false. [87] On the contrary He is (1) co-eternal with the Father and (2) He is of the substance of the Father, [88] for otherwise He would not be God at all, (3) He is by His own nature in all points similarly [89] constituted as the Father, and finally He is all this, because He has one and the same substance in common with the Father and together with Him constitutes a unity, [90] but “substance” in reference to God means nothing else than “Being.” [91] It is not the case that the Father is one substance by itself and the Son another substance by itself and that these two are similarly constituted. This would do away with the unity of the Godhead. On the contrary, the Father is the Godhead; this Godhead, however, contains in it a mystery which can only be approximately conceived of by men. It conceals within itself in the form of an independent and self-acting product something which issues from it and which also possesses this Godhead and possesses it from all eternity in virtue, not of any communication, but of nature and origin,—the true and real Son, the image which proceeds from the substance. There are not two divine ousias, not two divine hypostases or the like, but one ousia and hypostasis, which the Father and the Son possess. Thus the Son is true God, inseparable from the Father and reposing in the unity of the Godhead, not a second alongside of God, but simply reflection, express image, Son within the one Godhead which cannot and ought not to be thought of apart from reflection, express image, and Son. He has everything that the Father has, for He actually possesses the ousia of the Father; He is homoousios, [92] of the same substance. Only He is not actually the Father, for the latter is also His source and root, the Almighty Father, the only unbegotten principle. [93] (4) The language used of Christ in Scripture to express what is human and belonging to the creature, has, always and only, reference to the human nature which He took upon Him in order to redeem men. Since He who is by nature God took upon Him a body in order to unite with Himself what is by nature man in order that the salvation and deification of man might be surely accomplished, He also along with the body took to Himself human feelings. So complete, however, is the identity of the humanity of Christ with the nature of humanity as a whole that we may, according to Athanasius, refer the statements of Scripture as to a special endowment and exaltation of Christ, to the whole humanity. [94] Complete too, however, was the union of the Son of God with humanity, which Athanasius, like Arius up to the time of the Apollinarian controversy, usually thought of as “Flesh,” “vesture of the Flesh.” [95] Because the body of the Logos was really His own body—although we must discard the thought of variation, of change [96] —and because this union had become already perfect in Mary’s body, [97] everything that holds good of the flesh holds good of the Logos also, and this is true of all sufferings even,—although He was not affected by them so far as His Godhead is concerned, [98] —and Mary is the mother of God. Athanasius also refers to the incarnate Logos the locus classicus of the Arians, Prov. VIII. 22, 23, [99] with which Eustathius of Antioch likewise occupied himself. [100] Finally, Athanasius spoke also of a prokopē or progress in reference to the incarnate Logos, of an increase in the manifestation of God in the body of Christ, by which he means that the flesh was more and more completely irradiated by the Godhead: to anthrōpinon en tē sophia proekopten, [101] (the human advanced in wisdom). How are the two mutually opposed doctrines to be judged from the standpoint of history, of reason, and of the Gospel? Each party charged the other with holding doctrines which involved contradictions, and, what is of more consequence, they mutually accused each other of apostasy from Christianity, although the Arians never advanced this charge with such energy as the opposite party. We have first of all to ascertain definitely how much they had in common. Religion and doctrine are with both thoroughly fused together, [102] and, indeed, formally considered, the doctrine is the same in both cases, i.e., the fundamental conceptions are the same. The doctrine of the pre-existent Christ, who as the pre-existent Son of God is Logos, Wisdom, and world-creating Power of God, seems to constitute the common basis. Together with this both have a common interest in maintaining the unity of God and in making a sharp distinction between Creator and creature. Finally, both endeavour to base their doctrines on Scripture and at the same time claim to have tradition on their side, as is evident in the case of Arius from the introduction to the Thalia. Both are, however, convinced that the final word lies with Scripture and not with tradition. I. We cannot understand Arianism unless we consider that it consists of two entirely disparate parts. It has, first of all, a Christ who gradually becomes God, who therefore develops more and more in moral unity of feeling with God, progresses and attains his perfection by the divine grace. This Christ is the Saviour, in so far as he has conveyed to us the divine doctrine and has given us an example of goodness perfectly realised in the exercise of freedom. When Arius calls this Christ Logos it appears as if he did this by way of accommodation. The conception of Arius here is purely Adoptian. But, secondly, with this is united a metaphysic which has its basis solely in a cosmology and has absolutely no connection with soteriology. This metaphysic is dominated by the thought of the antithesis of the one, inexpressible God, a God remote from the world, and the creature. The working-out of this thought accordingly perfectly corresponds with the philosophical ideas of the time and with the one half of the line of thought pursued by Origen. In order that a creation may become possible at all, a spiritual being must first be created which can be the means whereby a spiritual-material world can be created. This cannot be the divine reason itself, but only the most complete image of the divine reason stamped on a created, freely acting, independent being. With this we have arrived at the Neo-platonic origination. Whether in order to find a means of transition to the world we are to speak of “God, the essential nous of God, the created Logos,” or “God, the created Logos, the world-spirit,” or are to arrange the terms in some other way, is pretty much a matter of indifference, and to all appearance Arius laid little stress on this. It is the philosophical triad, or duad, such as we meet with in Philo, Numenius, Plotinus etc. These created beings which mediate between God and the creature are, however, according to Arius, to be adored, i.e., it is only as a cosmologist that he is a strict monotheist, while as a theologian he is a polytheist. This again perfectly corresponds to the dominant Hellenic view. Arius in fact occupies a place, so to speak, on the extreme left, for the energetic way in which he emphasises the thought that the second ousia has been created out of the free will of God, that it is foreign to the substance of God, that as a creaturely substance it is capable of change and definable, and, above all, the express assertion that this “Logos” and “Son” is “Logos” and “Son” merely nominally, that in no sense whatever is an emanation or anything of that kind to be thought of here, but simply a creation, is surprising even in the sphere of Hellenic philosophy. That this created Logos which made possible the further creation has appeared in Jesus Christ and has in human vesture developed into God and has therefore not been lowered, but on the contrary has been exalted by His being man, is accordingly what constitutes the uniting thought between the two parts of the system. In the other case, as here, the expressions “pre-existent Son of God,” “Logos,” “Wisdom” are plainly only an accommodation. They are unavoidable, but not necessary, in fact they create difficulties. It clearly follows from this, however, that the doctrine of Origen does not constitute the basis of the system—in so far as its Christology is concerned—and that what it has in common with the orthodox system is not what is really characteristic of it, but is on the contrary what is secondary. The Arian doctrine has its root in Adoptianism, in the doctrine of Lucian of Samosata, [103] as is proved, above all, by the strong emphasis laid on the creaturehood of the Redeemer and by the elimination of a human soul. We know what signification this had for Origen. Where it is wanting we can no longer speak of Origenism in the full meaning of the word. But it is correct that the cosmological-causal point of view of Origen, this one side of his complicated system, was appropriated by Arius, that is by Lucian. Meanwhile it has to be added that it was not peculiar to Origen. He made an effort to get beyond it; he balanced the causal-cosmological point of view, according to which the Logos is a heavenly ktisma, by the soteriological, according to which He is the essential and recognisable image of the Father, which constitutes an essential unity with the Father. Of this there is nothing in Arius. [104] Arianism is a new doctrine in the Church; it labours under quite as many difficulties as any other earlier Christological doctrine; it is, finally, in one important respect, really Hellenism which is simply tempered by the constant use of Holy Scripture. It is a new doctrine; for not only is the frank assertion of the creaturehood and changeableness of the Logos in this sharply defined form, new, spite of Origen, Dionysius Alex., Pierius and so on, but, above all, the emphatic rejection of any essential connection of the Logos with the Father. The images of the source and the brook, the sun and the light, the archetype and the type, which are almost of as old standing in the Church as the Logos-doctrine itself, are here discarded. This, however, simply means that the Christian Logos- and Son-of-God-doctrine has itself been discarded. Only the old names remain. But new too, further, is the combination of Adoptianism with the Logos-cosmology, and if the idea of two distinct Logoi and two Wisdoms is not exactly new, it is a distinction which had never before this been permitted. Athanasius exposed the inner difficulties and contradictions, and in almost every case we may allow that he has right on his side. A son who is no son, a Logos who is no Logos, a monotheism which nevertheless does not exclude polytheism, two or three ousias which are to be revered, while yet only one of them is really distinct from the creatures, an indefinable being who first becomes God by becoming man and who is yet neither God nor man, and so on. In every single point we have apparent clearness while all is hollow and formal, a boyish enthusiasm for playing with husks and shells, and a childish self-satisfaction in the working out of empty syllogisms. [105] This had not been learned from Origen, who always had facts and definite ends in view when he speculated. But all this might be put up with if only this doctrine were in any way designed to shew how communion with God is arrived at through Christ. This is what we must necessarily demand; for what the ancient Church understood by “redemption” was in part a physical redemption of a very questionable kind, and it would not necessarily have been anything to be regretted if anyone had emancipated himself from this “redemption.” But one has absolutely nowhere the impression that Arius and his friends are in their theology concerned with communion with God. Their doctrina de Christo has nothing whatever to do with this question. The divine which appeared on earth is not the Godhead, but one of its creations. God Himself remains unknown. Whoever expresses adherence to the above propositions and does this with unmistakable satisfaction, stands up for the unique nature of God, but does this, however, only that he may not endanger the uniformity of the basis of the world, and otherwise is prepared to worship besides this God other “Gods” too, creatures that is; whoever allows religion to disappear in a cosmological doctrine and in veneration for a heroic teacher, even though he may call him “perfect creature,” ktisma teleion, and revere in him the being through whom this world has come to be what it is, is, so far as his religious way of thinking is concerned, a Hellenist, and has every claim to be highly valued by Hellenists. [106] The admission that the Arians succeeded in getting a grasp of certain features in the historical Christ presented to us by the New Testament, cannot in any way alter this judgment. In this matter they were far superior to their opponents; but they were absolutely unable to make any religious use of what they perceived. They speak of Christ as Paul of Samosata does, but by foisting in behind the Christ who was exalted to be Lord, the half divine being, logos-creature, logos-ktisma, they deprived the most valuable knowledge they had of all practical value. Paul could say in a general way: ta kratoumena tō logō tēs phuseōs, ouk echei epainon; ta de schesei philias kratoumena huperaineitai (what was accomplished by the Logos of nature deserves no praise, but what was accomplished in the state of love is to be praised exceedingly). Such a statement was made impossible for the Arians by the introduction of cosmological speculation. What dominates Paul’s whole view of the question—namely, the thought that the unity of love and feeling is the most abiding unity, scarcely ever finds an echo amongst the Arians, for it is swallowed up by that philosophy which measures worth by duration in time and thinks of a half-eternal being as being nearer God than a temporal being who is filled with the love of God. We cannot therefore finally rate very high the results of the rational exegesis of christological passages as given by the Arians; they do not use them to shew that Jesus was a man whom God chose for Himself or that God was in the man Jesus, but, on the contrary, in order to prove that this Jesus was no complete God. Nor can we put a high value on their defence of monotheism either, for they adored creatures. What is alone really valuable, is the energetic emphasis they lay on freedom, and which they adopted from Origen, but even it has no religious significance. Had the Arian doctrine gained the victory in the Greek-speaking world, it would in all probability have completely ruined Christianity, that is, it would have made it disappear in cosmology and morality and would have annihilated religion in the religion. “The Arian Christology is inwardly the most unstable, and dogmatically the most worthless, of all the Christologies to be met with in the history of dogma.” [107] Still it had its mission. The Arians made the transition from heathenism to Christianity easier for the large numbers of the cultured and half-cultured whom the policy of Constantine brought into the Church. They imparted to them a view of the Holy Scriptures and of Christianity which could present no difficulty to any one at that period. The Arian monotheism was the best transition from polytheism to monotheism. It asserted the truth that there is one supreme God with whom nothing can be compared, and thus rooted out the crude worship of many gods. It constructed a descending divine triad in which the cultured were able to recognise again the highest wisdom of their philosophers. It permitted men to worship a demiurge together with the primal substance, prōtē ousia; it taught an incarnation of this demiurge and, on the other hand again, a theopoiesis. and was able skilfully to unite this with the worship of Christ in the Church. It afforded, in the numerous formulæ which it coined, interesting material for rhetorical and dialectic exercises. It quickened the feeling of freedom and responsibility and led to discipline, and even to asceticism. And finally, it handed on the picture of a divine hero who was obedient even to death and gained the victory by suffering and patience, and who has become a pattern for us. When transmitted along with the Holy Scriptures, it even produced a living piety [108] amongst Germanic Christians, if it also awakened in them the very idea to which it had originally been specially opposed, the idea of a theogony. What was shewn above—namely, that the doctrine was new, is to be taken cum grano salis; elements which were present in the teaching of the Church from the very beginning got here vigorous outward expression and became supreme. The approval the doctrine met with shews how deeply rooted they were in the Church. We cannot but be astonished at the first glance to find that those who sought to defend the whole system of Origen partly sided with Arius and partly gave him their patronage. But this fact ceases to be striking so soon as we consider that the controversy very quickly became so acute as to necessitate a decision for or against Arius. But the Origenists, moreover, had a very strong antipathy to everything that in any way suggested “Sabellianism”; for Sabellianism had no place for the pursuit of Hellenic cosmological speculation, i.e., of scientific theology. Their position with regard to the doctrine of Athanasius was thereby determined. They would rather have kept to their rich supply of musty formulæ, but they were forced to decide for Arius. II. Nothing can more clearly illustrate the perverse state of the problem in the Arian-Athanasian controversy than the notorious fact that the man who saved the character of Christianity as a religion of living fellowship with God, was the man from whose Christology almost every trait which recalls the historical Jesus of Nazareth was erased. Athanasius undoubtedly retained the most important feature—namely, that Christ promised to bring men into fellowship with God. But while he subordinated everything to this thought and recognised in redemption a communication of the divine nature, he reduced the entire historical account given of Christ to the belief that the Redeemer shared in the nature and unity of the Godhead itself, and he explained everything in the Biblical documents in accordance with this idea. [109] That which Christ is and is for us, is the Godhead; in the Son we have the Father, and in what the Son has brought, the divine is communicated to us. This fundamental thought is not new, and it corresponds with a very old conception of the Gospel. It is not new, for it was never wanting in the Church before the time of Athanasius. The Fourth Gospel, Ignatius, Irenæus, Methodius, the so-called Modalism and even the Apologists and Origen—not to mention the Westerns—prove this; for the Apologists, and Origen too, in what they say of the Logos, emphasised not only His distinction from the Father, but also His unity with the Father. The Samosatene had also laid the whole emphasis on the unity, although indeed he was not understood. [110] But not since the days in which the Fourth Gospel was written do we meet with anyone with whom the conviction is so definite, thought out with such an assurance of victory, expressed so strongly and so simply, and of such an absolute kind, as it is with Athanasius. All the rest by introducing qualifying thoughts in some way or other, brought an element of uncertainty into their feeling of its truth, and impaired its strength. That in the age of Constantine during the greatest revolution which the Church has experienced and which was so fraught with consequences, the faith represented by Athanasius was confessed with such vigour, is what saved the Christian Church. Its faith would probably have got entirely into the hands of the philosophers, its confession would have become degraded or would have been turned into an imperial official decree enjoining the worship of the “clear-shining Godhead”, if Athanasius had not been there and had not helped those who shared his views to make a stand and inspired them with courage. But at the beginning of the Fourth Century the form of expression for the belief in the unity of the eternal Godhead and its appearance in Jesus Christ was already sketched out. It was as little allowable to think of a unity of living feeling, of will and aim alone, as of the perfect identification of the persons. The doctrines of the pre-existing Son of God, of the eternal Logos, but, above all, the view that everything valuable is accomplished in the nature only, of which feeling and will are an annex, were firmly established. Athanasius in making use of these presuppositions in order to express his faith in the Godhead of Christ, i.e., in the essential unity of the Godhead in itself with the Godhead manifested in Christ, fell into an abyss of contradictions. Unquestionably the old Logos doctrine too, and also Arianism, strike us to-day as being full of contradictions, but it was Athanasius who first arrived at the contradictio in adjecto in the full sense of the phrase. That the Godhead is a numerical unity, but that nevertheless Son and Father are to be distinguished within this unity as two—this is his view. He teaches that there is only one unbegotten principle, but that nevertheless the Son has not come into being. He maintains that the Divine in Christ is the eternal “Son”, but that the Son is as old as the Father. This Son is not to be thought of either as created, or as an attribute of God, or as an emanation or a part of God, and is therefore something wholly indefinable. The thought of a theogony is rejected as emphatically as that of a creation, and yet the thought of an active attribute is not in any sense to be entertained. The Father is perfect for Himself and is sufficient for Himself; indeed, although Father and Son have one substance, in the sense of a single nature, in common, still the Father alone is “the God”, and is the principle and root of the Son also. Quot verba, tot scandala! Whatever involves a complete contradiction cannot be correct, and everyone is justified in unsparingly describing the contradiction as such. This the Arians sufficiently did, and in so far as they assumed that a contradiction cannot be seriously accepted by anyone, and that therefore the view of Athanasius must at bottom be Sabellian, they were right. Two generations and more had to pass before the Church could accustom itself to recognise in the complete contradiction the sacred privilege of revelation. There was, in fact, no philosophy in existence possessed of formulæ which could present in an intelligible shape the propositions of Athanasius. What he called at one time Ousia and at another Hypostasis, was not an individual substance in the full sense of the word, but still less was it a generic conception. If anything is clear, it is the fact that the thought of Athanasius—namely, the unity of the Godhead which rested in and appeared in Christ, could not be expressed under the traditional presuppositions of the pre-existing Son of God and the personal Logos existing from all eternity. We have here to do with the most important point in the whole question. The very same series of ideas which created the most serious difficulties for the Arians and which have been shewn to occupy a secondary place in their system, seriously hamper the doctrinal utterances of Athanasius; namely, the Logos doctrine of Origen and the cosmological-metaphysical conceptions which form the background of statements regarding an historical person. The Arians required to have a created being, created before the world, changeable, of the same nature as men, for their Christ, and had to banish all other determinations from their conception, and so they could not make use of the Logos of Philo and the Apologists; Athanasius required a being who was absolutely nothing else than the Godhead, and so the Logos referred to did not in any sense fit in with his doctrine. In both cases the combined Logos doctrine of Philo and Origen was the disturbing element. And at bottom,—though unfortunately not actually, [111] —they both discarded it; Arius when he distinguishes between the Logos nuncupativus which Christ is, and the actual Logos of God; Athanasius when he banishes the world-idea from the content of the substance which he adores in Christ. In the view of Arius, Christ belongs in every sense to the world, i.e., to the sphere of created things; in that of Athanasius he belongs in every sense to God, whose substance He shares. Arius and Athanasius both indeed occupy the standpoint of the theology of Origen which no one could now abandon; but their religious and theological interests do not originate in it. In the gnosis of Origen everything spiritual stands to God in a two-fold relation; it is His created work and yet it is at the same time His nature. This holds good in a pre-eminent sense of the Logos, which comprises all that is spiritual in itself and connects the graduated spheres of the spiritual substances, which, like it, have an eternal duration, with the supreme God-head. To this idea corresponds the thought that the creatures are free and that they must return from their state of estrangement and their Fall to their original source. Of this we find nothing either in Arius or in Athanasius. In the case of the former, the sober Aristotelian philosophy on the one hand reacts against this fundamental thought, and on the other, the tradition of the Christ who is engaged in a conflict, who increases and progresses towards perfection. In the case of Athanasius what reacts against it is the ancient belief of the Church in the Father, the Almighty Creator of all things, and in the Son in whom the Father reveals Himself and has stooped to hold fellowship with man. It is thus not the case that the gnosis of Origen was simply halved between Arius and Athanasius; on the contrary, it underwent a fundamental correction in the teaching of both. But it was no longer possible to avoid the “vis inertiæ.” of the gnosis of Origen, the contrary formulae which were held together by the idea of the Logos-cosmology as the basis for Christology. [112] And now the question was which of the two was to be adopted, the Logos-ktisma or the Logos-homoousios formula. The former freed from the latter was indeed deprived of all soteriological content, but was capable of intelligent and philosophical treatment—namely, rational-logical treatment; the latter taken exclusively, even supposing that the distinction between the Son and the Father and the superiority of the Father were maintained in connection with it, simply led to an absurdity. Athanasius put up with this absurdity; [113] without knowing it he made a still greater sacrifice to his faith—the historical Christ. It was at such a price that he saved the religious conviction that Christianity is the religion of perfect fellowship with God, from being displaced by a doctrine which possessed many lofty qualities, but which had no understanding of the inner essence of religion, which sought in religion nothing but “instruction,” and finally found satisfaction in an empty dialectic. It was intended that the General Church-Council which was summoned by the Emperor to meet at Nicæa should, besides settling some other important questions, compose the controversy which already threatened to produce division amongst the Eastern bishops. [114] It met in the year 325, in summer apparently. There were present about 300 (250, 270) bishops, hardly so many as 318 as asserted by Athanasius at a later time; the correctness of this latter number is open to suspicion. The West was very poorly represented; [115] the Roman bishop was not there, but he had sent two presbyters. The most important of the Eastern bishops were present. It is not clear how the business was arranged and conducted. We do not know who presided, whether Eustathius, Eusebius of Cæsarea, or Hosius, It is undoubted, however, that Hosius exercised a very important influence in the Council. The Emperor at first gave the Council a free hand, [116] though he at once put a stop to private wrangling, and he energetically interfered at the most decisive moment, and in the character of a theologian interpreted himself the formula to be adopted. [117] We may assume that at first he reckoned on the possibility that the Council would itself find some formula of agreement. He had, however, resolved, under the influence of Hosius, that in the case of this not being successfully carried out, he would enforce the formula which Hosius had agreed upon with Alexander. As regards the composition of the Council, the view expressed by the Macedonian Sabinus of Heraclea (Socr. I. 8), that the majority of the bishops were uneducated, is confirmed by the astonishing results. The general acceptance of the resolution come to by the Council is intelligible only if we presuppose that the question in dispute was above most of the bishops. [118] Of the “cultured” we have to distinguish three parties—namely, Arius and the Lucianists, who had Eusebius of Nicomedia for their leader; the Origenists, the most important man amongst whom was Eusebius of Cæsarea, who was already highly celebrated; [119] and Alexander of Alexandria with his following, to which the few Westerns also belonged. [120] The Arians came to the Council confident of victory; as yet nothing was pre-judged; the Bishop of Nicæa himself was on their side and they had relations with the Court. All were apparently at one in thinking that the Council could not break up without establishing a standard of doctrine, (pistis, mathēma) Those in the East possessed neither a uniform nor a sufficiently authoritative symbol by which the controversy could be settled. The Lucianists accordingly—who may have been about twenty in number, not more at any rate—produced, after deliberation, a confession of faith which was communicated by Eusebius of Nicomedia and embodied their doctrine in unambiguous terms. They did this without having previously come to an understanding with the Origenists. This was a tactical blunder. The great majority of the bishops rejected this rule of faith which was decisively in favour of Arianism. [121] Even the “Conservatives” must have been unpleasantly affected by the naked statement of the Arian doctrinal system. The supporters of Arius were now in the greatest perplexity owing to the unforeseen turn which events had taken. In order to be able to keep their position at the Council at all, they, with the exception of two who remained firm, withdrew this sketch of their doctrine, and now made up their minds to follow the lead of the Origenists in order to secure at least something. Eusebius of Cæsarea now came to the front. No one was more learned than he; no one was more intimately acquainted with the teaching of the Fathers. He had good reason to hope that he would be able to speak the decisive word. If there was a general conviction that in everything it was necessary to abide by the ancient doctrine of the Church, then there seemed to be no one more fitted to define that ancient doctrine than the great scholar who was also, moreover, in the highest favour with the Emperor. His formulæ were, “the created image”, “the reflection originating in the will”, “the second God” etc. [122] He could, if needful, have accepted the Arian formula; those of Alexander he could not adopt, for he saw in them the dreaded Sabellianism which meant the death of theological science. Eusebius accordingly laid a creed before the Council. [123] He was convinced that all could and must unite on the basis supplied by it, and as a matter of fact no better conciliatory formula could be imagined. [124] Still Eusebius considered it necessary to tack on to it an anti-Sabellian addition. [125] According to Eusebius the Creed was unanimously pronounced orthodox, [126] still the imperial will already made its influence felt here. The Arians were doubtless well pleased to get off on these terms. But Alexander and his following demanded a perfectly plain rejection of Arianism. They went about it in an extremely adroit fashion inasmuch as they accepted the basis of the Creed of Cæsarea, but demanded that its terms should be made more precise. We know from Eusebius himself that the Emperor sided with them, and so far as he was concerned resolved to incorporate in the Creed the word “homoousios”, which was suggested to him by Hosius. [127] But the matter was not settled by the mere insertion of a word. It was pointed out that the Creed of Cæsarea contained formulæ which might favour the Arian view. Its supporters were already put in the position of defendants. Accordingly, the Alexandrian party presented a very carefully constructed doctrinal formula which was represented as being a revised form of the Creed of Cæsarea [128] and in which some think they can recognise, in addition to the contributions of the Alexandrians, the hand of Eustathius of Antioch and of Makarius of Jerusalem. [129] (1) In place of apantōn horatōn etc., (“of all seen things whatsoever”), there was put by preference pantōn horatōn (“of all seen things”), in order to exclude the creation of the Son and Spirit; [130] (2) in place of the Logos at the beginning of the second article, the “Son” was put, so that all that follows refers to the Son; [131] (3) the words Theon ek Theou (“God of God”) were extended to gennēthenta ek tou patros monogenē Theon ek Theou (“begotten of the Father only begotten God of God”), but in the final discussion, however, between monogenē and Theon the words tout' estin ek tēs ousias tou patros (“that is of the substance of the Father”) were further inserted, because it was observed that otherwise the opposition party might be able to put their doctrine into the proposition; [132] (4) the unsatisfactory descriptions zōēn ek zōēs (“life of life”), prōtotokon pasēs ktiseōs (“the first-born of every creature”), pro pantōn aiōnōn ek tou patros gegennēmenon (“begotten of the Father before all ages”), before di' hou, etc., were deleted, and in their place the following was put: Theon alēthinon ek Theou alēthinou, gennēthenta, ou poiēthenta, di' hou ta panta egeneto (“true God of true God, begotten, not made, by whom all things were”). At this point, however, a further insertion was made, and this once more in the course of the discussion itself, [133] at what too was not at all a suitable place—namely, after “poiēthenta” (“made”), the words homoousion tō patri (“of the same substance with the Father”), because it was observed that none of the other terms excluded the Arian evasions; (5) the indefinite en anthrōpois politeusamenon (“having lived amongst men”) was replaced by the definite enanthrōpēsanta (“having become incarnate”); and (6) finally, in order to exclude all ambiguity, the condemnation of the Arian catchwords was added on to this. [134] The opposition parties did not yield without debates, in which the Emperor himself took part. [135] We do not know the details of the discussions, but we gather from the accounts of Athanasius that the Eusebians made still further proposals of a conciliatory kind and attempted to produce new catchwords. [136] The nature of their objections to the Alexandrian outline of doctrine may be gathered from the irenic explanation which Eusebius gave to his Church in Cæsarea as well as from the objections which later on were brought against the Nicene Creed. They fought against ek tēs ousias (“of the substance”) and homoousios because (1) they believed they saw in these words a materialising of the Godhead, which made it a composite substance comprising emanations or parts; because (2) they could not help seeing in the homoousios a Sabellian definition too, and because (3) the words did not occur in Holy Scripture. This last reason was specially decisive. In many parts of the Church there was still a shrinking from the definite adoption of unbiblical terms for the expression of the Faith. [137] In addition to this there was the fact that the homoousios had before this been rejected at Antioch. [138] But the will of the Emperor decided the matter. Respect for the Emperor, his express declaration that there was a desire not to endanger the absolute spirituality of the Godhead, the wish to conclude a grand work of peace—this doctrinal declaration [139] of the entire Church was, moreover, something new and imposing—induced the Conservatives, i.e., the Origenists and those who did not think for themselves, to fall in with what was proposed. They all subscribed with the exception of two, and at the same time salved their consciences in different ways by mental reservations. [140] The Lucianists who up till now had to all appearance been united together in an indissoluble friendship, were unprincipled enough to sacrifice their old comrade Arius. [141] He was condemned as the scapegoat, and the Emperor, anxious to protect with the strong hand the unity which had been won, gave orders that the books of Arius should be burned and that his adherents should henceforth be called “Porphyrians”, i.e., should be placed on a level with the worst enemies of Christ. [142] To the Alexandrian Church he wrote: ho tois triakosiois ēresen episkopois ouden estin eteron ē tou Theou gnōmē, malista ge hopou to hagion pneuma toioutōn kai tēlikoutōn andrōn tais dianoiais enkeimenon tēn theian boulēsin exephōtisen [143] (“what satisfied the three hundred bishops is nothing else than the judgment of God, but most of all where the Holy Spirit being present in the thoughts of men such as these and so ripe in years, made known the Divine will”). He persecuted the Arians, and the orthodox approved of what he did. They are thus responsible along with him for the persecution. The Arians at a later date only carried on what the orthodox had begun. The correct faith had triumphed and—the Bishop of Alexandria. [144] The Council of Nicæa is the first step taken by the Bishop of Alexandria in aspiring to the primacy of the East. _________________________________________________________________ [3] See Vol. iii., pp. 40, 45. [4] It is extremely probable that Lucian’s study of Origen too had convinced him of the correctness of the Logos doctrine. We have to regard his doctrine as a combination of the doctrines of Paul and Origen. Lucian and Origen are classed together by Epiph., H. 76, 3, as teachers of the Arians. [5] Amongst Lucian’s pupils were Arius, Eusebius of Nicomedia, Menophantus of Ephesus, Theognis of Nicæa, Maris of Chalcedon, Athanasius of Anazarbus (?), the sophist Asterius, and Leontius, afterwards bishop of Antioch, and others. In Syria the pupils of Dorotheus—namely, Eusebius of Cæsarea and Paulinus of Tyre were supporters of Arius, as were also many of Origen’s admirers. As regards the other partisans of Arius who are known to us by name, we do not know whether they were pupils of Lucian or not. Egypt and Libya are represented by Theonas of Marmarica, Secundus of Ptolemais and the presbyter Georgius of Alexandria, and further, according to Philostorgius, by Daches of Berenice, Secundus of Tauchira, Sentianus of Boraum, Zopyrus of Barka and Meletius of Lykopolis. In other provinces we have Petrophilus of Scythopolis, Narcissus of Neronias, Theodotus of Laodicea, Gregorius of Berytus and Aëtius of Lydda. Philostorgius further mentions others, but he also reckons as belonging to his party those old bishops who did not live to see the outbreak of the controversy and who accordingly have been claimed by the orthodox side as well; see Gwatkin l.c., p. 31. For other names of presbyters and deacons at Alexandria who held Arian views, see the letters of Alexander in Theodoret, I. 4, and Socrates, I. 6. [6] These pupils of Lucian must have displayed all the self-consciousness, the assurance, and the arrogance of a youthful exclusive school (ek tēs autēs dēlētēriou phratrias, says Epiphanius in one place, H. 69, 5), haughtily setting themselves far above the “ancients” and pitying their want of intelligence. Highly characteristic in this respect is the account of Alexander, their opponent, after making all allowance for the malevolent element in it; see very specially the following passage, Theodoret, H. E. I. 4): hoi oude tōn archaiōn tinas sunkrinein heautois axiousin, oude hois hēmeis ek paidōn hōmilēsamen didaskalois exisousthai anechontai; all' oude tōn nun pantachou sulleitourgōn tina eis metron sophias hēgountai; monoi sophoi kai aktēmones kai dogmatōn heuretai legontes einai, kai autois apokekaluphthai monois, aper oudeni tōn hupo ton hēlion heterō pephuken elthein eis ennoian. One may further compare the introduction to the Thalia. [7] He is thus a created “God.” [8] For the proofs of what is here said regarding Lucian see my article “Lucian” in Herzog’s R.-Encykl., 2nd ed. Vol. VIII. Here I give merely the following. For the close connection between Arius and Lucian we possess a series of witnesses. Alexander of Alex. says expressly in his letter to Alexander (Theodoret H.E. I. 4) that Arius started from Lucian. Arius himself in his letter to Eusebius of Nicomedia describes himself and his friend as Sulloukianistēs; Philostorgius enumerates the pupils of Lucian, whom he regards as the friends of Arius (II. 14), and lets us see (II. 3, 13-15 and III. 15) that at the beginning of the fifth century Lucian was still regarded as the patriarch and teacher of the Arians. Epiphanius (Hær. 43. 1) and Philostorgius (l.c.) inform us that Lucian was revered by the Arians as a martyr. Epiphanius and Marius Victorinus call the Arians “Lucianists” (see also Epiph. H. 76. 3). Sozomen relates that the Fathers of Arian or semi-Arian views assembled in Antioch in the year 341 accepted a confession of faith of Lucian’s (III. 5). This confession is, it is true, given by Athanasius (de synodis 23), Socrates (II. 10) and Hilary (de synod. 29) without any statement as to its having originated with Lucian; but Sozomen informs us that a semi-Arian synod which met in Caria in 367 also recognised it as Lucianist (VI. 12). According to the author of the seven dialogues on the Trinity, who was probably Maximus Confessor, the Macedonians did the same (Dial. III. in Theodoreti Opp. V. 2, p. 991 sq., ed. Schultze and Nöss). The semi-Arians also at the synod of Seleucia in 359 seem to have ascribed the Confession to Lucian (see Caspari, Alte and neue Quellen zur Gesch. d. Taufsymbols, p. 42 f., n. 18). Since Sozomen himself, however, questions the correctness of the view which attributes it to Lucian, and since, moreover, other reasons may be alleged against it, we ought with Caspari to regard the creed as a redaction of a confession of Lucian’s. This fact too shews what a high reputation the martyr had in those circles. That Lucian’s school was pre-eminently an exegetical one is evident amongst other things from Lucian’s well-known activity in textual criticism, as well as from Philostorg. (III. 15). [9] See on Arius, e.g., Epiphan. H. 69 c. 69, on Aëtius, who was indirectly a pupil of Lucian (Philostorg. III. 15), the numerous passages in the Cappadocians and Epiphanius H. 76 T. III., p. 251, ed. Oehler. Besides, in almost every sentence of what is left us of the writings of Aëtius we see the Aristotelian. Philostorgius testifies to the fact that he specially occupied himself with Logic and Grammar; see above all, the little work of Aëtius in 74 theses, which Epiphanius (H. 76) has preserved for us. In his application of Aristotelianism Aëtius, however, went further than Arius, as is peculiarly evident from the thesis of the knowableness of God. [10] See Vol. III., p. 24. [11] Correctly given in Baur, L. v. d. Dreieinigkeit I., p. 387 ff.—not at all clear in Dorner op. cit. I., p. 859. [12] It is self-evident that this combination deprived Paul’s system of doctrine of all the merit which it contained. [13] According to Theodoret (Hær. fab. IV. 3) it was Aëtius himself who called theology “technology.” Perhaps the most characteristic example of how this technology treated purely religious language is to be found in the benediction with which Aëtius concluded one of his works (Epiphan. H. 76. T. III., p. 222, ed. Oehler). Errōmenous kai errōmenas humas ho ōn autogenntos Theos, ho kai monos alēthinos Theos prosagoreutheis hupo tou apostalentos Iēsou Christou, hupostantos te alēthōs pro aiōnōn kai ontos alēthōs gennētēs hupostaseōs, diatērēsei apo tēs asebeias, en Christō Iēsou tō kuriō hēmōn, di' hou pasa doxa tō patri kai nun kai aei kai eis tous aiōnas tōn aiōnōn. Amēn. This reminds us mutatis mutandis of the benediction of the modern rationalistic preacher, “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the great teacher and friend of men, be with you all.” I am glad further to see that Rupp too (Gregor von Nyssa, p. 139) has connected the conception of agennēsia, as being a central one in Eunomius, with the prōton kinoun akinēton of Aristotle. [14] Spite, however, of what we know of the Meletian schism in Alexandria and of the temporary connection of Arius with it, (cf. also the schism of Colluthus) it is not very clear if the outbreak of the Arian controversy, is connected with the opposition between episcopate and presbyterate (against Böhringer). The Alexandrian Presbyters were at that time actual Parochi. There are some obscure references in the letter of Alexander (Theodoret I. 4), see Gwatkin, p. 29. [15] See Vol. III., p. 99 ff. [16] See Constantine’s letter in Euseb., Vita Constant. II. 69; the notices in the Church historians and in Epiphanius (H. 69. 4) can hardly be reconciled with it. Along with Constantine’s statements the account of Socrates is specially worthy of consideration (I. 5). [17] Ep. Arii ad Alex. in Athanas. de synod. 16 and Epiphan. H. 69. 7. According to Philostorg. I. 3, the exertions of Arius had very specially contributed to bring about the election of Alexander as bishop, although he could then have become bishop himself. [18] Ep. Alexandri in Socr. I. 6 on Eusebius. Tēn palai gar autou kakonoian tēn chronō siōpētheisan nun dia toutōn (by letters) ananeōsai boulomenos, schēmatizetai men hōs huper toutōn graphōn; ergō de deiknusin, hōs hoti huper heautou spoudazōn touto poiei. His lust of power is characterised by Alexander in the words (l. c.) nomisas ep' autō keisthai ta tēs ekklēsias. [19] He is supposed to have been related to the Emperor. According to a letter of Constantine’s of a later date (in Theodoret. H. E. I. 19) he remained faithful to Licinius and had before the catastrophe worked against Constantine. [20] Theodoret H. E. I. 5, Epiph. H. 69 6. [21] See the letter to Paulinus of Tyre—which is put later by some—in Theodoret, H. E. I. 6. In this letter Eusebius praises the zeal of the Church historian Eusebius in the matter and blames Paulinus for his silence. He too ought to come to the help of Arius by giving a written opinion based on the theology of the Bible. There is a fragment of a letter of Eusebius to Arius in Athanasius, de synod. 17, where there are also other letters of the friends of Arius. [22] See Socrat. H. E. I. 6 and Athanas., Opp. I., p. 313 sq. (ed. Paris, 1689, p. 397 sq.). [23] Theodoret, H. E. I. 4. The address is probably incorrect; the letter is written to several persons. [24] See note 3, p. 8. [25] On the Thalia see Athan., Orat. c. Arian I. 2-10 de synod. 15. Philostorgius II. 2 tells us that Arius put his doctrine also into songs for sailors, millers, and travellers etc., in order thus to bring it to the notice of the lower classes. Athanasius also mentions songs. We can see from this that Arius made no distinction between faith and philosophical theology. He followed the tendency of the time. His opponents are for him “heretics.” [26] Sozom. I. 15. [27] The letter is in the Acts of the Second Nicene Council, Mansi XIII., p. 315. [28] Sozom. I. 15. [29] Euseb., Vita Const. II. 61; Socrates I. 7; Theodoret I. 6; the discord extended even into families. [30] Vita Const. II. 64-70. [31] Constantine wrote the letter not as a theologian, but as Emperor, which ought in fairness to be reckoned to his credit. The introduction is very skilfully worded: the Emperor trusted that he would he able with the help of the Eastern bishops to compose the Donatist schism, and now he sees the East torn by a far more destructive schism. He offers his services as mediator and accordingly takes up an absolutely impartial position. “Alexander should not have asked the questions and Arius should not have answered them; for such questions lie outside the “Law”; and above all, care ought to have been taken not to bring them to the notice of the people. The opponents, who at bottom presumably had the same convictions, ought to come to an agreement and compose their differences; this is what is done in the schools of philosophy; those who attend them dispute, but they afterwards formulate terms of agreement upon a common basis. It is only the common people and ignorant boys who quarrel about trifles.” The close of the letter expresses the very great anxiety felt by the Emperor lest the grand work of restoring peace and unity entrusted to him by Providence should be hindered. He accordingly most earnestly urges peace, even if they cannot actually agree. In necessariis unitas, in dubiis libertas and—reserve, is thus the watchword of the Emperor; in faith in Providence and in the conception of the Supreme Being they are certainly one: for the upholder of all has given to all a common light; differences of opinion on separate points are unavoidable and are perfectly legitimate when there is radical unity in dogma. “Restore to me my peaceful days and my undisturbed nights and do not allow me to spend what remains of my life in joylessness.” The close is once more very effective: he had already started, he says, for Alexandria, but had turned back when he heard of the split; the combatants may make it possible for him to come by becoming reconciled. This letter can hardly have been written under the influence of Eusebius of Nicomedia; still Nicomedia had already before this been the starting-point of a movement for bringing about union, as the conciliatory epistle of Arius and the pacific letter of his friends prove. [32] If according to Socrat. III. 7, he at this time agitated in Alexandria the question about housia and hupostasis, it must have been in the western-orthodox sense. On the other hand, it is said (l. c.) that Hosius when in Alexandria endeavoured to refute the doctrine of Sabellius. He might thus, as a matter of fact, regard himself as a mediator, namely, between the Arian and Sabellian doctrinal propositions; see on this below. It is probable that a Synod was held in Alexandria during his stay there. [33] This, it is true, is the account only of Philostorgius (I. 7), but there is no reason fur mistrusting him. [34] In Egypt the tumults were so serious that even the image of the Emperor was attacked (Vita Const. III. 4). [35] This is the account given by Sulpicius Severus, Chron. II. 40; “Nicæna synodus auctore Hosio confecta habebatur.” [36] Athan. hist. Arian. 42; houtos en Nikaia pistin exetheto. On Hosius see the lengthy article in the Dict. of Christ. Biogr. The life of this important and influential bishop covers the century between the death of Origen and the birth of Augustine. [37] From the letter of Arius to Eusebius of Nicomedia. [38] Lightfoot (S. Ignatius Vol. II., p. 90 ff.) has published a learned discussion on agenētos (underived) and agennētos (unbegotten) in the Fathers up till Athanasius. Ignatius (Eph. 7) called the Son as to His Godhead “agennētos.” In the first decades of the Arian controversy no distinction was made between the words, i.e., the difference in the writing of them was not taken account of, and this produced frightful confusion. Still Athanasius saw clearly from the first that though the conception of generation might hold good of the Son, that of becoming or derivation did not; s. de synod 3: ton patera monon anarchon onta kai agennēton gegennēkenai anephiktōs kai pasin akatalēptōs oidamen; ton de huion gegennēsthai pro aiōnōn kaik mēketi homoiōs tō patri agennēton einai kai auton, all' archēn echein ton gennēsanta patera. Spite of this he could say (l. c. c. 46): touto to onoma—scil. agennētos, as if it were identical in form with agenētos—diaphora echei ta sēmainomena. kai hoi men, to on men mēte de gennēthen, mēte holōs echon ton aition, legousin agennēton, hoi de to aktiston; see also the tiresome distinctions in the work “de decret. synod. Nic.” 28 sq. The distinction in fact between gennan, gignesthai, ktizein was not yet itself a definite one. At a later period there was no hesitation in asserting that the Son both as God and as Man is gennētos; s. Joh. Damasc. I. 8: chrē gar eidenai, hoti to agenēton, dia tou henos n graphomenon, to aktiston ē to mē genomenon sēmainei, to de agennēton, dia tōn duo n graphomenon, dēloi to mē gennēthen. From this he infers that the Father only is agennētos, while the Son as God is gennētos and indeed monos gennētos. One can see from the wonderful word of Alexander’s, agenētogenēs, what difficulties were created at first for the orthodox by the agen[n]ētos. Athanasius would have preferred to banish entirely the fatal word and not to have used it even for the Father. That it, as is the case with homoousios also, was first used by the Gnostics and in fact by the Valentinians is evident from the striking passage in the letter of Ptolemaus to Flora c. 5, which has hitherto escaped the notice of those who have investigated the subject. Ptolemaus is there dealing with the only good primal God, the primal ground of all Being and all things, with the true demiurge and Satan. He writes amongst other things: kai estai (ho dēmiourgos) men katadeesteros tou teleiou Theou, hate dē kai gennētos ōn kai ouk agennētos—heis gar estin agennētos ho patēr, ex hou ta panta . . . meizōn de kai kuriōteros tou antikeimenou genēsetai kai eteras ousias te kai phuseōs pephukōs para tēn hekaterōn toutōn ousian . . . tou de patros tōn holōn tou agennētou—that is thus the characteristic!—hē ousia estin aphtharsia te kai phōs autoon, haploun te kai monoeides, hē de toutou (scil. tou dēmiourgou) ousia dittēn men tina dunamin proēgagen, autos de tou kreittonos estin eikōn. mēde se ta nun touto thorubeitō, thelousan mathein, pōs apo mias archēs tōn holōn ousēs te kai homologoumenēs hēmin kai pepisteumenēs, tēs agennētou kai aphthartou kai agathēs, sunestēsan kai hautai hai phuseis, hē te tēs phthoras kai hē tēs mesotētos, anomoousioi hautai kathestōsai, tou agathou phusin echontos ta homoia heautō kai homoousia gennan te gai propherein; mathēsē gar hexēs kai tēn toutou archēn te kai gennēsin. This is how Ptolemaus wrote c. 160. His words already contain the ecclesiastical terminology of the future! We also already meet with the term “sophia anupostatos” in a passage of his l. c. c. 1. Many passages prove, moreover, that not only the words employed later on, but also the ideas from which sprang the Church doctrine of the immanent Trinity in its subsequent form, were present in the writings of the Valentinians, as, e.g., the following from Hipp. Philos. VI. 29 (Heracleon): ēn holōs gennēton ouden, patēr de ēn monos agennētos . . . epei de ēn gonimos, edoxen autō pote to kalliston kai teleōtaton, ho heichen en autō, gennēsai kai proagagein; philerēmos gar ouk ēn; Agapē gar, phēsin, ēn holos, hē de agapē ouk estin agapē, ean mē ē to agpaōmenon . . . teleioteros de ho patēr, hoti agennētos ōn monos. In what follows the whole discussion is conditioned by the problem that the begotten Æons are in their nature indeed homoousioi with the Father, but that they are imperfect as gennētoi and are inferior to the monos agennētos. Here therefore the field for the Arian-Athanasian controversy is already marked out. But it is to be noticed further that the three terms, monogenēs, prōtotokos, and eikōn contain and define the entire Valentinian Christology, which is of an extremely complicated character. (See Heinrici, die Valentin. Gnosis. p. 120). In the fourth century, however, they became the catchwords of the different Christologies. [39] It is impossible to come to any certain decision on this point, so long as it is not proved that the pieces which are ascribed to Alexander are really his, and at the same time so long as it is uncertain if the sentences from them which also bear the names of Irenæus and Melito really belong to these writers and have been made use of by Alexander. See on this question Cotterill, Modern Criticism and Clement’s Epp. to the Virgins, 1884, on this ThLZ., 1884, p. 267 f; Pitra, Analecta Sacra T. IV. pp. 196 sq., 430 sq. On this Loofs, ThLZ. 1884, Col. 572 f., and very specially Krüger, Ztschr. f. wiss. Theol. 1888, p. 434 ff.; Melito of Sardes and Alex. of Alexandria. Socrates asserts (I. 5) that Arius believed that Alexander wished to introduce the doctrinal system of Sabellius. But the Christology of Irenæus has also been understood in a “Sabellian” sense. The important address of Alexander on soul and body, in which he also treats of the Incarnation, is to be found in Migne T. 18. [40] This was the original point of dispute. Diōkometha, writes Arius to Eusebius, hoti eipomen, Archēn echei ho uhuos, ho de Theos anarchos esti. Dia touto diōkometha, kai hoti eipomen, Ex ouk ontōn estin. [41] See the fragment from the Thalia in Athan. de synod. 15, the letter of Eusebius of Nicomedia to Paulinus, also that of Arius to Alexander. [42] The fragments of the Thalia and the two letters of Arius which have been preserved are amongst the most important sources: cf. also the confession of faith of Arius in Socr. I. 26 (Sozom. II. 27). Then we have the statements of his earliest opponents, very specially the two letters of Alexander and the verbal quotations of the propositions of Arius in Athanasius; see especially ep. ad episc. “Ægypt 12 and de sentent. Dionys. 23, also the Orat. c. Arian. In the third place, we can adduce the propositions laid down by the earliest Arians, or by the patrons of Arius. Opponents made little difference between them and Arius himself, and the actual facts shew that they were justified in so doing; see the letter of Eusebius of Nicomedia to Paulinus and the fragments of Arian letters in Athanas. de synod. 17, also the fragments from Asterius. Finally, we have to consider what the Church historians and Epiphanius have to tell us regarding the doctrinal propositions of Arius. There was no “evolution” of Arianism, we can only distinguish different varieties of it. Even Eunomius and Aëtius did not “develop” the doctrinal system, but only gave it a logically perfect form. Lucian had already completed the entire system, as is specially evident from the letter of Eusebius of Nicomedia to Paulinus; see also the introduction to the Thalia in Athan., Orat. c. Arian. I. 5, which, moreover, presents the character of Arius in an unfavourable light: kata pistin eklektōn Theou, sunetōn Theou, paidōn hagiōnm orthotomōn, hagion Theou pneuma labontōn, tade emathon egōge hupo tōn sophiēs mete chontōn, asteiōn, theodidaktōn, kata panta sophōn te; toutōn kat' ichnos ēlthon egō bainōn homodoxōs ho periklutos, ho polla pathōn dia tēn Theou doxan, hupo te Theou mathōn sophian kai gnōsin egō egnōn. [43] In the doctrine of God as held by Arius and his friends two main ideas appear all through as those upon which everything depends: (1) that God alone is agennētos; (2) that all else has been created out of nothing by God’s free will. In accordance with this they get rid of everything designated as probolē agennētos, erugē, gennēma, meros homoousion, ex aporroias tēs ousias, monas platuntheisa, hen eis duo diērēmenon, etc.; even the old pictorial expressions “Light of Light”, “Torch of Torch” are rejected, and they will have nothing to do with the transformation of an originally impersonal eternal essence or substance in God into a personally subsisting essentiality; see the epp. Arii ad Euseb. et Alexand. Ei to; Hek gastros, kai to; Ek patros exēlthon kai hēkō, hōs meros tou homoousiou kai hōs probolē hupo tinōn noeitai, sunthetos estai ho patēr kai diairetos kai treptos kai sōma . . . kai ta akoloutha sōmati paschōn ho asōmatos Theos.; It was Eusebius Nic. specially in his letter to Paulinus, who developed the thought that “to beget” is equal to “to create” and he, for the rest, allows that if the Son were begotten out of the substance of the Father the predicate agennētos would attach to Him, and He would possess the tautotis tēs phuseōs with the Father. In laying down their doctrine of God, Arius and his friends express themselves with a certain amount of fervour. One can see that they have a genuine concern to defend monotheism. At the same time they are as much interested in the negative predicates of the Godhead as the most convinced Neo-platonists. On patēr see the Thalia in Athan., Orat. I. c. Arian c. 5: ouk aei ho Theos patēr ēn, all' ēn hote ho Theos monos ēn kai oupō patēr ēn, husteron de epigegone patēr. [44] Thalia l.c.: duo sophias einai. mian men tēn idian kai sunuparchousan tō Theō, ton de huion en tautē tē sophia gegenēsthai kai tautēs metechonta hōnomasthai monon sophian kai logon; hē sophia gar tē sophia hupērxe sophou Theou thelēsei. Ohutō kai logon heteron einai legei para ton huion en tō Theō kai touton metechonta ton huion hōnomasthai palin kata charin logon kai huion . . . Pollai dunameis eisi, kai hē men mia tou Theou estin idia phusei kai aidios, ho de Christos palin ouk estin alēthonē dunamis tou Theou, alla mia tōn legomenōn dunameōn esti kai autos, hōn mia kai hē akris kai hē kampē k.t.l. [45] See the foregoing note and Thalia l.c.: ouk aei ēn ho huios, pantōn gar genomenōn ex ouk ontōn kai pantōn ontōn ktismatōn kai poiēmatōn genomenōn, kai autos ho tou Theou logos ex ouk ontōn gegone, kai ēn pote hote ouk ēn, kai ouk ēn prin genētai, all' archēn tou ktizesthai esche kai autos . . . Ēn monos ho Theos kai oupō ēn ho logos kai hē sophia, eita thelēsis hēmas dēmiourgēsai, tote dē pepoiēken hena tina kai hōnomasen auton logon kai sophian kai huion, hina hēmas di' autou dēmiourgēsē. Ep. Arii ad Euseb.: Prin genēthē ētoi ktisthē ētoi horisthē ē themeliōthē, ouk ēn, agenētos gar ouk ēn. Since the Son is neither a part of the Father nor ex hupokeimenou tinos, he must be ex ouk ontōn; thelēmati kai boulē hupestē pro chronōn kai pro aiōnōn ho huios. Ep. Arii ad Alex: . . . gennēsanta huion monogenē pro chronōn aiōnōn, di' hou kai tous aiōnas kai ta hola pepoiēke . . . ktisma tou Theou teleion . . . thelēmati tou Theou pro chronōn kai pro aiōnōn ktisthenta, kai to zēn kai to einai para tou patros eilēphota kai tas doxas sunupostēsantos autō tou patros. Ou gar ho patēr dous autō pantōn tēn klēronomian esterēsen heauton hōn agennētōs echei en heautō. pēgē gar esti pantōn, hōste treis eisin hupostaseis . . . Ho huios achronōs gennētheis ouk ēn pro tou gennēthēnai oude gar estin aidios ē sunaidios ē sunagenētos tō patri oude hama tō patri to einai echei . . . Archē autou estin ho Theos, archei gar autou hōs Theos autou kai pro autou hōn. Ep. Euseb. ad Paulin.: ktiston einai kai themeliōton kai genēton tē ousia, according to Proverbs 8: . . . Ouden estin ek tēs ousias tou Theou, panta de boulēmati autou genomena. Ep. Euseb. Nic. ad Arium.: to pepoigmenon ouk ēn prin genesthai, to genomenon de archēn echei tou einai. Athan. Nazarb., ep. ad. Alex.: “Why do you blame the Arians because they say that the Son ktisma pepoiētai ex ouk ontōn kai hen tōn pantōn estin? We are to understand by the hundred sheep of the parable all created beings, and thus the Son too is included.” Georg. Laod. ep. ad. Alex.: “Don't blame the Arians because they say ēn pote hote ouk ēn ho huios tou Theou, Isaiah too came later than his father.” Georg. Laod. ep. ad. Arianos. “Don't be afraid to allow that the Son is from the Father; for the Apostle says that all things are from God, although it is certain that all things are ex ouk ontōn.” Thalia (de synod. 15): hē monas ēn, hē duas de ouk ēn prin huparxei. Arius for the rest seems to have considered the creation of this “Son” as simply a necessity, because God could not create directly, but required an intermediate power. [46] Ep. Euseb. ad Paulin.: Hen to agenēton, hen de to hup' autou alēthōs kai ouk ek tēs ousias autou gegonos, katholou tēs phuseōs tēs agenētou mē metechon, alla gegonos holocherōs heteron tē phusei k. tē dunamei.. The tautotēs tēs phuseōs is rejected. Ep. Arii ad Alex.: huion hupostēsanta idiō thelēmati atrepton kai analloiōton. Who says, therefore, that the Son is in everything like the Father introduces two “agennētoi.” Thalia: tē men phusei hōsper pantes houtō de autos ho logos esti treptos, tō de idiō autexousiō, heōs bouletai, menei kalos; hote men toi thelei dunatai trepesthai kai autos hōsper kai hēmeis, treptēs ōn phuseōs . . . As all things so far as their substance is concerned are unrelated to God and unlike Him, so too is the Logos allotrios kai anomoios kata panta tēs tou patros ousias kai idiotētos. Memerismenai tē phusei kai apexenōmenai kai apeschoinismenai kai allotrioi kai ametochoi eisin allēlōn hai ousiai tou patros kai tou huiou kai tou hagiou pneumatos; they are even anomoioi pampan allēlōn tais te ousiais kai doxais ep' apeiron. ton goun logon phēsin eis homoiotēta doxēs kai ousias allotrion einai polutelōs hekaterōn tou te patros kai tou hagiou pneumatos. ho huios diērēmenos estin kath' heauton kai ametochos kata panta tou patros. Thalia (de Synod. 15): Arrētos Theos ison oude homoion ouch homodoxon echei. ho huios idion ouden echei tou Theou kath' hupostasin idiotētos oude gar estin isos all' oude homoousios autō. The Triad is not of homoiais doxais: anepimikta heautais eisin hai hupostaseis autōn, mia tēs mias endoxotera doxais ep' apeiron. Xenos tou huiou kat' ousian ho patēr, hoti anarchos huparchei. According to the letter of Eusebius to Paulinus it looks as if Eusebius held the unchangeableness of the Son to belong to his substance; he probably, however, only means that it had come to be his substance. At a later date many Arians must have attributed to the Son an original unchangeableness as a gift of the Father, for Philostorgius mentions as a peculiarity of the Arian bishop Theodosius that he taught (VIII. 3): ho Christos treptos men tē ge phusei tē oikeia. [47] Because of this sundering of the Father and the Son the Arians at a later date are also called “Diatomites” (Joh. Damasc. in Cotellier, Eccl. Gr. monum. I., p. 298). [48] Thalia (Orat. c. Arian I. 6): oude Theos alēthinos estin ho logos. He is only called God, but he is not truly God, kai tō huiō ho patēr aoratos huparchei kai oute horan oute gignōskein teleiōs kai akribōs dunatai ho logos ton heautou patera, alla kai ho gignōskei kai ho blepei analogōs tois idiois metrois oide kai blepei, hōsper kai hēmeis gignōskomen kata tēn idian dunamin. Ho huios tēn heautou ousian ouk oide. Euseb. Cæs. ep. ad Euphrat.: Christos ouk estin alēthinos Theos. The conviction that the Son is not truly God, and that all lofty predicates attach to him only in a nuncupative sense, that he does not know the Father, is very strongly expressed in the fragment of the Thalia de synod. 15. [49] Arii Ep. ad Euseb.: plērēs Theos monogenēs, analloiōtos (in virtue of his will). Arii ep. ad Alex.: huion monogenē . . . ktisma tou Theou teleion, all' ouch hōs hen tōn ktismatōn, gennēma, all' ouch hōs hen tōn gennēmatōn . . . Patēr dous autō pantōn tēn klēronomian . . . Ho huios monos hupo monou tou patros hupestē. Thalia: ton huion en tautē tē sophia gegenēsthai nai tautēs metechonta hōnomasthai monon sophian kai logon . . . Dia touto kai progignōskōn ho Theos esesthai kalon auton, prolabōn autō tautēn tēn doxan dedōken, hēn anthrōpos kai ek tēs aretēs esche meta tauta; hōste ex ergōn autou, hōn proegnō ho Theos, toiouton auton nun gegonenai pepoinke . . . Metochē charitos hōsper kai hoi alloi pantes houtō kai autos legetai onomati monon Theos . . . Theos enenken eis huion heautō tonde teknopoiēsas; idion ouden echei tou Theou kath' hupostasin idiotētos . . . The Son is Wisdom, Image, Reflection, Word; God cannot produce a greater than He; Theou thelēsei ho huios hēlikos kai hosos estin, ex hote kai aph' hou kai apo tote ek tou Theou hupestē, ischuros Theos ōn, but he extols the greater Father. Arius ap. Athan. Orat. I. c. Arian. 9: metochē kai autos etheopoiēthē. It is evident from Alexander’s letter to Alexander that Arius strongly emphasised the prokopē, the moral progress of the Son. [50] Owing to the general uncertainty regarding the extent of the “humanity” which prevailed at the beginning of the controversy, the latter assertion of the Arians was not so energetically combatted as the rest. That the limitation of the humanity of Christ to a body originated with Lucian, is asserted by Epiph. Ancorat. 33. [51] In the writings of Arius ousia and hupostasis are used as synonymous terms. The impersonal Spirit (Logos, Wisdom) indwelling in God the Father as Power, was naturally considered by the Arians to be higher than the Son. On this point they appeal like the old Roman Adoptianists to Matt. XII. 31 (see Vol. III., p. 20 ff.). It is indeed not even certain whether Arius and the older Arians when they speak of a Trinity, always included the Holy Spirit. According to Athanasius de synod. 15, we may conclude that their Trinity consisted of the following hypostases: (1) God as primordial without the Son; (2) God as Father; (3) the Son. Still this is not certain. [52] Orat. I. c. Arian. 8. [53] On Asterius see Athan., Orat. c. Arian. I. 30-33; II. 37; III. 2, 60; de decret. syn. Nic. 8, 28-31; de synod. 18, 19, 47. Epiphan. H. 76, 3; Socrat. I. 36; Philostorg. II. 14, 15; Hieron. de vir. inl. 94. Marcellus of Ancyra wrote against the principal work of Asterius, see Zahn, p. 41 ff. Athanasius attacked a suntagmation of his. One of the main theses of this book was that there are two agenēta. Asterius also discussed 1 Cor. I. 24, and indeed he took the correct view. His explanation too of the passage John XIV. 10, is worthy of note: eudēlon hoti dia touto eirēken heauton men en tō patri, en heautō de palin ton patera, epei mēte ton logou, hon diexērcheto, heautou phēsin einai, alla tou patros dedōkotos tēn dunamin. Upon this passage Athanasius remarks (Orat. III. 2) that only a child could be pardoned such an explanation. It is a point of great importance that Asterius, like Paul of Samosata, reckoned the will as the highest thing. Accordingly, to create of His free will is more worthy of God too than to beget (l. c. III. 60). Athanasius says that Arius himself made use of the work of Asterius, and in this connection he gives us the important statement of Asterius (de decret. 8) that created things are not able tēs akratou cheiros tou agennētou ergasian bastaxai, and that on account of this the creation of the Son as an intermediary was necessary. (See Orat. c. Arian II. 24.) [54] John I. 1, 13, 18, X. 15, 30, XIV. 9, 10; Hebr. I. 3, II. 10, X1II. 8; Ps. XLV. 2; CX. 3; Mal. III. 6. The passages continued to be regarded by the orthodox as the most important. [55] Theodoret I. 4. Exaggerations and calumnies of the worst kind are not wanting in this writing. The reproach, too, that the Arians acted like the Jews is already found here. Of more importance, however, is the assertion that the Arian christology gave countenance to the heathen ideas of Christ and that the Arians had also in view the approval of the heathen. Ebion, Artemas (see Athanas., de synod. 20) and Paul are designated their Fathers. [56] The two last theses are rejected in a specially emphatic manner. Alexander repeatedly complains in this connection of the procedure of Arius in taking from the Holy Scriptures only such passages as have reference to the humiliation of the Logos for our sakes, and then referring them to the substance of the Logos. “They omit the passages which treat of the divinity of the Son. Thus they arrive at the impious supposition that Paul and Peter would have been like Christ if they had always persisted in the good.” [57] John I. 1-3, I. 18, X. 30, XIV. 8, 9, 28; Matt. III. 17, XI. 27; 1 John V. 1; Coloss. I. 15, 16; Rom. VIII. 32; Heb. I. 2 f.; Prov. VIII. 30; Ps. II. 7, CX. 3, XXXV. 10; Is. LIII. 8. [58] From this it is plainly evident that the real point in dispute was not as to subordination and coordination, but as to unity of substance and difference of substance. That the archetype is greater than the type is for Alexander a truth that is beyond doubt. He goes still farther and says: oukoun tō agennētō patri oikeion axiōma phulakteon, mēdena tou einai autō ton aition legontas, tō de huiō tēn harmozousan timēn aponemēteon, tēn anarchon autō para tou patros gennēsin anatithentas. [59] The expression “homoousios” does not occur in Alexander. [60] On this expression, which was used by Arius, see Hort, Two Dissertations, 1876. [61] The respective passages in the letter have so many points of contact with expressions of Irenæus (see Vol. II., pp. 230 f., 276 f.) as to make the supposition, which also commends itself for other reasons, very probable (see above, p. 54, note 1), that Alexander had read Irenæus and had been strongly influenced by him. That Irenæus was known in Alexandria, at least at the beginning of the third century, follows from Euseb., H. E. VI. 14. (Strange to say it has undoubtedly not been proved that Athanasius ever quotes from Irenæus.) Alexander shews that he is not throughout dependent on Origen. [62] Alexander made no distinction between ousia, hupostasis, phusis. [63] Hon tropon gar hē arrētos autou hupostasis asunkritō huperochē edeichthē huperkeimenē pantōn hois autos to einai echarisato, houtōs kai hē huiotēs autou kata phusin tunchanousa tēs patrikēs theotētos alektō huperochē diapherei tōn di' autou thesei huiotethentōn. [64] On John X. 30: hoper phēsin ho kurios ou patera heauton anagoreuōn oude tas tē hupostasei duo phuseis mian einai saphēnizōn, all' hoti tēn patrikēn emphereian akribōs pephuken sōzein ho huios tou patros, tēn kata panta homoiotēta autou ek phuseōs apomaxamenos kai aparallaktos eikōn tou patros tunchanōn kai tou prōtotutou ektupos charaktēr. [65] In the Confession of Faith which Alexander had put at the close of his letter, the Spirit, the Church, and so on, are mentioned. According to Alexander, too, the Logos got only a body from Mary, who, for the rest, is called theotokos (see Athan. Orat. III. 29, 33). Möhler and Newman (Hist. Treatises, p. 297) consider Athanasius as the real author of Alexander’s encyclical epistle. Their arguments, however, are not convincing. [66] Hence the reproach so frequently brought against this doctrine, that according to it Father and Son are “brothers”; see, e.g., Orat. c. Arian I. 14. Paul of Samosata had already brought this reproach against all the adherents of the Logos doctrine. The Arians sought to make a reductio ad absurdum of the doctrine that the Son is the perfect image of the Father, by pointing out that in this case the Son too must beget as well as the Father (Or. c. Arian. I. 21). [67] See some of those adduced by them in Orat. c. Arian. I. 22: they are said to have pointed them out to children and women. [68] That he took an active interest in the Nicene Council is undoubted; see Theodoret I. 26, Sozom, I. 17 fin., but, above all, Apol. Athan. c. Arian. 6 and the work “de decretis.” The Arians drew special attention to the influence exercised by Athanasius, when deacon, on his bishop Alexander, and Athanasius did not contradict their statements; see also Gregor Naz. Orat. 21, 14. [69] His chief works against the Arians are the four Orationes c. Arian—his most comprehensive work, containing mainly his refutation of the Arian Bible exegesis; the fourth Oration is, however, either merely a sketch, or else it is not in its proper place along with the others; further, the treatises de decret. Nic. synodi, de sentent. Dionys. Alex., historia Arian. ad monachos, apologia c. Arian., apologia ad imp. Constantium, de synodis Arimini et Seleuciæ habitis, the Tomus ad Antioch., and in addition the festival-orations and some lengthy letters, e.g., that ad Afros episcopos. [70] To prove this it would be necessary to quote hundreds of passages. In none of his larger works has Athanasius omitted to base his anti-Arian christology on the thought of redemption, and wherever he gives this as the basis one feels that he is adducing what is his most telling argument. The manner too in which he was able, starting from this as the central point of his whole view of the subject, to justify what were purely derivative formulæ by referring them back to it, is well worthy of notice; cf. the Orat. c. Arian., espec. II. 67-70. The fact that his knowledge of scientific theology was slender is hinted at by Gregor Naz., Orat. 21. 6. [71] Specially striking is what he says de synod. 51: Christ could not make others gods if He himself had, to begin with, been made God; if He possessed His god-head merely as something bestowed upon Him, He could not bestow it, for it would not be in His own power, and He would not have more than He needed Himself. Similarly Orat. I. 39, I. 30: Ouk ara katabas ebeltiōthē alla mallon ebeltiōsen autos ta deomena beltiōseōs; kai ei tou beltiōsai charin katabebēken, ouk ara misthon esche to legesthai, huios kai Theos, alla mallon autos huiopoiēsen hēmas tō patri kai etheopoiēse tous anthrōpous genomenos autos anthrōpos. Ouk ara anthrōpos ōn husteron gegone Theos, alla Theos ōn husteron gegonen anthrōpos, hina mallon hēmas theopoiēsē. II. 69, I. 16: autou tou huiou metechontes tou Theou metechein legometha, kai touto estin ho elegen ho Petros hina genēsthe theias koinōnoi phuseōs. [72] The frequent designation of the Arians as Jews and heathen, and together with this the designation “Ariomanites,” were employed by Athanasius in a really serious sense; see de decret. 1-4, 27; Encycl. ad. ep. “Ægypt. et Lib. 13, 14; Orat. I. 38, II. 16, 17, III, 16, 27 sq. “Abomination of the impious” XI. Festbrief, p. 122 (Larsow). [73] Orat. I. 12: To the demand of Philip, “Shew us the Father,” Christ did not reply: (blepe tēn ktisin, but “He who sees me, sees the Father.” Orat. I. 16: tou huiou metechontes tou Theou metechein legometha . . . hē tou huiou ennoia kai katalēpsis gnōsis esti peri tou patros, dia to ek tēs ousias autou idion einai gennēma. I. 21. [74] This is a point which is very frequently emphasised; see Orat. I. 10, II. 20, 24, but chiefly III. 16: Diati oun hoi Areianoi toiauta logizomenoi kai noountes ou sunarithmousin heautous meta tōn Hellēnōn; kai gar kakeinoi, hōsper kai outoi, tē ktisei latreuousi para ton ktisanta ta panta Theon; alla to men onoma to Hellēnikon pheugousi, dia tēn tōn anoētōn apatēn, tēn de homoian ekeinois dianoian hupokrinontai. kai gar kai to sophon autōn, hoper eiōthasin legein, ou legomen duo agennēta, phainontai pros apatēn tōn akeraiōn legontes; phaskontes gar; “ou legomen duo agennēta,” legousi duo Theous kai toutous diaphorous echontas tas phuseis, to men genētēn, to de agenētoi. Ei de hoi men Hellēnes heni agenētō kai pollois genētois latreuousin. houtoi de heni agenētō kai heni genētō, oud' houtō diapherousin Hellēnōn. This was the view of it which was still held at a later period also. The expression in the Vita Euthymii (Cotel. Monum. II., p. 201) C. 2, is full of meaning: Tou Hellēnismou lēxantos ho tou Areianismou polemos ischurōs ekratei. [75] It is very characteristic of Athanasius’ way of looking at things that with him the Logos in general retires into the background, and further that he expressly declines to recognise or to define the divine in Christ from the point of view of his relation to the world or in terms of the predicate of the eternal. Image, Reflection and Son are the designations which he regards as most appropriate. See, e.g., Orat. III. 28: ou tosouton ek tou aidiou gnōrizetai kurios, hoson hoti huios esti tou Theou; huios gar ōn achōristos esti tou patros . . . kai eikōn kai apaugasma ōn tou patros echei kai tēn aidiotēta tou patros. [76] Beyond Origen and the Origenists, who, though they too certainly make a sharp distinction between the Godhead and the creation, attribute with Philo an intermediate position to the Logos. The Eusebians held fast to this, and that is why Athanasius always treats them as Arians; for in connection with this main point the maxim in his opinion held good “Whosover is not with us is against us.” See Orat. IV. 6, 7; Encycl. ad ep. Ægypt, et Lib. 20; de decret. 6, 19, 20; ad Afros 5, 6, and the parallel section in the work “de synodis.” [77] Orat. I. 15: If the Son is Son then that wherein He shares is not outside of the substance of the Father: touto de palin ean heteron ē para tēn ousian tou huiou to ison atopon apantēsei, mesou palin heuriskomenou toutou ek tou patros kai tēs ousias tou huiou, hētis pote esti. In putting it thus Athanasius corrected not only an incautious expression of Bishop Alexander (see above p. 24 f.), but very specially the thesis of the Origenists of “The image and reflection which sprang from and was created out of the will” (see e.g., Euseb. Demonstr. IV. 3). But Arius himself, spite of all his efforts to avoid it, also arrived at the idea of a “middle substance” between the Godhead and the creature, because according to him God had necessarily to make use of such a being in order to be able to create at all. [78] In contrast to this it holds good of the Arians that ton dēmiourgon tōn holōn tois poiēmasi sunarithmēsōsi (Orat. I. c. Arian. T. I., p. 342). [79] It is this which constitutes the most significant advance made by Athanasius, the real fruit of his speculation which took its start from the thought of redemption. The Logos of the philosophers was no longer the logos whom he knew and adored. The existence of the Logos who appeared in Christ is independent of the idea of the world. The creation of the world—abstractly speaking—might even have taken place without the Logos. This is the point in which he is most strongly opposed to the Apologists and Origen. No traces of this advance are to be found as yet in the works “c. Gent” and “de incarnat.” See, on the other hand, Orat. II. 24, 25: ou kamnei ho Theos prostattōn, oude asthenei pros tēn tōn pantōn ergasian, hina ton men huion monos monon ktisē, eis de tēn tōn allōn dēmiourgian hupourgou kai boēthou chreian echē tou huiou. oude gar oude huperthesin echei, hoper an ethelēsē genesthai, alla monon hēthelēse kai hupestē ta panta, kai tō boulēmati autou oudeis anthestēke. Tinos oun heneka ou gegone ta panta para monou tou Theou tō prostagmati, hō gegone kai ho huios . . . alogia men oun pasa par' authois; phasi de homōs peri toutou, hōs ara thelōn ho Theos tēn genētēn ktisai phusin, epeidē heōra mē dunamenēn autēn metaschein tēs tou patros akrarou cheiros kai tēs par' autou dēmiourgias, poiei kai ktizei prōtōs monon hena kai kalei touton huion kai logon, hina toutou mesou genomenou houtōs loipon kai ta panta di autou genesthai dunēthē; tauta ou monon eirēkasin, alla kai grapsai tetolmēkasin Eusebios te kai Areios kai ho thusas Asterios. As against this view Athanasius shews that God is neither so powerless as not to be able to create the creatures nor so proud as not to be willing to create them (ei de hōs apaxiōn ho Theos ta alla ergasasthai, ton men huion monon eirgasato, ta da alla tō huiō anecheirisen hōs boēthō; kai touto men anaxion Theou; ouk esti gar en theō tuphos); he shews further from Matt. X. 29, VI. 25 f. that God cares for all things in the most direct way, and therefore has also brought them into existence. The same proof is given in de decret. 8. Athanasius thus did away with the latent dualism between the godhead and the creature which had existed in Christian theology since the time of Philo. God is creator in the directest way. This, however, implies that the Logos is discarded. If spite of this Athanasius not only retained the name, but also recognised the function of a mediator of creation and type of all rational beings, the reason was that he understood Scripture as implying this, and because he was not able wholly to free himself from the influence of tradition. But the Divine in Christ is no longer for him the world-reason, on the contrary it is the substance of the Father which—accidentally, as it were—has also the attributes of creative power and of the reason that embraces and holds ideas together. For Athanasius, in fact, the Son is the substance of the Father as the principle of redemption and sanctification. The most pregnant of his formulæ is in Orat. III. 6. in support of which he appeals to 2 Cor. V. 19: to idion tēs tou patros ousias estin ho huios, en hō hē ktisis pros ton Theon katēllasseto. [80] That the Godhead is a unity, is a thought which Athanasius emphasised in the strongest way over and over again (monas tēs theotētos), (2) also that there are not two underived or unbegotten principles (archai), and finally (3) that the Father is the archē, which because of this may be identified with the monas also. He retorts the charge of Polytheism brought against him by the Arians; they, he says, adore two gods (see above, note 4, p. 27). The best summary of his view is in Orat. IV. I: monada tēs theotētos adiaireton kai aschiston; lechtheiē mia archē theotētos kai ou duo archai hothen kuriōs kai monarchia estin. [81] Orat. III. 6: patera ouk an tis eipoi, mē huparchontos huiou; ho men toi poiētēn legōn ton Theon ou pantōs kai ta genomena dēloi; esti gar kai pro tōn poiēmatōn poiētēs; ho de patera legōn euthus meta tou patros sēmainei kai tēn tou huiou huparxin. dia touto kai ho pisteuōn eis ton huion eis ton patera pisteuei; eis gar to idion tēs tou patros ousias pisteuei, kai houtōs mia estin hē pistis eis hena Theon. II. 41. De decret. 30 fin.: legontes men gar ekeinoi ton Theon agenēton ek tōn genomenōn auton poiētēn monon legousin, hina kai ton logon poiēma sēmanōsi kata tēn idian hēdonēn; ho de ton Theon patera legōn heuthus en autō kai ton huion sēmainei. The Son is a second in the Godhead, see Orat. III. 4: duo men eisin, hoti ho patēr parēr esti kai ouch ho autos huios esti; kai ho huios esti kai ouch ho autos patēr esti; mia de hē phusis. IV. I: hōste duo men einai patera kai huion, monada de theotētos adiaireton.. The idea that the Triad must be from all eternity and be independent of the world, if it is not to be increased or diminished, is developed in Orat. I. 17. There is a strong polemic against the Sabellians in Orat. IV. [82] In the theoretical expositions of his teaching Athanasius uses the expression gennēma in preference to huios, in order to exclude the idea of human generation. [83] “Reflection”, “Image”, “God of God”, are the expressions which always appeared to Athanasius to be the most appropriate. He preferred the first of these in order to exclude the thought that the Son proceeded from the will of the Creator. The light cannot do otherwise than lighten, and it always shines or lightens, otherwise it would not be light. The archetype projects its type necessarily. Following Origen he puts the whole emphasis on the eternal (Orat. I. 14: aidios estin ho huios kai sunuparchei tō patri) and necessary. If the Son were begotten by the will of the Father, He would be something contingent, a creation, and would have a beginning: though certainly He was not, on the other hand, begotten contrary to this will, as the Arians charge their opponents with believing (Orat. III. 62, 66), nor from some necessity superior to God, nor does the blessed Godhead undergo any kind of suffering (Orat. I. 16), on the contrary He proceeded from the substance of God ou para gnōmēn. Only the expression ek tēs ousias suffices, as Athanasius over and over again makes plain; any intervention of the will here degrades the Son; for “the substance is higher than the will.” See the characteristic passage Orat. III. 62: hōsper antikeitai tē boulēsei to para gnōmēn, houtōs huperkeitai kai proēgeitai tou bouleuesthai to kata phusin. oikian men oun tis bouleuomenos kataskeuazei, huion de genna kata phusin. kai to men boulēsei kataskeuazomenon ērxato ginesthai kai exōthen esti tou poiountos; ho de huios idion esti tēs ousias tou patros gennēma kai ouk estin exōthen autou; dio oude bouleuetai peri autou, hina mē kai peri heautou dokē bouleuesthai; hosō oun tou ktismatos ho huios huperkeitai, tosoutō kai tēs boulēseōs to to kata phusin. The Father wills the Son in so far as He loves Him and wills and loves Himself (Orat. III. 66), but in so far as “willing” involves tēn ep' amphō rhopēn, i.e., includes the ability not to will, the Son is not from the will of the Father. [84] Athanasius rarely repeats the unguarded utterances of Bishop Alexander and others belonging to the orthodox party. The Father is for him, on the contrary, in and for Himself—if one may so put it—personal; He is nous and He is tēs idias hupostaseōs thelētēs. In one passage in his later writings (de decret. 15) he has. however, curiously enough, argued that the Father would be alogos and asophos, if the Logos were not from all eternity. [85] In order to give meaning to the expressions “Logos”, “Wisdom”, Athanasius could not avoid describing the divine in Christ as the wisdom, prudence, strength, might, creative power in God, see Orat. I. 17, III. 65. Still he rarely has recourse to these terms. [86] After the beginning of the Arian controversy, though not before it (see c. Gent. 2), Athanasius made a thorough distinction between “to beget” and “to create.” “Begetting” held good of the Father only in reference to the Son. It means the production of a perfect image of Himself which, while originating in His substance, has by nature a share in the entire substance. That the Son shares in the entire substance of the Father is a thought which was constantly repeated by Athanasius, Orat. I. 16: to holōs metechesthai ton Theon ison esti legein hoti kai genna. The begotten is thus idion tēs ousias tou Theou gennēma (Orat. II. 24), which phusei echei tēn patrikēn ousian and in fact teleian. That God does not in consequence of this suffer or undergo anything, and that there is here no question of an emanation, are points which he urges as against the Valentinians. [87] The refutation of these propositions given by Athanasius takes a great number of forms; we may distinguish the religious-dogmatic, the dialectic-philosophic, the patristic and the biblical refutations (see Böhringer, Athanasius, pp. 210-240). For Athanasius himself the religious and biblical argument is the chief thing. Besides numerous passages from the Gospel of John, Athanasius quotes specially 1 John V. 20; Rev. I. 4; Matt. III. 17, XVII. 5; Rom. I. 20, VIII. 32, IX. 5; Hebr. I. 3, XIII. 8; Ps. II. 7; XLV. 2, CII. 28, CXLV. 13; Is. XL. 28. Matt. XXVIII. 19 had for him supreme importance. Amongst the theses laid down by the Arians he had a special objection to that of the prokopē of the Logos. Hence the strong emphasis he lays on the atreptos. [88] “From the Father,” as Athanasius says in several passages, would be sufficient if it were not possible to say, using the words in an improper sense, that everything is from God because it has been created by God. It is because the Eusebians make capital out of this that we must avow: ek tēs ousias tou patros; see de decret. 19; de synod. 33 sq.: ad Afros 5. He entirely rejects the idea of a mere unity of feeling or doctrine between the Father and the Son (e.g., Orat. III. ii) for this would mean the disappearance of the Godhead of the Son. [89] The word “homoios” means something more than our word “resembling” and something less than our word “similar”; our “similarly constituted” comes nearest it. The “homoios” alone did not satisfy Athanasius, because it implicitly involves a difference and, above all, a distinction, and he says, moreover, that even dog and wolf, tin and silver are homoia. He, however, certainly applied the word in connection with substance (phusis ousia) or with “kata panta” (e.g., de decret. 20) to the relation between Father and Son (homoiōsis tou huiou pros ton patera kata tēn ousian kai kata tēn phusin, de synod. 45). But still he found it necessary as a rule, at least at a later date, expressly to emphasise the henotēs—where he expresses himself in a less strict way we also find homoiotēs alone—and in opposition to the Homoiousians was driven to add “ek tēs ousias” to “homoiousios” in order to banish any idea of separateness. (de synod. 41). Yet he recognised at the same time (l.c. c. 53 sq.) that homoios is really an unsuitable word; for it cannot be used of substances, but only of schēmata kai poiotētes. In connection with substances we say tautotēs. Men resemble each other in general outline and character, but in substance they are homophueis; vice versa, man and dog are not unlike, but yet they are heterophueis. Thus homophues and homoousion match each other, and in the same way heterophues and heteroousion. The phrase homoios kat' ousian always suggests a metousia; to gar homoion poiotēs estin, hētis tē ousia prosgenoit' an. Thus it is correct to say of created spiritual beings that they resemble God, not however in substance, but only in virtue of sonship. Homoiousios is in fact nothing, and when used of the real Son is consequently either nonsense or false. [90] This is the key to the whole mode of conception: Son and Father are not a duality, but a duality in unity, i.e., the Son possesses entirely the substance which the Father is; He is a unity with the unity which the Father is. Athanasius did not defend the idea of the co-ordination of the two as opposed to a subordination view, but the unity and inseparability as opposed to the theory of difference and separateness. He, however, expresses this as follows: in substance Father and Son are one; or, the Son has one and the same substance with the Father. Thus the expression “mia phusis” is often used for both; and so we have: ousia hen estin autos gennēsas auton patēr (de synod. 48). The Son has the henotēs pros ton patera (de decret. 23); He constitutes with Him a adiairetos henotēs; there subsists between both henotēs homoiōseōs kata tēn ousian kai kata tēn phusin. He expresses his meaning most plainly in those passages in which he attaches the tautotēs to Father and Son without prejudice to the fact that the Father is the Father and not the Son. Identity of substance, as Athanasius (de synod. 53) explains, is tautotēs. Thus he says (Orat. I. 22): ho huios echei ek tou patros tēn tautotēta. In a passage of earlier date he had already said (c. Gent. 2): dous tō huiō kai tēs idias aidiotētos ennoian kai gnōsin, hina tēn tautotēta sōzōn k.t.l. Later on, (de decret. 23): anankē kai en toutō tēn tautotēta pros ton heautou patera sōzein, 20: mē monon homoion ton huion alla tauton tē homoiōsei ek tou patros einai . . . ou monon homoios alla kai adiairetos esti tēs tou patros ousias, kai hen men eisin autos kai ho patēr. 24: henotēs kai phusikē idiotēs . . . tēn henotēta tēs phuseōs kai tēn tautotēta tou phōtos mē diairōmen. Orat. IV. 5 (and elsewhere): patēr en tō huiō, huios en tō parti . . . hē tou huiou theotēs tou patros esti . . . hē theotēs kai hē idiotēs tou patros to einai tou huiou esti Thus homoios is unsatisfactory not only because it does not express complete likeness, but, above all, because it does not express the unity upon which everything depends. The Son cannot, like human sons, go away from the Father, (de decret. 20) for He is in a more intimate relation to Him that a human son is to his father; He is connected with the Father not as an accident of which we might make abstraction (l. c. 12), but as to idion tēs patrikēs hupostaseōs (Orat. III. 65) or as to idion tēs ousias tou patros (frequently in de decret. Orat. I. 22), or as idion tēs ousias tou Theou gennēma. Athanasius uses the words “idios”, “gnēsios” frequently; they give the conception of Son a more extended meaning than it naturally has, so that the Son may not appear as exōthen haplōs homoios and consequently as heteroousios (de decret. 23). The substantial unity of Father and Son is the fundamental thought of Athanasius. Atzberger therefore correctly says (op. cit. p. 117) “There can be no doubt but that Athanasius conceived of the unity of the Father and the Son as a numerical unity of substance.” In Orat. III. 3 ff. where he puts himself to great trouble to state the problem that two are equal to one, he says: Hei kai heteron estin hōs gennēma ho huios, alla tauton estin hōs Theos; kai hen eisin autos kai ho patēr tē idiotēti kai oikeiotēti tēs phuseōs kai tē tautotēti tēs mias theotētos. We cannot therefore help being astonished (with Zahn p. 20) to find that Athanasius declines to use the word monoousios of the Son (see Expos. fidei 2: oute huiopatora phronoumen hōs hoi Sabellioi, legontes monoousion kai ouch homoousion kai en toutō anairountes to einai huion); still he always says: mian oidamen kai monēn theotēta tou patros. If the question is raised as to whether Athanasius thought of the Godhead as a numerical unity or as a numerical duality, the answer is: as a numerical unity. The duality is only a relative one—if we may write such an absurdity—the duality of archetype and type. That the Arians called the Catholics “Sabellians” is expressly stated by Julian of Eclan. (August., op. imperf. V. 25). [91] Theotēs, ousia, hupostasis, idiotēs tēs ousias, oikeiotēs tēs ousias (hupostaseōs) are all used by Athanasius in reference to the Godhead as perfectly synonymous. He had no word by which to describe Father and Son as different subjects, and indeed he never felt it necessary to seek for any such word. We cannot call idiotēs tēs ousias anything special; for Athanasius by the very use of the word idiotēs asserted the unity of the Father and Son. Hupostasis and ousia are repeatedly described by him as identical; see de decret. 27; de synod. 41; ad Afros 4; hē de hupostasis ousia esti, kai ouden allo sēmainomenon echei ē auto to on, hoper Ieremias huparxin onomazei legōn . . . hē gar upostasis kai hē ousia huparxis estin (so still in the year 370). Tom. ad Antioch. 6: hupostasin men legomen hēgoumenoi tauton einai eipein hupostasin kai ousian. The divine substance is, however, nothing other than to on (pure Being); see ad Afr. l.c. and the decret. 22; Godhead is the ousia akatalēptos . . . to; Theos, ouden heteron ē tēn ousian autou tou ontos sēmainei. As opposed to this phusis is the nature which attaches to the substance as the complex of its attributes; Athanasius distinguishes it from ousia; hence the formula often used: kata tēn ousian kai kata tēn phusin (e.g., de synod. 45) see also Tom. ad Antioch 6, where Athanasius after the words above quoted, continues: mian de phronoumen dia to ek tēs ousias tou patros einai ton huion kai dia tēn tautotēta tēs phuseōs; mian gar theotēta kai mian einai tēn tautēs phusin pisteuomen. Orat. I. 39: The Son is phusei kat' ousian tauta. When, however, Athanasius asserts the numerical unity of the Ousia of Father, Son, (and Spirit) he is thinking of it both as being that which we call “substance” and also as what we call “subject”, so that here again, too, what is obscure is not the unity, but the duality (triad) as in Irenæus. In de synod. 51 the conception of the Ousia as involving three substances, i.e., a common genus and two co-ordinate “brothers” ranged under it, is expressly rejected as Hellēnōn hermēneiai. It is only the one passage: Expos. fid. 2, (see above) where Athanasius rejects monoousios, that betrays any uncertainty on his part. It stands quite by itself. Otherwise by ousia he understands the individual or single substance which, however, as applied to God, is the fulness of all Being, a view which allows him to think of this substance as existing in wonderful conditions and taking on wonderful shapes. [92] The meaning of this word will be clear from what was said in the preceding discussion. It signified oneness of substance, not likeness of substance, “unius substantiæ.” Father and Son possess in common one and the same substance, substance in the sense of the totality of all that which they are. This is how Athanasius always understood the word, as Zahn (op. cit., pp. 10-32) was the first to point out in opposition to the long current erroneous interpretations of it. It is in fact equal to tautousios, the meaning which the Semiarians also attached to it (Ephiph. H. 73. 11). Athanasius neither discovered the word, nor had he any special preference for it; but he always recognised in it the most fitting expression wherewith to repel Arians and Eusebians; see on the adoption of the word into the Nicene Creed and the history of its interpretation, the discussions which follow. [93] This is an important point in the Athanasian doctrine and balances in some degree the thoughts comprised in the word “homoousios.” From some passages it certainly appears as if the statement that the Son has everything in common with the Father (according to Holy Scripture) except the name of Father (see Orat. III. 4 fin; III. 6; de synod. 48, 49; frequently as in Orat. I. 61, the language is paradoxical to the verge of absurdity) expressed a merely nominal distinction between Father and Son. According to this, He is either identical with the Father, or a part of the Father’s substance, or an attribute of God, or a kind of pendicle which has emanated from the Father; but all these modes of conception were considered at the, time to be “Sabellian”: they were condemned already. In order to escape them or rather because he himself considered them to be false, Athanasius in the proper place strongly emphasised the idea that the Father is the entire monad, that He is the archē for the Son too, that it is in fact the ousia of the Father which the Son has received, that thus the conception of the Father as the sole Theos pantokratōr maintains the unity of the Godhead. The Father is the mia archē (Orat. IV. 1); there are not two or three Fathers (III. 15); there is hen eidos theotētos, which is the Father, but to eidos touto esti kai en tō huiō (l.c.); the Father is ho Theos. He alone is autos ho Theos, He alone is the unbegotten God (Expos. fid. I); the Son is a gennēma, even though He has not come into being. Accordingly the Father is sufficient for Himself (Orat. II. 41), and hē ousia tou patros estin archē kai rhiza kai pēgē tou huiou. The “homoousios” does not thus include any absolute co-ordination. According to Athanasius all men are homoousioi relatively to each other, because they are homogeneis and homophueis (de synod. 52 sq.) and yet spite of this we find amongst them superiority and subordination. The same is the case here. Athanasius maintains the inseparable unity of substance of Father and Son, the unity of the Godhead; but this idea is for him applicable only in virtue of another, according to which the Father has everything of Himself while the Son has everything from the Father. Father and Son, according to Athanasius, are not co-ordinate equal substances, but rather one single substance, which involves the distinction of archē and gennēma, and thus of principle and what is deduced, and in this sense involves a subordination, which, however, is not analogous to the subordination in which the creature stands to God. [94] See Orat. I. 41: Tēs anthrōpotētos estin hē hupsōsis, i.e., not of the humanity of Christ, but of humanity as a whole: c. 42: When Scripture uses the word “echarisato;” in reference to what God does to Christ, this is not said of the Logos, but on our account: di' hēmas kai huper hēmōn touto palin peri autou gegraptai. hōsper gar hōs anthrōpos ho Christos apethane kai hupsōthē, houtōs hōs anthrōpos legtai lambanein hoper eichen aei hōs Theos, hina eis hēmas phthasē kai hē toiautē dotheisa charis. The human race is thereby enriched. c. 43: By our kinship with the body of Christ we too have become a temple of God and are henceforth made sons of God, so that already in us the Lord is adored. “Therefore hath God also exalted Him”—this signifies our exaltation. [95] So correctly Baur. I have not found Dorner’s statement that the presupposition of a human soul occupies the background of the whole view of Athanasius “of the incarnation and redemption as affecting the totality of man” (op. cit. I. p. 957) to be supported by evidence. From what is alleged by Dorner it merely follows that Athanasius did not reflect on the subject. Baur, however, meanwhile goes too far when he expresses the opinion that Athanasius designedly left the human soul of Christ out of account; on the contrary, by the term “Flesh” he understood the whole substance of man, (see Orat. III. 30) and did not feel there was any necessity for studying the question as to the position occupied by the soul. [96] Orat. IV. 31. [97] Orat. IV. 32-34. [98] Orat. I. 45, III. 30-33. [99] Almost the whole second oration against the Arians is devoted to the task of refuting the use made by them of this passage. [100] Theodoret, H. E. I. 8. [101] Orat. III. 53: Luxanontos en hēlikia tou sōmatos, sunepedidoto en autō kai ē tōs theotētos phanerōsis . . . to anthrōpinon proekopten, huperanabainon kat' oligon tēn anthrōpinēn phusin kai theopoioumenon kai organon tēs sophias pros tēn energeian tēs theotētos kai tēn eklampsin autēs genomenon. [102] Both thus occupy the stage of development which was described in Vol. III., pp, 113-118. We may say meanwhile, and what follows will prove it, that the fusion of a theoretical doctrine with religion was more thorough in the case of Arianism than with Athanasius. [103] See above p. 3, and in addition Athan. Orat. III. 51: The view of Lucian of Samosata is the idea of the pure creaturehood and humanity of the Redeemer ho tē men dunamei kai umeis phroneite, tō de onomati monon arneisthe dia tous anthrōpous. This is no mere trick of logic, although the alleged motive of the correction of the Adoptianist doctrine is assuredly incorrectly described. [104] We do not know whether or not Arius appealed to Origen. The later Arians undoubtedly quoted him in support of their views; they seem, however, to have appealed most readily to Dionysius of Alex. See Athan. de sentent. Dionysii. [105] See the tractate of Aëtius preserved in Epiphanius; but the older Arians had already acted in the same way. [106] There are some good remarks on Arianism in Kaufmann, Deutsche Geschichte I., pp. 232, 234; also in Richter, Weström. Reich, p. 537. [107] Schultz, Gottheit Christi, p. 65. [108] The figure of Ulfilas vouches for this; his confession of faith (Halm, § 126) is the only Arian one which is not polemical. [109] Anyone, on the other hand, who, like Arius, held to the idea of a developing and struggling Christ was not able to conceive of Him as Redeemer, but only as teacher and example. This was the situation: the Bible accounts of Christ did not favour and establish the sole idea which was held at the time regarding fellowship with God and redemption, but, on the contrary, they interfered with it. [110] Athanasius always appealed to the collective testimony of the Church in support of the doctrine which he defended. In the work, de decret, 25 sq., he shews that the words ek tēs ousias and homoousios were not discovered by the Nicene Fathers, but, on the contrary, had been handed down to them. He appeals to Theognostus, to the two Dionysii and Origen, to the latter with the reservation that in his case it is necessary to distinguish between what he wrote gumnastikōs and what he wrote of a positive character. It is one of the few passages in which he has thought of Origen. [111] They were not able, and did not dare, to discard it actually, because of John I. 1 f., on account of the Church tradition, and because of the scientific views of the time. As regards Athanasius, we have to keep in mind his idea of the Father as the rhiza of the Son, and his other idea, according to which the world was actually made by the Son. [112] Dionysius of Alexandria was a genuine pupil of Origen, for he was equally prepared to maintain the other side of the system of Origen, when his namesake pointed out to him that by his one-sided emphasising of the one side, he had lost himself in highly questionable statements. Eusebius of Cæsarea took up the same position. [113] The Nicene Creed sanctioned it. One of its most serious consequences was that from this time onward Dogmatics were for ever separated from clear thinking and defensible conceptions, and got accustomed to what was anti-rational. The anti-rational—not indeed at once, but soon enough—came to be considered as the characteristic of the sacred. As there was everywhere a desire for mysteries, the doctrine seemed to be the true mystery just because it was the opposite of the clear in the sphere of the profane. Even clear-headed men like the later members of the school of Antioch were no longer able to escape from absurdity. The complete contradiction involved in the Homoousios drew a whole host of contradictions after it, the further thought advanced. [114] For the sources and the literature referring to the Council of Nice see Herzog’s R-Encykl., Vol. X. 2, p. 530 ff. The accounts are meagre and frequently self-contradictory. We do not yet possess an exhaustive study of the subject. In what follows the main points only can be dealt with. I must renounce the idea of giving here the detailed reasons in support of the views I hold. See Gwatkin, p. 36 ff. [115] No one was present from Britain; though there were probably bishops from Illyria, Dacia, Italy, Gaul, Spain, Africa and also a Persian bishop. Eusebius (Vita III. 8) compares the meeting with that described in Acts II. [116] Sozom. I. 18; we certainly cannot form any clear picture of what took place from the account given in this passage. [117] This follows from the letter of Eusebius of Cæsarea to his Church (Theodoret, H. E. I. 11), which we may regard as trustworthy in connection with this matter. Eusebius there distinguishes quite plainly two parties; (1) the party to which he himself belongs and (2) the party which he introduces with “hoi de” (hoi de prophasei tēs tou homoousiou prosthēkēs tēnde tēn graphēn pepoiēkasin, the Nicene Creed follows) and which he does not describe in more definite terms than by “autoi” (kai dē tautēs tēs graph͂s hup' autōn hupagoreutheisēs). [118] With the exception of the bishops whom their contemporaries and our earliest informants have mentioned by name, there do not seem to have been any capable men at the Council. [119] It is worthy of note that Eusebius in the letter just cited does not introduce the Arians as a special party, but merely hints at their existence. The middle party stood, in fact, very near to them. [120] Athanasius (de decret. 19 sq. ad Afros 5, 6, de synod. 33-41) mixes up the two opposition-parties together. [121] See Theodoret I. 6: fin.; he relies upon the account of Eustathius. In addition Athanas., Encycl. ad epp. Ægypt 13, de decret. 3. [122] See the characteristic passage Demon str. IV. 3: hē mēn augē ou kata proairesin tou phōtos eklampei. kata ti de tēs ousias sumbebēkos achōriston. ho de huios kata gnōmēn kai proairesin eikōn hupestē tou patros. boulētheis gar ho Theos gegonen huiou patēr kai phōs deuteron kata panta heautō aphōmoiōmenon hupestēsato. [123] According to Eustathius (in Theodoret I. 7) the creed of the strict Arians was composed by Eusebius of Nicomedia; at least I think that it must be the latter who is referred to in what is said in that passage: hōs de ezēteito tēs pisteōs ho tropos, enargēs men elenchos to gramma tēs Eusebiou prouballeto blasphēmias. epi pantōn de anagnōsthen autika sumphoran men astathmēton tēs ektropēs heneka tois autēkoois prouxenei, aischunēn d'anēkeston tō grapsanti pareichen. It is impossible that it can be the creed of Eusebius of Cæsarea which is referred to here, for the latter (1.c. I. 11) expressly notes that his creed after having been communicated to the Council was substantially accepted. Whether we have a right to call the creed which he produced simply “Baptismal Creed of the Church of Cæsarea,” is to me questionable, judging from the introduction to it given in the letter to his Church. [124] The creed is contained in the letter of Eusebius to his Church. See Theodoret I. 1: Pisteuomen eis hena Theon patera pantokratora, ton tōn hapantōn horatōn te kai aoratōn poiētēn, kai eis hena kurion Iēsoun Christon, 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 ei en pneuma hagion. [125] Toutōn hekaston einai kai huparchein pisteuontes, patera alēthinōs patera, kai huion alēthinōs huion, pneuma te hagion alēthinōs pneuma hagion, katha kai ho kurios hēmōn apostellōn eis to kērugma tous heautou mathētas eipe; Matt. XXVIII. 19 follows. [126] Tautēs huph' hēmōn ektetheisēs tēs pisteōs oudeis parēn antilogias topos, all' autos te prōtos ho theophilestatos hēmōn basileus orthotata periechein autēn emarturēsen. houtō te kai heauton phronein sunōmologēse; kai tautē tous pantas sunkatatithesthai, hupographein te tois dogmasi kai sumphōnein toutois autois parekeleueto (I. 11). [127] According to Eusebius, however, the Emperor himself added an interpretation of the Homoousios. We read in the letter of Eusebius, immediately after the words cited in the foregoing note: henos monou prosengraphentos rhēmatos tou Homoousiou, ho kai autos hērmēneuse legōn hoti mē kata sōmatōn pathe legoito Homoousios, oute kata diairesin, oute kata tina apotomēn ek tou patros hupostēnai . . . theiois de kai aporrētois logois prosēkei ta toiauta noein. The word is thus only intended to express the mystery! [128] Eusebius in an ill-concealed tone of reproach says hoi de (i.e., the Alexandrians) prophasei tēs tou Homoousiou prosthēkēs tēnde tēn graphēn, (i.e., the Nicene Creed) pepoiēkasi, that is, they have corrected my proposed creed not only here but in other passages also. [129] See Hort., l.c., p. 59 and my article in Herzog, R.-Encyklop., Vol. VIII., p. 214 ff. [130] See Gwatkin, p. 41. [131] The “Logos” is wholly absent from the Nicene Creed; after what has been adduced above this will cause as little astonishment as the fact that neither Athanasians nor Arians took any offence at its exclusion. [132] See on this what is told us by Athanasius, l.c. The clumsy position of the words which mutilate the conception monogenē Theon, further proves that they are an insertion made at the very last. [133] See Athanasius, l.c. [134] The doctrinal formula in accordance with this was worded as follows. (The differences above discussed between it and the Creed of Cæsarea are to he explained as the result of the influence exercised by the Jerusalem and Antiochian Creed). The textual proofs are enumerated in Walch, Bib]. symb., p. 75 sq., Hahn, § 73, 74, and Hort. l.c.;—slight variations occur—: Pisteuomen eis hena Theon patera pantokratora, pantōn horatōn te kai aoratōn poiētēn, kai eis hena kurion Iēsoun Christon, ton huion tou Theou, gennēthenta ek tou patros monogenē—tout' estin ek tēs ousias tou patros—Theon ek Theou, phōs ek phōtos, Theon alēthinon ek Theou alēthinou, gennēthenta ou poiēthenta—homoousion tō patri—di' hou ta panta egeneto, ta de en tō ouranō kai ta en tē gē, ton di' hēmas tous anthrōpous kai dia tēn hēmeteran sōtērian katelthonta kai sarkōthenta, enanthrōpēsanta, pathonta, kai anastanta tē tritē hēmera, anelthonta eis [tous]ouranous, erchomenon krinai zōntas kai nekrous, kai eis to hagion pneuma. Tous de legontas; Ēn pote hote ēn kai prin gennēthēnai ouk ēn, kai hoti ex ouk ontōn egeneto, ē ex heteras hupostaseōs ē ousias phaskontas einai [ē ktiston] ē trepton ē alloiōton ton huion tou Theou [toutous] anathematizei hē katholikē [kai apostolikē] ekklēsia. [135] Eusebius in Theoderet, H. E. I. 11: erōtēseis toigaroun kai apokriseis enteuthen anekinounto, ebasanizeto ho logos tēs dianoias tōn eirēmenōn. [136] See Athan. de decret. 19, 20; ad Afros 5, 6. [137] Still Gwatkin, p. 43, goes too far when he asserts that “the use of agrapha in a creed was a positive revolution in the Church.” It is quite impossible to maintain this in view, for example, of the Creed of Gregorius Thaumaturgus. [138] See on moousios, which the Gnostics were the first to use, and on its meaning and history Vol. III. 141 f., 221; above pp. 15 f., 32-35; I. 257; II. 259, 352, 354; iii. 45. On the older ecclesiastical use of ousia, hupostasis, hupokeimenon, above all in Origen, see the scholarly discussions by Bigg (the Christian Platonists, p. 164 ff.). “Ousia is properly Platonic, while hypostasis, a comparatively modern and rare word, is properly Stoic” . . . Hypokeimenon already in Aristotle means the substantia materialis, hulē quæ determinatur per formam or ousia cui inhærent pathē sumbebēkota . . . the theological distinction between the terms ousia and hupostasis is purely arbitrary.” On the conception of hypostasis see Stentrup, Innsbrucker Zeitschr. f. Kath. Theologie. 1877, p. 59 ff. The question as to who brought forward the homoousios again after it had been condemned at Antioch, is an important one. It does not occur in the letters of Bishop Alexander. Athanasius had never any special preference for the word. It is found only once in the Orat. c. Arian (Orat. I. 9), and in the undoubtedly conciliatory work, de synod., 41, he admits that importance does not attach so much to the word as to the thing. The conceptions “henotēs” and “ek tēs ousias” would have served the purpose so far as he himself was concerned. Such being the state of the case one may reasonably assume that the word was not revived by any one belonging to the Eastern Church, since its rejection at Antioch must have stood in the way of this, but rather that some one in the West went back upon it, and Hosius is the only one we can think of as the likely person. This hypothesis is strengthened by the following considerations: (1) According to the testimony of Eusebius of Cæsarea there can be no doubt that the Emperor himself energetically defended the word homoousios, but the Emperor was dependent on Hosius; (2) Athanasius (hist. Arian. 42) says of Hosius: houtos en Nikaia pistin exetheto; (3) the Western-Roman doctrine was the substantial unity of Father and Son; the Alexandrian bishop was accused before the Roman bishop Dionysius on the ground that he was unwilling to use “homoousios'” and in Rome the accused excuses himself for not using it, and it is the Roman bishop who in his letter stated in energetic language the kērugma tēs monarchias, the hēnōsthai tō Theō ton logon, and the ou katamerizein tēn monada. I therefore conjecture that the word had been retained in Rome, i.e., in the West, since the time of the controversy of the Dionysii, that when the occasion offered it was once more produced in the East, and that the Alexandrians then accepted the word because they themselves had no better short catchword at their command. This explains why Athanasius always treats the expression as one which was suitable so far as the actual fact to be expressed was concerned, but which as regards its form was for him a foreign term. He could not, it is true, go quite so far as Luther (Opp. reform. V., p. 506): “Quod si odit anima mea vocem homousion et nolim ea uti, non ero hæreticus. Quis enim me coget uti, modo rem teneam, quæ in concilio per scripturas definita est? Etsi Ariani male senserunt in fide, hoc tamon optime, sive malo sive bono animo, exegerunt, ne vocem profanam et novam in regulis fidei statui liceret.” Finally, the statement of Socrates (III. 7) which indeed has been rejected by most, is decisive. According to this Hosius during his stay in Alexandria—before the Nicene Council—had discussed ousia and hupostasis. At the first glance that undoubtedly seems unworthy of belief, because it is a husteron-proteron but as soon as we remember the work of Tertullian, adv. Prax., which is the most important dogmatic treatise which the West produced previous to Augustine and which cannot have been unknown to Hosius, everything becomes clear. In this work in which Tertullian bears witness to the strong influence exercised upon him by Monarchianism spite of the fact that he is opposing it, no thought is so plainly expressed as this, that Father, Son, and Spirit are unius substantiæ, i.e., homoousioi (Vol. II., p. 259 ff.). Along with this, however, we have the idea clearly developed, that Father, Son, and Spirit are different a personæ” (see e.g., c. 3: “proximæ personæ, consortes substantiæ patris”, 15; “visibilem et invisibilem deum deprehendo sub manifesta et personali distinctione condicionis utriusque”; see also the conception of “personales substantiæ” in adv. Valent. 4). These personæ are also called by Tertullian “formæ cohærentes”, “species indivisæ”, “gradus” (c. 2, 8), and in fact even simply “nomina” (c. 30), and this gives his representation as much a Monarchian appearance as the appearance of an immanent Trinity (for a more detailed examination, see the appendix to this chapter). It is from this source, and also from Novatian who in his work, de trinitate, adopted the thoughts of Tertullian, that the theology of Hosius is derived. He may very probably, along with Tertullian, have already spoken of “personæ”, side by side with the “unius substantiæ” which the entire West possessed belief in, in accordance with the baptismal formula, for this is what it was understood to be. (See Hilar., de trinit. II. I. 3: Ambros. de myster. 5 fin). That his formula was: “unius substantiæ tres personæ” where persona is certainly to be conceived of rather as species or forma—not as “substance”—is very probable. The Western Hippolytus, moreover, (c. Noët. 14) also spoke of one God and several prosopeia, and so too did the Western Sabellius, and Tert. (l.c. c. 26) says bluntly: “ad singula nomina in personas singulas tinguimur.” Only this point must remain undecided—namely, whether Hosius already actually translated “persona” by “hupostasis.” It is not probable, since in the so-called Creed of Sardica he used hupostasis as = ousia (substantia). That his main catchword was mia ousia follows from what he says in his letter to Narcissus of Neronias (Euseb. c. Marcell., p. 25). [139] This is what the Nicene Creed was primarily intended to be, and not a baptismal creed, as the anathemas prove. [140] Theouas of Marmarika and Secundus of Ptolemais refused and were deposed and banished, and the same thing happened in the case of Arius and some presbyters. Arius was specially forbidden by the Council to enter Alexandria, Sozom I. 20. The evasions to which the Lucianists and Origenists had recourse in order to justify their conduct to themselves, can be studied in the letter of Eusebius to his Church. Eusebius interprets “ek tēs ousias tou patros” as equal to “He has His existence from the Father” (!), “gennēthenta ou poiēzenta” as equivalent to “the Son is not a creature like the rest of the creatures”, homoousios as homoiousios, meaning monō tō patri tō gegennēkoti kata panta tropon omoios and not out of a foreign substance. The worst shift of all is undoubtedly when Eusebius writes to his Church that he has (now) rejected the formula ēn pote hote ouk ēn, because we ought not to use any unbiblical expressions whatsoever (but Homoousios!) and because the Son did indeed exist already before His incarnation. But that was not the point at all! Peponthe ti deinon, says Athanasius (de decret. 3), with justice, of this passage in the letter. [141] They afterwards asserted no doubt that they had not subscribed the anathemas, but only the positive doctrine of the Nicene Creed (Socr. I. 14). However, Eusebius of Nicomedia and Theognis of Nicæa a were, notwithstanding this, banished soon after; they were suspected by the Emperor of being Arians and intriguers; see the strongly hostile letter of Constantine in Theodoret I. 19. [142] Socr. I. 9; those with Arian books in their possession were even to be punished with death. [143] L.c. Other writings of Constantine in the same place. The synodal-epistle in Theodoret I. 9, Gwatkin, p. 50, has proved that in the respect shewn by Athanasius for the Nicene Council there is no trace “of the mechanical theory of conciliar infallibility.” It is necessary to guard against exaggerated ideas of the extent to which the decree of the Nicene Council was accepted. It can be proved that in the East (see e.g., Aphraates’ Homilies) and still more in the West, there were numerous bishops who did not trouble themselves about the decree and for whom it had no existence. It was not till after the year 350 that men began to think over the Nicene Creed in the West, and to perceive that it contained more than a mere confirmation of the ancient Western belief in the doctrine of monarchy. [144] The victory of the Bishop of Alexandria may be studied above all in the Canons of Nicæa. They have not so far been treated of from this point of view. _________________________________________________________________ 2. TO THE DEATH OF CONSTANTIUS. [145] Never again in the history of the Church has there been a victory so complete and so quickly secured as that at Nicæa, and no other decision of the Church approaches it in importance. The victors had the feeling that they had set up for all ages [146] a “warning notice against all heresies” (stēlographia kata pasōn haireseōn), and this estimate of the victory has continued to be the prevailing one in the Church. [147] The grand innovation, the elevation of two unbiblical expressions to the rank of catchwords of the Catholic Faith, insured the unique nature of this Faith. At bottom not only was Arianism rejected, but also Origenism; for the exclusive Homoousios separated the Logos from all spiritual creatures and seemed thus to do away with scientific cosmology in every form. But it was just because of this that the strife now began. The Nicene Creed effected in the East a hitherto unprecedented concord, but this was amongst its opponents, while its friends, on the other hand, felt no genuine enthusiasm for its subtle formulae. The schismatic Meletians of Egypt made common cause with the Arians and Origenists; those of the bishops who were indifferent or stupid were induced to oppose it by the bugbear of Sabellianism and by the unbiblical shape in which the new faith was formulated. Society was still for the most part heathen, and this heathen society openly sided with the anti-Nicenes; the Jews too, who were still influential, ranged themselves on this side. The clever sophist Asterius was able, as “travelling professor”, to interest large numbers in “the one Unbegotten”. But, above all, the two Eusebiuses sought again to be masters of the situation. The one necessarily strove in the first instance to regain his seat, the other to make the weight of his untouched personal authority once more felt in theology also. What their mutual relationship was is not clear; in any case they marched separately and struck unitedly. [148] The Nicomedian always thought first of himself and then of his cause; the Bishop of Cæsarea saw science and theology disappear in the movement which received its impulse from Alexandria. Both, however, had made up their minds not to part company with the Emperor if they could not otherwise succeed in managing him. The great mass of the bishops always were, in accordance with this policy, purely “imperial”. With regard to the strict Arians, however, it must be admitted to their credit that during the whole controversy they were as little willing to accept as authoritative the decisions of the Emperors in matters of faith as were Athanasius, Hilary, and Lucifer. When Constantine interfered in the great controversy, he had only just come to the East. He was under the guidance of Western bishops, and it was Western Christianity alone with which he had hitherto been acquainted. And so after an abortive attempt to compose the controversy, he had accomplished the “work of peace” at Nicæa in accordance with Western views. But already during the years which immediately followed he must have learned that the basis upon which he had reared it was too narrow, that, above all, it did not meet the requirements of the “common sense” of the East. As a politician he was prudent enough not to take any step backward, but, on the other hand, as a politician he knew that every law gets its meaning quite as much from the method in which it is carried out as from the letter of it. Feeling this—to which has to be added the presence of Arian influences at the Court—he had since about the year 328 resolved, under cover of the Nicene Creed, to reinstate the broader doctrinal system of older days whose power he had first got to know in Asia, in order to preserve the unity of the Church which was endangered. [149] But Constantine did not get the length of doing anything definite and conclusive. He merely favoured the anti-Nicene coalition to such an extent that he left to his sons a ruptured Church in place of a united one. The anti-Nicene coalition, however, had already become during the last years of Constantine’s life an anti-Athanasian one. On the eighth of June, 328, Athanasius, not without opposition on the part of the Egyptian bishops, [150] had mounted the Episcopal throne in Alexandria. The tactics of the coalition were directed first of all towards the removal of the main defenders of the Nicene faith, and it was soon recognised that the youthful bishop of Alexandria was the most dangerous of these. Intrigues and slanders of the lowest kind now began to come into play, and the conflict was carried on sometimes by means of moral charges of the worst kind, and sometimes by means of political calumnies. The easily excited masses were made fanatical by the coarse abuse and execrations of the opponents, and the language of hate which hitherto had been bestowed on heathen, Jews, and heretics, filled the churches. The catchwords of the doctrinal formula, which were unintelligible to the laity and indeed even to most of the bishops themselves, were set up as standards, and the more successful they were in keeping up the agitation the more surely did the pious-minded turn away from them and sought satisfaction in asceticism and polytheism in a Christian garb. In every diocese, however, personal interests, struggles about sees and influence, were mixed up with the controversy, and this was the case in the West too, especially in Rome, as we may gather from the events of the year 366. Thus a series of bloody town-revolutions accompanied the movement. In the midst of all this Athanasius alone in the East stood like a rock in the sea. If we measure him by the standard of his time we can discover nothing ignoble or mean about him. The favourite charge of hierarchical imperiousness has something naïve about it. His stern procedure in reference to the Meletians was a necessity, and an energetic bishop who had to represent a great cause could not be anything else but imperious. It is certainly undeniable that for years he was formally in the wrong, inasmuch as he would not admit the validity of his deposition. He regarded it as the task committed to him, to rule Egypt, to regulate the Church of the East in accordance with the standard of the true faith, and to ward off any interference on the part of the State. He was a Pope, as great and as powerful a one as there ever has been. When the sons of Constantine entered upon the inheritance of their father, the heads of the Nicene party in the East had been deposed or exiled; Arius, however, was dead. [151] The exiled bishops in accordance with a resolution [152] come to in common by the Emperors, were free to return as a body. This was the case in the latter part of the autumn of 337. But as soon as Constantius became master in his own domain he continued the policy of his father. He wished to rule the Church as the latter had done; he perceived that this was possible in the East only if the Nicene innovation, or at least the exclusive application of it, were got rid of, and he did not feel himself bound to the Nicene Creed as his father had done. One cannot but admit that the youthful monarch shewed statesmanlike insight and acted with energy, and with all his devotion to the Church he never allowed churchmen to rule as his brother did. He had not, however, the patience and moderation of his father, and though he had indeed inherited from the latter the gift of ruling, he had not got from him the art of managing men by gentle force. The brutal trait which Constantine knew how to keep in check in himself, appeared in an undisguised fashion in his son, and the development of the Emperor into an Oriental despot advanced a stage further in Constantius. [153] First of all, Paul of Constantinople was deposed for the second time; Eusebius of Nicomedia at last secured the seat he had so long striven after. Eusebius of Cæsarea died, and his place was taken by a man deserving of little respect, Acacius, a friend of the Arians. The tumults which took place in Egypt after the return of Athanasius made it easier for his enemies, who regarded him as deposed and once more pronounced the sentence of deposition at a Synod in Antioch, to move the Emperor to proceed against him. His energetic conduct in his diocese and the violence of his Egyptian friends (Apol. c. Arian. 3-19) aggravated the situation. Constantius listened to the Eusebians, but did not sanction the choice of Bishop Pistus whom they had set apart for Alexandria. He decreed the deposition of Athanasius, and sent as bishop to Alexandria, a certain Gregory, a Cappadocian who had nothing to commend him save the imperial favour. Athanasius anticipated a violent expulsion by leaving Alexandria—in the spring of 339. He betook himself to Rome, leaving his diocese behind him in a state of wild uproar. The Eusebians were now masters of the situation, but just because of this they had a difficult task to perform. What had now to be done was to get the Nicene Creed actually out of the way, or to render it ineffective by means of a new formula. This could only be done in conjunction with the West, and it would have to be done in such a way that they should neither seem to be giving the lie to their own vote in Nicæa—and therefore they would have to make it appear that they were attacking only the form and not the contents of the confession—nor seem to the Church in the West to be proclaiming a new faith. It is in the light of these facts that we are to regard the symbols of Antioch and the negotiations with Julius of Rome. They found themselves shut up in a position from which they could not escape without a certain amount of evasion. The faith of Athanasius must not be attacked any more than that of the Westerns. [154] The condemnation of the great bishop had thus always throughout to be based on personal accusations. As regards the doctrinal question, the whole stress had to be laid on getting the Homousios put quietly aside, on the ground that it was unbiblical and gave an inlet to Sabellianism. In this respect the doctrine of Marcellus of Ancyra was very welcome to the Eusebians, for they sought, not without justice, to shew from it to what destructive results a theology which based itself on the Homousios must lead. [155] But the Roman bishop was not to be corrupted, he did not even sacrifice Marcellus; and the creeds of Antioch which were not actually heterodox, but which were not sincere, did not at all meet with his approval. He did not concern himself with the attempt, justifiable from the point of view of the Orientals and of Constantius, to create for the East a doctrinal form of expression which was more in accordance with the convictions of the majority. The most important result of the operations of the Eusebians at Antioch, and the one which was of the greatest consequence, was that they had to bring themselves to renounce Arianism in order to gain over the West. Arianism was now condemned on all sides in the Church; nevertheless the Eusebians did not attain their aim. [156] During the following years Constantius’ hands were tied by the Persian war, and he was forced to keep on good terms with his brother so as to avoid having trouble on the western boundary of his kingdom also. At the same time, just after the death of Eusebius of Nicomedia, which took place in the autumn of 342, the party amongst the conservatives of the East who, partly no doubt for political reasons, were actually set on coming to an agreement with the West, gained the lead. A general Council which was summoned by Constans to meet at Sardica in the summer of 343 and was approved of by Constantius, was to restore the unity of the Church. But the Western bishops, about a hundred in number, rejected the preliminary demand of the Eastern bishops for the deposition of Athanasius and Marcellus, both of whom were present in Sardica; pronounced sentence of deposition upon the leaders of the Orientals after the exodus of the latter; after an investigation declared the bishops attacked to be innocent, that is to say, orthodox; avowed their belief in the Nicene Creed, and under the guidance of Hosius took up the most rigid attitude possible on the doctrinal question. [157] In opposition to this the bishops, who met together in the neighbouring Philippopolis, framed a circular letter, dated from Sardica, in which they set forth the illegality of the procedure of their opponents, and confessed the faith in terms essentially identical with those of the fourth formula of Antioch. [158] The endeavours of Constantius to give efficacy [159] to the resolutions of his bishops fell through; in fact, the shameless attempt to set a trap for the two Western bishops sent as a deputation from Sardica to Constantius and provided with a letter of introduction from Constans, and who were to try and effect the recall of the banished bishops, turned out to their advantage. [160] Constantius, so at least it seems, had not for a while any real confidence in his own party; or was it that he was afraid to rouse his brother? In a long-winded formula drawn up at Antioch in the summer of 344 they once more sought to hint to the West their orthodoxy and to suggest the minimum of their demands. [161] The Church in the West, it is true, rejected at both the Councils held at Milan in the years 345 and 347, the teaching of Photinus of Sirmium, who, in a surprising fashion, had developed an Adoptian doctrinal system out of the doctrine of Marcellus, [162] but otherwise remained firm; and the ship of the Eusebians already appeared to be in so great danger that its two chief pilots, Ursacius and Valens, preferred to go over to the opposite party and to make their peace with Athanasius. [163] Constantius, very sorely pressed by the Persians, sought to have peace in the Church at any price and even granted the prayer of his brother’s protégé, Athanasius, and allowed him to return to Alexandria (in October 346), where Gregory meanwhile had died (in June 345 [164] ). The bishop got an enthusiastic welcome in his city. The protest of the Eastern Council at Sirmium—the first Council of Sirmium—had no effect. A large number of the Eastern bishops were themselves tired of the controversy, and it almost looked as if the refusal of the West to condemn Marcellus together with the word homoousios, now virtually constituted the only stone of offence. [165] But the death of Constans in 350 and the overthrow of the usurper Magnentius in 353 changed everything. If in these last years Constantius had been compelled by the necessities of the situation to submit to the bishops, his own subjects, who had ruled his deceased brother, now that he was sole sovereign he was more than ever resolved to govern the Church and to pay back the humiliations which he had undergone. [166] Already in the year 351 the Easterns had at Sirmium—the second Council—again agreed upon taking common action, and Ursacius and Valens promptly rejoined them. [167] The great thing now was to humiliate the stubborn West. Constantius set about the task with wisdom, but what he wanted done he carried out by the sheer force of terror. He demanded only the condemnation of Athanasius, his mortal enemy, as a rebel, and purposely put the doctrinal question in the background. He forced the Western bishops, at Arles in 353 and at Milan in 355, to agree to this, by terrorising the Councils. The moral overthrow of the Westerns was scarcely less complete than that of the Easterns at Nicæa. Though the great majority were unaware of the struggle and were not forced to adopt a new confessional formula, still the fact could not be concealed from those who better understood the state of things, that the projected condemnation of Athanasius meant something more than a personal question. The few bishops who refused were deposed and exiled. [168] The order for his deposition was communicated to Athanasius in February 356. Yielding only to force, he made his escape into the desert where the Emperor could not reach him. Egypt was in a state of rebellion, but the revolt was put down by the Emperor with blood. [169] The unity of the Church was restored; above all, it was once more brought under the imperial sway. And now, forsooth, the orthodox bishops who had formerly secured so much by the help of Constans began to recollect that the Emperor and the State ought not to meddle with religion. Constantius became “Antichrist” for those who would have lauded him as they had his father and his brother, if he had given them the help of his arm. [170] But the political victory of the Eastern bishops directly led to their disunion; for it was only under the tyranny of the West and in the fight against Athanasius and the word “homoousios” that they had become united. Above all, Arianism in its rigid, aggressive form again made its appearance. Aëtius and Eunomius, two theologians of spirit who had been trained in the Aristotelian dialectic, and were opponents of Platonic speculation, expressed its tenets in the plainest possible way, would have nothing to do with any mediation, and had no scruple in openly proclaiming the conversion of religion into morality and syllogistic reasoning. The formula which they and their followers, Aëtians, Eunomians, Exukontians, Heterousiasts, Anomœans, defended, ran thus: “heterotēs kat' ousian”, “anomoios kai kata panta kai kat' ousian” (“different in substance”, “unlike in everything and also in substance”). If they allowed that the Son perfectly knows the Father, this was not in any way a concession, but an expression of the thought that there is no kind of mystery about the Godhead, which on the contrary can be perfectly known by every rightly instructed man. And so too the statement that the Logos had his superior dignity from the date of his creation, and did not first get it by being tested, was not intended at all as a weakening of the Arian dogma, but as an expression of the fact that God the Creator has assigned its limit to every being. [171] The great majority of the Eastern bishops, for whom the Origenistic formula in very varied combinations were authoritative, were opposed to this party. The old watchword, however, “the unchangeable image”, which was capable of different interpretations, now received in opposition to Arianism, in its strict form, and on the basis of the formula of Antioch, more and more a precise signification as implying that the Son is of like nature with the Father in respect of substance also, and not only in respect of will (homoios kata panta kai kata tēn ousian), and that his begetting is not an act at all identical with creation. The likeness of the qualities of Son and Father was more and more recognised here; on the other hand, the substantial unity was disallowed, so as to avoid getting on the track of Marcellus; i.e., these theologians did not, like Athanasius, advance from the unity to the mystery of the duality, but, on the contrary, still started from the duality and sought to reach the unity by making Father and Son perfectly co-ordinate. They therefore still had a Theos deuteros, and in accordance with this excluded the idea of full community of substance. The leaders of these Homoiousians, also called semi-Arians, were George of Laodicea, [172] Eustathius of Sebaste, Eusebius of Emesa, Basilius of Ancyra, and others. The point of supreme importance with the Emperor necessarily was to maintain intact the unity between those who up till now had been united, but this was all the more difficult as the Homoiousians more and more developed their doctrinal system in such a way that their ideas came to have weight even with those Westerns who lingered in exile in the East and whose theology was on Nicene lines. [173] Some bishops who were devoted to Constantius and who represented simply and solely the interests of the Emperor and of the Empire, now sought by means of a formula of the most indefinite possible character to unite Arians and semi-Arians. These were Ursacius, Valens, Acacius of Cæsarea, and Eudoxius of Antioch. If up till 356 the Nicene Creed had, strictly speaking, been merely evaded, now at last a Confession was to be openly brought forward in direct opposition to the Nicene Creed. Simple likeness of nature was to be the dogmatic catchword, all more definite characterisations being omitted, and in support of this, appeal was made to the insoluble mystery presented by the Holy Scriptures (homoios kata tas graphas—like according to the Scriptures). This ingenious formula, along with which, it is true, was a statement expressly emphasising the subordination, left it free to every one to have what ideas he chose regarding the extent of the qualities of Father and Son, which were thus declared to be of like kind. The relative homoios did not necessarily exclude the relative anomoios, but neither did it exclude the homoiousios. Already at the third Council of Sirmium (357), after Constantius, on a visit to Rome, had overthrown his enemies, a formula was set forth by the Western bishops of as conciliatory a character so far as Arianism was concerned as could possibly be conceived. It was proclaimed in presence of the Emperor, who under the influence of his consort came more and more to have Arian sympathies. This is the second Sirmian formula. [174] But the bishops assembled at Ancyra did not acquiesce in the move towards the Left (358). [175] What a change! Easterns now defended purity of doctrine against Arianising Westerns! A deputation from this Council succeeded in paralysing the influence of the Arians with Constantius, and in asserting at the Fourth Council of Sirmium, in 358, their fundamental principles to which the Emperor lent the weight of his authority. [176] But the triumph of the Homoiousians led by Basilius Ancyranus was of short duration. The Emperor saw that the Church could not be delivered up either to Nicæans, to semi-Arians, or to Arians. The alliance between the two first mentioned, which was so zealously pushed on by Hilary, was not yet perfect. A grand Council was to declare the imperial will, and Homoiousians and Arians vied with each other in their efforts to get influencing it. The Homœans alone, however, both in their character as leaders and as led, concurred with the Emperor’s views. They were represented by Ursacius, Valens, Marcus of Arethusa, Auxentius of Milan, and Germinius of Sirmium. The fourth Sirmian formula (359), an imperial cabinet-edict and a political masterpiece, was intended to embody what was to be laid before the Council. [177] The latter was summoned to meet at Rimini and Seleucia because the circumstances in the East and West respectively differed so very much. In May 359 more than four hundred Western bishops assembled at Rimini. They were instructed to treat only of matters relating to the Faith and not to leave the Council till the unity aimed at had been attained. But the Emperor’s confidants failed to induce the great majority of the members to accept the Sirmian formula. The bishops, on the contrary, took their stand on the basis of the Nicene Creed which had been abandoned during these last years, rejected Arianism and declared its friends deposed. But when they sought by means of a Deputation to get the Emperor to give his sanction to their decisions, they did not get a hearing. The Deputation was not admitted to the Emperor’s presence, was at first detained and then conducted to Nice in Thrace, where the members at last shewed themselves docile enough to sign a formula—the formula of Nice—which was undoubtedly essentially identical with the Confession which the Westerns had themselves drawn up two years earlier at Sirmium, at the third Synod in 357—(“the Son is like the Father [kata panta is omitted] according to the Scriptures”). Armed with this document Ursacius and Valens made their way to Rimini, taking the deputies with them, and by means of threats and persuasions finally induced the Assembly there to accept the formula into which one could indeed read the Homoiousia, but not the Homousia. In the autumn of 359 the Eastern Synod met at Seleucia. The Homoiousians, with whom some Niceans already made common cause, had the main say. Still the minority led by Acacius and Eudoxius, which defended the Sirmian formula and clung to the likeness while limiting it, however, to the will, was not an insignificant one. There was an open rupture in the Synod. The majority finally deposed the heads of the opposition-party. [178] But as regards the East as well, the decision lay with the court. [179] The Emperor, importuned on all sides, had resolved to abandon the strict Arians, and accordingly Aëtius was banished and his Homœan friends had to leave him, but he was also determined to dictate the formula of Nice to the Easterns too. [180] Their representatives finally condescended to recognise the formula, and this event was announced at the Council of Constantinople in 360, and the Homœan Confession was once more formulated. [181] Although the new Imperial Confession involved the exclusion of the extreme Left, this did not constitute its peculiar significance. Had it actually been what it appeared to be, a formula of union for all who rejected the unlikeness, it would not have been something to be condemned, from the standpoint of the State at all events. But in the following year it was recklessly used as a weapon against the Homoiousians. [182] They had to vacate all positions of influence, and by way of making up for what had been done to the one Aëtius, who had been sacrificed, his numerous friends were installed as bishops. [183] Under cover of the “likeness in nature” a mild form of Arianism was actually established in the Church, modified chiefly only by the absence of principle. In Gaul alone did the orthodox bishops once more bestir themselves after Julian had in January 360 been proclaimed Augustus at Paris. [184] Constantius died in November 361, during the campaign against the rebels. _________________________________________________________________ [145] In what follows I give merely a sketch; the details belong to Church history. [146] Athanas. ad Afros II. and elsewhere. [147] Up to time of the Chalcedonian Creed the conceptions Homoousia and Orthodoxy were quite identical; the latter involved no more than the former. Thus the orthodoxy of Origen is for Socrates (VI. 13) undoubted, just because none of his four chief opponents (Methodius, Eustathius, Apollinaris, and Theophilus) charge him with heresy in reference to his doctrine of the Trinity. [148] The best investigation regarding Eusebius of Nicomedia is contained in the article in the Dict. of Chr. Biogr. We know Eusebius, it is true, almost exclusively from the picture which his opponents have drawn of him. But in his actions he has portrayed himself as an imperious prince of the Church of a secular type, for whom all means were justifiable. [149] If Eusebius is right the Emperor had already at Nice also advocated a broad application of the orthodox formula. [150] The matter, so far as the particulars are concerned, is quite obscure. [151] The dates put shortly are as follows. Some three years after the Nicene Council, years which for us are absolutely dark (the letter of Constantine in Gelas., Hist. Conc. Nic. III. I is probably not genuine), Constantine begins to turn round. (Was this owing to the influence of Constantia and her court-clergyman?) The recall of Arius, Eusebius of Nicom. and Theognis (the latter’s letter in Socrat. I. 14, is perhaps not genuine). Eusebius gains a decisive influence over the Emperor. At an Antioch synod 330. Eustathius of Antioch, one of the chief champions of the Nicene Creed is deposed (for adultery) at the instigation of the two Eusebiuses. Arius presents to the Emperor a diplomatically composed confession of faith which satisfies him, (Socr. I. 26) is completely rehabilitated, and demands of Athanasius that he be allowed to resume his position in Alexandria. Athanasius refuses, and succeeds in making good his refusal and in clearing himself from the personal charges brought against him on the part of the Eusebians. At the Synod of Tyre 335 (not 336) held under the presidency of the Church historian Eusebius, the coalition nevertheless succeeds in passing a resolution for the deposition of Athanasius on account of certain alleged gross excesses, and in persuading the Emperor to proceed against him as a disturber of the peace, and this spite of the fact that in the year 334 Athanasius, in opposition to the Synod of Cæsarea, had convinced the Emperor of his perfect innocence and of the base intrigues of the Meletian bishops. Athanasius notwithstanding this succeeded a second time in inducing the Emperor to give his case an impartial trial, by hastening to Constantinople and making a personal statement to the Emperor, who was taken by surprise. His opponents, who had meanwhile been commanded to go from Tyre to Jerusalem, now expressly declared that the doctrinal explanations given by Arius and his friends were sufficient, and already made preparations for burying the Nicene Creed in their pretentious assembly, and also for bringing to trial Marcellus, the friend of Athanasius. They were, however, summoned by the Emperor to come to Constantinople and to carry on their deliberations. Only the worst of Athanasius’ opponents complied with this demand, and they succeeded by bringing forward new accusations (at the beginning of the year 336), in inducing the Emperor to banish Athanasius (to Trier). Still it is at least doubtful if the Emperor did not wish him to escape for a while from his enemies. His chair in any case was not filled. Marcellus, who had also appealed to the Emperor, was deposed and condemned on account of erroneous doctrine. The solemn induction of Arius into his Church—against the wish of the bishop, Alexander of Constantinople—was immediately robbed of its significance by his sudden death. The Emperor sought to carry on his energetic peace-policy by the banishment of other “disturbers of the peace,” such as the Meletian leading spirit, and Paulus, the newly elected bishop of Constantinople. He died, however, in May 337, in his own opinion in the undoubted Nicene faith. His son maintained that he had himself further resolved on the restitution of Athanasius. Sources: besides the Church historians and Epiphanius, chiefly Athan. Apolog. c. Arian.; in addition, the Festival letters, the Hist. Arian. ad monach. de morte Arii ad Serapionem, Ep. ad epp. Æg. 19, and Euseb., Vita Constant. IV. [152] On this resolution see Schiller II., p. 277 f. [153] The best characterisation is in Ranke IV., p. 35 ff.; see also Krüger, Lucifer, p. 4 ff., Gwatkin, p. 109 sq., Schiller II., p. 245 ff. [154] This explains why the canons of the Synod of Antioch came to enjoy a high reputation and why Hilary (de synod. 32) designated the assembly a ‘synodus sanctorum.’ All the same such a description is not quite intelligible; we know too little both of the character and of the proceedings of the Synod. [155] Marcellus is an extremely interesting phenomenon in the history of theology; he did not, however, succeed in effecting any change in the history of dogma or in creating any noteworthy number of followers. At the Council of Nicæa he belonged to the few who zealously championed the Homousios (Apol. c. Arian. 23, 32). After the Council he was, besides Eustathius, at first the sole literary representative of orthodoxy, since he wrote a comprehensive treatise peri hupotagēs by way of reply to the work of the Arian Asterius. This work, in which he defends the unity of substance of the Logos, drew upon him from the dominant party the accusation of Sabellianism and Samosatenism. His case was dealt with at the Councils of Tyre, Jerusalem, and Constantinople, since he also personally defended Athanasius and opposed the restoration of Arius. Spite of his appeal to the Emperor he was at Constantinople deprived of his office as a teacher of erroneous doctrine, another bishop was sent to Ancyra, and Eusebius of Cæsarea endeavoured in two works (c. Marcell., de ecclesiast. theolog.) to refute him. These works are for us the source for the teaching of Marcellus. Marcellus did not recognise the common doctrinal basis of Arianism and orthodoxy; he went back behind the traditional teaching of Origen, like Paui of Samosata, and consequently got rid of the element which caused the trouble to Arianism and, in a higher degree, to orthodoxy. His doctrinal system presents, on the one hand, certain points of agreement with that of the old Apologists, though these are more apparent than real, and on the other with that of Irenmus; still it cannot be proved that there is any literary dependence. Marcellus was at one with Arius in holding that the conceptions “Son”, “begotten” etc., involve the subordination of the being thus designated. But just because of this he rejected these conceptions as being inapplicable to the divine in Christ. He clearly perceived that the prevalent theology was on a wrong track owing to its implication with philosophy; he wished to establish a purely biblical system of doctrine and sought to shew that these conceptions are all used in the Scriptures in reference to the incarnate one, the view of most in the older days, e.g., Ignatius. The Scripture supplies only one conception to express the eternal-divine in Christ, that of the Logos (the Logos is image or type only in connection with man created in his image): the Logos is the indwelling power in God, which has manifested itself in the creation of the world as dunamis drastikē, in order then for the first time to become personal with the view of saving and perfecting the human race. Thus the Logos is in and for itself, in its essential nature, the unbegotten reason of God indwelling in God from all eternity and absolutely inseparable from him; it begins its actuality in the creation of the world, but it first becomes a personal manifestation distinct from God in the incarnation, through which the Logos as the image of the invisible God becomes visible. In Christ consequently the Logos has become a person and son of God—a person who is as surely homoousios tō Theō as he is the active working of God Himself. After the work has been completed, however, the Son subordinates Himself to the Father in such a way that God is again all in all, since the hypostatic form of the Logos now ceases (hence the title of M.’s work: peri hupotagēs; the idea is an old one, see Vol. II.). M. confessed that he did not know what became of the humanity of Christ. The stumbling-blocks which this system presented to that age were (1) that M. called only the incarnate one Son of God, (2) that he taught no real pre-existence, (3) that he assumed the Kingdom of Christ would have an end, and (4) that he spoke of an extension of the indivisible monad. Marcellus having been recalled (337) and then expelled again from his diocese (338), like Athanasius, betook himself to Rome, and by means of a confession in which he disguised his doctrine, induced Bishop Julius to recognise his orthodoxy. (The confession is in the letter to Julius in Epiph. H. 72. 2: Zahn, Marcell. p. 70 f., vainly attempts to dispute the fact of a “disguising.” In the letter he avows his belief in the Roman Creed also.) The Roman synod of the year 340 declared him to be sound in the faith. It scarcely fully understood the case; what is of much more importance is that Athanasius and consequently also the Council of Sardica did not abandon Marcellus, and the Council indeed remarked that the Eusebians had taken as a positve statement what he had uttered only tentatively (zētōn). That Athanasius spite of all remonstrances should have pronounced Marcellus orthodox, is a proof that his interest in the matter was confined to one point, and centred in the godhead of the historical Jesus Christ as resting upon the unity of substance with God. Where he saw that this was recognised, he allowed freedom of thought on other points. At a later period, it is true, when it became possible still more to discredit Marcellus through his pupil Photinus, there was a disagreement of a temporary kind between him and Athanasius. Athanasius is said to have refused to have intercourse with him and Marcellus is said to have dropped him. Athanasius also combatted the theology of M. (Orat. c. Arian. IV), though he afterwards again recognised the truth of his faith. Epiphanius informs us (72. 4) that he once put some questions to the aged Athanasius regarding M.: Ho de oute huperapelogēsato, oute palin pros auton apechthōs hēnechthē, monon de dia tou prosōpou meidiasas hupephēne , mochthērias mē makran auton einai, kai hōs apologēsamenon eiche. Marcellus’ followers in Ancyra also possessed at a later date an epistle of Athanasius (Epiph. 72. 11) which was favourable to them. The East, however, stuck firmly to the condemnation of Marcellus, and so too did the Cappadocians at a later period—a proof this also of a radical difference between them and Athanasius The further history of this matter has no place here (see Zahn op. cit. and Möller, R.-Encykl., 2nd Ed., p. 281 f.). Marcellus died in the year 373, close on a hundred years old, after that his theology had repeatedly done good service to the opponents of orthodoxy, without, however, helping them to discredit Athanasius. [156] The negotiations between Bishop Julius and the Eusebians assembled at Antioch (Rom. Council, autumn 340 Council at Antioch, summer and autumn 341) are from the point of view of Church politics of great significance, and more particularly the letter of Bishop Julius to the Eusebians after the Roman Council (Apol. c. Arian. 21) is a masterpiece. But we cannot enter on this matter here. The four formula of Antioch (it is to them that the reproach brought by Athanasius against his opponents chiefly refers—namely, that they betrayed their uncertainty by the new forms of faith they were constantly publishing see de decret. 1: de synod. 22—23: Encycl. ad epp. Ægypt. 7 sq.: Ep. ad. Afros 23) are in Athan., de synod. 22 sq. (Hahn § 84, 115, 85, 86). There are some good remarks in Gwatkin, p. 114 sq. The zealous efforts made by the Eusebians to arrive at a harmonious agreement with the West were probably closely connected also with the general political situation. After the fall of Constantine II. (spring 340) Constans had promptly made himself master of the whole of his brother’s domain Constantius, whose attention was claimed by severe and incessant wars on the eastern boundary, was unable to hinder this. From the year 340 Constans thus had the decisive preponderance in the Empire. The first Antiochian formula still supports Arius, though with the odd qualification that those who were in favour of him had not followed him (pōs gar episkopoi ontes akolouthēsan presbuterō), but had tested his teaching: it limits itself to describing the Son as monogenē, pro pantōn tōn aiōnōn huparchonta kai sunonta tō gegennēkoti auton patri, but it already contains the anti-Marcellian proposition descriptive of the Son: diamenonta basilea kai Theon eis tous aiōnas. The second, so-called Lucian, formula already gathers together all designations for the Son which could possibly be used of His Godhead from an Origenistic standpoint (above all, monogenē Theon, Theon ek Theou, atrepton te kai analloiōton, tēs theotēros ousias te kai boulēs kai dunameōs kai doxēs tou patros aparallakton eikona, Theon logon); it then adopts once more the addition which Eusebius had appended to the outline of his belief presented at Nicæa (see p. 52), and formulates the following proposition against Marcellus; tōn onomatōn ouch haplōs oude argōs keimenōn sēmainontōn akribōs tēn oikeian hekastou tōn onomazomenōn hupostasin (N.B. = ousian) kai taxin kai doxan, hōs einai tē men hupostasei tria, tē de sumphōnia hen; but on the other hand, without mentioning Arius, it expressly rejects the Arian catchwords objected to at Nicæa. The third, submitted by the Bishop of Tyana, has a still stronger anti-Marcellan colouring (I. Chr. onta pros ton Theon en hupostasei . . . menonta eis tous aiōnas), repudiates Marcellus, Sabellius, and Paul of Samosata by name, but otherwise in place of all other possible designations it has the Nicene sounding: Theon teleion ek Theou teleiou. At length the fourth formula, drawn up some months later, became the final one. It is constructed as far as possible on the model of the Nicene Creed; at the end too some Arian catchwords are expressly condemned. The most important propositions run thus: kai eis ton monogenē autou huion, ton kurion hēmōn I. Chr., ton pro pantōn tōn aiōnōn ek tou patros gennēthenta, Theon ek Theou, phōs ek phōtos . . . logon onta kai sophian kai dunamin kai zōēn kai phōs alēthinon, at the close of this section (against Marcellus): hou basileia akatalutos ousa diamenei eis tous apeirous aiōnas; estai gar kathezomenos en dexia tou patros ou monon en tō aiōni toutō, alla kai en tō mellonti. All four formulæ have this in common, that they are compatible with the theology of Origen; the three last, that Arianism in the strict sense is repudiated. The fourth was communicated to the Emperor Constans by a deputation in Gaul. For the rest it ought not to be forgotten that the Eusebians formally adhered to the basis of the Nicene Creed; see Hefele I., p. 502 ff. [157] Sardica was situated in the territory of Constans. The most influential of the Eastern bishops were present. Hosius took the lead. (Histor. Arian 15.) The formal restatement of the Nicene Creed desired by some of them was not proceeded with. (Athan. Tom. ad Antioch. 5 against Socrates II., 20); but the description of the Faith which will be found at the close of the encyclical letter, although it is not to be regarded as an official declaration, is a document whose importance has hitherto not been sufficiently recognised. It originated with Hosius and Protogenes of Sardica, and is the most unambiguous expression of the Western view in the matter, so unambiguous that for the moment it seemed even to the orthodox Orientals themselves to be questionable (the formula is in Theodoret II. 8, lat. translation discovered by Maffei). It is here first of all that the proposition is found: mian hupostasin, hēn autoi hoi hairetikoi ousian prosagoreuousi (for hupostasin we have in the Latin “substantiam” ), tou patros kai tou huiou kai tou hagiou pneumatos. Kai ei zētoien, tis tou huiou hē hupostasis estin, homologoumen hōs hautē ēn hē monē tou patros homologoumenē. In the second place the doctrine of the Son is put in such a way that one can very easily understand how the Westerns refused to condemn Marcellus; there are turns of expression which approach the doctrine of Marcellus. (A comparison with the Christology of Prudentius is instructive in this connection.) Ursacius and Valens amongst others were declared deposed. Their bishoprics were situated in the territory of Constans, but they were of an Arian way of thinking. Ēefele, op. cit. p. 533 ff., treats in great detail the canons and acts of the Council. [158] Above all, the Eusebians repeated their old statement that the decrees of deposition pronounced by Councils in reference to bishops are irrevocable. So too they held to the charges against Marcellus (of erroneous doctrine) and against Athanasius (of flagrant abuse of his power). There is a wish to introduce something entirely new, “ut orientales episcopi ab occidentalibus judicarentur”; but whoever holds by Marcellus and Athanasius let him be Anathema. The doctrinal formula (Hilarius Fragm. III. and de synod, 34) differs little from the fourth formula of Antioch and thus condemns Arianism. Formally the Easterns were in the right as regards Athanasius. [159] Histor. Arian. 18, 19. [160] Histor. Arian. 20; Theodoret II. 9, 10. Bishop Stephanus of Antioch, who had tried the trick, was deposed. [161] Their motive in bringing forward the new formula was by almost completely meeting the demands of the Westerns in reference to the doctrinal question, to induce them to give way on the personal question. (Ekthesis macrostichos, see Athan., de synod. 26: Socrat II. 19). It begins with the fourth formula of Antioch, then follow detailed explanations of the faith as against the Arians, Sabellians, Marcellus, and Photinus who is mentioned here for the first time. Spite of the polemic against the proposition of Athanasius—who is, however, not mentioned by name—that the Son is begotten ou boulēsei oude thelēsei, this formula indicates the greatest approach conceivable on the part of the Eusebians towards meeting the views of their opponents. They emphasise in the strongest way the unity of the one Godhead (c. 4): oute mēn, tria homologountes pragmata kai tria prosōpa (it has to be noticed that the bishops avoid the expression three “substances or hypostases” and use the Western prosōpon which had been brought into discredit by Sabellius) tou patros kai tou huiou kai a. pneumatos kata tas graphas, treis dia touto Theous poioumen, and they expressed themselves in such a way in c. 9, that the words must pass for an unobjectionable paraphrase of the Homousios. They are practically the very same expressions as those used by Athanasius to describe the relation of Father and Son. “Homousios” is, however, wanting: but, on the other hand, we find here, so far as I know, for the first time: kata panta homoion. Socrates, II. 20, has candidly remarked on the formula macrostichos: tauta hoi kata ta hesperia merē episkopoi dia to alloglōssous einai kai dia to mē sunienai ou prosedechonto, arkein tēn en Nikaia pistin legontes. On the Acts of a Synod at Köln, from which we gather that Bishop Euphrates of Köln who was sent to Antioch from Sardica, had afterwards fallen away to Arianism, see Rettberg (K.-G. Deutschlands, I., p. 123 ff.) and Hauck (K.-G. Deutschlands, I., p. 47 f.), who are opposed to their genuineness; Friedrich (K.-G. Deutschland, I., p. 277 f.) and Söder (Stud. u. Mitth. ans. d. Benedict. Orden, fourth year’s issue, I., p. 295 f., II., p. 344 f., fifth year, I., p. 83 f.) who are in favour of it. [162] Photinus of Sirmium, a fellow-countryman and pupil of Marcellus, developed the doctrinal system of the master in such a way as to represent even the energeia drastikē of God as not assuming a concrete hypostatic form in Jesus Christ, (or if it did take a concrete form as a hypostasis, then this was a purely human one—the matter is not quite clear). He thus rigidly held fast the single personality of God, and accordingly, like Paul of Samosata, saw in Jesus a man miraculously born (Zahn, op. cit., p. 192 combats this; but neither is the evidence that Photinus denied the birth from the Virgin Mary certain enough, nor is it in itself credible that a catholic bishop in the fourth century should have departed so far from the tradition), predestined to his office by God, and who in virtue of his moral development has attained to divine honour. We thus have here the last inherently logical attempt to guard Christian monotheism, entirely to discard the philosophical Logos-doctrine, and to conceive of the Divine in Christ as a divine effect. But this attempt was no longer in harmony with the spirit of the age; Photinus was charged on all sides with teaching erroneous doctrine. His writings have disappeared: compare the scattered statements regarding him in Athanasius, Hilary, the Church historians, Epiph. H. 72 and the anathemas of various Councils, see also Vigilius Taps. adv. Arian., Sabell. et Photin.). The two Milan Councils, the date of which is not quite certain, condemned him, so too did a Sirmian Council of Eusebians which was perhaps held as early as 347. Still he remained in office till 351, held in high respect by his congregation. That the macrostic Confession of the Orientals ought not all the same to be accepted as so orthodox as it from its wording appears to be, is evident from the fact that the Eastern bishops who were deputed to take it to the West declined at Milan to condemn Arianism too. (Hilarius, Fragm. V.) [163] For the documents relating to their conversion, which was hypocritical and dictated entirely by policy, and to their complete recognition of Athanasius, see Athanas. Apol. c. Arian. 58, Hilar., Fragm. II. [164] Schiller (op. cit. p. 282). “As a matter of fact Constans wished to establish a kind of supremacy in relation to his brother, which in spiritual matters was to be exercised through the Bishop of Rome. Trusting to his support, deposed bishops on their own authority returned to their dioceses, without having received the sanction of the Emperor. The restoration of Athanasius resolved on by the Council was a direct interference with the sovereignty of Constantius . . . But Constans was able once more to make such a skilful use of the existing Persian difficulty that his brother yielded.” The fact is that the recall of Athanasius was altogether forced upon Constantius; the relation of the great bishop to his Emperor at this time was not that of a subject, but that of a hostile power with which he had to treat. This is naturally glossed over in the papers issued by Constantius referring to the recall. It is specially characteristic that Athanasius did not personally present himself before Constantius till after repeated invitations; see, above all, Apol. c. Arian. 51-56, Hist. Arian. 21-23. [165] A Council of Jerusalem held in 346 under Maximus actually recognised Athanasius as a member of the Church. (Apol. c. Arian. 57). Cyril’s Catecheses shew the standpoint of the Oriental extreme Right; they are undoubtedly based on Orig. de princip.; but they faithfully express the Christological standpoint of the formula macrostichos; the homoousios only is wanting; as regards the matter of the Faith, Cyril is orthodox. The polemic directed against Sabellius and Marcellus (Catech. 15, 27) is severe and very bitter; Arianism is also refuted, but without any mention of names. Jews, Samaritans, and Manicheans are the chief opponents referred to, and Cyril is at great pains everywhere to adduce the biblical grounds for the formulæ which he uses. The Catecheses of Cyril are a valuable document in illustration of the fact that amongst the Eastern opponents of the Nicene formula there were bishops who, while fully recognising that Arianism was in the wrong, could not bring themselves to use a doctrinal formula which seemed to them a source of ceaseless strife and to be unbiblical besides. [166] Schiller (p. 283 f.) supposes that Constantius was apprehensive before this that Athanasius would declare for Magnentius. Hence his friendly letter to Athanasius after the death of Constans, Hist. Arian. 24. [167] Photinus was deposed here. The Creed of this Council, the first formula of Sirmium (in Athanas., de synod. 27, Hilar. de synod. 38 and Socr. II., 30), is identical with the Fourth Formula of Antioch, but numerous anathemas are added to it in which formulæ such as “two gods”, (2), “platusmos tēs ousias estin ho huios” (7), “logos endiathetos ē prophorikos” (8) are condemned, and already several explanations of Bible passages are branded as heretical (11, 12, 14-18). The subordination of the Son is expressly (18) avowed in this Creed, which otherwise strongly resembles the Nicene Creed. The anathemas 20-23 have to do with the Holy Ghost. In No. 19 the formula hen prosōpon is rejected. Nos. 12, 13, deny that the divine element in Christ is capable of suffering. One can see that new questions have emerged. [168] Of the Western bishops—leaving out Pannonia—almost all were orthodox. The Councils—that of Arles was a provincial Council, that of Milan a General Council, but apparently badly attended—were also managed by the new Pope Liberius (since 352), but ended quite contrary to his will. The best description is in Krüger Lucifer, pp. 11-20. At Arles Paulinus of Trier was the only one who remained firm, and he was exiled to Phrygia; even the Papal legates yielded. At Milan Lucifer and Eusebius. of Vercelli were exiled, and also Dionysius of Milan, although he had agreed to the condemnation of Athanasius. Soon after Hosius, Liberius, and Hilary had to follow them into exile. In Milan Constantius actually ruled the Church, but with a brutal terrorism. There are characteristic utterances of his in Lucifer’s works and in Athanasius. [169] Already in the years immediately preceding, an incessant agitation had again been kept up against Athanasius; see Socr. II., 26, Sozom. IV., 9, Athan. Apol. ad Const. 2 sq., 14 sq., 19 sq. He betook himself to the desert, but later on he seems to have remained in hiding in Alexandria. No one, it would appear, cared to secure the price set upon his head. We have several writings of his belonging to this period. His successor, George, was pretty much isolated in Alexandria. [170] The watchword of the “independence” of the Church of the State was now issued by Athanasius, Hilary, and above all by the hot-blooded Lucifer. Hilary, who first emerges into notice in 355, speedily gained a high reputation. He was the first theologian of the West to penetrate into the secrets of the Nicene Creed, and with all his dependence on Athanasius was an original thinker, who, as a theologian, far surpassed the Alexandrian Bishop. On his theology see the monograph by Reinkens, also Möhler, op. cit. 449 ff., and Dorner. [171] After the full account given of the theology of Arius there was no need for any detailed description of the theology of Aëtius and Eunomius; for it is nothing but logical Arianism; see on the Ekthesis pisteōs and the Apologētikos of Eunomius Fabricius-Harless T. IX. The rejection of all conciliatory formulæ is characteristic. [172] Dräseke (Ges. patristische Unters., 1889, p. 1 ff.) wishes to credit him with the anonymous work against the Manicheans, which Lagarde discovered (1859) in a MS. of Titus of Bostra. [173] With Hilary, for example, as his work “de synodis” proves. It is very characteristic that Lucifer, the strictest of the Nicenes, never came to have a clear idea of the meaning of the formulæ, homoousios and homoiousios; see Krüger, p. 37 f. [174] The Confession is in Hilary, de Synod. 11, Athan. de synod. 28, Socrat. II. 30. Valens, Ursacius and Germinius of Sirmium took the lead. The words homoousios and homoiousios were forbidden as being unbiblical and because no one could express the generation of the Son. It is settled that the Father is greater, that the Son is subordinate. Here too the Christological problem of the future is already touched upon. Hilary pronounces the formula blasphemous. It marks the turning-point in the long controversy to this extent that it is the first public attempt to controvert the Nicene Creed. Against it Phobadius wrote the tractate “de filii divinitate”, which is severely Western-Nicene in tone, and in this respect is markedly different from the conciliatory work of Hilary “de synodis”; see on it Gwatkin, p. 159 sq. The Eastern bishops Acacius and Uranius of Tyre, who shared the sentiments of the court-bishops, accorded a vote of thanks to the latter at a Council at Antioch, held in 358. Hosius subscribed the second Sirmian formula (Socr. II. 31). [175] Aëtius was in high favour with Eudoxius of Antioch, and his pupils occupied the Eastern bishoprics. The manifesto of Sirmium appeared like an edict of toleration for strict Arianism. At the instigation of George of Laodicea some Semi-Arians joined together to oppose it at the Council of Ancyra. The comprehensive synodal-letter of Ancyra (Epiph. p. 73, 2-11, see Hilar. de synod) indicates the transition on the part of the Semi-Arians to the point of view at which the Nicæans were able to meet them. It was re-echoed in the writings of Hilary and Athanasius de synodis (358-359). The Semi-Arians at Ancyra took up a position based on the fourth Antiochian formula, which was also that of Philippopolis and of the First Sirmian Council, but they explained that the new Arianism made it necessary to have precise statements. The following are the most important explanations given; (1) the name Father by its very form points to the fact that God must be the author of a substance of like quality with Him (aitios homoias autou ousias): pas patēr homoias autou ousias noeitai patēr—this does away with the relation of Logos-Son and world-idea—(2) the designation “Son” excludes everything of a created kind and involves the full homoiotēs, (3) “the Son” is consequently Son in the peculiar and unique sense, and the analogy with men as sons of God is thus done away with. The likeness in substance is further based on Bible statements, and in the 19 anathemas together with Sabellianism all formulæ are rejected which express less than likeness in substance. Finally, however, “homoousios” too, together with the characteristic addition “ē tautoousios” has an anathema attached to it, i.e., the substantial unity of essence is rejected as Sabellian. The Conservatives of the East have undoubtedly here quite changed their ground. A definitely defined doctrine has taken the place of prolix formulæ, at once cosmological and soteriological in drift, and derived from Origen, Lucian, and Eusebius. [176] The victory of the Semi-Arians at the court is a turn of affairs which we cannot clearly explain. The fact is incontestable. The third formula of Sirmium, drawn up at the Fourth Council of Sirmium, is identical with the fourth Antiochian formula. That Constantius should have fallen back on this is perhaps to be explained from the fact that the disturbances at Rome made it necessary for him to send Liberius back there, though the most he could hope for was to get him to subscribe that formula, but not the manifesto of the year 357. He actually got him to do this, i.e., Liberius subscribed several older confessional formularies which originated at a time when the Nicene Creed had been only indirectly attacked. It was not only, however, that Liberius bought his freedom at that time, but it was actually for the time being a question of a general victory of the Homoiousians, which they used too entirely in their own interest, after all the bishops present at Sirmium, including Ursacius and Valens, had had to make up their minds to subscribe the synodal decrees. Eudoxius of Antioch and Aëtius and in addition 70 Anomœans were banished at the instigation of Basil of Ancyra and there were many instances of the violent use of power. One cannot be certain if these same violent proceedings did not bring about once more a quick change of feeling on the part of the Emperor. [177] The Council was intended to bring about at last a general peace; at first the Emperor evidently intended to summon it to meet at Nicæa (Soz. IV. 16), then Nicomedia was next considered as a likely place, but it was destroyed by an earthquake. Then it was that Nicæa was again thought of; Basil of Ancyra had still a great influence at the time. Finally, the party opposed to this was victorious, and the plan of a division of the Councils was carried through. But it was just this opposition-party which now wished to unite all parties in a Homœan Confession and gained over the Emperor to assent to this. The actual result, however, was that Homœans and Anomœans on the one hand, Homoiousians and Homousians on the other, more and more drew together. Hilary, who was staying in the East, had indeed already explained to his Gallic compatriots that it was possible to attach an “unpious” meaning to homoousios quite as readily as to homoiousios. The bishops assembled in presence of the Emperor now composed in advance for the Council a Confession which, since Semi-Arians were also present, might serve as a means of reconciling Homœan and Homoiousian conceptions. It was already evident at the time of signing it that it was differently interpreted. The catchwords ran thus: homoion patri kata tas graphas—homoion kata panta hōs hoi hagiai graphai legousin. Valens signed it and at the same time simply repeated the word homoion without the kata panta; Basil in signing it expressly remarked that panta included being also. The formula is in Athan. de synd. 8, Socrat. II. 37; see Sozom. IV. 17. The dogmatic treatise of Basil in Epiph. H. 73, 12-22, has reference to this formula, which Athanasius (de synodis) had already scoffed at because of its being dated, i.e., because it bore the signs of its newness on its front. [178] Socr. II. 37 explains that Nice was chosen with the view of giving to the new formula a name which sounded the same as that of the Nicene Creed. The formula is in Athan. de synod. 30, and Theodoret II. 21: homoion kata tas graphas, hou tēn gennēsin oudeis oiden. In addition: to de onoma tēs ousias hoper haplousteron enetethē hupo tōn paterōn, agnooumenon de tois laois skandalon ephere, dia to en tais graphais touto mē ekpheresthai, ērese periairethēnai kai pantelōs mēdemian mnēmēn ousias tou loipou ginesthai . . . mēte mē dein epi prosōpou patros kai huiou kai hagiou pneumatos mian hupostasin onomazesthai. One might be pleased with this rational explanation if polytheism did not in fact lurk behind it. [179] Hilary was present in Seleucia and made common cause with the Homoiousians against the others. Acacius in face of the superior numbers of the Homoiousians sought to save his party by drawing up a creed in which he expressly repudiated the Anomœans and proclaimed the likeness in will, (see the creed in Athanas. de synod. 29, Epiph. H. 73, c. 25, Socr. II. 40). But this did not protect him and his party. [180] It was on the night of the last day of the year 359 that the Emperor achieved the triumph of the homoios in his empire. [181] The Confession is in Athanas. de synod. 30 and Socr. II. 41. [182] People like Eudoxius and Acacius were real victors; they got a perfectly free hand for themselves against the Homoiousians at the cost of the condemnation of Aëtius, and made common cause with Valens and Ursinus. The Creed of Nice was sent all over the Empire for signature under threat of penalty. [183] Eunomius became bishop of Cyzikus; Eudoxius of Antioch received the chair of Constantinople. [184] See the epistle of the Synod of Paris (360 or 361) in Hilar. Fragm. XI. It did not at that time require any courage to declare against Constantius. _________________________________________________________________ 3. TO THE COUNCILS OF CONSTANTINOPLE 381. 383. The three possible standpoints—the Athanasian, the Lucianist-Arian, and the Origenist, which in opposition to the Arian had gradually narrowed itself down to the Homoiousian—had been set aside by Constantius in the interest of the unity of the Church. But the Homœan formula, which had no firm theological conviction behind it, meant the domination of a party which gravitated towards Arianism, i.e., which resolved faith in Jesus Christ into a dialectical discussion about unbegotten and begotten and into the conviction of the moral unity of Father and Son. It was for twenty years, with the exception of a brief interval, the dominant creed in the East. This fact finds its explanation only in the change, or narrowing, which came over what was at an earlier date the middle party. The Arianising Homœans were now conservative and in their way even conciliatory. They disposed of the ancient tradition of the East as the Eusebians had done before them; for their formula “of like nature according to Holy Scripture” contained that latitude which corresponded to the old traditional doctrine. With this we may compare the standpoint of Eusebius of Cæsarea. The old middle party had, however, in the homoiousios made for themselves a fixed doctrinal formula. [185] This was a change of the most decisive kind. We may still further say it was not the “Homousios” which finally triumphed, but on the contrary the Homoiousian doctrine, which fixed on the terms of agreement with tale “Homousios.” The doctrine which Hosius, Athanasius, Eustathius, and Marcellus had championed at Nicæa, was over-thrown. The new Origenism which was based on the “Homousios” succeeded in establishing itself. A form of doctrine triumphed which did not exclude scientific theology, a subject in which Athanasius and the Westerns of the older days never shewed any interest. But Athanasius himself contributed to the revolution thus accomplished, [186] though it is very doubtful if he ever came to see the full extent of it. Julian granted liberty to all the bishops to return, and in so doing did away with the artificial state of things created by Constantius. The Nicæans were once more a power, and Athanasius who returned to Alexandria in February 362, at once re-assumed the leadership of the party. A Synod was held at Alexandria in summer, and this prepared the way for the triumph of orthodoxy in the year 381. [187] It was here resolved that the Nicene Creed was to be accepted sans phrase. i.e., that those were to be recognised as Christian brethren who now acknowledge the homoousios, and condemn the Arian heresy together with its chief supporters, irrespective of any former departure on their part from the faith. But still further, the question as to whether it was necessary to believe in one hypostasis or in three was left an open one. (At Alexandria the Holy Spirit had already been the subject of discussion as well as the Son.) Both statements were disapproved of since the homoousios was considered to be sufficient, but it was explained that both might be understood in a pious sense. [188] These resolutions were not passed without strong opposition. [189] Not only did some bishops demand that those who had subscribed the Fourth Sirmian Formula should be denied the communion of the Church, but, what was of much greater importance, there was a party which insisted on the interpretation of the Nicene Creed which had been settled by some of the Western bishops at Sardica, and which as a matter of fact was the original one. [190] But they did not press their views, and they seem to have acquiesced in the decision of the Synod. This marked a complete change. [191] If up till now orthodox faith had meant the recognition of a mysterious plurality in the substantial unity of the Godhead, it was now made permissible to turn the unity into a mystery, i.e., to reduce it to equality and to make the threefoldness the starting-point; but this simply means that that Homoiousianism was recognised which resolved to accept the word homoousios. And to this theology, which changed the substantial unity of substance expressed in the homoousios into a mere likeness or equality of substance, so that there was no longer a threefold unity, but a trinity, the future belonged, in the East, though not to the same extent in the West. The theologians who had studied Origen regarded it with favour. The Cappadocians started from the homoousios, [192] though this is certainly true of Gregory of Nyssa only indirectly. They acknowledged the homoousios and accordingly set up a system of doctrine which neither disavowed the theology of Origen, that is, science in general, nor yet remained in the terminologically helpless condition of Athanasius. But they succeeded in attaining terminological clearness—they could not improve on the matter of the doctrine—only because they modified the original thought of Athanasius and developed the theology which Basil of Ancyra had first propounded in his tractate. Ousia now got a meaning which was half way between the abstract “substance” and the concrete “individual substance”, still it inclined very strongly in the direction of the former. [193] Hupostasis got a meaning half way between “Person” and “Attribute”, (Accident, Modality), still the conception of Person entered more largely into it. [194] Prosōpon was avoided because it had a Sabellian sound, but it was not rejected. The unity of the Godhead, as the Cappadocians conceived of it, was not the same as the unity which Athanasius had in his mind. Basil the Great was never tired of emphasising the new distinction implied in ousia, and hupostasis. For the central doctrine of the incarnation of God they required a conception of God of boundless fulness. Mia ousia (mia theotēs) en trisin hupostasesin, (one divine substance (one divine nature) in three subjects,) was the formula. In order to give clear expression to the actual distinction of the Persons within the Godhead, Gregory of Nyssa attached to them tropoi huparxeōs, (modes of existence,) idiotētes charaktērizousai, exaireta idiōmata, (characteristic peculiarities, special characters). To the Father he attributed agennēsia, the quality of being unbegotten, and in consequence of this the word which had formerly been forbidden by the Niceans was once more restored to a place of honour, no longer, however, as referring to substance, but as expressing a mode of being (schesis) of God the Father. To the Son he attributed gennēsia, the quality of being begotten, and even the older Homoiousians shewed more reserve on this point than Gregory did. To the Spirit he attributed ekporeusis—procession. [195] But what is more, the entire Origenistic speculation regarding the Trinity, with which Athanasius would have nothing to do, that is, of which he knew nothing, was rehabilitated. The moment or element of finitude within the Trinitarian evolution was no doubt struck out, still the Absolute has nevertheless not only modi in itself, but also in some degree, stages. The (eternal) generation or begetting, in the sense of a Godhead extending itself to the limits of the creaturely, was again put in the foreground. In this way the subordination-conception, which was an irreducible remainder in Athanasius’ whole way of looking at the question, again acquired a peculiar significance. The idea that the Father in Himself is to be identified with the entire Godhead again became one of the ground-principles of speculation. He is the starting-point of the Trinity, just as He is the Creator of the world. The idea that He is source, beginning, cause of the Godhead (pēgē, archē, aitia tēs theotētos), the cause (to aition) and consequently God in the proper sense (kuriōs Theos), while the other Hypostases again are effects (aitiata), [196] meant something different to the Cappadocians from what it did to Athanasius. For the Logos-conception, which Athanasius had discarded as theistic-cosmical, again came to the front, and in their view Logos and Cosmos are more closely related than in that of Athanasius. The unity of the Godhead does not rest here on the Homousia, but in the last resort, as with Arius, on the “monarchy” of God the Father; and the Spiritual on earth is, in fine, not a mere creature of God, but—at any rate with Gregory of Nyssa—as in the view of Origen, is a being with a nature akin to His. [197] “Science” concluded an alliance with the Nicene Creed; that was a condition of the triumph of orthodoxy. If at the beginning of the controversy the scientific thinkers—including those amongst the heathen—had sympathised with Arianism, men were now to be found as the defenders of the Nicene Creed to whom even a Libanius yielded the palm. These men took their stand on the general theory of the universe which was accepted by the science of the time; they were Platonists, and they once more naïvely appealed to Plato in support even of their doctrine of the Trinity. [198] Those who were on the side of Plato, Origen, [199] and Libanius—Basil indeed had recommended the latter to his pupils as one who could help them in advanced culture,—those who were on a footing of equality with the scholars, the statesmen, and highest officials, could not fail to get sympathy. The literary triumphs of the Cappadocians who knew how to unite devotion to the Faith and to the practical ideals of the Church with their scientific interests, the victories over Eunomius and his following were at the same time the triumphs of Neo-platonism over an Aristotelianism which had become thoroughly arid and formal. [200] Orthodoxy in alliance with science had a spring which lasted from two to three decades, a short spring which was not followed by any summer, but by destructive storms. Spite of all the persecutions, the years between 370 and 394 were very happy ones for the orthodox Church of the East. It was engaged on a great task, and this was to restore the true faith to the Churches of the East, and to introduce into them the asceticism which was closely allied with science. [201] It was in the midst of a struggle which was more honourable than the struggles of the last decades had been. Men dreamt the dream of an eternal league between Faith and Science. Athanasius did not share this dream, but neither did he disturb it. He did not go in for the new theology, and there is much to shew that it did not quite satisfy him. [202] But he saw the aim of his life, the recognition of the complete Godhead of Christ, brought nearer accomplishment, and he continued to be the patriarch and the recognised head of orthodoxy, as the letters of Basil in particular shew. When, however, orthodoxy had attained its victory, there arose after a few years within its own camp an opponent more dangerous to its scientific representatives than Eunomius and Valens—the traditionalism which condemned all science. Nothing more than an outline can here be given of the development of events in particular instances. The Synod of Alexandria was not able by means of its resolution to unite the parties which had separated at Antioch: the party of the orthodox who clung to the old faith and that of the Homoiousians who under the leadership of Meletius acknowledged the Homousios. This Antiochian split remained an open wound, and the history of the attempts to get it healed makes it abundantly evident that different doctrines were really in question, that Alexandria and the East had not lost their feeling of distrust of Meletius, and that the Cappadocians who were at the head of the new orthodoxy in the East were not able to suppress the suspicion of Sabellianism in the light of the old orthodoxy. [203] Jovian, who was inclined to orthodoxy, once more recalled Athanasius who had been banished for the last time by Julian. [204] Athanasius somewhat prematurely announced the triumph of the true faith in the East. [205] Under the new ruler, Acacius, at a Synod held in Antioch in 363, found himself obliged to agree with Meletius and to join with him in declaring his adherence to the homoousios, explaining at the same time that it expressed as much as the ek tēs ousias (of the substance) and the homoiousios together [206] (see Athan., de Synod.) But the accession of Valens in the following year changed everything. An attempt on the part of the semi-Arians at the Synod at Lampsacus in 364 to get the upper hand, miscarried. [207] Eudoxius of Constantinople and the adroit Acacius who again made a change of front, became masters of the situation, and Valens resolved to adopt once more the policy of Constantius, to maintain the Arian Homœism in its old position, and to make all bishops who thought differently [208] suffer. Orthodox and Homoiousians had again to go into banishment. From this time onwards many Homoiousians turned to the West, having made up their minds to accept the homoousios in order to get support. The West after the brief episode of the period of oppression (353-360) was once more Nicene. There were but few Arians, although they were influential. After various Councils had met, the Homoiousians sent deputies from Pontus, Cappadocia, and Asia [209] to Liberius to get the doctrinal union brought about. Liberius, whose sentiments were the same as those of Hilary, did not refuse their request. The announcement of this happy event was made at Tyana in 367; [210] but at a Carian Council a Homoiousian minority persisted in rejecting the homoousios. [211] From this time Basil, who became bishop in 370, [212] took an active part in affairs and he was soon after followed by the other Cappadocians, and they threw not only the weight of science, but also that of asceticism, into the scale in favour of orthodoxy. The new bishop of Rome, Damasus, took a decided stand against Arianism at the Roman Synods held in 369 (370) and 377, then against the Pneumatomachians (see below) and the Apollinarian heresy, while Marcellus and Photinus were also condemned. The rigid standpoint of the bishops Julius and Athanasius again became the dominant one in the West, and it was only after some hesitation that the Western bishops resolved to offer the hand of friendship to the new-fashioned orthodoxy of the East. The representatives of the latter did not indeed settle the Antiochian schism at the well-attended Council at Antioch in September 379, but they subscribed the Roman pronouncements of the last years, and thus placed themselves at the standpoint of Damasus. [213] But meanwhile very great changes had taken place in the State. In November 375 Valentinian died. He had not taken any part in Church politics, and had in fact protected the Arian bishops as he did the orthodox bishops, and had never had any difference with his brother regarding their religious policy. His successor, the youthful Gratian, [214] yielded himself wholly to the guidance of the masterful Ambrose. He firmly established the State Church as against the heterodox parties, by passing some severe laws, and in doing this he followed Ambrose “whom the Lord had taken from amongst the judges of the earth and placed in the Apostolic chair.” (Basil ep. 197, 1.) In August 378 Valens fell at the battle of Adrianople, fighting with the Goths; and on the 19th of January, 379, the Western Theodosius was made Emperor of the East by Gratian. The death of Valens was quite as much a determining cause of the final triumph of orthodoxy as its alliance with science; for the inner force of a religious idea can never secure for it the dominion of the world. Theodosius was a convinced Western Christian who took up the policy of Gratian, but carried it out in a perfectly independent fashion. [215] He was determined to rule the Church as Constantius had done, but to rule it in the spirit of rigid orthodoxy. He had himself been baptised [216] in the year 380, and immediately after appeared the famous edict which enjoined the orthodox faith on all nations. It is, however, in the highest degree characteristic of his whole policy that this faith is more definitely described as the Roman and Alexandrian faith, i.e., the new doctrinal orthodoxy of Cappadocia and Asia is passed over in silence. [217] After his entry into Constantinople Theodosius took all their churches from the Arians and handed them over to the orthodox. [218] In the year 381 he issued a regulation in which he prohibited all heretics from holding divine service in the towns. In the same year, however, the Emperor summoned a large Eastern Council to meet at Constantinople, and its resolutions were afterwards regarded as ecumenical and strictly binding, though not till the middle of the fifth century, and in the West not till a still later date. This Council denotes a complete change in the policy of Theodosius. His stay in the East had taught him that it was necessary for him to recognise as orthodox all who acknowledged the Nicene Creed however they might interpret it, and at the same time to make an attempt to gain over the Macedonians. He had come to see that in the East he must rely upon the Eastern form of orthodoxy, the new orthodoxy, that he would have to suppress the aspirations of the Alexandrian bishops, and that he must do nothing which would have the appearance of anything like tutelage of the East by the West. This reversal of his policy is shewn most strikingly by the fact that Meletius of Antioch was called upon to preside at the Council, the very man who was specially suspected by the orthodox of the West. [219] He died shortly after the Council met, and first Gregory of Nazianzus, [220] and then Nectarius of Constantinople presided over its deliberations. The opposition at the Council between the old orthodox party, orthodox in the Alexandrian and Western sense, who were few in numbers, and the new orthodox party composed of Antiochians, Cappadocians and Asiatics, was of the most pronounced character, though we are only partially acquainted with it. [221] The confusion was so great that Gregory of Nazianzus resigned and left the Council with the most bitter feelings. [222] Still union was finally secured, although the attempt to win over the Macedonians failed. The “150 bishops” unitedly avowed their adherence to the Nicene faith, and, as we are told, accepted in addition to this a special explanation of the doctrine of the Trinity in which the complete Homousia of the Spirit also was expressed. In the first canon containing the decisions, after the ratification of the Nicene Creed, Eunomians (Anomeans) Arians (Eudoxians) Semi-Arians (Pneumatomachians) Sabellians, Marcellians, Photinians and Apollinarians were expressly anathematised. The Nicene Creed thus gained an unqualified victory so far as its actual terms were concerned, but understood according to the interpretation of Meletius, the Cappadocians, and Cyril of Jerusalem. The community of substance in the sense of equality or likeness of substance, not in that of unity of substance, was from this time the orthodox doctrine in the East. But the Creed which since the middle of the fifth century in the East, and since about 530 in the West, has passed for the ecumenical-Constantinopolitan Creed, is neither ecumenical nor Constantinopolitan; for the Council was not an ecumenical one, but an Eastern one, and it did not in fact set up any new Creed. This Creed, on the contrary, is the Baptismal Creed of the Jerusalem Church which was issued in a revised form soon after 362 and furnished with some Nicene formulæ and with a regula fidei in reference to the Holy Spirit, and which was perhaps brought forward at the Council of 381 and approved of, but which cannot pass for its creed. How it subsequently came to rank as a decision of the Council is a matter regarding which we are completely in the dark. This much, however, is clear, that if this Creed had any connection at all with the Council of 381, the neo-orthodox character of the latter is thereby brought out in a specially striking way; for the so-called Creed of Constantinople can in fact be taken simply as a formula of union between orthodox, Semi-Arians, and Pneumatomachians. The most contested phrase of the Nicene Creed “ek tēs ousias tou patros” is wanting in it, and it presents the doctrine of the Holy Spirit in a form which could not have appeared wholly unacceptable even to the Pneumatomachians. [223] For this very reason it is certainly out of the question to regard the Creed as the Creed of the Council of 381. It did indeed assert the complete Homousia of the divine Persons. But the legendary process in the Church which attached this Creed to that Council performed a remarkable act of justice; for in tracing back to this Council “an enlarged Nicene Creed” without the “ek tēs ousias tou patros”, “of the substance of the Father”, without the Nicene anathemas, and without the avowal of the Homousia of the Spirit, and in attesting it as orthodox, it, without wishing to do so, preserved the recollection of the fact that the Eastern orthodoxy of 381 had really been a neo-orthodoxy, which in its use of the word Homoousios did not represent the dogmatic conviction of Athanasius. In the quid pro quo involved in this substitution of one Creed for another, we have a judicial sentence which could not conceivably have been more discriminating; but it involves still more than that—namely, the most cruel satire. From the fact that in the Church the Creed of Constantinople gradually came to be accepted as a perfect expression of orthodoxy, and was spoken of as the Nicene Creed while the latter was forgotten, it follows that the great difference which existed between the old Faith and the Cappadocian neo-orthodoxy was no longer understood, and that under cover of the Homoousios a sort of Homoiousianism had in general been reached, the view which has really been the orthodox one in all Churches until this day. The father of the official doctrine of the Trinity in the form in which the Churches have held to it, was not Athanasius, nor Basil of Cæsarea, but Basil of Ancyra. All the same, the thought of the great Athanasius, though in a considerably altered form, had triumphed. Science and the revolution which took place in the political world had paved the way for its victory; suppressed, it certainly never could have been. The Westerns were anything but pleased in the first instance with the course things had taken in the East. At Councils held at the same time in Rome and Milan, in the latter place under the presidency of Ambrose, they had made representations to Theodosius and had even threatened him with a withdrawal of Church privileges. [224] But Theodosius answered them in a very ungracious manner, whereupon they sought to justify their attitude. [225] The Emperor was prudent enough not to fall in with the proposal of the Westerns that an ecumenical Council should be summoned to meet at Rome. He followed the policy of Constantius also in keeping the Churches of the two halves of the Empire separate, as his choice of Rimini and Seleucia proves. And by his masterly conduct of affairs he actually succeeded in introducing a modus vivendi in the year 382, spite of the attempts made to thwart him by his colleague Gratian who was led by Ambrose. Gratian summoned a General Council to meet at Rome, to which the Eastern bishops were also invited. But Theodosius had already got them together in Constantinople. They accordingly replied in a letter in which they declined the invitation, and its tone which was as praise-worthy as it was prudent, helped in all probability to lessen the tension between the East and the West. They appealed, besides, not only to the decisions of the Council of 381, but also to their resolution of 378 in which they had made advances to the West, [226] and they explained finally that they had adopted a recent detailed dogmatic declaration of the Western bishops, of Damasus that is, and were ready to recognise the Paulinists in Antioch as orthodox, which meant that they no longer suspected them of Marcellianism. [227] The despatch of three envoys to Rome where, besides Jerome, the distinguished Epiphanius happened to be just at this time, could not but help towards the conclusion of a treaty of peace. The opposition to Nectarius of Constantinople and Cyril of Jerusalem was now allowed to drop in Rome; but the Western bishops could not yet bring themselves to acknowledge Flavian in Antioch, and, moreover, Paulinus, his opponent, was himself present at the Council in Rome. There was once more a strong reaction against Apollinarianism. [228] If Arianism, or Homceism, from the time when it ceased to enjoy the imperial favour tended rapidly to disappear in the Empire, if too it had no fanatic as Donatism had, it was nevertheless still a power in the East in 383; large provinces had still Arian tendencies, the common people [229] in them above all; while in the West it had supporters [230] in the Empress Justinia and her son. Theodosius was more concerned to win over the Arians than to drive them out of the Church. In the first years of his reign while shewing a firm determination to establish orthodoxy, he had at the same time followed a sort of conciliatory policy which, however, to the honour of the Arians be it said, did not succeed. lust as in 381 he invited the Macedonians to the Council, so in the year 383 he made a further attempt to unite all the opposing parties at a Constantinopolitan Council and if possible to bring about concord. The attempt was sincere—even Eunomius was present—but it failed; but it is very memorable for two reasons: (1) the orthodox bishop of Constantinople made common cause on this occasion with the Novatian bishop, a proof of how insecure the position of orthodoxy in the capital itself still was; [231] (2) an attempt was made at the Council to transfer the whole question in dispute between orthodox and Arians into the region of tradition. The Holy Scriptures were to be dispensed with, and the proof of the truth of orthodoxy was to be furnished solely by the testimony of the ante-Nicene Fathers to whose authority the opposite party must as good Catholics bow. This undertaking was a prophecy of the ominous future which was before the Church, and proved at the same time that the actual interest in the controversy in the East had already once more taken a secondary place compared with the conservative interest. Nothing grows faster than tradition, and nothing is more convenient when the truth of a proposition has to be defended than to fall back on the contention that it has always been so. [232] After this Council Theodosius discontinued his efforts in favour of union and from this time sought to suppress Arianism. Ambrose seconded his plans in Upper Italy. The orthodox State-Church, which was, however, on the other hand, a Church-State, was established. Severe laws were now passed against all heretics with the exception of the Novatians. [233] The State had at last secured that unity of the Church which Constantine had already striven after. But it was a two-edged sword. It injured the State and dealt it a most dangerous wound. Amongst the Greeks Arianism died out more quickly than Hellenism. Violent schisms amongst the Arians themselves seem to have accelerated its downfall, [234] but the different stages are unknown to us. The history of its fortunes amongst the German peoples until the seventh century does not fall within the scope of this work. The educated laity, however, in the East regarded the orthodox formula rather as a necessary evil and as an unexplainable mystery than as an expression of their Faith. The victory of the Nicene Creed was a victory of the priests over the faith of the Christian people. The Logos-doctrine had already become unintelligible to those who were not theologians. The setting up of the Nicene-Cappadocian formula as the fundamental Confession of the Church made it perfectly impossible for the Catholic laity to get an inner comprehension of the Christian Faith taking as their guide the form in which it was presented in the doctrine of the Church. The thought that Christianity is the revelation of something incomprehensible became more and more a familiar one to men’s minds. This thought has for its obverse side the adoration of the mystery, [235] and for its reverse side indifference and subjection to mystagogues. [236] The priests and theologians could certainly not give the people more than they possessed themselves; but it is alarming to note in the ecclesiastical literature of the Fourth Century and the period following how little attention is given to the Christian people. The theologians had always the clergy. the officials, good society in their minds. The people must simply believe the Faith; they accordingly did not live in this Faith, but in that Christianity of the second rank which is represented in the legends of the saints, in apocalypses, in image-worship, in the veneration of angels and martyrs, in crosses and amulets, in the Mass regarded as magical worship, and in sacramental observances of all sorts. Christ as the homoousios became a dogmatic form of words; and in place of this the bones of the martyrs became living saints, and the shades of the old dethroned gods together with their worship, revived once more. _________________________________________________________________ [185] The dogmatic dissertation of the Homoiousians in Epiphan. 73, 12-22, is of the highest importance; for it shews in more than one respect a dogmatic advance: (1) the differentiation of the conceptions ousia, hupostasis, prosōpon begins here. The first of these is used in order to express the idea of the essence or substance which imprints itself in the form of a definite quality; accordingly the action of the Fathers who in protesting against Paul of Samosata attributed a special ousia to the Son, is by an explanation excused. They did this in order to do away with the idea that the Logos is a mere rhēma, a lektikē energeia. The proper expression, however, is hupostasis. It is because the Logos is an hupostasis, i.e., because he does not, like the other words of God, lack being, that the Fathers called tēn hupostasin ousian (c. 12). The akribeia tēs tōn prosōpōn epignōseōs must be strictly maintained as against Sabellius (c. 14); but no one is to be led astray by the word hupostaseis (Pl.); it does not mean that there are two or three Gods: dia touto gar hupostaseis hoi anatolikoi legousin, hina tas idiotētas tōn prosōpōn huphestōsas kai huparchousas gnōrisōsin. The word “Hypostasis” is thus merely meant to give the word prosōpon a definite meaning, implying that it is to be taken as signifying independently existing manifestations (c. 16), while ousia is in the tractate interchangeable with phusis or pneuma, and is thus still used only in the singular; (2) quite as much attention is already given to the Holy Ghost as to the Son, and the tropoi huparxeōs are developed, i.e., an actual doctrine of the Trinity independent of any ideas about the world, is constructed (c. 16): Ei gar pneuma ho patēr, pneuma kai ho huios, pneuma kai to hagion pneuma, ou noeitai patēr ho huios; huphestēke de kai to pneuma, ho ou noeitai huios, ho kai ouk esti . . . Tas idiotētas prosōpōn huphestōtōn hupostaseis onomazousin hoi anatolikoi, ouchi tas treis hupostaseis treis archas ē treis theous legontes . . . Homologousi gar mian einai theotēta . . . homōs ta prosōpa en tais idiotēsi tōn hupostaseōn eusebōs gnōrizousi, ton patera en tē patrikē authentia huphestōta noountes, kai ton huiou meros onta tou patros, alla katharōs ek patros teleion ek teleiou gegennēmenon kai huphestōta homologountes, kai to pneuma to hagion, ho hē theia graphē paraklēton onomazei, ek patros di' huiou huphestōta gnōrizontes . . . Oukoun en pneumati hagiō huion axiōs nooumen, en huiō de monogenei patera eusebōs kai axiōs doxazomen, (3) the Christological problem based on Philipp. II. 6 and Rom. VIII. 3 (homoiōma) is already introduced for the elucidation of the Trinitarian: apo tou sōmatikou eusebōs kai tēn peri tou homoiou ennoian hēmas kai epi tou asōmatou patros te kai huiou didachthēnai (c. 17, 18). As Christ’s flesh is identical with human flesh, but is, on the other hand, on account of its wonderful origin only homoios, kata ton homoion tropon kai ho huios pneuma ōn kai ek tou tatros pneuma gennētheis, kata men to pneuma ek pneumatos einai to auto estin, kata de to aneu aporroias kai pathous kai merismou ek tou patros gennēthēnai homoios esti tō patri. Accordingly we have now the decisive statement: Oukoun dia tēs pros philippēsious epistolēs edidaxen hēmas pōs hē hupostasis tou huiou homoia esti tē hupostasei tou patros; pneuma gar ek patros. Kai kata men tēn tou pneumatos ennoian (and therefore thought of in essence as a generic conception) tauton, hōs kata tēn tēs sarkos ennoian tauton. Ou tauton de alla homoion, dioti to pneuma, ho estin ho huios, ouk estin ho patēr, kai hē sarx, hēn ho logos anebalen, ouk estin ek spermatos kai hēdonēs, all' houtōs hōs to euangelion hēmas edidaxen . . . ho patēr pneuma ōn authentikōs poiei, ho de huios pneuma ōn ouk authentikōs poiei hōs ho patēr all' homoiōs. Oukoun katha men sarx kai sarx tauton, hōsper katho pneuma kai pneuma tauton. katho de aneu sporas ou tauton all' homoion, hōsper katho aneu aporroias kai pathous ho huios ou tauton all' homoion. Thus these Homoiousians already admit the tauton if they also reject the tautoousios (= homoousios, i.e., Father and Son are tauton as regards substance, in so far as they are both pneuma, but in so far as they are different Hypostases they are not identical, but of like nature. (4) These Homoiousians have expressly rejected the designations agennētos for God and gennētos for the Son, and indeed not only because they are unbiblical, but because “Father” includes much more than “Unbegotten”, and because “gennētos” includes much less than “Son”, and further because the conjunction “unbegotten—begotten” does not express the relation of reciprocity between Father and Son (the gnēsiōs gegennēmenō), which is emphasised as being the most important (c. 14, 19): dio kan patera monon onomazōmen, echomen tō onomati tou patros sunupakouomenēn tēn ennoian tou huiou, patēr gar huiou patēr legetai; kan huion monon onomasōmen, echomen tēn ennoian tou patros, hoti huios patros legetai. Whoever names the one names the other at the same time, and yet does not posit him merely in accordance with his name, but with his name kai tēs phuseōs oikeiotēta; on the other hand, agennēton ou legetai gennētou agennēton, oude gennēton agennētou gennēton. Athanasius could scarcely wish more than this, or rather: we have already here the main outlines of the theology of the three Cappadocians, and it is not accidental that Basil of Ancyra is himself a Cappadocian. [186] The work of Athanasius, de synodis, written in the year 359, is of the highest importance for the history of the Arian controversy. It is distinguished as much by the firmness with which his position is maintained—for Athanasius did not yield in any point—as by its moderation and wisdom. The great bishop succeeded in combining these qualities in his book, because he was not concerned with the formula itself, but solely with the thought which in his view the formula attacked best expressed. We must, he said, speak like brethren to brethren to the Ēomoiousians who hold almost the same view as the Nicæans and are merely suspicious about a word. Whoever grants that the Son is in nature of like quality with the Father and springs from the substance of the Father is not far from the homoousios; for this is a combination of ek tēs ousias and homoiousios (c. 41 ff.). While expressly making an apology to Basil of Ancyra, he endeavours to remove the stumbling-blocks presented by homoousios, but seeks at the same time to shew that homoiousios either involves an absurdity or is dogmatically incorrect (c. 53 f.). [187] The most important source of information for the Synod of Alexandria is the Tomus of Athanas. ad Antioch., and in addition Rufin. X. 27-29, Socr. III. 7, Athan. ep. ad Rufinian. I need not here (after the work published by Revillout) enter upon any discussion of the suntagma didaskalias of the Synod, which is identical with Opp. Athanas. ed. Migne XXVIII., p. 836 sq.; cf. Eichhorn, Athan., de vita ascet. testim., 1886, p. 15 sq. On the Synod cf. also Gregor. Naz. Orat. 21, 35. [188] Tom. ad Antioch. 5. 6. This was probably the largest concession which Athanasius ever made. When Socrates affirms that at the Synod the employment of “Ousia” and “Hypostasis” in reference to the Godhead was forbidden, his statement is not entirely incorrect; for it is evident from the Tomus that the Synod did actually disapprove of the use of the terms in this way. [189] This is sufficiently shewn in the Tomus; the Lucifer schism has its root here; see Krüger, op. cit., pp. 43-54. Lucifer was, moreover, not a man of sufficient education to appreciate the real question at issue. He did not wish to have the venia ex pœnitentia accorded to the Semi-Arians who were passing over to orthodoxy. It was thus a Novatian-Donatist element which determined his position. [190] See above, p. 68, and the Tom. c. 5. init. These bishops thus demanded the acknowledgment of the mia hupustasis. The West never at bottom abandoned this demand, but in the Meletian-Antiochian schism it, however, finally got the worst of it and had to acquiesce in the Eastern doctrinal innovation. That at the Synod of Alexandria, however, the Homoiousians also attempted to get their catchword, or, their interpretation of the homoousios, adopted, is evident from the letter of Apollinaris to Basil; see Dräseke Ztschr. f. K.G., VIII., p. 118 f. [191] Just as it is to Zahn that, speaking generally, we primarily owe the understanding of the original meaning of Homoousios, so it is he too who, so far as I know, first plainly noticed this complete change. (Marcell, p. 87 f., also Gwatkin, p. 242 sq.) [192] This is specially evident from the letter of Basil to Apollinaris (in Dräseke, op. cit. 96 ff.) of the year 361. Basil communicates to the great teacher (of whom later) his doubts as to whether it is justifiable to use the word homoousios. For biblical and philosophical dogmatic reasons he is inclined to prefer the formula aparallaktōs homoios kat' ousian. Apollinaris accordingly explains to him (p. 112 ff.) that the homoousios is more correct, but his own explanation of the word is no longer identical with that of Athanasius. He finds both expressed in it, the tautotēs as well as the heterotēs, and according to his idea the Son is related to the Father as men are to Adam. Just as it may be said of all men, they are Adam, they were in Adam, and just as there is only one Adam, so too is it with the Godhead. Basil at any rate started from Homoiousianism, and it is because this has not been taken into consideration that the letter in question has been pronounced not genuine. For the rest, the efforts of the Benedictines in the third volume of their edition of the Opp. Basil. (Præf.) to vindicate Basil’s orthodoxy shew that, leaving this letter out of account, his perfect soundness in the faith is not—in all his utterances—beyond doubt. Later on Basil understood the homoousios exactly in the sense given to it by him in the letter to Apollinaris and which at that time made him hesitate to use it; see Krüger, p. 42 f. See further the characteristic statements made at an earlier date in ep. 8. 9: ho kat' ousian Theos tō kat' ousian Theō homoousios! [193] Basil has frequently so expressed himself as to suggest that he regarded the idea of the generic unity of Father and Son as sufficient (see, e.g., ep. 38, 2). Zahn (p. 87): “the ousia with Basil designates the koinon, the hupostasis the idion (ep. 114, 4). He is never tired of holding forth on the difference between the two expressions, and goes so far as to assert that the Nicene Fathers were well aware of this difference, since they would surely not have put the two words side by side without some purpose (ep. 125).” It is interesting to note that already at the Council of Antioch in 363 it had been explained that ou kata tina chrēsin Hellēnikēn lambanetai tois patrasi to onoma tēs ousias. Assuredly not! It was a terminology which was expressly invented. [194] And yet in Gregory of Nyssa the persons appear also as sumbebēkota (accidents). [195] See the treatises of Gregor. Nyss. peri diaphoras ousias kai hupostaseōs—peri tou oiesthai legein Theous—pros Hellēnas ek tōn koinōn ennoiōn. “Prosopon” is no longer for Gregory a technical term in the strict sense of the word, but on the other hand he also avoids the expression “three atoma”. The word phusis maintained itself alongside of ousia, and in the same way idiotēs was used along with hupostasis. The God who was common to the Three was supposed to be a real substance, not, however, a fourth alongside of the Three, but on the contrary the unity itself! On the characteristics of the Hypostases, see Gregor. Naz. Orat. 25. 16: Koinon to mē gegonenai kai hē theotēs. Idion de patros men hē agennēsia, huiou de hē gennēsis, pneumatos de hē ekpempsis. The two others expressed their views in almost similar terms in their works against Eunomius, unless that Gregory of Nyssa alone put the doctrine of the Holy Ghost in a logically developed form (see below), while as regards it, Basil (see de spir. s. ad Amphiloch.) advanced least of them all. The pronounced attitude taken up by them all, especially by Basil, against Marcellus, is characteristic. The theological orations of Gregory of Nazianzus (Orat. 27-31) may, more than anything else, have spread the doctrinal system far and wide. (It is important to note that in opposition to it Athanasius in his letter ad Afros. [c. 369] expressly said that hupostasis and ousia were to be used as identical in meaning.) It follows from Orat. 31 (33) that Gregory did not wish to apply the number one to the Godhead; a unity was for him only the kinēsis and phusis (mian phusin en trisin idiotēsi, noerais teleiais, kath' heautas huphestōsais, arithmō diairetais kai ou diairetais theotēti). So too he was doubtful about, the suitability of the old image, “source, stream”, for the Trinity, not only because it represents the Godhead as something changeable, something flowing, but also because it gave the appearance of a numerical unity to the Godhead. He is equally unwilling, and in fact for the same reasons, to sanction the use of the old comparison of sun, beam, and brightness. He is always in a fighting attitude towards “Sabellianism”. The doctrine of the one God is to him Jewish—that is the new discovery. “We do not acknowledge a Jewish, narrow, jealous, weak Godhead” (Orat. 25. 16). Gregory had, moreover, already begun those odd speculations about the immanent substance of God which, though they are mere bubble-blowing, are still highly thought of. The divine loftiness, according to him, shews itself in this, that in His immanent life also God is a fruitful principle; the life of the creature has its vital manifestation in the tension of dualities, but it is in this opposition that its imperfection also consists; the Trinity is the “sublation”, or abrogation of the duality, living movement and at the same time rest, and not in any way a sublimation into multiplicity. The Orat. 23 in particular is full of thoughts of this sort, see c. 8: triada teleian ek teleiōn triōn, monados men kinētheisēs dia to plousion, duados de huperbatheisēs, huper gar tēn hulēn kai to eidos, ex hōn ta sōmata, triados de horistheisēs dia to teleion, prōtē gar huperbainei duados sunthesin, hina mēte stenē menē hē theotēs mēte eis apeiron cheētai; to men gar aphilotimon, to de atakton, kai to men Ioudaikon pantelōs, to de Hellēnikon kai polutheon. [196] Gregor. Nyss., ek tōn koinōn ennoiōn T. II. p. 85; hen kai to auto prosōpon tou patros, ex hou ho huios gennatai kai to pneuma to hagion ekporeuetai, dio kai kuriōs ton hena aition onta tōn autou aitiatōn hena Theon phamen.. [197] It is here that we have the root of the difference between Athanasius and Gregory. [198] From this time this once more became the fashion amongst the scientific orthodox. The confession of Socrates (VII. 6) is very characteristic. He cannot understand how the two Arian Presbyters, Timotheus and Georgius can remain Arians and yet study Plato and Origen so industriously and esteem them so highly oude gar Platōn to deuteron kai to triton aition, hōs autos onomazein eiōthen, archēn huparxeōs eiliphenai phēsi, kai Ōrigenēs sunaidion pantachou homologei ton huion tō patri. It is instructive further to note how Philostorgius too (in Suidas) asserts that in the matter of the vindication of the homoousios Athanasius was deemed a boy in comparison with the Cappadocians and Apollinaris. [199] See the Philocalia. [200] This is one of the strongest impressions we carry away from a reading of the works against Eunomius. [201] This aspect of the activity of the Cappadocians cannot be too highly valued. But in this respect too, though in quite a new fashion, they took up the work of Athanasius. The dominant party on the contrary were supported by an Emperor (Valens) who no doubt for good reasons persecuted monarchism. (See the law in the Cod. Theodos. XII. 1, 63 of the year 365.) The aversion of the Homœans to monasticism is evident from the App. Const. Basil’s journey to Egypt was epoch-making. The relation in which he stood to Eustathius of Sebaste, the ascetic and Semi-Arian, is also of great importance. [202] For the sake of peace and in order to secure the main thing, Athanasius at the Synod of Alexandria, which may be called a continuation of the Synod of Ancyra, himself concluded the alliance with the new Oriental orthodoxy and acknowledged Meletius. But his procedure later on in the Antiochian schism (see Basil., ep. 89, 2), the close relation in which he stood throughout to Rome as contrasted with the East, the signal reserve he exhibited towards Basil (Basil. ep. 66, 69), and finally the view he took of the Marcellian Controversy which was still going on—Basil saw in Marcellus a declared Sabellian heretic, while the judgment passed on him and his following by Athanasius was essentially different—prove that he never came to have a satisfying confidence in the neo-orthodox Niceans who were associated with Meletius; see on this Zahn, pp. 83 ff., 88 ff., Rade; Damasus, p. 81 ff. [203] See the art. “Meletius” in Herzog’s R.-Encykl. IX., p. 530 f. and the discussion by Rade, op. cit., p. 74 ff. The Westerns had the same kind of feeling in reference to the opponent of Meletius in Antioch, Paulinus, as they formerly had in reference to Athanasius; he alone was for them orthodox; but they did not succeed in getting their view adopted. Heron. ep. 15. 16 shews what scruples the formula, treis hupostaseis, gave rise to in the minds of the Westerns. [204] Julian, spite of his aversion to all Christians, seems nevertheless to have been somewhat more favourably disposed towards Arianism than towards orthodoxy, i.e., than to Athanasius, who, moreover, incurred his suspicions on political grounds. [205] See his letter to Jovian in the Opp. and in Theodoret. IV. 3. Here the matter is so represented as to suggest that there were now only a few Arian Churches in the East. The attack on those who do indeed accept the homoousios, but give it a false interpretation, is worthy of note. [206] See the Synodical epistle in Socrat. III. 25, Mansi III., p. 369. [207] Socrat. IV. 2 sq. 12, Sozom. VI, 7 sq. In the following decade the view of Eudoxius of Constantinople was the authoritative one. [208] The Altercatio Heracliani et Germinii is instructive see Caspari, Kirchenhist. Anecdota, 1883. [209] Cappadocia was the native land of the new orthodoxy; see the Cappadocian self-consciousness of Gregor. Naz.; up till this time, however, it had been the principal seat of Arianism. [210] Socrat. IV. 12. [211] Sozom. VI. 12. [212] He was at the same time the patriarch of the diocese of Pontus. [213] It was Athanasius who roused Damasus to take up an attitude of energetic opposition to the Arian Bishop Auxentius of Milan, and thus, speaking generally, led him to follow in the track of Bishop Julius; see Athan. ep. ad Afros. It was at the Roman Council of 369 that the Western episcopate first formally and solemnly renounced the resolution of Rimini. On the text of the epistle of this Council, see Rade, p. 52 ff. Auxentius of Milan was condemned; but this sentence was a futile one since the Court protected him. No mention was yet made at this Council of the difficulties of the East. The years from 371 to 380 are the epochs during which the new-fashioned orthodoxy of the East, under the leadership of Basil and Meletius, attempted to induce the West to bring its influence to bear on Valens and the Homœan-Arian party, by means of an imposing manifesto, and thus to strengthen orthodoxy in the East, but at the same time to pronounce in favour of the Homoiousian-Homoousian doctrine and to put the orthodox Niceans in the wrong. These attempts were not successful; for Damasus in close league, first with Athanasius, then after his death (373), with his successor Peter, was extremely reserved, and in the first instance either did not interfere at all or interfered in favour of the old Niceans, of Paulinus that is, at Antioch. (This Peter, like Athanasius before him, had fled to Rome, and the alliance of Rome with Alexandria was part of the traditional policy of the Roman bishop from the clays of Fabian to the middle of the fifth century.) The numerous letters and embassies which came from the East of which Basil was throughout the soul, shew what trouble was taken about the matter there. But the letters of Basil did not please the “akribesteroi” in Rome; at first, indeed, intercourse with the East was carried on only through the medium of Alexandria, and on one occasion Basil had his letter simply returned to him. He complained that at Rome they were friendly with everybody who brought an orthodox confession and did not mind anything else. He referred to the friendship shewn towards those who were inclined to the views of Marcellus, further to the friendly intercourse of the Roman bishop with Paulinus, who was always suspected of Sabellianism by Basil, and to the occasional recognition of an Apollinarian. In letter 214 Basil brought the charge of Sabellianism against the entire Homoousian doctrine in its older form. It was in the year 376 that the West first promised help to the East. (The decretals of Damasus = 1 Fragment of the letter of Damasus designated by Constant as ep. 4.) Basil now (ep. 263) pleads for active interference—where possible an imposing Council—against the heretics who are heretics under cover of the Nicene Creed, and he designates as such the Macedonian Eustathius of Sebaste, Apollinaris and Paulinus, i.e., the man who taught pretty much the same doctrine as Athanasius; according to Basil, however, he is a Marcellian. The accusations against Paulinus were naturally received with anything but favour in the West. Peter of Alexandria who was still in Rome at the time, called Meletius, Basil’s honoured friend, simply an Arian. A Synod was nevertheless held in Rome at which Apollinarianism was for the first time rejected (377); to it we owe the pieces 2 and 3 in the ep. Damasi, 4 ed. Constant. Basil died in January 379. He did not attain the aim of all his work, which was to unite the orthodoxy of the East and the West on the basis of the Homoiousian interpretation of the Homousios. But soon after his death, in September 379, Meletius held a synod in Antioch, and this synod subscribed all the manifestoes of the Romans, i.e., of the West, issued during the previous years 369, 376, 377, and thus simply submitted to the will of the West in dogmaticis, and despatched to Rome the Acts which contained the concessions. The triumph of the old-orthodox interpretation of the Nicene Creed thus seemed perfect. The West, under the guidance of Ambrose, from this time forth recognised the Meletians also as orthodox. It was from there (see the Synod of Aquileia 380, under Ambrosius) that the proposal emanated that if one of the two anti-bishops in Antioch should die, no successor should be chosen, and thus the schism would be healed. The fact that the Meletians thus came round to the orthodox standpoint is explicable only when we consider the complete changes which had taken place in the political situation since the death of Valens. On the involved state of things in the years from 369 to 378 see the letters of Basil, 70, 89-92, 129, 138, 214, 215, 239, 242, 243, 253-256, 263, 265, 266. It was the investigation of the matter by Rade, op. cit. pp. 70-121, which first threw light on this. On Damasus and Peter of Alex. see Socrat. IV. 37, Sozom. VI. 39, Theod. IV. 22. All were agreed in holding Athanasius in high respect. It was this that kept the combatants together. Gregory begins his panegyric (Orat. 21) with the words: Athanasion epainōn aretēn epainesomai, and in saying this he said what everybody thought. [214] See on Gratian’s religious policy my art. in Herzog’s R.-Encykl. s. h. v. [215] Valentinian was the last representative of the principle of freedom in religion, in the sense in which Constantine had sought to carry it out in the first and larger half of his reign, and also Julian. [216] During a severe illness, by the orthodox bishop of Thessalonica. [217] Impp. Gratianus Valentinianus et Theodosius AAA. ad populuin urbis Constantinop.: “Cunctos populos, quos clementiæ nostræ regit temperamentum in tali volumus religione versari, quam divinum Petrum apostolum tradidisse Romanis religio usque ad nunc ab ipso insinuata declarat quamque pontificem Damasum sequi claret et Petrum Alexandriæ episcopum virum apostolicæ sanctitatis, hoc est, ut secundum apostolicam disciplinam evangelicamque doctrinam patris et filii et spiritus sancti unam deitatem sub pari majestate et sub pia trinitate credamus (this is the Western-Alexandrian way of formulating the problem). Hanc legem sequentes Christianorum catholicorum nomen jubemus amplecti, reliquos vere dementes vesanosque judicantes hæretici dogmatis infamiam sustinere, divina primum vindicta, post etiam motus nostri, quem ex cælesti arbitrio sumpserimus, ultione plectendos” (Cod. Theod. XVI. s, 2; Cod. Justin I. 1. [218] With the exception of Egypt most of the Churches in the East were at this time in the hands of the Arians. [219] The relations which existed in the years 378-381 between the East and the West (Alexander was closely allied with the latter) are complicated and obscure. Their nature was still in all essential respects determined by the continuance of the schism in Antioch. The following is certain (1) Theodosius, as soon as he came to perceive the true state of things in the East, had ranged himself on the side of the orthodox there; he wished to suppress Arianism not by the aid of the West and of the Alexandrian bishop Peter who was closely allied with Rome and who had already acted as if he were the supreme Patriarch of the Greek Church, but by the orthodox powers of the East itself. The proof of this is (1) that he transferred in a body to Meletius the Arian Churches in Antioch Paulinus was shelved; (2) that in the Edict (Cod. Theodos. XVI. 1, 3) he does not mention Damasus, but on the contrary enumerates the orthodox of the East as authorities (July 30th, 381) and this Gwatkin, p. 262, rightly terms an “amended definition of orthodoxy”; (3) that he refused to accede to the repeated and urgent demands of the Westerns who wished him to settle impartially the dispute at Antioch with due respect to the superior claims of Paulinus, and also refused their request for the summoning of an Ecumenical Council at Alexandria; (4) that he summoned an Eastern Council to meet at Constantinople without troubling himself in the slightest about the West, Rome and Alexandria, made Meletius president of it, heaped honours upon him, and sanctioned the choice of a successor after his death, and this in spite of the advice of the Westerns that the whole Antiochian Church should now be handed over to Paulinus, an advice which had the support of Gregory of Nazianzus himself. Nor can there be any doubt in view of the manner in which the Council was summoned to meet, that its original intention was to draw up a formula of agreement with the Macedonians. It is certain (II.) that the orthodox Fathers who assembled at Constantinople gladly recognised and availed themselves of the opportunity thus presented of freeing themselves from the tutelage of Alexandria and the West, and of recalling by a distinct act the concessions which they had made under compulsion two years previously at Antioch. “It is in the East that the sun first rises, it was starting from the East that the God who came in the flesh flashed upon the world.” By their united attitude, their choice of Flavian as the successor of Meletius, who had died during the Council, by passing the third Canon—on the importance of the chair of Constantinople—and by their rejection of Maximus who was proposed for the chair of Constantinople by Alexandria and patronised by Rome and the West, they inflicted the severest possible defeat on Alexandria and the West, and specially on the policy of Peter and Damasus. It is certain (III.) finally, that shortly before the Council of Constantinople, during the Council, and immediately after it rose, the relations between the Egyptians and Westerns and the East were of the most strained character, and that a breach was imminent. (See the letter in Mansi III., p. 631.) [220] The choice of him as president (on this and on the general procedure of the Council see his Carmen de vita sua) was not any more than that of Meletius approved of by Alexandria and Rome. His support of Paulinus may find its explanation in the fact that he aimed at getting into the good graces of Rome after he had himself attained the Patriarchate. Gregory had a Tasso-like nature. Quite incapable of effecting anything in the sphere of Church government or politics, he did not really desire office; but he wished to have the honour and distinction which are connected with office. So long as he did not have office he was ambitious, when he had it he threw it away. [221] The Egyptians even went the length of separating themselves from the majority at the Council; they did not approve of the decisions come to by the neo-orthodox; see Theodoret V. 8. [222] The Egyptian bishops felt it to be intolerable that the Cappadocian and not their man, Maximus, should get the position of Patriarch in Constantinople The resignation of Gregory of Nazianzus was the price demanded by the Egyptians for yielding; see Gregory’s farewell address to the Council, Orat. 42. The Canons 1-4 of the Council—for these only are in all probability genuine, while those which follow belong to the Council of 382—are strongly anti-Alexandrian and are intended to bring down the claims of the Alexandrian which were already pitched high Canon 3 is directed not so much against Rome as against Alexandria (Ton mentoi Kōnstantinoupoleōs episkopon echein ta presbeia tēs timēs meta ton tēs Rhōmēs episkopon, dia to einai autēn nean Rhōmēn). Canon 2 is intended to put a stop to the attempt of the Bishop of Alexandria to rule other Eastern Churches. But this very Canon plainly proves (cf. the sixth Canon of Nice) that as a matter of fact the Bishop of Alexandria had a position in the East which was wholly different from that of the other bishops. He only is mentioned in the singular number—ton men Alexandreias episkopon . . . tous de tēs Anatolēs episkopous . . , phulattomenōn tōn presbeiōn tē Antiocheōn ekklēsia . . , tous tēs Asianēs dioikēseōs episkopous . . . tous tēs Pontikēs . . . tous tēs Thrakikēs. The peculiar position of the Alexandrian bishop which the latter wished to develop into a position of primacy, was chiefly due to three causes. (It is quite clear that Athanasius and Peter wished so to develop it, and perhaps even Dionysius the Great; the intention of the Alexandrian scheme to place Maximus on the episcopal seat of Constantinople, was to secure a preponderating influence upon the capital and the imperial Church by the aid of this creature of Alexandria.) These three causes were as follows; (1) Alexandria was the second city of the Empire and was recognised as such in the Church also at least as early as the middle of the third century; see, e.g., the conciliar epistle of the great Council of Antioch of the year 268, addressed “to the bishops of Rome and Alexandria and to all Catholic churches.” (Alexandria ranks as the second, Antioch as the third city of the Empire in Josephus, de Bello Jud. 4, 11, 5, cf. the chronograph of the year 354, Stryzygowski, Jahrb. d. k. deutschen archäol. Instituts. Supplementary vol., 1888, I., die Kalenderbilder des Chronographen v. j. 354, p. 24 f. The chronograph gives the series thus, Rome, Alexandria, Constantinople, Trèves. Lumbroso, L’Egitto dei Greci e dei Romani, 1882, p. 86, proves that all the authors of the first to the third centuries agree in giving the first place after Rome to Alexandria, see, e.g., Dio Chrysostomus, Orat. 32, I, p. 412: hē gar polis humōn tō megethei kai tō topō pleiston hoson diapherei kai periphanōs apodedeiktai deutera tōn hupo ton hēlion. In the “ordo urbium nobilium” of Ausonius we have for the first time the cities given in the following order: Rome, Constantinople, Carthage, Antioch, Alexandria, Trèves. So long as Alexandria was the second city in the Empire, it was the first city in the East. (2) Alexandria had this in common with Rome, that it had no cities in its diocese which were of importance in any way. The bishop of Alexandria was always the bishop of Egypt (Libya and Pentapolis), as the bishop of Rome was always the bishop of Italy. The case was quite otherwise with Antioch and Ephesus; they always had important episcopates alongside of them. (3) The lead in the great Arian controversy had fallen to the Bishop of Alexandria; he had shewn himself equal to this task and in this way had come to be the most powerful ecclesiastic in the East. The hints which I have given as to the policy of the Alexandrian Patriarch here and in Chap. III. 2, have been further developed in an instructive fashion by Rohrbach (die Patriarchen von Alexandrien) in the Preuss. Jahrb. Vol. 69, Parts I and 2. [223] On the Creed of Constantinople see my article in Herzog’s R.-Encyklop. VIII., pp. 212-230, which summarises the works of Caspari and particularly of Hort, and carries the argument further. The following facts are certain. (1) The Council of 381 did not set up any new creed, but simply avowed anew its adherence to the Nicene Creed (Socrat. V. 8, Sozom. VII. 7, 9, Theodoret V. 8, Greg. Naz. ep. 102 [Orat. 52] the testimony of the Latin and Constantinople Councils of 382). (2) If we take the years from 381 to 450, we do not find in any Synodal Act, Church Father, or heterodox theologians during that period any certain trace whatsoever of the existence of the Creed of Constantinople, much less any proof that it was used then as the Creed of Constantinople or as the official Baptismal Creed; it is simultaneously with the recognition of the Council of 381 as an ecumenical Council—about 451 in the East, in the West fifty years later—that the Creed in question, which now emerges, is first described as the Creed of Constantinople. (3) It did not, however, then first come into existence, but is on the contrary much older; it is found already in the Ancoratus of Epiphanius which belongs to the year 374, and there is no reason for holding that it is an interpolation here; on the contrary (4) the internal evidence goes to shew that it is a Nicene redaction of the Baptismal Creed of Jerusalem composed soon after 362. The Creed is thus not any extension of the Nicene Creed, but rather belongs to that great series of Creeds which sprang up after the Council of Alexandria (362) in the second creed-making epoch of the Eastern Churches. At that time the opponents of Arianism in the East, now grown stronger, resolved to give expression to the Nicene doctrine in connection with the solemn rite of baptism. It was possible to do this in three different ways, that is to say either by embodying the Nicene catchwords in the old provincial church creeds, by enlarging the Nicene Creed for the special purpose of using it as a baptismal Creed, or, finally, by adopting it itself, without alteration, for church use as a baptismal Creed, in spite of its incompleteness and its polemical character. These three plans were actually followed. In the first half of the fifth century the third was the one most widely adopted, but previously to this the two first were the favourites. To this series belong the revised Antiochian Confession, the later Nestorian Creed, the Philadelphian, the Creed in the pseudo-Athanasian hermēneia eis to sumbolon, the second, longer, Creed in the Ancoratus of Epiphanius, the Cappadocian-Armenian, the exposition of the Nicene Creed ascribed to Basil, a Creed which was read at Chalcedon and which is described as “Nicene.” To this class our Creed also belongs. If it be compared with the Nicene Creed it will be easily seen that it cannot be based on the latter; if, on the other hand, it be compared with the old Creed of Jerusalem (in Cyril of Jerusalem) it becomes plain that it is nothing but a Nicene redaction of this Creed. But this is as much as to say that it was probably composed by Cyril of Jerusalem. Moreover, its general character also perfectly corresponds with what we know of Cyril’s theology and of his gradual approximation to orthodoxy. (Socrat. V. 8, Sozom. VII. 7) “Cyril’s personal history presents in various respects a parallel to the transition of the Jerusalem Creed into the form of the so-called Creed of Constantinople.” That is to say, in the Creed which afterwards became ecumenical the words of the Nicene Creed “tout' estin ek tēs ousias tou patros” and the Nicene anathemas are omitted. The christological section accordingly runs thus: “kai eis hena kurion Iēsoun Christon, ton huion tou Theou ton monogenē, ton ek tou patros gennēthenta pro pantōn tōn aiōnōn, phōs ek phōtos, Theon alēthinon ek Theou alēthinou, gennēthenta ou poiēthenta, homoousion tō patri, di' hou ta panta egeneto.” From the writings of the Ēomoiousians and the Cappadocians we can accordingly easily gather that the “ek tēs ousias tou patros” presented a far greater difficulty to the half-friends of the Nicene Creed than the homoousios; for homoousios not without some show of fairness might be interpreted as homoios kat' ousian, while on the contrary the “ek tēs ousias”, both in what it said and in what it excluded—the will, namely—seemed to leave the door open to Sabellianism. It follows also from Athan. de Synodis that he considered the “ek tēs ousias” as of supreme importance; for in a way that is very characteristic of him he observes that homoousios is equal to homoiousios ek tēs ousias, that is, whoever intentionally avows his belief in the homoousios without the “ek tēs ousias” avows his belief in it as a Homoiousian. The Christological formula in the Creed of Jerusalem, i.e., what was later on the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, is thus almost homoiousian, even although it retains the homoousios. It corresponds exactly to the standpoint which Cyril must have taken up soon after 362. The same holds good of what the Creed says regarding the Holy Spirit. The words: “kai eis to pneuma to hagion, to kurion, to zōopoion, to ek tou patros ekporeuomenon, to sun patri kai huiō sunproskunoumenon kai sundoxazomenon, to lalēsan dia tōn prophētōn” are in entire harmony with the form which the doctrine of the Holy Spirit had in the sixties. A Pneumatomachian could have subscribed this formula at a pinch; and just because of this it is certain that the Council of 381 did not accept this Creed. We can only conjecture how it came to be the Creed of Constantinople (see Hort., pp. 97-106 f. and my article pp. 225 f., 228 f.). It was probably entered in the Acts of the Council as the Confession by which Cyril had proved to the Council that his faith was orthodox and which the highly esteemed Epiphanius had also avowed as his. The Bishop of Constantinople took it from among the Acts shortly before the year 451 and put it into circulation. The desire to foist into the churches a Constantinopolitan Creed was stronger in his case than his perception of the defects of this very Creed. It was about 530 that the Creed of Constantinople first became a Baptismal Creed in the East and displaced the Nicene Creed. It was about the same time that it first came into notice in the West, but it, however, very quickly shoved the old Apostolic Baptismal Creeds into the background, being used in opposition to Germanic Arianism which was very widely spread there. On the “filioque” see below. We may merely mention the extreme and wholly unworkable hypothesis of the Catholic Vincenzi (De process. Spiritus S., Romæ, 1878) that the Creed of Constantinople is a Greek made-up composition belonging to the beginning of the seventh century, a fabrication the sole aim of which was to carry back the date of the rise of the heresy of the procession of the Holy Spirit ex patre solo into the Fourth Century. [224] See the letter “Sanctum” in Mansi III., p. 631. [225] See the letter “Fidei” in Mansi III., p. 630. [226] The important letter is in Theodoret V. 9. It contains a description of the persecutions which had been endured, of the struggles which still continued, thanks that they hōs oikeia melē should have received an invitation to the Council so that they may rule along with the West and that it may not rule alone, regret that they are prevented from appearing at it; then follows the exposition of the Faith, after the despatch of the three envoys had been announced: “What we have suffered we suffered for the Evangelical Faith which was settled at Nicæa, tautēn tēn pistin kai humin kai hēmin kai pasi tois mē diastrethpusi ton logon tēs alēthous pisteōs sunareskein dei; hēn molis pote [sic] presbutatēn te ousan kai akolouthon tō baptismati kai didaskousan hēmas pisteuein eis to onoma tou patros kai tou huiou kai tou hagiou pneumatos, dēladē theotētos te kai dunameōs kai ousias mias tou patros kai tou huiou kai tou hagiou pneumatos pisteuomenēs, homotimon te tēs axias kai sunaidiou tēs basileias, en trisi teleiais hupostasesin ēgoun trisi teleiais hupostasesin ēgoun trisi teleiois prosōpois, hōs mēte tēn Sabelliou noson chōran labein suncheomenōn tōn hupostaseōn, eigoun tōn idiotētōn anairoumenōn, mē te mēn tēn tōn Eunomianōn kai Areianōn kai Pneumatomachōn blasphēmian ischuein, tēs ousias ē tēs phuseōs ē tēs theotētos temnomenēs kai tē aktistō kai homoousiō kai sunaidiō triadi metagenesteras tinos ē ktistēs ē heteroousiou phuseōs epagomenēs. The Easterns did not yield anything here and yet they expressed their belief in as conciliatory a form as possible since they were silent about Marcellus, called Sabellianism a “disease”, but Arianism a “blasphemy”. Next follows the reference to the acts of the Councils of 379 and 381, then an explanation regarding the new appointment to the “as it were newly founded Church of Constantinople” and to the bishopric of Antioch where—this is directed against Rome and Alexandria—the name Christian first arose. So too the recognition of Cyril of Jerusalem, who had suffered so much for the Faith, is justified. Jerusalem is called in this connection “the mother of all Churches.” The Easterns at the close beseech the Westerns to give their consent to all this, tēs pneumatikēs mesiteuousēs agapēs kai tou kuriakou phobou, pasan men katastellontos anthrōpinēn proapatheian, tēn de tōn ekklēsiōn oikodomēn protimoteran poiountos tēs pros ton kath' hena sumpatheias ē charitos. Then will we no longer say, what is condemned by the Apostles: “I am of Paul, and I of Apollos, and I of Cephas”, but we shall all appear as belonging to Christ, who is not divided in us, and will with the help of God preserve the body of the Church from division. [227] The so-called fifth Canon of the Council of 381 (see Rade, pp. 107, 116 f., 133) belongs to the Synod of 382, as also the sixth; the seventh is later. It runs: peri tou tomou tōn Dutikōn kai tous en Antiocheia apedexametha tous mian homologountas patros kai huiou kai hagiou pneumatos theotēta. It can only he the Paulinists in Antioch who are here referred to. But as regards the Western Tomos we must with Rade, op. cit., apparently take it to be the twenty-four Anathemas of Damasus (in Theodoret V. II.). This noteworthy document, which perhaps originated in the year 381, presents in a full and definite way the standpoint of the Westerns in regard to the different dogmatic questions. It is specially worthy of notice that the doctrine of Marcellus is condemned without any mention being made of its author. The ninth anathema is further of importance and also the eleventh: “If anyone does not confess that the Son is from the Father, i.e., is born of His Divine substance, let him be accursed.” Compare with this the so-called Creed of Constantinople in which the ek tēs ousias is wanting. The fulness with which the doctrines of the Incarnation and the Holy Spirit are already treated, is significant. [228] To this period, according to Rade’s pertinent conjecture, the work of Damasus given in Theodoret V. to against Apollinarianism, also belongs. It probably came from the pen of Jerome, soon after 382, and gives expression to the supreme self-consciousness of the occupant of the chair of Peter. Jerome always flattered Damasus. [229] The Church historians, Philostorgius in particular, give us some information about this, but they do not enter much into particulars. Eunomius kept his ground firmly and courageously and declined all compromises. He did not even so much as recognise the baptism and ordination of the other Church parties (Philostorg. X. 4). The Conciliar epistle of the Easterns of the year 382 (see above) further shews what difficulties the attempt to carry through the Homoousios gave rise to. [230] See the struggles of Ambrose against Arianism in Upper Italy, which went on still the year 388. After the death of his mother, Valentinus II. declared for orthodoxy; see Cod. Theodos. XVI. 5, 15. The knowledge that Maximus the usurper had owed his large following to the fact of his being strictly orthodox helped to bring about this decision. The assertion of Libanius that Maximus entered into an alliance even with the unruly and rebellious Alexandrians is one which is calculated to make us reflect. The fact that in the days of Theodosius Ambrose was at the head of the Church in the West, probably contributed largely to bring about an adjustment of the differences between the Western-Alexandrian and the Cappadocian-neo-orthodox doctrines of the Son. This bishop had learned from Philo, Origen, and Basil, and he had friendly intercourse with the last mentioned; but he never sheaved any interest in or appreciation of the difference between the form of doctrine in East and West, and he did not go into the speculations of the theologians of the East. It was thus merely in a superficial fashion that he accepted the theological science of the East. But this very fact was of advantage to him so far as his position was concerned; for it meant that he did not separate himself from the common sense of the West, while, on the other hand, he had a great respect for the Cappadocian theology and consequently was admirably suited for being a peace-maker. Ex professo he did not handle the Trinitarian problem; his formulæ bear what is essentially the Western stamp, without, however, being pointed against the “Meletians”, and in fact, he himself accepted the statement: “nulla est discrepantia divinitatis et operis; non igitur in utroque una persona, sed una substantia est”; but on the other hand: “non duo domini, sed unus dominus, quia et pater deus et filius deus, sed unus deus, quia pater in filio et filius in patre—nevertheless—unus deus, quia una deitas” (see Förster, Ambrosius, p. 130). Ambrose did not engage in any independent speculations regarding the Trinity, as Hilary did (see Reinkens, op. cit., and Schwane, D G. d. patrist. Zeit., p. 150 ff.). The fact, however, that in the fourth century the greatest theologian of the West—namely, Jerome, and the most powerful ecclesiastical prince of the West, Ambrose, had learned their theology from the Greeks, was the most important cause of the final union of East and West in the matter of the doctrine of the Trinity. Hosius, Julius of Rome, Lucifer and Damasus of Rome would not have been able to accomplish the dogmatic unity of the two halves of the Empire. As a matter of fact the dogmatic unity did not spring from the alliance of Athanasius, Julius, Peter, and Damasus, Alexandria and Rome that is, but from the alliance of Athanasius, Hilary, Basil, Jerome, and Ambrose. [231] On the Novatians in the East in the Fourth Century and their relations to the orthodox, particularly in the city of Constantinople, see my articles s. v. “Novatian”, “Socrates”, in Herzog’s R: Encykl. The Novatians, strange to say, always had been and continued to be Nicene. The explanation of this may be found in the fact that they originated in the West, or in the fact of their connection with the West. [232] Socr. V. to (Sozom. VII. 12) has given us some information regarding the proceedings at the Council of Constantinople in 383. Theodosius wished to have an actual conference between the opposing parties. Sisinius, the reader to the Novatian bishop Agelius, is then said to have advised that instead of having a disputation the matter should be settled simply on the basis of passages from the Fathers; the patristic proof alone was to be authoritative. Socrates tells us that with the consent of the Emperor this was actually the course followed, and that on the part of the orthodox only those Fathers were appealed to who had lived before the Arian controversy. The raising of the question, however, as to whether the various parties actually recognised these Fathers as authoritative, produced a Babylonian confusion amongst them, and indeed even amongst the members of one and the same party, so that the Emperor abandoned this plan of settling the dispute. He next collected together Confessions composed by the different parties (the bold one composed by Eunomius is still preserved, see Mansi III., p. 646 sq.), but rejected them all with the exception of the orthodox one, and ungraciously sent the parties home. The Arians, it is said, consoled themselves for the Emperor’s unkind treatment of them, with the saying that “many are called but few chosen”. This narrative, so far as the particulars are concerned, is too much a made-up one to be implicitly trusted. But the attempt to decide the whole question on the authority of tradition was certainly made. If we consider how at first both parties proceeded almost exclusively on the basis of the Holy Scriptures we can perceive in the attempt an extremely significant advance in the work of laying waste the Eastern Churches. [233] See Cod. Theodos. XVI. 1, 4 of the year 386 and the other laws of Theodosius and his sons. Things became particularly bad from about 410 onwards. [234] See Sozom. in Books VII. and VIII., especially in VIII. 1. [235] Athanasius had already described the whole substance of the Christian religion as a “doctrine of the mysteries”—see, e.g., his Festival-letters, p. 68 (ed. Larsow). [236] We have here, above all, to remember the attitude taken up by Socrates, which is typical of that of the ecclesiastically pious laity of the East. His stand-point is—we ought silently to adore the mystery. Whatever the generation the last but one before his own has fixed, is for him already holy; but he will have nothing to do with dogmatic disputes in his own time, and one may even find in what he says traces of a vague feeling on his part that the laity as regards their Faith had in fine been duped by the bishops and their controversies. His agreement with what was said by Euagrius in reference to the Trinity (III. 7) is characteristic of his position in the matter: pasa protasis ē genos echei katēgoroumenon ē eidos ē diaphoran ē sumbebēkos ē to ek toutōn sunkeimenon; ouden de epi hagias triados tōn eirēmenōn esti labein. siōpē proskuneisthō to arrēton. He will have nothing to do with ousia and hupostasis. The case too of Procopius of Cæsarea illustrates the attitude of reserve taken up by the laity in the sixth century to the whole dogmatic system of the Church. _________________________________________________________________ [1] Vide Preface. _________________________________________________________________ APPENDIX. THE DOCTRINE OF THE HOLY GHOST AND OF THE TRINITY. I. In the baptismal formula, along with the confession of belief in the Father and Son, there had always been from early times a confession also of belief in the Holy Spirit. This belief expressed the thought that Christianity has within it the Spirit of the Father—the Spirit of Christ—the living, illuminating, divine principle. The Spirit is the gift of God. But after the Montanist controversies the combination of Spirit and Church, Spirit and individual Christians came to have a secondary place in regular theological thought. The World-Church and its theologians busied themselves instead with the Spirit in so far as it spoke through the prophets, in so far as it had before this brooded “over the waters”, in so far as it descended on Christ at His baptism, etc.—though this soon became a minor point—or took part in His human origin. But there was quite an accumulation of difficulties here for rational theology. These difficulties lay (1) in the notion itself, in so far as pneuma also described the substance of God and of the Logos; (2) in the impossibility of recognising any specific activity of the Spirit in the present; (3) in the desire to ascribe to the Logos rather than to the Spirit the active working in the universe and in the history of revelation. The form of the Spirit’s existence, its rank and function were accordingly quite uncertain. By one the Holy Spirit was considered as a gift and as an impersonal—and therefore also an unbegotten—power which Christ had promised to send and which consequently became an actual fact only after Christ’s Ascension; by another as a primitive power in the history of revelation; by a third as an active power in the world-process also. Others again attributed to it a personal existence misled by the expression “the Paraclete”. Of these some regarded it as a created divine being, others as the highest spiritual creature made by God, the highest angel; others again as the second probolē or “derivatio” of the Father, and thus as a permanently existing Being sharing in the God-head itself; while once more others identified it with the eternal Son Himself. There were actually some too who were inclined to regard the Spirit, which is feminine in Hebrew, and which was identified with the “Wisdom” of God, as a female principle. [237] The views held regarding its rank and functions also were accordingly very different. All who regarded the Spirit as personal, subordinated it to the Father and probably also as a rule to the Son when they distinguished it from the latter, for the relation of Father and Son did not seem to permit of the existence of a third being of the same kind, and, besides, Christ had expressly said that he would send the Spirit, and therefore it looked as if the latter were His servant or messenger. The other idea that the Logos is the organ of the Spirit or Wisdom is very rarely met with. This or an idea similar to it was the one reached by those who distinguished between the impersonal Logos or Wisdom eternally inherent in God and the created Logos or Wisdom, and then identified the divine in Christ with the latter. As to its functions, we meet with no further speculations regarding their peculiar nature after the attempts of the Montanists to define them, until a very much later date when at last theologians had learned to commit a special department of the mysteries to the care of the Spirit. All that was meanwhile said regarding the activity of the Spirit in the world-process, in the history of revelation, in regeneration, including illumination and sanctification, was of a wholly vague kind, and was frequently either the expression of perplexity or of exegetical learning, but never gave evidence of any special theological interest in the question. We must not, however, overlook the fact that in Church theology in its oldest form as we see it in Irenæus and Tertullian, we find an attempt made to give to the Spirit, which had necessarily to be ranked as a being of special dignity within the Godhead, an immanent relation to the Father and the. Son. The passages in Irenæus referring to the Spirit are of special importance, though Tertullian was the first to call Him “God”. One can trace within theology a well-marked line of development running from Justin through Tertullian to Origen. [238] After Sabellius, starting from totally different premises, had by his speculations drawn attention to the Holy Spirit, Origen here too supplied a definite conception on the subject just as he had in connection with the doctrine of the Logos. While admitting the want of any certainty in what was given by tradition, he treated the doctrine of the Holy Spirit entirely according to the analogy of the doctrine of the Logos, and even demanded that it should be so treated. The Holy Spirit forms part of the Godhead, it is a permanently existing divine Being, but it is at the same time a creature, and a creature, in fact, which occupies a stage lower than the Son, because it, like everything created, has come into being by the Son or Logos. The sphere of its activity is correspondingly smaller than that of the Son. Origen declared that intensively it was more important, but he did not give this its due value, since for him the categories of magnitude, space, and causality were in the last resort the highest. [239] The fact that the doctrine of the Holy Spirit was treated in Tertullian (adv. Prax.) and Origen in a way perfectly analogous to that followed in the case of the doctrine of the Logos, is the strongest possible proof that there was no specific theological interest taken in this point of doctrine. [240] Nor was it different in the period following. The Arian and the Arianising formula of the Fourth Century still at least embody the attempt to state in reference to the Spirit what, according to the old Church tradition, describes the character of its active working, little as that is; the pompous formula of orthodoxy, however, merely gives expression to the general thought that there is no foreign element in the Godhead, and shews, moreover, that the doctrine of the hypostasis of the Holy Spirit was already beginning to be an embarrassing one for the Church. The doctrine of Origen that the Holy Spirit is an individual hypostasis and that it is a created being included within the sphere of the Godhead itself, found only very partial acceptance for more than a century. And even in the cases in which, under the influence of the baptismal formula, reference was made to a Trinity in the Godhead—which came to be more and more the practice,—the third Being was still left in the vague, and, as at an earlier period, we hear of the promised gift of the Holy Spirit. Nevertheless the philosophical theologians became more and more convinced that it was necessary to assume the presence not merely of a threefold economy in the Godhead, but of three divine beings or substances. In the first thirty years after the commencement of the Arian controversy, the Holy Spirit is scarcely ever mentioned, [241] although the Lucianists and consequently Arius too regarded it as indeed a divine hypostasis, but at the same time as the most perfect creature, which the Father had created through the Son and which therefore was inferior to the Son also in nature, dignity, and position. [242] In their Confessions they kept to the old simple tradition: pisteuomen kai eis to pneuma to hagion, to eis paraklēsin kai hagiasmon kai teleiōsin tois pisteuousi didomenon, [243] “and we believe in the Holy Spirit given to believers for consolation, and sanctification, and perfection.” They recognised three graduated hypostases in the Godhead. The fact that Athanasius did not in the first instance think of the Spirit at all, regarding which also nothing was fixed at Nicæa, is simply a proof of his intense interest in his doctrine of the Son. The first trace of the emergence of the question as to the Spirit is found, so far as I know, in the Anathemas (20 ff.) of the very conservative Creed of the Eusebian Council of Sirmium (351). Here the identification of the Holy Spirit with the unbegotten God and with the Son, as also the designation of it as meros tou patros ē tou huiou, (part of the Father and of the Son,) are forbidden. [244] It was towards the end of the fifties that Athanasius directed his attention to the doctrine of the Holy Spirit, and he at once took up a firm position. [245] If the Holy Spirit belongs to the Godhead it must be worshipped, if it is an independent being then all that holds good of the Son holds good of it also, for otherwise the Triad would be divided and blasphemed and the rank of the Son too would again become doubtful—this is for him a conclusive argument. There can be nothing foreign, nothing created in the Triad which is just the one God (holē trias heis Theos estin). Athanasius was not only able to adduce a number of passages from Scripture in support of this assertion, but he also endeavoured to verify his view by a consideration of the functions of the Holy Spirit. The principle of sanctification cannot be of the same nature as the beings which it sanctifies; the source of life for creatures cannot itself be a creature; he who is the medium whereby we enter into fellowship with the Divine nature must himself possess this nature. [246] On the other hand, He who works as the Father and the Son work, or to put it more accurately, He who bestows one and the same grace—for there is only one grace, namely, that of the Father through the Son in the Holy Spirit—is part of the Godhead, and whoever rejects Him separates himself from the Faith generally. Thus everything is really already expressed in the baptismal formula; for without the Holy Spirit it would be destroyed, since it is the Spirit who throughout completes or perfects what is done. The personality of the Spirit is simply presupposed by Athanasius in the indefinite form in which he also presupposed the personality of the Son. The attempts to distinguish the peculiar nature of the activity of the Spirit from that of the Father and the Son did not indeed get beyond empty words such as perfection, connection, termination of activity, etc. The question as to why the Son could not do all this Himself, and why, if there was here a third, the existence of a Fourth was not also possible, was left unanswered. It is necessary to believe in the Trinity as handed down by tradition: “and it is manifest that the Spirit is not one being of the many nor an angel [one of many], but one unique being, or rather, He belongs to the Logos who is one, and to God who is one, and is also of the same substance” (kai ouk adēlon, hoti ouk esti tōn pollōn to pneuma, all' oude angelos, all' hen on. mallon de tou logou henos ontos idion kai tou Theou henos ontos idion kai homoousion estin). [247] The “Tropicists” as he calls those who teach erroneous doctrine in reference to the Holy Spirit, are in his view no better than the Arians. The letters of Athanasius to Serapion of Thmuis were called forth by the complaints of this bishop about the intrigues of those who taught false doctrine regarding the Holy Spirit. As a matter of fact, amongst the Semi-Arians the doctrine of the Holy Spirit was now purposely developed in opposition to the Homousia. It was in particular the highly esteemed chief of the Thracian Semi-Arians, Macedonius, at a later date the deposed bishop of Constantinople, who defended the doctrine that the Spirit is a creature similar to the angels, a being subordinate to the Father and the Son and in their service. [248] It is worth noting with regard to these Semi-Arians that the more their common opposition to the Homœans and Anomœans drove them to side with the Nicæans the more firmly they stuck to their doctrine of the Spirit. It looked as if they wished to preserve in their doctrine of the Holy Spirit the Conservativism which they had had to abandon as regards the doctrine of the Son. It was at the Synod of Alexandria (362) that the orthodox first took up the definite position with regard to this question that whoever regards the Holy Spirit as a creature and separates it from the substance of Christ, in so doing divides up the Holy Trinity, gives a hypocritical adherence to the Nicene Faith, and has merely in appearance renounced Arianism. [249] But what was thus firmly established by the Alexandrians by no means at once became law for the orthodox in the East. The statements regarding the Spirit [250] were indeed further amplified in subsequent years in connection with the remodelling of the old Confessions, but amongst the Homoiousians who were becoming Homousians, the greatest uncertainty continued to prevail up till 380. The thirty-first oration of Gregory of Nazianzus which was composed at that time, proves this. [251] Meanwhile it was just the Cappadocians who did most towards getting the orthodox conception naturalised in the Church, namely, Basil in his work against Eunomius (lib. III.) and in the tractate “de spiritu sancto,” Gregory of Nazianzus in several of his orations (31, 37, 44), and Gregory of Nyssa in his amplifications of Trinitarian doctrine. They had apparently learned something from the letters of Athanasius ad Serap., for they repeat his arguments and give them more formal development. But neither in Basil nor in Gregory of Nazianzus is there the stringency which marks the thought of Athanasius. The absence of any tangible tradition exercised a strong influence [252] on them, and at bottom they are already satisfied—Basil at any rate—with the avowal that the Spirit is not in any sense a creature. [253] Gregory of Nyssa as an Origenist and speculative Trinitarian carried the doctrine further. [254] As the theologians were at a loss how to accord to the Spirit a peculiar mode of being in relation to the Father, they hit upon the plan of attributing to it, following some passages in St John, eternal sending forth (ekpempsis) and procession (ekporeusis). Just as in the second century the begetting of Christ whereby he came to exist on this earth had been made into a super-terrestrial begetting then became an eternal begetting, while the “being begotten” next came to be regarded as the supreme characteristic of the second hypostasis, so in the fourth century an “eternal sending” of the Spirit was made out of the promised “sending” of the Holy Spirit and was regarded as descriptive of the essential characteristic of the third hypostasis within the Holy Trinity. Nowhere can the work of imaginative conception be more plainly recognised than here. Behind a history already in itself a wonderful one, and the scene of which is laid partly in the Godhead and partly within humanity, there was put by a process of abstraction and reduplication a second history the events of which are supposed to pass entirely within the Godhead itself. The former history is to get its stability through the latter which comprises “the entire mystery of our Faith.” The matter was much more quickly settled in the West. Hilary, it is true, was anything but clear as regards doctrine, but this was merely because he had eaten of the tree of Greek theology. The general unreasoned conviction in the West was that the Holy Spirit, belief in whom was avowed in the Apostles’ Creed, is the one God likewise. When the question as to the personality of the Spirit emerged, it was as quickly settled that it must be a persona, for the nature of God is not so poor that His Spirit cannot be a person.—(It has to be noted that persona and our “person” are not the same thing.) The views of Lactantius again on this point were different. Since the year 362 the orthodox at several Councils in the West and then in Asia had pronounced in favour of the complete Godhead of the Spirit [255] in opposition to the Arians, as we see from the Confession of Eunomius, and also to the Pneumatomachians. [256] The big Eastern Council summoned to meet at Constantinople in 381 by Theodosius originally included thirty-six Macedonians amongst its members. But they could not be got to assent to the new doctrine of the Holy Spirit, spite of all the imperial efforts made to win them over. They were accordingly compelled to leave the Council. [257] The latter reaffirmed the Nicene Creed, but gave to it a detailed dogmatic explanation which has not been preserved, in which the complete homousia of the Spirit was avowed, and in the same way the first canon of the Council passes condemnation on the Semi-Arians or “Pneumatomachians”. [258] The pronouncements of the years following confirmed the final result; see the epistle of the Council of Constantinople of 382, [259] but above all, the anathemas of Damasus. [260] The doctrine of the homousia of the Spirit from this time onward was as much a part of orthodoxy as the doctrine of the homousia of the Son. But since according to the Greek way of conceiving of the matter, the Father continued to be regarded as the root of the Godhead, the perfect homousia of the Holy Spirit necessarily always seemed to the Greeks to be called in question whenever he was derived from the Son also. He consequently seemed to be inferior to the Son and thus to be a grandchild of the Father, or else to possess a double root. Then, besides, the dependence of the Spirit on the Son was obstinately maintained by the Arians and Semi-Arians on the ground that certain passages in the Bible supported this view, and in the interest of their conception of a descending Trinity in three stages. Thus the Greeks had constantly to watch and see that the procession of the Spirit from the Father alone was taught, and after the revised Creed of Jerusalem became an ecumenical Creed, they had a sacred text in support of their doctrine, which came to be as important as the doctrine itself. II. The Cappadocians [261] and their great teacher, Apollinaris of Laodicea, [262] before them, reached the doctrine of the Trinity, which remained the dominant one in the Church, though it always continued to be capable of being differently restated by theologians. We are to believe in one God, because we are to believe in one divine substance or essence (ousia, phusis, essentia, substantia, natura) in three distinct subjects or persons (hupostasis,persona [prosōpon]). The substance is to be thought of neither as a mere generic conception nor, on the other hand, as a fourth alongside of the three subjects, but as a reality, i.e., the unity must coincide with the real substance. The subjects again are not to be represented as mere attributes nor, on the other hand, as separate persons, but as independent, though apart from their mutual relationship, unthinkable, partakers of the divine substance. Their likeness of nature which is involved in their community of substance finds expression in the identity of their attributes and activities, their difference in the characteristic note (tropos huparxeōs, idiōma) of their manner of existence as signified by the ideas, unbegotten, begotten, proceeding from (agennēsia, gennēsia, ekporeusis). The special characteristic attached to the Father implies that He is the source, the root, the first principle of the Godhead, while the two other persons—within the divine substance—are “caused”. The Father is greater than the other two in so far as He is the first principle and the cause (kata ton tēs archēs kai aitias logon). The Godhead is consequently in itself and apart from all relation to the world, an inexhaustible living existence and no rigid and barren unity, “as the Jews teach.” Yet neither is it a divided multiplicity “as the heathen think”, but, on the contrary, unity in Trinity and Trinity in unity. Because the Godhead is what is common to the Three, there is only one God. At the same time the hypostatic difference is not to be regarded as a merely nominal one, but it has not reference to the substance, the will, the energy, the power, time, and consequently not to the rank of the persons. From the unity results the unity of activity. Every divine act is to be understood as a working of the Father through the Son in the Holy Spirit as is expressed in the terms, primal source, mediating power, and completion. See, above all, Gregor. Naz. Orat. 27-32. This doctrinal system shews itself to be a radical modification of the system of Origen under the influence of the religious thought defended by Athanasius and the West, that the Godhead which appeared, Jesus Christ, and the Godhead which is still active in the Church, the Holy Spirit, are the Godhead themselves. [263] The Cappadocians were pupils both of Origen [264] and of Athanasius. This fact explains their doctrinal system. Before them, however, there had been a theologian in the ancient Church who had come under influences wholly similar to those which had affected them, and who because of this, also anticipated in a striking way their formulae when he saw that he must amplify the doctrine of God. This was Tertullian. Tertullian’s theology was dependent on the one hand on Justin and the Apologists, and on the other on Irenæus, but besides this the modalistic Monarchianism which at that time held sway in the West and which he combatted, exercised a strong influence upon him. Consequently the conditions under which Tertullian composed his work “adv. Praxean” were, mutatis mutandis, the same as those by which the Cappadocians were surrounded, and they accordingly led to a similar result, so that we may say: the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity already announced its presence even in its details, in Tertullian—and only in him and in his pupil Novatian. [265] Did not Hosius carry it into the East? (See above p. 57.) The Christological dogma with its formula had already had a share in the establishment of the Trinitarian dogma. Tertullian had already made use of the same conceptions for giving a fixed form both to his doctrine of God and to his Christology (adv. Prax.). The form taken by the Trinitarian doctrine of the Homoiousians, as represented by Basil of Ancyra and of Apollinaris, was likewise determined by their Christological speculations. (It was Christological speculation which produced the “homoiōma” [likeness] and which gave currency to the analogy of the conceptions. “Humanity” and “Adam” in relation to individual men. [266] But the Cappadocians learned from them. Quod erat in causa, apparet in effectu! An Aristotelian and a Subordinationist element lurks in the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity as well as this element of dependence upon Christological dogma. The Christological controversies accordingly could not but re-act on the form given to the dogma of the Trinity. That their influence was not stronger than the historical evidence shews it actually to have been, is to be explained solely by the rigid form taken by the dogma so quickly rendered sacred by tradition. Anything in the way of modification was unsuccessful, and accordingly the attempts in this direction belong not to the history of dogma, but of theology. Some Monophysites who were influenced by the Aristotelian philosophy and who were thus scholars of the same type as Apollinaris, but who were also Chalcedonian theologians, attempted to give a dialectic shape to the ambiguous conceptions of “Nature” and “Person” in the Church. In doing this they naturally landed either in Tritheism or in Unitarianism, which their opponents could also represent as Quaternity whenever the three persons were reckoned as belonging to the one real Substance as Reals and not as attributes. The departure on the part of the Monophysites from orthodox dogma had not a philosophical cause only, though the period was one in which there had been a revival of Aristotelian study, but was also the result of their Christology. Since in their Christology they regarded phusis (nature) as equal to hupostasis (hypostasis), [267] it naturally suggested itself to them to carry out the same equation in reference to the Trinity. But if ousia or phusis be regarded as equivalent to upostasis then we have Unitarianism; while if on the other hand, in making this equation we start from the hypostasis, we have three gods. Both of these doctrines were taught amongst the Monophysites in the sixth century, or to put it more accurately, from about 530. [268] In opposition to the Tritheists Johannes Damascenus, although he was himself strongly influenced by Aristotle and based his theology on the work of the Cappadocians, gave a Modalistic turn to the theological exposition of the dogma of the Trinity, and in so doing sought to get rid of the last remains of Subordinationism. It is true that he also grants that the Father is greater than the Son (de fide orthodox. I. 8) because He is the Principle of the Son, a view which Athanasius too, founding on John XIV. 28, had always maintained, but he nevertheless conceives of the being unbegotten (agennēsia) in a still higher fashion than the Cappadocians had done—namely, as a mode of being of the same kind as the being begotten (gennēsia) and procession (ekporeusis), and in order to put the unity of the Hypostases on a firm basis he not only emphasises much more strongly the “in one another” (en allēlois) which had already been maintained before this, rejecting the Apollinarian analogy of human-substance and man, and teaching that each person is not less dependent on others than on himself, but he also uses the questionable formula that the difference between them exists only for thought (epinoia), and that there exists between them a pervasion (perichōrēsis) without, however, any blending (sunaloiphē) and mixture (sumphursis) (I. 8). In his case too this way of putting the dogma was determined by the Christological dogma. [269] In the Eastern Church the further development of the dogma of the Trinity beyond the limit reached by the Cappadocians had no appreciable result. [270] It was too unimportant in itself, and, above all, it left untouched the point in connection with which the placing of the Father above the other Hypostases came most plainly to the front. John also (I. 8) taught that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father. [271] He further simply repeated the old statements that the Spirit proceeds through the Son, that He is the image of the Son as the latter is of the Father, and that He is the mediation between Father and Son, although in his day the doctrine of the Latins—the filioque—was already known in the East. [272] The Easterns clung to the statements in support of which they alleged countless passages from the writings of the Fathers of the Fourth Century, that the Spirit proceeds from the Father, or from the Father through the Son. As against the Arians and Semi-Arians they emphasised the Spirit’s independence of the Son, in so far as dependence meant that the Spirit was a creation of the Son, and they always continued to stick to the “from the Father”. If in the following centuries they seldom purposely emphasised it, still they always laid stress on it as being a self-evident expression of the thesis that the Father is the First Principle (archē) in the Trinity, and that accordingly the Spirit appears as depotentiated, or double caused, if it is regarded as proceeding from the Son also. [273] The doctrine of the procession of the Holy Spirit from the Father alone thus clearly shews that in the East the mutual indwelling of the Hypostases was not thought of as complete, and that the Father was regarded as greater than the Son. The spiritual representation of the Trinity was of a different kind in the East and in the West respectively, especially from the time of Augustine onwards. It is accordingly at this point that Photius (867) took up the subject, since he, in searching for a dogmatic disputed point, charged the West with introducing innovations into doctrine, and strengthened this charge by alleging the still graver accusation against the West, of having falsified the most holy Creed of Constantinople by the addition of the “filioque”—“worst of evils is the addition to the holy Creed” (kakōn kakiston hē en tō hagiō sumbolō prosthēkē). As a matter of fact “filioque”, as a word in the Creed and indeed in the doctrine itself too, was an innovation, but in reality it was merely the correct expression for the original Western conception of the one God in whom the Trinity coheres. This is not the place to describe the endless controversy; for the countless and ever new arguments adduced on both sides, so far as they do not spring from a different way of conceiving of the Trinity and from the determination to hold by what had once been delivered to the Church, are worthless. Nor have the attempts to reconcile the opposing views any interest for the history of dogma, because, as a rule, they were dictated by ecclesiastical policy. It is, however, worthy of note that the Greeks gradually came to be suspicious of the old “dia tou huiou”, “through the Son”, too, but that they otherwise continued to hold by the Cappadocian doctrine of the Trinity. [274] This together with the dogma of the Incarnation continued to be the Faith of the Church, the mystery kat' exochēn. The whole of the material, however, which had been taken over from Greek philosophy was turned to account in giving a definite form to this dogma, and was to a certain extent exhausted here. Accordingly in the Trinitarian theology we also meet with what the Church inherited from the downfall of the ancient world of thought, though certainly it presents itself in a very much abridged and stunted form. Owing to the way in which it was employed and owing to its being united with separate Biblical expressions which came to be taken as philosophical-theological conceptions—the tropoi huparxeōs, modes of existence for example—it doubtless underwent the most astonishing modification. Still the doctrine of the Trinity in the theological treatment given to it, became the vehicle by which the Platonic and Aristotelian philosophy was transmitted to the Slavic and Germanic peoples. It contains a most peculiar blend of the Christian thought of the revelation of God in Jesus and the legacy of ancient philosophy. In the West, Augustine, following an ancient Western tendency, destroyed the last remains of subordinationism, though just because of this he advanced in the direction of Modalism. According to him in constructing the doctrine of God we should not start from the person of the Father. On the contrary the conception of the Godhead ought from the very first to be personal and Trinitarian, so that the Father is regarded as being conditioned in His existence by the Son in the same way as the Son is by the Father. Augustine wishes the unity of the three persons to be so conceived of that the three are equal to each one singly, and the triple personality is understood as existing within the absolute simplicity of God. The differences or characteristic notes of the three persons are still to hold good when the Godhead is so conceived of; but they appear merely as relations in the one Godhead, and their characteristics are done away when it is considered that in connection with the act of production or procession Son and Spirit are to be regarded as active agents. Augustine searched for analogies to the threefoldness which is found in the one divine essence, in creation, in the conceptions of basis and substance, form and idea, persistence, and in the human spirit in object, subjective picture of the object, intention of perception—mens ipsa, notitia mentis, amor—memoria, intelligentia, voluntas. The doctrine in its entirety is the effort of a man whose mind was as sceptical as it was intellectually powerful, but who revelled in the incomprehensible, who had laid hold of a new thought, but who both as sceptic and as theosophist felt himself bound to tradition, and who for this reason was for his punishment driven about between the poles of a docta ignorantia and a knowledge which was replete with contradictions. This speculation, which attempts to construe the most immanent of immanent Trinities and to sublimate the Trinity into a unity, just because it does this, discards everything in the way of a basis in historical religion and loses itself in paradoxical distinctions and speculations, while at the same time it is not able to give clear expression to its new and valuable thought. The great work of Augustine, “De Trinitate”, can scarcely be said to have promoted piety anywhere or at any time. It, however, became the high-school not only for the technicological culture of the understanding, but also for the metaphysics of the Middle-Ages. The realistic scholasticism of the Middle-Ages is not conceivable apart from this work, because it itself already contains Scholasticism. [275] It was for Augustine a self-evident truth that the Holy Spirit proceeds also from the Son, and he expressly maintained this. [276] In doing this he merely gave expression to the view which was implicitly contained in the ancient Western doctrine of the Trinity [277] inasmuch as the procession of the Spirit from Father and Son implied in it could never be regarded as the procession from two First Principles. The first mention of the doctrine after Augustine is in the Confession of Faith of a Synod of Toledo which probably met in 447, hardly in 400, “paracletus a patre filioque procedens” (Hahn, § 97) and in the words of Leo I. (ep. ad Turib. c. 1): “de utroque processit”; see further the so-called Athanasian Creed and the Confession of the Synod of Toledo in the year 589 (Reccared’s Confession, Hahn, § 106). It was at this Synod that the “filioque” was first put into the text of the Creed of Constantinople, which had probably then or shortly before first reached Spain. We have no further information regarding the reception it met with; [278] it is likely that in opposition to the West Gothic Arianism there was a desire to give expression to the doctrine of the equality of Father and Son. From Spain the addition reached the Carlovingian Frankish Empire, [279] and already in the first decades of the ninth century it had been there embodied in the official form of the Creed—by the order of Charles the Great. In Rome the Augustinian doctrine of the Holy Spirit had indeed been long ago sanctioned, but as late as the beginning of the ninth century the Creed as accepted there was still without that addition, as the table constructed by Leo III. and his answer to the Frankish ambassadors in the year 809 prove. Soon after this, however,—when and under what circumstances it is impossible to say—it was adopted into the Creed in Rome too; see the ordo Romanus de div. off. (Max Bibl. Patr. XIII., p. 677a), which perhaps belongs to the second half of the ninth century, and the controversy with Photius. [280] So far as popular Christian thought is concerned, the Cappadocian manner of formulating the doctrine exercised in the end a more decisive influence even in the West than the Augustinian view which dissolves the persons into conceptions and leaves little room for the play of ordinary or pictorial thought. But for the Church and for Science [281] Augustine’s view came to be authoritative. What contributed most to this result was the fact that it was embodied as the doctrine of Athanasius in a formula which came to have the authority of a universal and binding Confession of Faith. It is extremely probable that the so-called Athanasian Creed, so far as the first half of it is concerned, is a Gallican Rule of Faith explanatory of the Creed of Nicæa. As such it was from the fifth century onwards, by means of the theology of Augustine and Vincentius of Lerinum, gradually made into a course of instruction for the clergy, i.e., the monks, suitable for being committed to memory. As a regula fidei meant to explain the Nicene Creed it was called “fides catholica” or “fides Athanasii”, though it had other names also, and perhaps as early as 500 it began with the words “Quicunque vult salvus esse.” It is probable that in the course of the sixth century it essentially received its present technical form in Southern Gaul where the West-Gothic Spanish Arianism still continued to provoke opposition. In the middle of the sixth century it, or at least a recension very similar to it, was already current as the authoritative course of instruction for the clergy in Southern Gaul, and was together with the Psalms learned by heart. It got into the decisions of single Councils from the Psalm-books and breviaries of the monks and clergy, in so far as the practice had here begun of appealing to single statements in this rule of faith. Starting from here it gradually came to be the Confession of the Frankish Church in the eighth and ninth centuries. It was perhaps then that the second Christological half was added, the origin of which is completely wrapped in obscurity; it was of course put together before the ninth century. The Frankish Church by its relations with Rome was the means of communicating the Creed as the Confession of Athanasius to the entire Western Church during the period from the ninth to the eleventh centuries. As Rome and—through Rome—the West finally received the Gallico-Frankish form of the so-called Apostles’ Creed and gave up the primitive Apostles’ Creed, so too Rome adopted as a second Creed the Gallico-Frankish statement of the Augustinian doctrine of the Trinity. This, at any rate, is the relatively most probable view that can be taken of the obscure history of the origin and reception of the so-called Athanasian Creed. [282] The three so-called ecumenical Creeds are consequently all “apocryphal.” The Apostles’ Creed did not originate with the Apostles, though so far as its basis is concerned, it belongs to the post-Apostolic age; the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed originated neither in Nicæa nor in Constantinople, but in Jerusalem or Cyprus, though it got its main contents from Nicæa; the Athanasian Creed is not the work of Athanasius. Nor are they ecumenical, on the contrary it is at most the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed which can be so termed [283] since the East knew nothing of the other two. The doctrine of the Trinity in the Athanasian Creed is strictly Augustinian, and yet it has certain traits which are not to be traced either to Augustine or to Vincentius. No other Creed went so far in the development of the doctrine of the Trinity as an article of faith necessary to salvation, as this one. This can be explained only by the fact of its having originated in mediæval times. The Franks regarded the Faith handed down to them by the ancient Church simply as a legal statute, and accordingly only required faith in the Faith, obedience, that is, fides implicita therefore, since they did not yet possess what was required for a religious or philosophical appropriation of the system of belief. Under the form of fides implicita, however, i.e., a faith of obedience, the most developed theology can be looked for from every one. In the Athanasian Creed as a Creed we have the transformation of the doctrine of the Trinity as an article of Faith to be inwardly appropriated, into an ecclesiastical legal statute on the observance of which salvation depends. [284] For Athanasius the fundamental religious thought was the “Homoousios”, and just because of this he could not treat it technically. For the Cappadocians the “Homoousios” and the doctrine of the Trinity came to be the sum of theological knowledge. For the Westerns after Augustine these doctrines became a sacred legal statute, to which, above all, obedience must be rendered. This is the course of things which is constantly repeated in the history of religion. Men pass from the religious thought to the philosophical and theological doctrinal proposition, and from the doctrinal proposition which requires knowledge to the legal proposition which demands obedience, or to the sacred relic the common veneration for which constitutes a bond of union for the community, whether it be that of the nation, the state, or the Church. And thus the process of formulating comes to have an ever-increasing importance, and the Confession with the mouth becomes the foundation of the Church. But in reference to this the Valentinian Herakleon had as early as the second century correctly remarked:— “There is an agreement in faith and life on the one hand and in word on the other; the agreement in word is also an agreement based on authorities which many hold to be the only agreement, though this is not a sound opinion; for hypocrites can subscribe to this kind of agreement.” (Homologian einai tēn men en tē pistei kai politeia, tēn de en phōnē; hē men oun en phōnē homologia kai epi tōn exousiōn ginetai, hēn monēn homologian hēgountai einai hoi polloi, ouch hugiōs; donantai de tautēn tēn homologian kai hoi hupokritai homologein.) _________________________________________________________________ [237] The fact that in the original draft of the Apostolical Constitutions (II. 26) a parallel is drawn between the deaconess and the Holy Spirit is perhaps connected with this too. [238] But it is only in so far as Origen teaches the pre-temporal “processio” of the Spirit that his doctrine betokens an advance on that of Tertullian, who still essentially limits the action of the Spirit to the history of the world and of revelation. By the “unius substantiæ” which he regards as true of the Spirit also, Tertullian comes nearer the views which finally prevailed in the Fourth Century than Origen. For the remarkable formula used by Hippolytus in connection with the Spirit, see Vol. II., p. 261. [239] On the doctrine of the Holy Spirit before Origen and in Origen see Vol. II. passim, Kahnis, L. vom. h. Geist, 1847, Bigg, The Christian Platonists, 171 sq., Nitzsch, pp. 289-293. [240] It is in Irenæus alone that we find indications of any specific speculation regarding the Holy Spirit. [241] See Basil., ep. 125: ho de peri tou pneumatos logos en paradromē keitai, oudemias exergasias axiōtheis, dia to mēdepō tote kekinēsthai to zētēma, i.e., at the time of the Nicene Council. [242] See above, p. 19. The view of Eunomius is representative of the whole group; see the documents which originated with him and Basil c. Eunom. III. 5. Epiphanius has pithily summarised the Arian doctrine (H. 69 c. 56): to hagion pneuma ktisma palin ktismatos phasin einai dia to dia tou huiou ta panta gegenēsthai (John I. 3). [243] See the so-called Confession of Lucian, i.e., the Second Creed of Antioch.; cf. besides the third and fourth formulæ of Antioch, the so-called formula of Sardica—a proof that the orthodox theologians of the West had not yet given attention to the question; their statement: pisteuomen ton paraklēton, to hagion pneuma, hoper hēmin autos ho kurios kai epēngeilato kai hepempsen; kai toῠto pisteuomen pemphthen, kai touto ou peponthen, all' ho anthrōpos, if it has been correctly handed down, shews, besides, a highly suspicious want of clearness; further the formula macrostich., the formulæ of Philippopolis and the later Sirmian and Homœan formula; in the formula of 357 we have “spiritus paracletus per filium est.” [244] The theology of Marcellus might certainly have drawn the attention of the theologians to the doctrine of the Spirit; for Marcellus discussed this doctrine although not with fulness; see Zahn, op. cit., p. 147 ff. According to Marcellus the Spirit proceeds from the Father and from the Logos, and forms part of the divine substance; its special work does not, however, begin till after that of the Son. [245] See Athanas. ad Serap. [246] Passages op. cit., above all, I. 23, 24: ei ktisma de ēn to pneuma to hagion, ouk an tis en autō metousia tou Theou genoito hēmin; all' ē ara ktismati men sunēptometha, allotrioi de tēs theias phuseōs eginometha, hōs kata mēden autēs metechontes . . . ei de tē tou pneumatos metousia ginometha koinōnoi theias phuseōs, mainoit' an tis legōn to pneuma tēs ktistēs phuseōs, kai mē tēs tou Theou; dia touto gar kai en hois ginetai houtoi theopoiountai; ei de theopoiei, ouk amphibolon, hoti hē toutou phusis Theou esti. [247] Ad Serap. I. 27. Athanasius also appeals in support of this belief to the tradition of the Catholic Church (c. 28 sq.), though he is able to construe it ideally only and does not quote any authorities. [248] On Macedonius see the articles in the Diction. of Chr. Biogr. and in Herzog’s R.-Encykl, and in addition Gwatkin, pp. 160-181, 208. The doctrine is given in Athan. ad Serap. I. 1 f. Socrat. II. 45, 38, Sozom. IV. 27, etc., Basil, ep. 251, Theodoret. II. 6. The Macedonians laid stress on the difference between the particles ek, dia, en, as used of the hypostases, and emphasised the fact that the Holy Scripture does not describe the Holy Spirit as an object of adoration, and pointed out that the relation of Father and Son did not admit of a third. What the tritē diathēkē of the Macedonians was (see Gregor. Naz. Orat. 31. 7), I do not know. [249] See Athan., Tom. ad Antioch. 3, see also 5: to agion pneuma ou ktisma oude xenon all' idion kai adiaireton tēs ousias tou huiou kai tou patros. [250] The formula of the revised Creed of Jerusalem, i.e., the later Creed of Constantinople, is characteristic. It only demands the complete adoration and glorifying of the Spirit along with the Father and Son, but otherwise confines itself to general predicates: “to kurion, to zōopoion, to ek tou patros ekporeuomenon, to lalēsan dia tōn prophētōn.” These are undoubtedly of a very exalted kind and seem also to exclude the idea of the dependence of the Spirit on the Son, but nevertheless they do not get the length of the complete Homousia. [251] He writes, “Of the wise amongst us some consider the Holy Spirit to be an energy, others a creature, others God, while others again cannot make up their minds to adopt any definite view out of reverence for Scripture, as they put it, because it does not make any very definite statement on the point. On this account they neither accord to Him divine adoration nor do they refuse it to Him, and thus take a middle road, but which is really a very bad path. Of those again who hold Him to be God, some keep this pious belief to themselves, while others state it openly. Others to a certain degree measure the Godhead since like us they accept the Trinity, but they put a great distance between the three by maintaining that the first is infinite in substance and power, the second in power, but not in substance, while the third is infinite in neither of these two respects.” For the details see Ullmann, p. 264 f.; at pages 269-275 he has set forth the doctrine of Gregory regarding the Holy Spirit, together with the Scriptural proofs. [252] Gregory of Nazianzus has consequently (Orat. 31.2) to begin by remarking that he had been accused of introducing a Theos xenos kai agraphos. He himself practically admits the want of any explicit Scriptural proof, and has recourse to the plea (c. 3) that “love of the letter is a cloak for impiety.” Basil undoubtedly appealed (de s. s. 29) to Irenæus, Clemens Alex., Origen, and Dionysius of Rome in defence of his doctrine, but he felt all the same that there was little evidence in support of it. Gregory made a similar admission. [253] Cf. also the remarkable words of Gregory of Naz. Vol. III., p. 230. The striking utterances of the Cappadocians regarding the letter of Holy Scripture, tradition kerygma, and dogma all owe their origin to the troublesome situation created by the doctrine of the Holy Spirit. The Greeks of later days no longer found themselves in such a predicament of this kind, and consequently they did not require to repeat the bold statements regarding tradition. [254] See also the work of Didymus, peri triados, edid. Mingarelli, particularly the Second Book, c. 6 sq., written about 380, which contains the fullest Fourth Century proof of the complete Godhead of the Holy Spirit which we possess. Previous to this Didymus had already composed a tractate “de spiritu sancto”. Of special interest further is the “oikonomia”, that is, the pædagogic or politic reticence which the Cappadocians permitted themselves and others in connection with the doctrine of the Holy Spirit. According to Gregory of Naz. God Himself merely indicated the Godhead of the Holy Spirit in the N. T. and did not plainly reveal it till later on in order not to lay too great a burden on men (!)—a theory which over-throws the whole Catholic doctrine of tradition. It is thus also permitted to the faithful now to imitate this divine “economy” and to bring forward the doctrine of the Spirit with caution and to introduce it gradually. “Those who regard the Holy Spirit as God are godly men illuminated with knowledge, and those who say that He is God, when this is done in presence of well-disposed hearers, have something heroic about them, but if it be done in presence of the vulgar-minded it shews that they do not possess the true teaching wisdom (ei de tapeinois, ouk oikonomikoi), because they are casting their pearls into the mud, or are giving strong meat instead of milk,” and so on (Orat. 41.6). Gregory defends the conduct of Basil also, who, watched by the Arians in his lofty post in Cæsarea, guarded against openly calling the Holy Spirit “God” because the gumnē phōnē that the Holy Spirit is God would have cost him his bishopric. (Orat. 43.68.) He acknowledged the Godhead of the Spirit “economically” only, i.e., when the time was suitable for so doing. He was sharply blamed for this conduct by the rigidly orthodox clerics, as Gregory tells us (Ep. 26, al. 20). They complained that while Basil expressed himself admirably regarding the Father and the Son, he tore away the Spirit from the divine fellowship as rivers wash away the sand on their banks and hollow out the stones; he did not frankly confess the truth, but acted rather from policy than from truly pious feeling, and concealed the ambiguity of his teaching by the art of speech. Gregory who was regarded as a suspected person himself, stood up for his friend; a man, he said, occupying such an important post as Basil did, must surely proceed with some prudence and circumspection in proclaiming the truth (beltion oikonomēthēnai tēn alētheian) and make some concession to the haziness of the spirit of the time so as not to still further damage the good cause by any public pronouncement. The difference between Athanasius and the religious-orthodox on the one hand, and the theological-orthodox on the other, comes out here with special clearness. Athanasius would have indignantly rejected that “oikonomēthēnai tēn alētheian”, because he did not regard God Himself as a politician or a pedagogue, who acts kat' oikonomian, but as the Truth. If he had ever acted as the Cappadocians did, the Homœans would have been the victors. Still, on the other hand, we ought not to judge the Cappadocians too severely. As followers of Origen they regarded the loftiest utterances of the Faith as Science; but Science admits, in fact often demands a pedagogic and economic or accommodating method of procedure. Just as Basil made a distinction between kērugmata and dogmata, so Gregory (Orat. 40) concluded his Decalogue of Faith with the words: echeis tou mustēriou ta ekphora, kai tais tōn pollōn akoais ouk aporrēta; ta de alla eisō mathēsē, tēs triados charizomenēs, ha kai krupheis para seautō sphragidi kratoumena. [255] Their leaders, in addition to Macedonius, were Eustathius of Sebaste, Eleusius of Cyzikus, and probably also Basil of Ancyra. In Marathonius of Nicomedia the party had a member who was held in high honour both because of his position and his ascetic life. The Macedonians in general made a deep impression on their contemporaries by their ascetic practices and by their determined struggle against the Homœans. In the countries on the Hellespont they were the most important party. [256] The most important utterances are the Epistle of the Alexandrian Council of 363, the declarations of the Westerns under Damasus in the years 369, 376, 377, the resolution of an Illyrian Council, (given in Theodoret IV. 9), the Council at Antioch in 379, which is decisive as regards the East in so far as those present avowed their belief in the Western doctrine including the doctrine of the Spirit. Compare, besides, the Confession of Basil (Hahn, § 121): baptizomen eis triada homoousion, that of Epiphanius in the Ancorat. (374): pneuma aktiston, and that produced by Charisius (Hahn, § 144): pneuma homoousion patri kai huiō. [257] See Socr. V. 8; Sozom. VII. 7, 9; Theodoret V. 8. [258] It follows from a communication of the Council held at Constantinople in 382, that the Council issued a “tomus” on the doctrine of the Trinity. That the formula in reference to the Holy Spirit which is given in the so-called Creed of Constantinople, did not proceed from the Council of 381 and cannot have proceeded from it, since it is not sufficiently different from the view of the Macedonians, has been shewn above, p. 93. [259] Theodoret V. 9. [260] C. 16 f., see Theodoret V. 11. [261] Athanasius prepared the way in his letters ad Serapionem. [262] As is proved by his correspondence with Basil and as his own writings shew, Apollinaris was the first who completely developed the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity. He was, however, more strongly influenced by Aristotle than the Cappadocians were, and accordingly in his case the conception of the one divine substance was a shade nearer the idea of a mere generic conception than with them, although he too was in no way satisfied with the genuine conception (see above p. 84). Apollinaris further retained the old image of augē, aktis, hēlios, not, however, as it would appear, in order by it to illustrate the unity, but rather the difference in the greatness of the persons (peri triad. 12, 17). (The Logos had already a side turned in the direction of finitude.) His followers afterwards directly objected to the doctrine of the Cappadocians and vice versa. We are now better acquainted with Apollinaris’s doctrine of the Trinity than formerly, since Dräseke (Ztschr. f. K.-Gesch. VI., p. 503 ff.) has shewn it to be very probable that the pseudo-Justinian Ekthesis pisteōs ētoi peri triados is by him, and that the detailed statements of Gregory of Nazianzus in the first letter to Kledonius refer to this work (op. cit., p. 515 ff.). From the work, kata meros pistis, which Caspari has rightly claimed for Apollinaris (Alte and neue Quellen, 1879, p. 65 f.), and which represents a dogmatic advance as compared with the tractate peri triados, it likewise follows that Apollinaris is to be reckoned amongst the founders of the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity,—also because of his advanced doctrine of the Holy Spirit in which he teaches the homousia—and that in fact he ought to be called the very first of these. [263] Gregory designates as opponents of the correct doctrine of the Trinity (1) the Sabellians, (2) the Arians, (3)—this is extremely remarkable—the hyper-orthodox who teach the doctrine of three Gods equal in substance (hoi agan par' hēmin horthodoxoi, Orat. 2, 37). The true orthodoxy is always represented as the middle path. For details, see Ullmann, pp. 232-275. [264] The theology of Origen was transplanted into the Pontus country by Gregorius Thaumaturgus. It is thus that Marcellus also probably became acquainted with it and combatted it. [265] Owing to the importance of the matter it may be allowable here to go back again to Tertullian (see Vol. ii., p. 258 f.). The crude part of his doctrine and the points in which it diverges from Cappadocian orthodoxy are indeed sufficiently obvious. Son and Spirit proceed from the Father solely in view of the work of creation and revelation; the Father can send forth as many “officiales” as He chooses (adv. Prax. 4); Son and Spirit do not possess the entire substance of the Godhead, but on the contrary are “portiones” (9); they are subordinate to the Father (minores); they are in fact transitory manifestations: the Son at last gives everything back again to the Father; the Father alone is absolutely invisible, and though the Son is indeed invisible too, He can become visible and can do things which would be simply unworthy of the Father, and so on. All these utterances along with other things shew that Tertullian was a theologian who occupied a position between Justin and Origen. But the remarkable thing is that at the same time we have a view in a highly developed form which coincides with the Cappadocian view, and—this is genuinely Western—in some points in fact approaches nearer Modalism and the teaching of Athanasius than that of Gregory and has a strong resemblance to the doctrine of an immanent Trinity, without actually being such: the Godhead in substantia, status, potestas, virtus, is one (2 ff.), there is only one divine substance and therefore there are not two or three Gods or Lords (13, 19). In this one substance there is no separatio, or divisio, or dispersio, or diversitas (3, 8, 9), though there is indeed a distributio, distinctio, dispositio, dispensatio (9, 13), an oikonomia in short, a differentia per distinctionem (14). Accordingly the unitas substantiæ is not in any way a singularitas numeri (22, 25)—God is not unicus et singularis (12)—but it comprises three nomina or species, formæ gradus, res, personæ, (Tertullian here, however, usually avoids the use of all substantives), see 2, 8 etc. No one of these is a mere attribute, on the contrary each is a substantiva res ex ipsius dei substantia (26); there are thus tres res et tres species unius et indivisæ substantiæ (19); these, however, are most intimately connected together (conjuncti 27); they are tres cohærentes (8, 25) without, however, being one (masc.) [rather are they one (neut. 22, 25)], because the second and the third spring ex unitate patris (19) and are accordingly God as He is, individui et inseparati a patre (18). In the divine substance there are in fact conserti et connexi gradus (8). These three gradus or persons are different from each other in proprietas and conditio, but not in substance (8, 11, 14, 15, 17, 18, 24, 25). The peculiar property of the Father is that He is a nullo prolatus et innatus (19) and also absolutely invisible. The Son is also invisible in virtue of the substance, but visible as to his conditio (14). In virtue of the substance there is in fact a perfect societas nominum; even the Son in accordance with this is “almighty” (17, 18). It is thus necessary to believe in the unitas ex semetipsa derivans trinitatem. This has already become an established truth as against Jews and heathen. What is most instructive of all, however, is to notice Tertullian’s use of “persona” as distinguished from “substantia”, because it is here that he has most plainly prepared the way for the later orthodox phraseology. The Latin Bible supplied Tertullian with the word “persona”; for (adv. Prax. 6) in Proverbs VIII. 30 it had “cottidie oblectabar in persona ejus” and in Lamentations IV. 20 (adv. Prax. 14) “spiritus personæ ejus Christus dominus.” (The LXX. has prosōpon in both passages.) Both passages must have attracted special notice. But Tertullian was further a jurist, and as such the conceptions “persona” and “substantia” were quite familiar to him. I accordingly conjecture—and it is probably more than a conjecture—that Tertullian always continued to be influenced in his use of these words by the juristic usage, as is specially evident from his naïve idea of a substantia impersonalis and from the sharp distinction he draws between persona and substantia. From the juristic point of view there is as little objection to the formula that several persons are possessors of one and the same substance or property, that they are in uno statu, as to the other formula that one person possesses several substances unmixed. (See Tertullian’s Christology adv. Prax. 27; Vol. ii., p. 281.) The fact that Tertullian, so far as I know, never renders “substance” by “natura”—although he takes the latter to include substance—seems to me as conclusively in favour of my view as the other fact that, in the introduction to his work (3), he attempted to elucidate the problem by making use of an image drawn from the spheres of law and politics. “Monarchy does not always require to be administered by one despot; on the contrary he may name proximæ personæ officiales, and exercise authority through them and along with them; it does not cease to be one government, especially when the Son is the co-administrator. Son and Father are, however, consortes substantiæ patris.” Tertullian’s exposition of the doctrine in which he hit upon the spirit of the West was, however, hardly understood in the East. In the East the question was taken up in a philosophical way, and there the difficulties first made themselves felt, which in the juristic way of looking at the matter bad been kept in the background. In the latter “persona” is sometimes manifestation, sometimes ideal subject, sometimes fictive subject, sometimes “individuum”, and “substantia” is the property, the substance, the Real, the actual content of the subject as distinguished from its form and manifestation (persona). It is significant that Tertullian is also able to use nomen, species, forma, gradus, and in fact even res for “persona”, so elastic is the conception, while for “substantia” he has deitas, virtus, potestas, status. On the other hand, when the question is viewed philosophically it is difficult, it is in fact actually impossible to distinguish between nature and person. The following passages will illustrate Tertullian’s use of words, (ad v. persona): adv. Valent. 4: “personales substantiæ”, sharply distinguished from “sensus, affectus, motus”; adv. Prax. 7: “filius ex sua persona profitetur patrem”; ibid: “Non vis eum substantivum habere in re per substantiæ proprietatem, ut res et persona quædam videri possit” (scil. Logos); ibid: “quæcumque ergo substantia sermonis (tou logou) fuit, illam dico personam”; 11: “filii personam . . . sic et cetera, quæ nunc ad patrem de filio vel ad filium, nunc ad filium de patre vel ad patrem, nunc ad spiritum pronuntiantur, unamquamque personam in sua proprietate constituunt”; 12: “alium autem quomodo accipere debeas jam professus sum, personæ, non substantiæ, nomine, ad distinctionem non ad divisionem”; 13: “si una persona et dei et domini in scripturis inveniretur, etc.”; 14: “si Christus personæ paternæ spiritus est, merito spiritus, cujus personæ erat, id est patris, eum faciem suam ex unitate scilicet pronuntiavit”; 15: “manifesta et personalis distinctio conditionis (this too is a juristic conception) patris et filii”; 18: “pater prima persona, quæ ante filii nomen erat proponenda”; 21: “quo dicto (Matt. XVI. 17) Christus utriusque personæ constituit distinctionem”; 23: (on John XII. 28) “quot personæ tibi videntur, Praxea?” . . . “Non propter me ista vox (John XII. 30) venit, sed propter vos, ut credant et hi et patrem et filium in suis quemque nominibus et personis et locis”; 24: “duarum personarum conjunctio (in reference to John XIV. 10 “apparet proprietas utriusque personæ”); 26: “nam nec semel sed ter ad singula nomina in personas singulas tinguimur”; 27: “Father and Son must not be distinguished in una persona”; c. 27: “videmus duplicem statum non confusum sed conjunctum in una persona, deum et hominem Jesum”; 31: “sic voluit deus renovare sacramentum, ut nove unus crederetur per filium et spiritum, ut coram iam deus in suis propriis nominibus et personis cognosceretur.” [266] Natural theology also exercised an influence here and did good service to the Homousios. If it is certain that man has been created kath' homoiōsin of God, and if the view—a view which was indeed rejected—could even suggest itself, that his spirit is a portio dei (substantia divina), then the Logos appeared to have no advantage over man if the Homoousia were not attributed to Him. [267] Ouk esti phusis anupostatos—said both Monophysites and Nestorians in setting forth their Christology. This was applied to the Trinity. But the orthodox too in so far as they were Aristotelians, shunned the platonic—which was also the juristic—fiction of a phusis anupostatos, and this was bound to create difficulties in connection with their doctrine of the Trinity. The Theopaschian controversy is connected with this; see Chap. III. [268] Of the Monophysite Tritheists the most important are Askusnages, Johannes Philoponus against whom Leontius of Byzantium wrote “de sectis”, and Peter of Kallinico. On the works of John, see the article in the Dict. of Christ. Biogr.; an important fragment in Joh. Damasc., de hær. 83 from the “Diætetes” of John. Here it may be plainly seen that Christology determined the form of John’s doctrine of the Trinity, but that he sought to give out as Church doctrine his Aristotelian conception of the Hypostasis, viz., Nature reaching manifestation in an “individuum”, Nature itself existing only in the single substance, or in the Idea. From Leontius we gather that John spoke of treis merikai ousiai and accepted the notion of an ousia koinē which, however, exists only in conception. This doctrine caused divisions amongst the Monophysites, and these led the Coptic patriarch Damian to emphasise so strongly the reality of the one substance, that he could be represented as a Tetradite, although at the same time he probably took away from the independence of the persons. Cf. the Art. “Tritheisticher Streit” by Gass in the R.-Encykl. [269] See on this Bach, DG. des MA. I., pp. 53 ff., 67 ff. In the Tritheistic propositions and in the counter-movement we have the beginning of the mediæval controversy regarding Realism and Nominalism. [270] On the other hand the fact that the most distinguished teacher of the East propounded a doctrine of the Trinity which seems to be akin to that of Augustine was of importance for Western theology. We cannot assume that Augustine influenced John. Moreover, after this theologians were still to be found in the East who, perhaps under the influence of Mohammedanism, worked out the doctrine of the Trinity in a modalistic way. Thus in the eleventh century Elias of Nisibis in his book “On the proof of the truth of the Faith”, written against the Mohammedans, says (Horst, 1886, p. 1 f.); “Wisdom and Life are two attributes of God, which no one except Him possesses. For this reason Christians also say that He is three persons, i.e., possesses three essential attributes—namely, Essence, Wisdom which is His Word, and Life; He is, however, a single substance . . . ‘Three persons’ expresses the same as is expressed by the statement—the Almighty is God, wise, and living. The Essence is the Father, the Wisdom is the Son, the Life is the Holy Spirit.” God is thus purely a single being. I am not able to say whether Elias is alone amongst the Nestorians in teaching this heterodox doctrine. [271] The addition “and rests in the Son” does not require to be taken account of; see Langen, Joh. v. Damaskus, p. 283 ff. [272] John expressly rejects the view (l.c.) that the Spirit is from the Son or that it has its huparxis from the Son (Hom. de Sabb. s.). [273] Para tou huiou or dia tou huiou was the expression used; i.e., it was assumed from what was stated in Holy Scripture that there was a mesiteia on the part of the Son in connection with the ekporeusis of the Spirit; e.g., Athan. ad Serap. I. 20, so that Athanasius himself could say, “what the Holy Spirit has, it has from (para) the Son” (Orat. IV. 24), but the Father alone is the cause of the Spirit; cf. Basil. ep. 38. 4, de sp. s. 6 f.; Gregor., Naz., Orat. 31. 7, 8, 29; Gregor., Nyss., Orat. cat. 3 and many passages in his work against Eunomius. This system of doctrine continued to be the dominant one, and it makes no difference to it that a passage has always been pointed to in Epiphanius and Cyril according to which the Spirit is ex amphoin. Marcellus had already expressed himself on this point in his own fashion when he wrote (Euseb., de eccl. theol. III. 4): Pōs gar, ei mē hē monas adiairetos ousa eis triada platunoito, enchōrei, auton peri tou pneumatos pote men legein, hoti ek tou patros ekporeuetai, pote de legein, ekeinos ek tou emou lēpsetai kai anangelei humin. In reference to this point the dominant theology found it possible only to distinguish between the immanent processio and the processio in the historical revelation, or to analyse the “para” into “ek” (Father) and “dia”. In the Nestorian controversy the use of the proposition that the Spirit proceeds from the Son was formally disallowed. Theodoret, it is true, maintained in opposition to Cyril the view that the Holy Spirit is idion huiou, but he declared it to be an impiety to teach that the Holy Spirit is ex huiou or has di' huiou tēn huparxin (Opp. V. p. 47 ed. Schultze). Maximus Confess. further repeated this in the ep. ad Marinum, and so too did Joh. Damasc. It is to be found also in the Confession of Theodore v. Mops. (Hahn, § 139, p. 230). [274] Photius, Mystag. (ed. Hergenröther) p. 15: Ei duo aitiai en tē thearchikē kai huperousiō triadi kathoratai, pou to tēs monarchias poluumnēton kai theoprepes kratos; The tracing back of the Holy Spirit to the Father and the Son is compared to Manichean dualism. The controversial works are innumerable and those in the Slav languages are also very numerous, dating chiefly from the ninth, eleventh, thirteenth, (Council of Lyons) fifteenth (Synod of Florence) and seventeenth (Cyrillus Lucaris) centuries. In our own day, owing to the Old-Catholic movement and its projects of Union, the question has again been revived. For the carrying out of their plans of Union with Eastern Churches, which have already been in a large measure successful, the Romans have always found it necessary to have controversialists of a conciliatory disposition, e.g., Leo Allatius; while for their condemnation of the obstinate Greeks they have always required fanatical controversialists. The Greeks in order to protect themselves against the threatening encroachment on the part of the Romans, still continue to lay great stress on dogmatic controversy, as is proved by the existence of numerous works and essays, and even by the Greek newspapers which appear in Constantinople. Besides the large works on the Schism by Pichler, and on Photius by Hergenröther, cf. Walch, Hist. controv. de process. s. s. 1751; Theophanes, de process. s. s. 1772; Gass, Symbolik d. griech. K. p. 130 ff.; Kattenbusch, op. cit. I., p. 318 ff.; Vincenzi, op. cit.; Langen, Die trinitar. Lehrdifferenz, 1876; Swete, On the History of the Procession of the Holy Spirit, 1876; Stanley, The Eastern Church, 1864; Kranich, Der h. Basil, i. s. Stellung z. filioque, 1882; Pawlow, Kritische Versuche zur Geschichte der ältesten griechish-russischen Polemik gegen die Lateiner (Russian) 1878; Bach, Dogmengesch. des M.-A. II. p. 748 ff. [275] The larger histories of dogma go very fully into Augustine’s doctrine of the Trinity. For the history of dogma, however, it is sufficient to get a knowledge of the main outlines of this doctrine. The chief source is the great work “de trinitate”, the letters Nos. 11 and 120 are specially instructive; the former because, written immediately after Augustine’s conversion, it nevertheless already contains his fundamental thought, although still in a simple form and accompanied by a confidence in the power of sanctified reason to understand the mystery; letter 120, because in a proportionately brief form it sets forth the doctrine in its matured shape. (The Quaternity is rejected in c. 7, 13.) Besides this, attention should be given to lib. XI. 10 de civit. dei, amongst other passages; cf. the monographs by Bindemann and Dorner jun., and also Gangauf, Augustin’s specul. Lehre v. Gott., 1865. According to Augustine it is not the divine substance or the Father that is the monarchical principle, but, on the contrary, the Trinity itself is the one God (unus deus est ipse trinitas, pater et filius et spiritus s. est unus deus; see de trin. V. 9, c. serm. Arian. c. 4). Consequently the equality and unity are conceived of by him in a much stricter fashion than by the Cappadocians. He is not afraid of the paradox that two persons are equal to three, and again that one is equal to three (VII. 11, VI. 10); for “singula sunt in singulis et omnia in singulis et singula in omnibus et omnia in omnibus et unum omnia.” Accordingly the Son too takes an active part in His own sending (II. 9: “a patre et filio missus est idem filius, quia verbum patris est ipse filius”); the immanent function of the persons as well as their economic function are never to be thought of as separated, for “sunt semper unicem, neuter solus” (VI. 7); it is therefore true that the Trinity—in the O. T.—has also been seen (II.), a fact which the Greeks denied, and that the unity is actually a numerical one. It is accordingly also self-evident that the equality is a perfect one; the Father in all His acts is no less dependent on the Son than the Son is on Him (c. serm. Arian. 3: 1. C. 4 is therefore striking: “solus pater non legitur missus, quoniam solus non habet auctorem, a quo genitus sit vel a quo procedat”); the special qualities do not establish anything in the way of superiority or inferiority. Nor are the persons to be conceived of as independent substances or as accidents, but as relations, in which the inner life of the Godhead is present (V. 4, VII. 11, VI. 60, V. 5: “in deo nihil quidem secundum accidens dicitur, quia nihil in eo mutabile est; nec tamen omne quod dicitur, secundum substantiam dicitur. Dicitur enim ad aliquid, sicut pater ad filium et filius ad patrem, quod non est accidens, quia et ille semper pater et ille semper filius” etc. V. 6: amplification of the “relative”, see also ep. 233). We can see that Augustine only gets beyond Modalism by the mere assertion that he does not wish to be a Modalist, and by the aid of ingenious distinctions between different ideas. His strength and the significance of his book consist in the attempts he makes to base the doctrine of the Trinity on analogies, together with these distinctions in thought. In connection with these Augustine has given us some extraordinarily acute and valuable discussions on psychology, the theory of knowledge, and metaphysics, which supplied the subsequent centuries with philosophical education. The Scholastics made use of these investigations not only in connection with the doctrine of the Trinity, in discussing which they do not get beyond Modalism—but also in connection with the conception of God in itself and theology generally. It is impossible, however, to understand the labyrinths of the work “de trinitate”, on which Augustine was occupied for fifteen years, if we do not keep the fact in view that the great thinker has attempted to express in his formula for the Trinity a thought which this formula not only does not contain, but, on the contrary, implicitly disowns—namely, that the Godhead is personal and is consequently one person, that theotēs and Theos mean the same thing. Obliged to believe in “the three persons in the one essence” by tradition, but obliged also by his Christian experience to believe in the single personality of God (see the Confessions), spite of the value which he too puts upon the “Essence” this situation could only result in a contradiction. Had Augustine been able to make a fresh start in putting the Christian religion into a doctrinal system, he would have been the last to have thought of the Greek formula. One who could write (V. 9) “dictum est ‘tres personæ’ non ut illud diceretur, sed ne taceretur,” would not have discovered the three persons in the one substance! But though thus involved in contradiction this great mind was nevertheless able to instruct posterity in a hundred ways, for Augustine employed the whole resources of his philosophy in the endeavour to overcome the contradiction which could not be overcome. It is moreover, of importance that his acquaintance with the Cappadocian theology was of such a very superficial kind. When (V. 9) he translates the formula, mian ousian treis hupostaseis, by “una essentia tres substantiæ” it is evident that he had not entered into the spirit or grasped the point of view of that theology. The addition, however, “sed quia nostra loquendi consuetudo iam obtinuit, ut hoc intelligatur cum dicimus essentiam, quod intellegitur cum dicimus substantiam, non audemus dicere: unam essentiam tres substantias, sed unam essentiam vel substantiam, tres autem personas, quemadmodum multi Latini ista tractantes et digni auctoritate dixerunt, cum alium modum aptiorem non invenirent, quo enuntiarent verbis quod sine verbis intellegebant,” proves that spite of the agreement come to with the East, the West was not yet conscious of possessing a common terminology. The studies of Reuter (Ztschr. f. K. G. V., p. 375 ff., VI. p. 155 ff.) have thrown light on Augustine’s relation to the Trinitarian conclusions of the East. We may assent to his thesis (p. 191) “In his discussion of the doctrine of the Trinity Augustine seldom expressly falls back on the formulæ of the Nicene Creed. His doctrine is not anti-Nicene, but neither is it for the most part Nicene in its wording. He made very little use of the discussions of Greek or even of Latin authors.” The Nicene Creed is not once mentioned in the work “de trinitate”. We ought not in fact to measure the acquaintance which the West had with the theological development in the East by the careful attention given to it by the Roman bishops. Reuter is right in saying (p. 383 f.) that it is not so much the Nicene Creed or indeed any formula whatever which Augustine takes for granted as expressing the Church doctrine of the Trinity, but rather a fixed series of fundamental thoughts. The West was never so deeply impressed by the Nicene Creed as the East had been. In the writings of Tertullian, Novatian, Dionysius of Rome amongst others, it possessed the “series of fundamental thoughts” which proved sufficient and in which was still contained a trace of that hen prosōpon maintained by Calixt. (Philos. IX. 12) and the presence of which is still manifested in the “non ut illud diceretur [to wit, ‘tres personæ’]” of Augustine. Just for this very reason the West did not require the Nicene Creed, or required it only when it came to close quarters with Arianism, as we may gather from what is said by Ambrose. We have finally to refer to an important element in the position of Augustine in reference to the doctrine of the Trinity. Augustine was positively and negatively influenced by Neo-Platonism as represented by Plotinus and Porphyry. Negatively, in so far as he was there confronted with a doctrine of the Trinity, but with one which was based on a descending series of emanations; positively, in so far as he took over from Plotinus the thought of the simplicity of God and attempted actually to make use of it. To Augustine as a philosopher the construction of a doctrine of the Trinity was already a matter of course. All the more was it necessary for him to strive to construct a peculiarly Christian doctrine of the Trinity, and, because of the idea of simplicity which could no longer be referred to the Father alone, to bring the other two persons into unity with the Father. With the philosophical postulate of the simplicity of God was blended the religious postulate of the personality of God, a point regarding which indeed Augustine never got to have theoretically clear views. Here accordingly the other two “persons” had to be fused, and in this way originated the logical work of art represented by his doctrine of the Trinity, which no one had taught him and which appeared even to himself to be so difficult that he did not count on its being understood by outsiders (Reuter, p. 384). Prudentius (see, e.g., Cath. XI. 13 sq.) has a very ancient doctrine of the Trinity, which partly recalls that of Tertullian and partly that of Marcellus. [276] The Father Himself is only relatively principium, the Son and the Holy Spirit are also to be termed principium; but they form together one principium (V. 13). The statement accordingly holds good: “fatendum est, patrem et filium principium esse spiritus sancti, non duo principia.” It is, however, worthy of note that Augustine in this very place (V. 14) rejects the view that the Son was born of the Holy Spirit also. [277] It seems to have appeared again in the teaching of Priscillian as avowed Modalism; see the Anathemas of the Spanish Synod of 447 in Hefele, op. cit. II., p. 307 f., and Leo I., ep. ad Turibium. [278] See the Acts of the Council in Mansi IX., pp. 977-1010, Gams, K. Gesch. Spaniens II. 2, p. 6 ff., Hefele III., p. 48 ff. Rösler (Prudentius, p. 362 ff.) regards the Confession in question as being that of the Council of 400. [279] The first controversy, (with the Easterns,) arose at the Council of Gentilly in the year 767. Already in the libri Carolini the East is censured for not accepting the filioque. [280] See Abelard, Sic et Non IV., p. 26 sq. ed. Cousin, and the works cited above; in addition Köllner, Symbolik I., p. 1 f., p. 28 ff. [281] See Erigena’s doctrine of the Trinity, which is entirely drawn from Augustine, de div. nat. I. 62, II. 32, 35, homil. in prolog. ev. sec. Joann. [282] For the older works on the Athanasian Creed which begin with the disquisition of Voss (1642), see Köllner, Symbolik I., p. 53 ff. In more recent times, besides Caspari, the English, who use the Creed at divine service and nevertheless have come to feel it to be inconvenient, have published valuable discussions on it; see Ffoulkes The Athan. Creed, 1871; Swainson, The Nicene and Apost. Creeds, etc., 1875; Ommaney, Early History of the Athan. Creed, 1875; two prize-essays by Peabody and Courtney Stanhope Kenny, 1876, which are known to me only from the Jena Lit. Ztg., 1877, No. 21. In addition the discussions on the Utrecht Psalter by Hardy (1874), Aratz (1874), and Springer (1880). It is since the non-Athanasian origin of the Creed has been established beyond doubt both on internal and external grounds, that positive work has begun to be done, and this has not yet been brought to a conclusion. The question as to how far its transmission in writing takes us back has already been the subject of important controversies. It is doubtful if the manuscript takes us back as far as the time of Charles the Great or Charles the Bald. But the question of origin cannot be decided by the settlement of this point. Swainson gives 850 as the date of its origin—amongst the Neustrian clergy—and sees in it a piece of intentional deception. Ffoulkes endeavours to prove that it originated at the end of the eighth century and is also inclined to believe there was deception in the matter; Caspari suggests the sixth century; others go as far back as the fifth, beyond the middle of which, at any rate, we cannot, for internal reasons, go. The question of origin is a complicated one since the Rule of Faith originated by stages and only gradually came to he authoritative. There is no reason for thinking of deception. What I have given in the text is based on independent studies, but to describe these at length would take us too far. The most certain traces seem to me to point to Southern Gaul, and North Africa may also have had something to do with it. The Athanasian Creed does not belong to the same category as the pseudo-Isidorian Decretals as Swainson holds; nor was it set up by Charles the Great as a sharp boundary line between East and West, which is the view of Ffoulkes; on the contrary, it was a syllabus of instruction based on the doctrine of Athanasius, which in uncritical times was turned into a creed of Athanasius. The necessity for a detailed creed of this kind was coincident with the desire to possess a compendium of the sacred paradoxes of Augustine and at the same time a sharp weapon against the Trinitarian, i.e., Arian, errors which had for so long haunted the West. [283] The Armenian Church possesses a Creed which is closely akin to the Creed of Constantinople, but not identical with it. [284] The Creed is in Hahn, § 81. Careful attention has been bestowed on the separate statements by those who have investigated the subject, and their origin has been ascertained. The verses 9-12 are not to be directly traced to Augustine. Four times over in the Creed salvation is made dependent on carefully defined belief. This is not like Augustine; see ep. 169. 4. He did not intend his amplifications of Trinitarian doctrine to be taken as Church doctrine (de trin. I. 2). The most recent work on the Creed is in Lumby’s History of the Creeds, third ed., 1887. Lumby comes to the conclusion based on a very careful examination of the MSS., and tradition, that the Creed in its present shape is not older than the time of Charles the Bald. _________________________________________________________________ CHAPTER II. THE DOCTRINE OF THE PERFECT LIKENESS OF THE NATURE OF THE INCARNATE SON OF GOD WITH THAT OF HUMANITY. While the question whether the Divine which had appeared on the earth was identical with the supreme Godhead, was still agitating men’s minds, the second question arose as to the nature of the union of the Divine in Christ with humanity. In this question, comprising as it does two closely connected problems, the problem, namely, as to the character of the humanity of Christ, and the problem as to how the union of divinity and humanity is to be conceived of, that which constituted the supreme concern of Greek theology has its culmination. It accordingly had already necessarily emerged in the Arian controversy, for it was in reference to the thought of the union of Godhead and humanity that the whole controversy was carried on by Athanasius. [285] The problem was not a new one; on the contrary, it had already engaged the attention of the old theologians who had carried on the struggle against Marcion and Valentin, [286] and since the time of Irenæus it had occupied a central place in men’s thoughts. The doctrine that the flesh of Christ was actual human flesh had been for long an established one, [287] although platonising theologians still continued to find it possible to combine with it dogmatic thoughts and a refined Valentianism; [288] in fact, no single outstanding Church teacher really accepted the humanity in a perfectly unqualified way. Further than that it was necessary to believe in an actual “incarnation of the Logos” (sarkōsis tou logou) all else was uncertain. What in the way of intensification or modification the conception of the sarx was susceptible of in order still to rank as human flesh, was a point which was as uncertain as the question as to the relation between sarx and anthrōpos, and as the other question as to whether the sarx must maintain itself as such in union with the Divine and whether it could or could not do this. All the Christological problems which had before given rise to controversies with the Gnostics returned in a more subtle form, since it was still possible to posit a real sarx of Christ in the statement of the problem, and then actually to do away with it again in the course of speculation. A Christological theory had undoubtedly been propounded by Origen, according to which the presence of a human soul also in Jesus is to be expressly admitted. Others before him had long ago demanded this, perhaps partly because they already felt that everything turned on the human personal life, and that a human body without a soul involves a merely seeming humanity, though they did not actually draw the logical conclusions. [289] But the theory of Origen was not determined by this thought alone. He was also influenced by a cosmological postulate. He required a middle term between the Logos and matter to bind them together, and this was to be found in the human soul of Christ, concerning which he taught that it had not shared in the general antemundane fall of the spirits. [290] Moreover, he was certainly acute enough to perceive that the free human will also must be located in the personality of Christ and that Holy Scripture affirms that it is. But his theory of the human soul and of the nature of the union of the divine and human in Christ scarcely passed beyond the circle of his own pupils. [291] It was too closely connected with the most peculiar and most questionable fundamental presuppositions of the great philosopher and was also too difficult to win approval. Even in Alexandria in the time of Alexander and Athanasius it would appear that attention was no longer given to Origen’s way of putting the doctrine; in those cases in which his view was retained its effect at best was merely still further to increase the elasticity of all the conceptions attached to the person of Jesus. The general stagnation which marked theology in the first half of the Fourth Century, shewed itself no less in the different views of the Incarnation than in the doctrine of the Godhead of Christ. Most theologians contented themselves with the idea of the ensarkosis, and in connection with this clung to the most naïve doketic views as regard details. [292] If this already involved a reassertion of the opinions held in the oldest theological schools which Christianity possessed, namely, the Valentinian, others went still further in reasserting these opinions and directly taught the doctrine of the heavenly sarx of Christ, [293] the Homousia of this sarx with the Godhead of the Logos, and so on. [294] Others adopted the theory of a transformation. According to them the sarx originated with the Logos Himself, who in view of its appearance or manifestation, by an act of transformation made for Himself a body capable of suffering and thus in part renounced His own nature. We can trace the influence here of the old monarchian theologoumena of the huiopatōr who is incapable of suffering when He wills and capable of suffering when He wills. [295] Speculative Pantheistic views, such as afterwards plainly reappeared amongst the Monophysites and which had formerly been propounded by the Gnostics, may already have been in existence at this time, ideas such as those of the moment of finitude in the essence of God Himself, and of the Cosmos as the natural body of the Godhead. In opposition to these views some taught the doctrine of a perfect incarnation (enanthrōpēsis), feeling probably that a mere ensarkosis or appearing in the flesh was not sufficient. But they were perfectly in the dark in regard to the question as to whether the Godhead really became a man or adopted human nature. As no one had yet decided this question, so no one knew whether the incarnate Logos had two natures or one, though the great majority clung to the idea of one nature without knowing, however, how to conceive of it. No one knew whether the Logos was blended with humanity or merely joined with it, whether He had transformed Himself into it or whether He had put it on as a dress and dwelt in it as in a temple, whether in becoming man He had taken it up into the Godhead, or in deifying it had left its peculiar nature intact; or had not deified it at all, but had merely associated it with the Godhead. Further, no one knew in what way the Gospel statements were to be employed in connection with the complicated nature of the God-man. Was the flesh, the man, born of the Virgin Mary, or was the Logos born of her together with the flesh. Who suffers, who hungers, who thirsts, who trembles and is afraid, who asks and is anxious, who confesses his ignorance, who describes the Father as the only Good, who dies, the man or the God-man? And again: who does miracles, commands nature, forgives sins, in short, who is the Redeemer, God or the God-Man? There was no fixed, generally accepted answer. Further, no one was able to make any definite statement regarding the permanence of the humanity [296] of Christ and its nature after the Resurrection, and yet the question as to the effect of the Incarnation turned entirely on this point. Finally, the question as to whether the Logos did or did not undergo a change owing to the Incarnation, was one on which complete uncertainty prevailed. The questions regarding exaltation, humiliation, depotentiation, assumption emerged and affected the always half concealed fundamental question, as to the relation of the Divine and human generally. The theologians, however, groped uncertainly about, and however paradoxical many of the doctrines already were of a suffering without suffering, of a humiliation without humiliation, still the most paradoxical by no means passed yet for the most certain. [297] We can easily see that we are here at the very central point of the old Greek theology; at the time of the Nicene Creed this was, however, no rock, but a slippery bit of country shelving down on all sides. The religious thought: Theos sarkōtheis di' hēmas—God made flesh for us,—stood firm, but the theology which sought to grasp it slipped off it at every point. How could it possibly be put in intelligible conceptions so long as theologians concerned themselves with the “Natures”! A human nature made divine which nevertheless remains truly human, is a contradictio in adjecto. What those in after times succeeded in doing was accordingly not to give a clear explanation, but simply a paraphrase which as formulated was by no means perfectly suited to express the thought, and whose value consisted in this, that it surrounded the speculative theologians with a hedge and prevented them from falling into abysses. The Christological problem, however, as it was treated in the ancient Church was not only connected in the closest way with the Trinitarian, and, further, had not only the element of contradiction in common with it, but it also in the last resort issued in the same formulæ. If in the case of the latter the singular of the substance or nature and the plurality of the persons were the accepted terms, it was the reverse way in the case of the other, where the accepted terms came finally to be the plurality of the substances and the unity of the persons. The distinction between “Nature” and “Person” was also the subject of discussion in both cases. That this distinction, with which the West had been long acquainted without, however, using it as a speculative starting-point, supplied the means of escape from the difficulties connected with both problems, theologians had begun to perceive as early as the middle of the Fourth Century, though undoubtedly in a slow and hesitating fashion. This was the anchor to which they fastened themselves, although it was not supplied by any philosophy; they had to provide it for themselves. While, however, so far as the Trinitarian problem was concerned, the distinction once introduced quickly established itself in the East, it was a century before it triumphed there as regards the Christological problem, and this triumph, far from uniting the parties, permanently separated them. What is the explanation of this remarkable phenomenon? It may be said that neither in connection with the Trinitarian question did the perfect unity of the substance succeed in establishing itself (see pp. 120, 125); but it very nearly did so, and the controversy accordingly ceased. Why then did the formula of the unity of the person not in the same way prove satisfactory in connection with the Christological problem? This question may already be raised here, though it cannot be settled till the next chapter. Attention must, however, be directed to one point. The antecedents of the “solution” of the Trinitarian and Christological problem which proved victorious in the Eastern Church and consequently in the Catholic Church generally, are to be found only partly in the East; it was naturalised in the West. The Tertullian who in the work “adv. Prax.” created the formula of the “una substantia” and the “tres personæ”, in the same work constructed the formulae of the “utraque substantia (duplex status non confusus—this is the asunchutōs—sed conjunctus) in una persona” (the substance of two kinds in one person, the twofold state not confused but joined together in one person); “duæ substantiæ in Christo Jesu, divina et humana” (two substances in Christ Jesus, divine and human); “salva est utriusque proprietas substantiæ in Christo Jesu” (the property of each substance in Christ Jesus is not interfered with). [298] He thus laid the foundation for the formally similar treatment of both problems, and created the terminology which was accepted by the East after more than two hundred years. Had he the same interest in the Christological problem as the later Eastern theologians had? Was the deification of humanity a matter of importance to him? By no means. And what philosophy did he make use of? Well, no philosophy at all; on the contrary, he used the method of legal fictions. By the aid of the distinction current among jurists between “substance” and “person” he with great facility explained and securely established as against the Monarchians both the ancient ecclesiastical and, par excellence, Western formula, “Christus deus et homo”, and also the formula, “pater, filius et spiritus sanctus—unus deus.” Substance—for Tertullian never uses the word “nature”—is in the language of the jurists not anything personal, but rather corresponds to “property” in the sense of possession, or to the essence as distinguished from the manifestation or “status”; the person again is not in itself anything substantial, but the subject or individual as capable of entering into legal relations and possessing property, who can quite well possess different substances, just as on the other hand it is possible for one substance to be in the possession of several persons. Tertullian introduced these legal terms into theology. That this is what they were in his use of them, and not philosophical terms, is shewn by the words themselves, shewn too by the application made of them and by the utter disregard of the difficulty which their application must necessarily create for every philosophical thinker. And it was these legal fictions which the East had to accept as philosophy, i.e., theology, or change into philosophy! This became the basis of the “philosophy of revelation.” (!) This was more than the boldest Neo-Platonic philosophy in its strangest intellectual phantasies had ever asked. No wonder that difficulties were made about accepting it, especially when, besides, it did not cover what was still the preponderating interest of the Faith, the interest in the deification of humanity. People always shrank from positing an ousia anupostatos, a substance without an hypostasis, because when used in reference to a living being it was simply absurd, and because the unity of the person of Christ, “salva utriusque substantiæ proprietate”, gave no security for the unity of the Godhead and humanity. The jurist Tertullian, however, could manage quite well with “person” and “substance”, as if the distinction between them were self-evident, because he did not here develop the logical results of the doctrine of redemption, but gave expression [299] to a matter of fact which was ostensibly contained in the Creed, and because he did not, properly speaking, indulge in philosophical speculation, but applied the artificial language of the jurists. If we accordingly perceive that many centuries afterwards, the philosophical-realistic method of handling the main problem was in Western scholasticism completely displaced by a formal-logical or legal method of treatment, there is nothing surprising in this; for the foundation of such a method of handling the problem was in fact laid by Tertullian. Irenæus had already clearly discerned and plainly expressed the thought of the most perfect union. The great Western theologians about the year 200 were further advanced in respect of Christology in consequence of the struggle with Gnosticism and Patripassianism, than the East was a hundred years later. [300] But what they had secured in the heat of battle did not possess even in the West itself any general validity; while in the East the greatest uncertainty reigned, having been brought in by the “scientific” Christology of Origen. [301] It delayed or threw back the development, which had certainly begun in a strictly scientific form. Thus at the beginning of the Fourth Century the East had once more to take up the question entirely anew. If we are to estimate correctly what was finally accomplished, it must not be measured by the Gospel, but by the dead state of things which had prevailed a hundred years before. _________________________________________________________________ The assertion of Arius and his pupils that the Logos took only a human body gave the impulse to renewed consideration of the problem. Like Paul of Samosata the Lucianists would have nothing to do with two natures, but they taught the doctrine of one half-divine nature which was characterised by human feelings, limited knowledge and suffering. [302] Like Paul of Samosata they also found fault with the orthodox on the ground that their Christology led to the assumption of two Sons of God or two natures; for these were still regarded as identical. The reply made by the orthodox at first to this charge lacked theological precision. Just because Athanasius was as much convinced of the necessity of the Incarnation (enanthrōpēsis) as of the unity of the personality of Christ as Redeemer, he did not put the doctrine in fixed formulæ. On the one hand, as against Arius, he made a sharp distinction between what the God and what the man in Christ had done, in order to keep the Logos Omoousios free of everything human; on the other hand, however, he wished the divine and human to be thought of as a perfect unity; for it is to a strictly uniform being that we owe our salvation, the Word made flesh, the logos sarkōtheis. [303] The prolix amplifications of Hilary [304] were still more uncertain, so much so that there was some justification for the charge brought against orthodoxy by its opponents, that it led to a division of the Son of God from the Son of Man. But Athanasius had not reflected on this; in this connection too he had stated the mystery simply and forcibly, frequently in the words of Irenæus. The Logos not only had a man, did not only dwell in a man, but was man. He united what was ours with Himself in order to give us what was His. The Logos is not, however, thereby lowered, but on the contrary, the human is raised higher. [305] The question as to the extent of what was comprised in the human nature was one which Athanasius did not think out. He preferred to speak of a natural union, an henōsis phusikē, in Christ, but in this connection he uniformly disregarded the human personality. The free will was the category used, roughly speaking, at that period to express what is called in modern times “human personality”. But Athanasius had not yet thought of this term in connection with Christ, because he had not learned anything from Origen. In all probability he found in fact no problem here, but, like Irenæus, a comforting mystery which could not be other than it was. He did not see that the mind must necessarily go astray on this matter either in the direction of the Gnostic doctrine of two natures or in that of the doctrine of unity, in the sense in which it was held by Valentinian, the doctrine of a heavenly humanity, or in the sense in which it was held by Arius. He believed that the doctrine of one composite being would serve his purpose which in any given case allowed of the distinction being made between what belonged to the divinity and what belonged to the humanity respectively. Neither did the great theologian who attached himself to Athanasius—namely, Marcellus—perceive yet the full difficulty of the problem. His energetic and practical theology could, however, only bring him nearer to the doctrine of a complete unity. The Logos is the Ego of the Personality of Christ; the nature which serves as an organ for the incarnate Logos and gives outward expression to his self-manifestation, is impersonal. The Logos is the energeia drastikē, the divine energy; the body is the matter which is moved by it, which is transformed into a perfect instrument for the Logos. Marcellus was still further than Athanasius from assuming the existence of two separate, independent natures. He does indeed incidentally attack the Arian idea of the unity and he also employs the expression sunapheia, connection, for the union of the Logos with humanity, but at bottom he sees at every point in the incarnate God-Logos a perfect unity. [306] He thus thought about the matter as the great Christologist did after him, who first felt the difficulty of the problem and created a formula which did not harm Greek religious feeling, but rather gave it a secure basis, and which in doing this nevertheless left unnoticed an element of tradition which was indeed concealed, but was not to be rooted out. Apollinaris of Laodicea [307] whose divine teachers were Pythagoras, Plato, and Aristotle, who had learned from Athanasius, whose theological method was the Aristotelian one, and who because of this had been strongly influenced by the Arian theology, the zealous and acute opponent of Origen and Porphyry, the sober-minded exegete who preserved the most brilliant traditions of the school of Antioch and had a reverence for the letter of Scripture, made it the task of his life to combat the Origenistic and Arian theologies,—their doctrine of the Trinity and their Christology. Nemesius and Philostorgius have termed him the most important theologian of his age, [308] and that in fact he was. The most striking proof of his importance is supplied by the fact that many of his works create the impression of having been written in later centuries, so energetically has he thought out the Christological problem and overtaken the coming generations. His syllogistic-dialectic and his exegetic method is akin to that of the later Antiochians, and consequently the Fourth Century possessed in Marcellus, Eunomius, Apollinaris and the Antiochians a series of theologians, who, although not unacquainted with Plotinus and Origen, did not all the same adhere to the Origenistic, Neo-Platonic speculative views, theologians who were united by their employment of the same philosophico-theological method, but who nevertheless arrived at wholly different results. [309] Apollinaris in combating Arius and his changeable Christ, Christos treptos, started by allowing that the assumption that in Christ the God-Logos who was equal in substance with God united Himself with a physically perfect man, necessarily led to the idea of two Sons of God, one natural and one adopted. [310] A perfect God and a perfect man can never make a uniform being, [311] and in this he was in agreement with Paul of Samosata, Marcellus and the Arians. They constitute on the contrary a hybrid form, i.e., a fabulous Minotaur, a cross breed, etc. But if there is no such thing as a union between a perfect God and a perfect man, then, if these premises are valid, the idea of the incarnation of God which is the whole point in question, disappears. And further the unchangeableness and sinlessness of Christ disappears also, for changeableness and sin belong to the nature of the perfect man. We are, therefore, not to see in the Redeemer a perfect man, we are on the contrary to assume and believe that the Logos assumed human nature, namely, the animated sarx, but that He Himself became the principle of self-consciousness and self-determination (pneuma) in this sarx. Freedom too is an attribute of the perfect man, but—this as against Origen—Christ cannot possibly have possessed this freedom; for the Godhead in Him would have destroyed it. God, however, destroys nothing He has created. [312] Apollinaris sought to prove his doctrine out of the central convictions of Greek piety, and at the same time to establish it by Biblical and speculative arguments. In a lying age he stated it with the most refreshing candour. Everything that Christ had done for us God must have done, otherwise it has no saving power: “The death of a man does not abolish death”—anthrōpou thanatos ou katargei ton thanaton. [313] Everything that He did must be perfect else it avails us nothing. There is here thus absolutely no room for a human ego. This would do away with the redemption. If it had been present in Him, then Paul of Samosata would be right, and Christ would be merely an inspired man, anthrōpos entheos; but such a being cannot give us any help; for if he had not essentially united humanity with Himself how could we expect to be filled with the divine nature? Further, if he had been a man he would have been subject to weaknesses, but we require an unchangeable spirit who raises us above weaknesses. [314] Therefore He must have assumed our nature in such a way that He made it the perfect organ of His Godhead and Himself became its nous—the human nature of Christ “is not moved separately”—ou kineitai idiazontōs. But this is also the doctrine of Scripture. It says that the Logos became flesh, and by this is denoted the animated body, not the nous. It does not say “He assumed a man”, but that “He was found as a man”—hōs anthrōpos. It teaches that He appeared in the likeness of sinful flesh—en homoiōmati sarkos hamartias, and was in the likeness or according to the likeness of men—en homoiōmati anthrōpōn or kath' homoiōsin. It shews finally that there was in Him the most perfect unity of the human and the divine, so that it says of the humanity what holds good of the divinity and vice versa; God was born and died, and so on. At the same time, however, the Godhead is not to be thought of as capable of suffering. Owing to the intimate union with the sarx which was wholly and entirely its sarx, it shared in a complete fashion in the suffering, and the efficacy of redemption consists only in the fact that it did so share in it. And conversely the sarx is entirely taken up into the nature of the Logos. “The flesh therefore is divine, because it is united with God, and it indeed saves”—theikē ara sarx, hoti Theō sunēphthē kai hautē men sōzei. [315] Starting from this Apollinaris attempted to give his doctrine a speculative basis. This also rests on Scripture passages, but at the same time it refers back to a peculiar metaphysic. The attempt indeed to reach it was made long before his day, and it is uncertain how far he himself followed it out, since those who tell us about it had here an occasion for special pleading. Apollinaris starts from the Scriptural statement that Christ is the heavenly man, the second spiritual, heavenly Adam. (See also John III. 13.) Close upon this idea he, like Marcellus, puts in the more general idea of Aristotle that the divine is always related to the human as the moving to the moved. [316] As such they stand opposed. This relation first reached perfect outward embodiment and manifestation in the word made flesh, the logos sarkōtheis. But the Logos as “the mover” was from all eternity destined to become the logos sarkōtheis. He has always been in mysterious fashion “mind incarnate”—nous ensarkos, and “spirit made flesh”—pneuma sarkōthen. Therefore He could be and had to be the logos sarkōtheis, the Logos made flesh. He certainly did not bring His flesh with Him from heaven, but He is nevertheless the “heavenly man”; because it was intended that He should become flesh, His flesh is consubstantial with His Godhead; His Godhead comprised within it the future moment of the incarnation from all eternity, because only thus was it destined to be in the most perfect way the authoritative principle, the hēgemonikon, of the creature. And just for this reason the historical incarnation which cannot be denied, is the direct opposite of anything like the accidental and arbitrary inspiration of a man. It is the realisation of an idea which always had its reality in the essence of the Logos, the heavenly man, the mediator (mesotēs) between God and humanity. After the incarnation too everything in this heavenly man is divine; for death could be overcome only if it was God who suffered and died. The human is purely the passive element only, the organ of the Godhead and the object of redemption. [317] This doctrine, estimated by the presuppositions and aims of the Greek conception of Christianity as religion, is complete. Apollinaris set forth in a way that cannot be surpassed, energetically developed and in numerous works untiringly repeated, with the pathos of the most genuine conviction, what at heart all pious Greeks believed and acknowledged. Every correction made on his Christology calls in question the basis or at least the vitality of Greek piety. Only this perfect unity of the person guarantees the redemption of the human race and its acquiring of a divine life. “Oh new creation and wondrous mingling. God and flesh produced one nature!” (ō kainē ktisis kai mixis thespesia, Theos kai sarx mian apetelesan phusin!) All else in the Redeemer is non-existent for faith. The assumption of a human separate personality in Christ does away with His power as Redeemer. Thousands before Apollinaris felt this and had a vague idea of its truth. He alone understood and preached it. He did not juggle with what was a matter of indifference to Faith or dangerous to Faith, but did away with it. [318] But he perceived at the same time that that separate personality is present whenever a human nous is attributed to Christ. This decided the matter so far as he was concerned. Christ possessed no human nous. He was honest enough not to say anything more about the perfect humanity of Christ, but openly avowed that Christ was not a complete man. [319] The fact that Apollinaris, when called on to decide between the interests of the Faith and the claims of tradition, unhesitatingly decided in favour of the former, is fitted to call forth our admiration, and is a clear proof of the great bishop’s piety and love of truth. But the very frankness of his language reminded the Church that the Gospel and partly tradition also demand a complete human nature for Christ. Even before the appearance of Apollinaris the conflict with Arius had, from about the year 351, taken a turn which made it as necessary to emphasise the complete human nature of the incarnate one as to reject the thought of a transformation of the Logos into flesh or of a depotentiation. The Christological question became involved with the Trinitarian, and the latter was illustrated by the aid of the former. The full humanity was supposed to prove the full Godhead ex analogia; it had been reached in the struggle against Gnosis, and it was required in order to explain the Gospel accounts which otherwise cast a shadow on the Godhead of the Redeemer. Accordingly the complete humanity of Christ was first expressly asserted at the Council of Alexandria in 362 and, in fact, in opposition [320] to the views of Apollinaris. [321] The great literary activity of the bishop who was equally distinguished as exegete and apologist and as a systematic theologian, and who gathered around him a band of enthusiastic pupils, falls within the sixties. [322] With the beginning of the seventieth year of the century the Cappadocians came forward in opposition to their old master, shewed now their unconcealed indignation and sought to cast suspicion on his doctrine of the Trinity also. Apollinaris accordingly retorted by treating them as they treated him. How far Athanasius himself was mixed up with the controversy is a point which is still uncertain. Apollinaris separated from the Church about the year 375. Soon after he consecrated Vitalius bishop of Antioch. [323] It was the West led by Bishop Damasus which hastened to the assistance of the orthodoxy of the East held in fetters under Valens, and which at the Roman Council of 377 condemned Apollinarianism. [324] It could do this with a good conscience since it had always understood the “filius hominis” in the thesis in the full extent of the term and had had no difficulties about the unity. Basil had been the denouncer of the Apollinarian heresy (Ep. 263). The Council of Antioch of 379 sided with the Romans, and that held at Constantinople in 381 in its first canon expressly condemned the heresy of the Apollinarians. The anathemas of Damasus which belong perhaps to the year 381, condemn (No. 7) “those who say that the Word of God dwelt in human flesh in place of the rational and intellectual soul of man, since the Son Himself is the Word of God and was not in His body in place of a rational and intellectual soul, but assumed and saved our soul, i.e., a rational and intellectual soul without sin,” (“eos, qui pro hominis anima rationabili et intelligibili dicunt dei verbum in humana carne versatum, quum ipse filius sit verbum dei et non pro anima rationabili et intelligibili in suo corpore fuerit, sed nostram id est rationabilem et intelligibilem sine peccato animam susceperit atque salvaverit.” [325] Before this those are condemned on the other hand “who assert the existence of two sons, one before time and another after the assumption of flesh from the Virgin”—“qui duos filios asserunt, unum ante sæcula et alterum post assumptionem carnis ex virgine”—With all the zeal of a fanatic who had nevertheless not made the matter his own, Damasus, under the guidance of Jerome, soon after the year 382, once more took up the question and warned the Church against the doctrine of Apollinaris and his pupil Timothy: “Christ the Son of God by His passion brought the most complete redemption to the human race in order to free from all sin the whole man who lies in sin. If therefore anyone says something was wanting either in the humanity or divinity of Christ, he is filled with the spirit of the devil and proves himself to be a son of hell. [326] Why therefore do you once more demand of me the condemnation of Timothy? He has already been deposed here by the sentence of the Apostolic chair, Bishop Peter of Alexandria being also present at the time, together with his teacher Apollinaris, and must await on the day of judgment the chastisement and punishment due to his sin.” [327] Apollinaris was condemned. One after another the representatives of the non-Alexandrian theology, Paul, Marcellus, Photinus, Apollinaris were cut off from the Church. The Antiochians will follow them, but the turn of Origen and his pupils is also to come; the Cappadocians only will be saved “so as by fire.” The homousia or the identity in nature,—for both words were used,—of the humanity of the Redeemer and humanity, was thus acknowledged. And as a matter of fact many and important arguments could be alleged in support of it. One has to make use of the most desperate exegesis in order to banish it from the Synoptics. And further Christ redeemed only what He assumed; if He did not assume a human soul then the latter has not been redeemed, and this appeared a very obvious argument. Finally, it was only by the assumption of the completeness of the human nature in Christ that His divinity seemed to be secured against sinking down into the region of human feelings and suffering. But what signified these advantages if the unity was insecure? And Apollinaris was perfectly right: it was insecure. His opponents, the Cappadocians, might indeed be able to refute him as regards separate points, [328] but they could not escape from the reproach he brought against them that they reduced the doctrine to the idea of an inspired man. In proportion, however, as they sought to escape it, their assertion of the completeness of the human nature in Christ became a mere assertion. Their long-winded, obscure, and hazy deductions made in truth a miserable appearance alongside of the unambiguous, coherent, and frank avowals of their opponent. There are two natures, [329] but yet there is only one; there are not two Sons, but the divinity effects one thing, the humanity another; Christ possessed human freedom, and nevertheless He acted within the limits of divine necessity. On the other hand, the whole position of the later Monophysites, thought out to all its conceivable conclusions, is already to be found in Apollinaris; but his opponents had not yet at their command a fixed terminology whereby to preserve the contradiction and to protect it against disintegration. At bottom their views were the same as those of Apollinaris, they did not think of two strictly separate natures; but they were unwilling to give up the perfect human nature, and they had learned too much from Origen to sacrifice the thought of freedom to the constitution of the God-man. [330] Probably an historical and biblical element had a share in turning them against Apollinaris, the thought of the man Jesus as he is presented in the Gospels, this, however, not as something which had a well-understood religious value, but as a part of the tradition of the schools and as a relic of antiquity. None of the religious thoughts current at that time led to the idea of a “perfect man” with a free will, i.e., as an individual. The idea that the human vows cannot have been saved if Christ did not assume it too, was one which they themselves could not honestly believe in, for they stripped His humanity of the principle of individuality and of more than that. In Apollinaris, on the contrary, it was really the sovereignty of faith which supplied him with his doctrine. He merely completed the work of Athanasius inasmuch as he added to it the Christology which was demanded by the Homousia of the Logos. They both made a supreme sacrifice to their faith in that they took from the complicated and contradictory tradition regarding Christ those elements only which were in harmony with the belief that He was the Redeemer from sin and death. They neglected everything else: logos homoousios en sarki, (mia phusis sunthetos)—the co-substantial Logos in the flesh, (one composite nature)—was the watchword of Apollinaris, in the sense of a perfectly uniform being. This Apollinarianism dressed in orthodox garb exercised the strongest possible influence upon Church doctrine in the Fifth Century. The Church, however, rejected this particular form of unity and maintained the idea of “the perfect man”, “the perfect humanity” in the unity. The Church knew what it wanted to do—to unite contradictions; there were not to be two sons, but two natures; not two natures, but one substance; though it certainly did not know how this was to be conceived of. Nor did it know how the contradiction was to be expressed. But while it thus loaded its own faith with a heavy burden and thereby weakened its power, by preserving the thought of the perfect humanity of Christ, it did an inestimable service to later generations. And there was further one good result which even those times got the benefit of. The Gnostic speculations regarding the heavenly origin of the flesh of Christ, the transformation of God into a man, and such like, were now forbidden, or at least were rendered excessively difficult. _________________________________________________________________ [285] See Vol. III., Chap. VI. [286] The Valentinians themselves had already handled it with supreme technical skill, though no unanimity was attained in their own schools. With them the whole stress was laid on complicated distinctions within the person of Christ. On the other hand, all the elements of the composite nature of Jesus Christ were by some of the leaders of the schools elevated to the heavenly sphere. [287] See Tertull., de carne Christi. [288] So, above all, the Alexandrians. [289] See I Clem. ad Cor. 49, 6: to aima autou edōken huper hēmōn Iēsous Christos . . . kai tēn sarka huper tēs sarkos hēmōn kai tēn psuchēn huper tōn psuchōn hēmōn. Iren. V. I. 1: tō idiō haimati lutrōsamenou hēmas tou kuriou kai dontos tēn psuchēn huper tōn hēmeterōn psuchōn kai tēn sarka tēn heautou anti tōn hēmeterōn sarkōn. [290] For details see Vol. II., p. 369 ff. [291] Hilary (de trinit. X. 22) will not entertain the idea of a human soul. His view of the origin of souls is certainly, speaking generally, creationist. “He has taken the soul from Himself which, moreover, was never communicated by men as something emanating from those who beget. . . . The soul of the body (of Christ) must have been from God.” [292] The detailed discussions of Hilary amongst other things (de trinitate) shew the length to which these doketic views had gone and the extent to which they had spread. According to him the body of Christ was exalted above all rah and always took these upon itself voluntarily only. The normal condition of the body of Christ was always the condition of glorification, the appearance in ordinary material form with the ordinary needs was on every occasion a voluntary act (X. 23, 25: “in natura Christi corporis infirmitatem naturæ corporeæ non fuisse” etc.). Christ in Gethsemane did not tremble and pray for himself, but for his disciples (X. 37, 41) He did not feel pain; His sufferings affected Him as an arrow passes through fire and air (X. 23). His nature was absolutely incapable of suffering. Amongst the confused ideas of Hilary, that of a depotentiation of the Logos by an act of self-emptying, is also met with. But the passages to which the modern supporters of the kenotic theory appeal (de trin. IX. 14, XI. 48, XII. 6) are not in place; for when Hilary is dealing with the idea of self-humiliation he always takes back in the second statement what he has asserted in the first, so that the unchangeableness of God may not suffer. Hence the statement: “Christus in forma dei manens formam servi accepit.” This statement must be taken along with the strongly kenotic statements of Hilary. [293] “Corpus cæleste” says Hilary himself, l.c. X. 18. The Pauline speculations regarding the second Adam and the heavenly man, had come to have very disastrous consequences for the theologians of the Fourth and Fifth Centuries as they had already had for the Gnostics before them. By the attention which was given to these speculations the problem, which was otherwise already a complicated one, got into the direst confusion. It was, however, doketism in particular, both in its coarse and in its refined forms, which turned them to account, and modern theologians have shown a fondness for fishing in these muddy waters in order to extract from them their very different fancies regarding Christ as the heavenly type of humanity and as the ideal-man. [294] See Vol. III., p. 299 ff. [295] That the Logos himself formed His own body (from Mary) seems to have been the almost universal opinion; see Hilary X. 18 (also 22) “Christ Himself is the source of His body.” [296] See the peculiar doctrine of Marcellus in Zahn, Marcell., p. 177 f., given differently by Dorner and Baur. [297] Examples of these disputed questions are supplied by all the writings of the Fathers dealing with the subject, down to the middle of the Fourth Century. A specially characteristic example is to be found in Philostorg., H. E., IX. 14. He tells us that in Constantinople, in the time of Valens, Demophilus, e.g., preached to sōma tou huiou anakrathen tē theotēti eis to adēlotaton kechōrēkenai, as a drop of milk disappears when it trickles into the ocean. [298] See Vol. II., p. 280 ff. and above, p. 121. [299] The Westerns did the same after him; amid all the odd ideas that some of them produced they always clung to the humana et divina substantia, to the filius dei et filius hominis, and this distinction which had been supplied by the Creed, together with the unity of the person, became for them the rudder when it came to be a question of sailing through the stormy waves which had arisen in the East. See already Novatian, then Hilary, Ambrose, Augustin, Leo I. and also the less important theologians. It is extremely characteristic that Vincentius (Comm. 17, 18) still uses not the designation two natures, but two substances, and as against Apollinaris he finds the thesis perfectly sufficient “that Christ had two substances, the one divine, the other human, the one from the Father, the other from His Mother.” Hilary very frequently employs the expressions “utraque natura”, “persona”; he also writes de trin. IX. r4: “utriusque naturæ persona.” In the “Statuta ecclesiæ antiqua” (Mansi III., p. 950) we have: “qui episcopus ordinandus est, antes examinetur . . . si incarnationem divinam non in patre neque in spiritu s. factam, sed in filio tantum credat, ut qui erat in divinitate dei patris filius, ipse fieret in homine hominis matris filius, deus verus ex patre, homo verus ex matre, carnem ex matris visceribus habens et animam humanam rationalem, simul in eo ambæ naturæ, i.e., deus et homo, una persona, unus filius, unus Christus.” For details see below. [300] See Vol. II., p. 275 ff. [301] Nevertheless he strongly emphasised the thought of the deification of the human nature. On the other hand it is possible to attribute to him a doctrine of two natures. [302] Most instructive in this connection is the otherwise interesting Creed of Eudoxius of Constantinople (Caspari, Quellen IV., p. 176 ff.): pisteuomen eis hena, ton monon alēthinon, Theon kai patera, tēn monēn phusin agennēton kai apatora, hoti mēdena sebein pephuken hōs epanabebēkuia; kai eis hena kurion, ton huion, eusebē ek tou sebein ton patera, kai monogenē men, kreittona pasēs tēs met' auton ktiseōs, prōtotokon de, hoti to exaireton kai prōtiston esti tōn ktismatōn, sarkōthenta, ouk enathrōpēsanta, oute gar psuchēn anthrōpinēn aneilēphen, alla sarx gegonen, hina dia sarkos tois anthrōpois hōs dia parapetasmatos Theos hēmin chrēmatisē; ou duo phuseis, epei mē teleios ēn anthrōpos, all' anti psuchēs Theos en sarki; mia to holon kata sunthesin phusis; pathētos di' oikonomian; oute gar psuchēs ē sōmatos pathontos ton kosmon sōzein edunato; Apokrinesthōsan oun, pōs ho pathētos kai thnētos tō kreittoni toutōn Theō, pathous te kai thanatou epekeina, dunatai einai homoousios. In the same way Eunomius, see Epiph. H. 69. 19, Ancor. 33. [303] Curiously enough Athanasius throughout merely touched on the Christology of Arius. He afterwards stated his views in greater detail in opposition to Apollinaris, see Atzberger, Logoslehre d. h. Athan., p. 171 ff. In the “Orations against the Arians” the distinction between the divinity and humanity of Christ is brought prominently forward. The unity is next secured again by means of the deceptive formula that the flesh of the Logos was just his own flesh, his humanity (Orat. III. 32: hothen tēs sarkos paschousēs ouk ēn ektos tautēs ho logos; dia touto gar autou legetai to pathos; see also the particularly characteristic word idiopoiēsis used for the assumption of the flesh. In the case of Athanasius it may already be very clearly seen that it was not religious feeling, but solely the biblical tradition regarding Christ (His weakness and His capacity for being affected in a human way,) which led him in the direction of the doctrine of the two natures. That tradition was a serious stumbling-block. But Athanasius used neither the formula “duo phuseis” nor the other “mia phusis”. (See also Reuter, Ztschr. f. K.-Gesch. VI., p. 184 f.) He speaks of divinity and humanity or of Theos logos and sarx. So far as I know the formula mia phusis was brought into use by Apollinaris, while, so far as I know, we first meet with the other, the duo phuseis, in Origen, and next in the mouths of the Arians who reproached the orthodox with their use of it—with the exception of a doubtful fragment of Melito, where, moreover, we have duo ousiai. The Cappadocians were the first to make use of the expression again in attacking Apollinaris, inasmuch as they made a sharp distinction between “two natures” and “two Sons”. Owing to its use by the Cappadocians the formula of “two natures” had almost already become orthodox and had been regularly introduced into ecclesiastical language, or, to put it otherwise, the tradition which had come down from Origen and the presence of which is scarcely anywhere noticeable in Athanasius himself, penetrated into the Church in connection with this matter also by means of the Cappadocians. Cyril himself accordingly employed the expression. Thus the problem raised by Reuter, op. cit. 185 f., as to how it comes about that Cyril employs an Origenistic formula, which nevertheless is not to be found in Athanasius, is solved. We have to remember that there was a revival of Origenism in consequence of the theological work of the Cappadocians. For the rest “duo phuseis” as distinguished from “duo substantiæ” is to be regarded as a realistic speculative formula. [304] See especially lib. X. de trinit., Dorner I., pp. 1037-1071. [305] See the collection of passages referring to the matter in Dorner I., pp. 948-955. The Arian doctrine of the sōma apsuchon of Christ had already been combated by Eustathius, see Dorner, op. cit. 966-969. [306] See Dorner p. 871 ff.; Zahn, Marcell., pp. 155-165. [307] Dräseke, Zeitfolge d. dogmat. Schriften des A. v. Laod. (Jahrb. f. protest. Theol., 1887, Part 4). The same author, Apoll. v. Laodicea, nebst einem Anhange, Apollinarii Laod. que supersunt dogmatica (Texte u. Unters. z. Altchristl, Litt. Gesch, VII, 3, 4) in addition Jülicher in the Gött. Gel. Anz., 1893, No. 2. [308] According to Suidas, referring hack to Philostorgius, Athanasius seemed a child alongside of Apollinaris, Basil, and Gregory of Nazianzus. [309] The fullest account of the Apollinarian Christology (after Walch) is that given by Dorner I., p. 985 ff. (but cf. now Dräseke). Since that account was written, however, thanks to the labours of Caspari (Alte and neue Quellen z. Gesch. des Taufsymbols, 1879) and Dräseke, a new and rich supply of material has been brought forward. These scholars have shewn that the Apollinarians have foisted (from about 400) writings by their master on recognised authorities, such as Gregor. Thaum., Athanasius, Felix of Rome, Julius of Rome, in order to accredit their theology. We still possess the greater part of these writings; see Caspari, Quellen, IV., p. 65 ff. (on the kata meros pistis); Dräseke in the Ztschr. f. K. Gesch. Vol. VI., VII., VIII., IX.; Jahrb. f. protest. Theol., IX., X., XIII., Ztschr f. wiss. Theol., XXVI., XXIX., XXX., collected together in the Monograph (Texte u. Unters. VII. 3, 4 by Loofs, Leontius von Byzanz, p. 92 ff.). The sources for Apollinaris previously known, i.e., the places where fragments are found, are besides Epiph., H. 77, Socrat., Sozom., the works of Athanasius (the genuineness of the work adv. Apoll. is disputed), of the Cappadocians, of Theodore and Theodoret.; see in addition the resolutions of Councils from 362 onwards, Mai, Script. Vet. nova Coll. T. VII. Spicil. X. 2 and catenas. Epiphanius treated Apollinaris in a friendly fashion, Athanasius corresponded with him, the Cappadocians at first revered him and always held him in high respect, while the Arian theologians extolled him as their ablest opponent. Cf. on this Vincent., Common. 15-20. [310] Gregor. Antir. 42. According to Apollinaris two knowing and willing beings could not possibly be united in one being. Here we can see the Antiochian tradition which had come from Paul of Samosata: duo teleia hen genesthai ou dunatai. (So Apollinaris according to what purports to be the work of Athanasius against him, I. 2 Migne, Vol. 26, p. 1096.) [311] Ei anthrōpō teleiō sunēphthē Theos teleios, duo an ēsan, heis men phusei huios Theou, heis de thetos (Dräseke, Texte u. Unters. VII. 3, 4, p. 388). [312] There are three theses which Apollinaris everywhere attacks, and from these we can easily understand what his own theology is. He wishes to disown (1) the view that there are two Sons, (2) the idea that Christ was an anthrōpos entheos, the view he attributed to Marcellus, since heathens and Jews could also believe in a Christ of this kind, (3) the view that Christ was a free and therefore a changeable being. He accordingly directs his attacks (1) against the Gnostic division of Christ and Jesus, (2) against Paul, Marcellus, and Photinus, (3) against Origen and Arius. [313] Antir. 51. [314] Athan. adv. Apoll. I. 2: hopou teleios anthrōpos, ekei hamartia. It is just from the nous; that sin springs. In addition Antir. 40, 51: Hē sarx edeito atreptou nou, mē hupopiptontos autē dia epistēmosunēs astheneian, alla sunarmozontos autēn abiastōs heautō . . . Ou dunatai sōzein ton kosmon ho anthrōpos men ōn kai tē koinē tōn anthrōpōn phthora hupokeimenos. We must accordingly seriously accept the thought that in Christ the Godhead was not a force, but to hupokeimenon. Antir. 39: Ou sōzetai to anthrōpinon genos di' analēpseōs nou kai holou anthrōpou, alla dia proslēpseōs sarkos. Apollinaris was conscious that he was the first to perceive what the incarnation of God meant. [315] Apollinaris assumes the existence in Christ of what is indeed a composite nature, but which is nevertheless a nature possessing oneness. The mia phusis tou logou sesarkōmenē is his formula (see the letter to the Emperor Jovian in Hahn, Symbole 2, § 120: homologoumen . . . ou duo phuseis ton hena huion, mian proskunētēn kai mian aproskunēton, alla mian phusin tou Theou logou sesarkōmenēn kai proskunoumenēn meta tēs sarkos autou mia proskunēsei.) He, besides, expressly teaches that the sarkōtheis ouk estin heteros para ton asōmaton; he demands a perfect antimethistasis tōn onomatōn and he here reasons again mainly from the standpoint of Greek religious feeling: Allēs kai allēs ousias mian einai kai tēn autēn proskunēsin athemiton, toutestin poiētou kai poiēmatos, Theou kai anthrōpou. Mia de hē proskunēsis tou Christou, kai kata touto en tō heni onomati noeitai Theos kai anthrōpos. Ouk ara allē kai allē ousia Theos kai anthrōpos; alla mia kata sunthesin Theou pros sōma anthrōpinon, or adunaton ton auton kai proskunēton heauton eidenai kai mē. Adunaton ara ton auton einai Theon te kai anthrōpon ex holoklērou, all' en monotēti sunkratou phuseōs theikēs sesarkōmenēs, see still other passages in Dorner I., p. 999 ff. The flesh must therefore be adored also; for it constitutes an inseparable part of the one substance: hē sarx tou kuriou proskuneitai katho hen esti prosōpon kai hen zōon met' autou. [316] Mai VII., p. 70 (the letter of the Apollinarian Julian): Ek kinētou kai akinētou, energētikou te kai pathētikou, ton Christon einai mian ousian kai phusin suntheton, heni te kai monō kinoumenēn thelēmati; kai mia energeia ta te thaumata pepoiēkenai kai ta pathē, monos kai prōtos ho patēr hēmōn Apollinarios ephthenxato, to kekrummenon pasi kataphōtisas mustēprion; see also l.c., p. 301, where Apollinaris himself has developed the thought of the one being (hen zōon) composed of the ruling moving principle of activity, and the sōma, the passive principle: sarx, Theou sarx genomenē, zōon esti meta tauta suntetheisa eis mian phusin. P. 73: Oudemia diairesis tou logou kai tēs sarkos autou en theiais pheretai graphais; all' esti mia phusis, mia hupostasis, mia energeia. [317] Apollinaris has not himself put in words those furthest reaches of his speculations in any of the numerous confessional formulæ of his which we possess. (See, e.g., the two Confessions in the kata meros pistis.) Much, too, of what is said by Gregory in his letters to Kledonius and by Gregory of Nyssa in the Antir. may be exaggerated, but as regards the main point Apollinaris’s own words prove that he really went the length of attributing the moment of the sarx in some form or other to the Logos in the pre-temporal existence. He conceived of the nature of the Logos as that of the mediator; it was only by so conceiving of it that the mia phusis could get justice done to it, and he accordingly does not hesitate to take something from the Godhead itself, without detriment to its homousia. The essential characteristic of the pneuma which the Logos is, consists in this, that it includes the idea of the mediator, i.e., the type of humanity. In this sense he could say: hē theia sarkōsis ou tēn archēn apo tēs parthenou eschen (Antir. 15), or (c. 13), prouparchei ho anthrōpos Christos, ouch hōs eterou ontos par' auton tou pneumatos, tout' esti tou Theou, all' hōs tou kuriou en tē tou theanthrōpou phusei theiou pneumatos ontos. The Logos was already man before He appeared on earth, since the statement holds good: autēn tou huiou theotēta ex archēs anthrōpon einai. This conception, however, which was not meant to take from the historical fact of the incarnation, but was intended, on the contrary, to make its reality certain, now led him further to the idea that neither is the Godhead present in the Logos, in its totality: oudemia mesotēs hekateras echei tas akrotētas ex holoklērou, alla merikōs epimemigmenas. As the middle colour between black and white has not merely the white in it in an imperfect way, but also the black, as spring is half winter and half summer, as the mule is neither wholly horse nor wholly ass, so the mixture of divinity and humanity in the Logos, at least in the Logos as appearing on the earth, is of such a kind that neither element is entirely perfect: oute anthrōpos holos oute Theos. How far the doctrine of Apollinaris did actually lead to this conclusion—and we have here a clear example of the imperfect way in which the Homousia was understood amongst the neo-orthodox of the East; how far his opponents, including not only the Gregories, but also Theodoret, H. F. IV. 8, were justified in asserting that his Trinity was composed of a great, a greater, and a greatest; how far he made use of the old traditional image of the sun and the sunbeam in order to build up on the basis of the Homousia a graduated Trinity, are points which still require to be thoroughly investigated in the light of the new material we now possess. But if his Christ actually was the middle being his opponents represent it to have been, one can only be astonished to observe how in the case of Apollinaris speculation regarding Christ has returned to the point it started from. For this Christ is actually the Pauline Christ, the heavenly spiritual being (en morphē Theou), who assumed the body, i.e., the flesh, neither ho Theos nor man, but as God and as a man, who is nevertheless the mediator or reconciler between God and man because being without sin He has done away with sin and death in His body and consequently for humanity generally—the second Adam, the heavenly man. It cannot be doubted either but that Apollinaris formed his views chiefly on the New Testament; for he was above all an exegete—though unfortunately what is his in the numerous collections of passages, in those of Cramer pre-eminently, has up till now not been ascertained nor has any test been applied to find out what belongs to him—and he endeavoured to be true to the words of the Bible without applying the allegorical method of Origen, as his notable adherence to the primitive Christian eschatology, the reign of a thousand years, proves. [318] The confessional formulæ of Apollinaris and his pupils emphasised as a rule only the homousia of the Logos, the assumption of flesh from Mary and the perfect unity (hen prosōpon kai mian tēn proskunēsin tou logou kai tēs sarkos). The somewhat long creed in the k. m. pistis is the most instructive, see Caspari IV., p. 18, there too, p. 20, will be found the shorter one, and at p. 24 that of the Apollinarian Jobius. In the latter we have: homologō ton kurion Iēsoun Christon, ex aiōnos men asarkon Theon logon, ep' eschatōn de aiōnōn sarka ex hagias parthenou henōsanta heautō, einai Theon kai anthrōpon, hena kai ton auton, hupostasin mian suntheton kai prosōpon hen adiaireton, mesiteuon Theō kai anthrōpois kai sunapton ta diērēmena poiēmata tō pepoiēkoti, homoousion Theō kata tēn ek tēs patrikēs ousias huparchousan autō theotēta, kai homoousion anthrōpois kata tēn ek tēs anthrōpinēs phuseōs hēnōmenēn autō sarka, proskunoumenon de kai doxazomenon meta tēs idias sarkos; hoti di' autēs hēmin gegonen lutrōsis ek thanatou kai koinōnia pros ton athanaton; akrōs gar hēnōmenē hē sark tō logō kai mēdepote autou chōrizomenē, ouk estin anthrōpou, ou doulou, ou ktistou prosōpou, all' autou tou Theou logou, tou dēmiourgou, tou homoousiou tō Theō, toutestin tē asōmatō ousia tou arrētpu patros. It is difficult to say whether the long Creed printed by Caspari, p. 163 f., and which in its formalism bears a resemblance to the Athanasian, is Apollinarian or Monophysite. [319] Apollinaris did not deny the homousia of Christ with humanity, but he conceived of it as a likeness in nature = homoiōma. The later Apollinarians even emphasised the homousia, but they were thinking of a body and the psuchē sarkikē. [320] See Dräseke, Texte and linters. VIII. 3. 4., p. 28 f. [321] Athan. Tom. ad. Antioch. 7. He first establishes the truth that the Word of God did not come in Christ to a holy man as it came to the prophets, on the contrary: autos ho logos sarx egeneto, kai en morphē Theou huparchōn elabe doulou morphēn, ek te tēs Marias to kata sarka gegenētai anthrōpos di' hēmas, kai houtō teleiōs kai holoklērōs to anthrōpinon genos eleutheroumenon apo tēs hamartias en autō kai zōopoioumenon ek tōn nekrōn eisagetai eis tēn basileian tōn ouranōn. Then it is further said: hōmologoun gar kai touto, hoti ou sōma apsuchon oud' anaisthēton oud' anoēton eichen ho sōtēr, oude gar hoion te ēn, tou kuriou di' hēmas anthrōpou genomenou, anoēton einai to sōma autou, oude sōmatos monou, alla kai psuchēs en autō tō logō sōtēria gegonen. Finally, however, the identity of the Son of God and the Son of man is strongly emphasised. It was the same person who asked about Lazarus and who raised him from the dead. He asked anthrōpinōs, He raised from the dead theikōs. [322] In the way in which it kept firmly together, in its veneration for the master, in its activity and vivacity and finally in the efforts made by the members of it to carry their point in the Church, the school of Apollinaris reminds us of the school of Lucian. Like the latter it was chiefly an exegetical school, and at the same time like it it was a school for theologico-philosophical method after the manner of the Aristotelian dialectic. Such conditions always give rise to a peculiar arrogance and to a confident feeling of superiority to everybody else. “It was our father Apollinaris who first and who alone uttered and put in a clear light the mystery which had been hidden from all—namely, that Christ became one being out of the moving and the immovable”: it is thus that one Apollinarian writes to another and in so doing shews that the real interest of the school was in the methodical and the formal. The fact that afterwards falsification was carried to such an extraordinary extent in the school is a sign that the Epigoni aspired to secure power at all costs. [323] Sozom. H. E. VI. 25; Epiph. H. 67. 21, 23-25; Gregor. Naz., ep. ad Cledon. II. 2; Basil, ep. 265, 2. On him see Dräseke, Ges. patrist. Abbandl. (1889), p. 78 ff. [324] See the fragment “Illud sane miramur”, Rade, p. 113 f., Mansi III., p. 461; see also the fragment “Ea gratia”, Mansi III., p. 460. [325] See Hahn, op. cit., p. 200. [326] See the fragment “Illud sane miramur”: “If an imperfect man was assumed then the gift of God is imperfect, because the whole man has not been redeemed.” [327] Theodoret, H. E. V. 10. [328] See several letters of Basil, the two letters of Gregory of Nazianzus to Kledonius and his ep. ad. Nectar. sive Orat. 46, also the Antirrhet. of Gregory of Nyssa and his work ad Theophil. They enter upon an examination of the Scripture proofs of Apollinaris and also of his argument that the Logos could not have assumed a rational, free nature, since in this case he must necessarily have destroyed freedom, which is not, however, the Creator’s way of doing: phthora tou autexousiou zōou to mē einai autexousion; ou phtheiretai de hē phusis hupo tou poiēsantos autēn; ouk ara henoutai ho anthrōpos Theō (Antirrh. 45). Gregory’s remarks on this are extremely weak. The only striking thing is to be found in the detailed arguments in which it is shewn that the picture of the Christ of the Gospels includes a human soul; for it was neither the God-Logos nor the irrational flesh which was sad, which trembled, feared, etc., but the human spirit; see also Athan. c. Apoll. I., 16-18. [329] The definite formula “duo phuseis” without some qualifying clause is rarely met with in the East before the time of the great Antiochians, though it is otherwise in the West. But expressions such as that of Eusebius, H. E. I. 2, 1, are, however, frequent: Dittou ontos tou kat' auton tropou, kai tou men sōmatos eoikotos kephalē hē Theos epinoeitai, tou de posi paraballomenou, hē ton en hēmin anthrōpon homoiopathē tēs hēmōn autōn heneken hupedu sōtērias, genoit' an hēmin, etc. The Arian theologians always reproached the orthodox with teaching the doctrine of duo phuseis. [330] It is unnecessary to give any summary of the numerous different forms in which the Cappadocians set forth their view as against Apollinaris (see Ullmann, Gregor. v. Naz., p. 276 ff.; Dorner I., pp. 1035 f., 1075 f.; Schwane II., pp. 366-390), for what they wish and do not get at—the unity, namely—is obvious, while their terminology on the other hand is still uncertain. At this time expressions and images of the most varied kind were in use (duo phuseis, duo ousiai, mia phusis, sarkōsis, enanthrōpēsis, theanthrōpos, henōsis ousiōdēs, henōsis phusikē, henōsis kata metousian, sunkrasis, mixis, sunapheia, metousia, enoikēsis, the humanity of Christ was described as katapetasma or parapetasma as naos, as oikos, as himation, as organon. In the writings of the Cappadocians most of these terms are still found side by side; the only idea which is definitely rejected is that of the change into flesh whether by kenosis or by actual transmutation. The unchangeable; the divinity, remains unchangeable; it merely takes to itself what it did not possess. How the unlimited united with the limited is just the point which is left obscure. We might imagine we were listening to a teacher of the period before Irenæus when we hear Gregory of Nazianzus say that the unlimited dealt with us through the medium of the flesh as through a curtain, because we were not capable of enduring His pure Godhead (Orat. 39, 13, similarly Athanasius). He also teaches that Christ by assuming humanity did not become two out of one (masc.), but out of two became one (neut.). We can imagine it is Apollinaris who is speaking when he further declares that God is both, the one who assumes and what is assumed, and uses the word sunkrasis in this connection (Orat. 37. 2, this word is frequently met in Methodius). This thought is expressed in an almost stronger form in Orat. 38. 13 (see Orat. 29. 19): “Christ is one out of the two opposite things, out of flesh and spirit, of which the one deifies while the other was deified, ō tēs kainēs mixeōs, ō tēs paradoxou kraseōs! The eternally existing comes into being, the uncreated is created, the unlimited limits itself, since—and now the thought takes an Origenistic turn—the rational soul is the means whereby a union is brought about between the Godhead and the gross flesh.” As if it were possible to stop short at this function of the human soul, as if the human soul did not include the free will regarding which Gregory here maintains a prudent silence. On the other hand, however, Gregory maintains in opposition to Apollinaris that “there are undoubtedly two natures, God and man; soul and body are also in Him, but there are not two Sons or Gods, since there are not two men in one, because Paul speaks of an inner and an outer man”—this argument is specially weak since it is just the argument which Apollinaris could make use of. “To put it in a word: He is one and again He is another, in so far as He is Saviour, but He is not one person and again another person—God forbid. For both exist in the union which has been accomplished since God is made human and man is made divine, or however it may be expressed” (Ep. ad. Cledon. I.). Gregory as a pupil of Origen sees no difficulty in putting two different substances together into one. But neither does he follow the Chalcedonian Creed since with him it was not a question of a union of divinity and humanity in a third, but a question of fusion, and this spite of the duo phuseis. In their struggle with Apollinaris the Cappadocians nowhere intentionally arrived at the line of thought followed by the school of Antioch at a later time, though, what is very rare, a formula here and there has an Antiochian appearance. They are at bottom Monophysites, although they were the first to make the ominous “two natures” of Origen fit for church use. It was only because they were compelled that they trouble themselves about the question of freedom in Christ, and the thought once occurred to Gregory of Nyssa (Antir. 48) that Christ would not have possessed any aretē if He had been without autexousion. What most strongly impressed the Christian world in general was certainly the view that Christ had to give His body as a ransom for our body, His soul for our soul, His spirit for our spirit. There was undoubtedly some real justification for this thought since Apollinaris, or his pupils, seem to have carried their Paulinism so far (for so at least it would appear from some undoubtedly uncertain indications in the work of Athan. adv. Apollo, sec. I., 2 sq., II. 11) as to assert that Christ had only done away with the sin and death belonging to the flesh and thus renewed the flesh, but that the purification of the spirit was something which each individual had to carry out for himself by the imitation of Christ on the basis of that purification; in this sense redemption was not yet perfect. Sarkos men kainotēta Christos epidedeiktai kath' homoiōsin, tou de phronountos en hēmin tēn kainotēta dia mimēseōs kai homoiōseōs kai apochēs tēs hamartias hekastos en heautō epideiknutai (I. 2) or tē homoiōsei kai tē mimēsei sōzesthai tous pisteuontas kai ou tē anakainisei (II. 11). In opposition to this thesis, which probably really originated with Apollinaris since it is in harmony with the traditions of the school of Antioch, his opponents had certainly good reason for emphasising the full extent of the work of Christ if the whole structure of the faith of that time were not to be rendered insecure. Kenotic statements such as we meet with in Hilary are, so far as I know, not to be found in the writings of the Cappadocians. _________________________________________________________________ CHAPTER III. THE DOCTRINE OF THE PERSONAL UNION OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN NATURES IN THE INCARNATE SON OF GOD. _________________________________________________________________ The course of theological development in ecclesiastical antiquity may in some parts be compared to the windings of a descending spiral. Starting from any given point we seem to be always getting further away, and finally we come back to it again; only we are a stage lower down. The great Trinitarian controversy of the Fourth Century has its starting-point in the Christological doctrine of Paul of Samosata: Christ, the deified man inspired by the power of God and one with God in loving affection and in energy of will. Opposed to this doctrine was the belief that Christ is co-substantial with God, the Theos homoousios, who has become man. This article of faith established itself after Arianism and other middle doctrines had been rejected. But when in the course of the development both the perfect Godhead and the perfect humanity of Christ had been elevated to the rank of an article of faith, it looked as if the unity could be secured only by once more following the path taken by Paul of Samosata, by emphasising the spiritual and moral unity of God and man. This idea of the unity was indeed made more difficult now that the God in Christ had to be conceived of as a personal being, but any other unity no longer offered itself to thinking people who were unwilling to give up clear views on the subject. And it was still permissible to hold this view of the unity; for though the doctrine of Apollinaris had been repudiated, no fixed idea was thereby arrived at as to the nature of the union of the divine and the human. All the conceivable forms in which the conception of the union of the divine and the human might be put, were still at anyone’s disposal, especially as no single term was yet in regular use. As it was the Antiochian Apollinaris who worked out to its logical conclusion the doctrine of the Trinity as regards Christology, so it was his compatriots who worked out to its logical conclusion the formula “perfect God and perfect man.” This conclusion was indeed the opposite of the doctrine of Apollinaris. He had shewn every clear thinker that it was impossible to carry out the idea of the incarnation without deducting something from the essence of humanity, and that the incarnate one could have only one nature (mia phusis). But if the human nature in the incarnate one was nevertheless to be complete,—and the Church maintained that it was,—then the conception of the incarnation would have to get a new form. And if piety should suffer in the process, well, there was and there still is a stronger interest than that of piety—namely, that of truth. _________________________________________________________________ § 1. The Nestorian Controversy. I. The most zealous opponents of Apollinaris were his compatriots and scientific friends, the Antiochian theologians, distinguished by methodical study of Scripture, sober thinking in imitation of Aristotle, and the strictest asceticism. They alone had during many decades worked out the Christological dogma in a scientific way in opposition to Arius and Apollinaris. Following the example of Diodorus of Tarsus, Theodorus of Mopsuestia treated it with the greatest fulness by making use of the philosophical theological fundamental conceptions which Paul of Samosata had already employed, and by turning to account the biblical results of the exegetical labours of the school of Antioch. The Antiochians based their position on the Homoousios and did not wish either to interfere with the divine personality of the Logos. But at the same time they fully accepted the perfect humanity of Christ. The most important characteristic of perfect humanity is its freedom. The thought that Christ possessed a free will was the lode-star of their Christology. To this was added the other thought that the nature of the Godhead is absolutely unchangeable and incapable of suffering. Both of these thoughts have at least no concern with the belief in the real redemption of humanity from sin and death through the God-man. The Christology of the Antiochians was therefore not soteriologically determined; on the contrary, the realistic-soteriological elements were attached to it by way of supplement. [331] In the view of the Antiochians it followed from the premises above mentioned, that Christ possessed, strictly speaking, two natures and that the supposition of a natural union (henōsis phusikē, henōsis kath' hupostasin) was prejudicial both to the humanity and the divinity of Christ, as the doctrines of Arius and Apollinaris shewed. It was, on the contrary, necessary to maintain that the God-Logos assumed a perfect man of the race of David and united him with Himself. He dwelt (enoikēsis) in the man Jesus from the time of the conception. This indwelling [332] is to be conceived of according to the analogy of the indwelling of God in men generally. It is not a substantial indwelling, not kat' ousian, for this involves a transmutation or else limits the God-head. Nor is it any mere indwelling of inspiration, but a gracious indwelling,kata charin (kat' eudokian), i.e., God out of grace and in accordance with His own good pleasure has united Himself with the man Jesus in the way in which He unites Himself with every pious soul, only that in the case of Jesus the union was besides a perfect one in virtue of the perfection of his piety. It is to be thought of as a species of combination (sunapheia), or we may express it thus: God dwells in the man as in a temple. [333] The human nature, therefore, as nature remains purely unchanged, for grace leaves the nature as it is. This nature, then, like all human nature, was also a free self-developing nature. As man Jesus Christ had to pass through all the stages of moral growth as a free self-acting agent. Over him and in him God did undoubtedly always hold sway as a supporting power, but He did not interfere with the development of the character belonging to his human nature, which by independent action confirmed itself in the good. In accordance with this the union was only a relative one (henōsis schetikē) and was at the outset only relatively perfect, i.e., the God-Logos united Himself with the man Jesus as early as the time of his conception, forseeing of what sort he would be (kata pro̥gnōsin hopoios tis estai), but this union merely began then in order to become a more intimate union at every stage of the human development. [334] It consisted in the common feeling and energy of the two natures as well as in the common direction given to the will; it was therefore essentially a moral union. By means of it, however, there appeared at the close of the human development of Jesus and in virtue of the elevation which was granted to him as the reward of his perseverance, a subject or individual worthy of adoration, (I separate the natures, I unite the adoration: chōrizō tas phuseis, henō tēn proskunēsin). Still we must not speak of two sons or two lords, but, on the contrary, we have to adore one person, whose unity, however, is not a substantial one, but kata charin. The formula of the distinction of the natures and the unity of the person is to be found in Theodore. But the unity of the person is the unity of names, of honour, of adoration. [335] Since, however, each nature in Christ is at the same time person, it was here that the peculiar difficulty of the Antiochian Christology made its appearance. The union does not at bottom result in any unity of the person; it is merely nominal. The Antiochians had two persons in Christ, a divine and a human (duo hupostaseis or prosōpa). When, spite of this, they spoke of one, this was really a third, or rather, to put it more correctly, it was only in the combination (sunapheia), and indeed in the last resort it was only in the relation of believers to Jesus Christ that the latter appeared as a unity. It was in accordance with this that the conception of the Incarnation took its shape. Two natures are two subjects; for a subjectless or impersonal spiritual nature does not exist Since accordingly one subject cannot become the other, for if it did it would either have to cease to exist itself or would have to transform itself, it is also impossible that the Logos can have become man. It is only in appearance that He became something through the incarnation, through “becoming man”; in reality He assumes something in addition to what He had. Since the sphere of the unity is solely the will, the attributes, experiences, and acts of the two natures are to be kept strictly apart. It was the man only who was born; it was he who suffered, trembled, was afraid, died. To maintain that this could be said of God is both absurd and blasphemous. So too accordingly Mary is not to be called the mother of God, not at least in the proper sense of the term. [336] But the Christian adores Jesus Christ as the one Lord, because God has also raised to divine dignity the man who in feeling was united with the Logos so as to form a unity. In accordance with this conception, though certainly invitis autoribus, the humanity in the person of Christ came again to the front as a humanity which experienced merely the effects produced by the divine Logos who remained in the background. Since the distinction between person and nature was not fundamental, was not made in a realistic way, that is, and since the possibility of the substantial union of two persons was denied as we can see already from the case of Paul of Samosata, since further, in opposition to Paul, the Godhead in Christ was recognised as being a substantial Godhead, unity was not attained, as opponents at a later time justly observed. When again, as in the case of the Antiochians, an approach was made towards this unity, then the divine factor, contrary to the pre-supposition which was strictly clung to, threatened to become an inspiring and supporting power, and hence the reproach brought against them of Ebionitism, Somosatenism, Photinianism, or of Judaising. It would appear that the Antiochians rarely took the doctrine of redemption and perfection as the starting-point of their arguments, or when they did, they conceived of it in such a way that the question is not of a restitution, but of the still defective perfection of the human race, a question of the new second katastasis. The natural condition of humanity, of which liability to death forms a part, can be improved; humanity can be raised above itself by means of a complete emancipation from the sense life and by moral effort. This possibility, which lies open to everyone who summons up courage to raise himself by the exercise of free will above his inherited nature, has become a fact through Christ the second Adam. This fact has an immeasurable significance, for its effects now uphold everyone who honestly strives so to raise himself. The second Adam who has already appeared will once more appear from heaven epi tō pantas eis mimēsin agein heautou—in order to bring all to imitate him. He already points out to all “the path to the angelic life”, and, judging from the way in which they sometimes work out the thought, it almost looks as if in the view of the Antiochians the whole thing reduced itself to this alone. The hints given here towards a spiritual conception of the redemption through Christ have not, as one can see, resulted from perceiving that everything depends on a transformation of the feelings and will, and in the case of the Antiochians themselves they have by no means entirely displaced the realistic and mystical conception of redemption. In the indefinite form which is peculiar to them, they were thoughts of reason and results of exegesis, but not thoughts of faith. We hail them as cheering proofs of the fact that the feeling of the spiritual character of the Christian religion had not at that time wholly died out amongst the Greeks; but there can be no doubt of this, that these Antiochians were further away from the thought of redemption as the forgiveness of sins and regeneration than from the idea of a realistic redemption. While in Christology they illustrated in an admirable way the weak side and in fact the impossibility of this idea, they did not understand how to point these out in reference to soteriology itself. The latter was with them always vague and tinged with a strongly moralistic element. Its connection with the Christology was loose and indefinite, while the development of the latter in the form of positive doctrines was no less questionable, contradictory and uncouth than the theses of their opponents; for the Antiochians out of one being made two and thereby introduced an innovation into the Church of the East. Only Gnostics had before them taught the doctrine of two strictly different natures in Christ. The fact too that the redemption work of Christ was essentially attributed to the man Jesus and not to God was a further innovation. It was a flagrant contradiction that Theodore would not entertain the idea of two Sons although he assumed the presence of two natures and rejected the thought of an impersonal nature. But though we might criticise the Christology of the Antiochians still more severely, we must not forget that they held up before the Church the picture of the historical Christ at a time when the Church in its doctrinal formulæ was going further away from Him. One has indeed to add that they also directed attention to the incomprehensible essence of the God-Logos which ostensibly remained behind this picture, and did not on that account possess the power of presenting the historical Christ to the minds of men in a forcible way. But still that these theologians should have done what they did at that time was of immeasurable importance. It is to them the Church owes it that its Christology did not entirely become the development of an idea of Christ which swallowed up the historical Christ. And there is still something else for which these Antiochians are to be praised. Although they professed to preserve the traditional elements of dogma as a whole, they nevertheless essentially modified them by perceiving that every spiritual nature is a person and that what gives character and value to the person is feeling and will. This view, which was inherited from the Adoptionists and Paul, restores to the Christian religion its strictly spiritual character. But the Antiochians as Easterns were able to get possession of this knowledge only in a way which led from religion to moralism, because they based the spiritual on freedom, while again they understood freedom in the sense of independence even in relation to God. It was Augustine in his thought of liberty as “adhærere deo” and as “necessitas boni” who first united the most ardent piety with the recognition of Christianity as the spiritual-moral religion. It is, however, worth remembering that alone of all the Easterns the Antiochians and the theologians who sympathised with them took an interest in the Augustinian-Pelagian controversy—though they undoubtedly sided with Pelagius. For this interest proves that spite of the Eastern fog of mysteries, they were accessible to the freer air in which that controversy was fought out. Their opponents in the East wished to have mystery and spiritual freedom side by side; they, however, strove to lift the whole of religion up into the sphere of the latter—and they led it in the direction of moralism. [337] What confused the Antiochian theology and involved it in contradictions was apparently the load of tradition, i.e., the adhesion to the belief that Jesus Christ possessed a divine nature. This belief, however, constituted the strong foundation of the theology of their opponents. Their Christology was built up on this thesis. For the Antiochians it was simply a fact to which they had to adapt themselves, although they had not themselves felt its truth in this form. The view adopted by the Alexandrians, above all by Cyril, is undoubtedly the ancient view, that namely of Irenæus, Athanasius, and the Cappadocians, even when we make allowance for the falsification of tradition by the Apollinarians. The interest they had in seeing in Christ the most perfect unity of the divine and human, and therefore their interest in the reality of our redemption, determined the character of the development of the doctrines. Up till the year 431, and even beyond that time, this was wanting in formal thoroughness and scientific precision. This is as little an accident as the fact that Athanasius supplied no scientific doctrine of the Trinity. The belief in the real incarnation of God was only capable of the scientific treatment which Apollinaris had given it. If this were forbidden then theologians were debarred from all treatment of the subject with the exception of the merely analytic and descriptive or scholastic mode of treatment. This latter was not, however, yet in existence. But also apart from this, belief in the real incarnation simply demanded a forcible and definite statement of the secret, nothing more: siōpē proskuneisthō to arrēton—let the secret be adored in silence. We must live in the feeling of this secret. This is why Cyril also stated his faith in what was essentially a polemical form only; he would not have taken long to have given a purely positive statement of it. Therefore it is that without knowing it he has recourse to Apollinarian works when he wishes to bring forward a plain and intelligible formula in opposition to the Antiochians and so to make the mystery clearer—and he is continually in danger of over-stepping the limits of his own religious thought—and therefore it is finally, that his terminology has so little fixity about it. [338] Still he vindicated the religious thought of Greek piety: (“If the God-Logos did not suffer for us in a human way then He did not accomplish our salvation in a divine way, and if He was only man or a mere instrument then we are not truly redeemed.” “Our Immanuel would not in any way have benefited us by His death if He had been a man; but we are redeemed because the God-Logos gave His own body to death.”) Neither Cyril’s personal character nor the way in which he devised and carried on the controversy ought to be allowed to lead us astray as regards this fact: for his Christianity did not succeed in making him just. It was as easy for Cyril to formulate the thought of faith as it was for Athanasius and the Cappadocians. Faith does not in his case start from the historical Christ, but from the Theos logos, and is occupied only with Him. By the Incarnation the God-Logos incorporated with Himself the whole human nature and still remained the same. He did not transform Himself, but He took up humanity into the unity of His substance, without losing any of it; on the contrary, He honoured it and raised it into His divine substance. He is the same with human nature as He was before the Incarnation, the one indivisible subject which merely added something to itself just in order to take up into its nature this something thus added. Everything which the human body and the human soul of the God-Logos endured, He Himself endured, for they are His body and His soul. [339] The characteristic moments in this conception are “one and the same” (heis kai ho autos) that is, the God-Logos, “the making the flesh His own by way of accommodation” (idian poiein tēn sarka oikonomikōs), “He remembered who He was” (memenēke hoper ēn), “out of two natures one” (ek duo phuseōn heis), or “the joining of two natures in an unbroken union without confusion and unchangeably” (suneleusis duo phuseōn kath' henōsin adiaspaston asunchutōs kai atreptōs), “the Logos with His own flesh” (ho logos meta tēs idias sarkos), hence the “physical union” (henōsis phusikē) or “hypostatic union” (kath' hupostasin), and finally, “one nature of the God-Logos made flesh” (mia phusis tou Theou logou sesarkōmenē), [340] yet “not so that the difference of the two natures is done away with by the union” (ouch' hōs tēs tōn phuseōn diaphoras anērēmenēs dia tēn henōsin). Cyril scarcely touched upon the distinction between phusis (ousia) and hupostasis, which had nevertheless already come to be current among the Antiochians so far as Christology was concerned; still he never says “of two hypostases” (ek duo hupostaseōn) or “a union in nature” (henōsis kata phusin). [341] He was not able to make that distinction, because in his view phusis and hupostasis meant