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That the germs of the doctrine of the Person of Christ, as held by all the orthodox churches, are contained, principally in a concrete form, in the New Testament: and that the New Testament is the absolute doctrinal Norm. II. That the mission of the Church, intellectually con- sidered, has been to develop these germs: not, however, to originate any new element. Ill. That, during its history, the Church has actually and progressively developed these germs; now giving prominence to one, and then to another, aspect of the Person of Christ. IV. That in the midst of all its conflicts, confusion, and even corruption, the Church has been enabled, by the Spirit of God, with sure tact, and, as it were, instinctively, at the right moment to turn its back on dangerous principles, which it had itself cherished, and vigorously to oppose erroneous tendencies, at which it had winked. Dr Dorner’s idea of development, as applied to this par- ticular doctrine, will thus be seen to be as far removed as pos- Vill ADVERTISEMENT. sible from that of Father Newman on the one hand, and of the Tiibingen School on the other. The Translator has taken all pains, in the limited time at his disposal, to render Dr Dorner’s difficult German into accurate and readable English : with what success, the public will judge. It was thought advisable to insert the longer notes in an Appendix. In Appendix I. are printed a few passages of the German, which contain peculiarities of thought and phrase, and which may illustrate the difficulties frequently occurring in the work. De W..:S. : AUF PAARL es. LR & a > +. we aS. MY nt t/ YD a Y.¥Y > . tel) ¥ ae | dt tT} o) voy eo? ay iV “| Pi / POP ME eto wy Wiig eG ADS oR SECOND PERIOD. FROM THE YEAR 881 UNTIL 1800. ee ee (argo HE Church had now to undertake the task of grasping ZY and comprehending in living unity the two aspects of the personality of Christ, each of which separately had been as fully as possible brought to view and established during the course of the previous development of the doctrine :—and it set vigorously to work. Evidently, however, its success could not but be incomplete so long as its conception of the nature of God and man, in their relation to each other, continued to lack definiteness or even accuracy. Relatively to the advance- ment of Christology, therefore, the first business of the Church was to ascertain the extent of its knowledge of the nature of God, and of the nature of man. During the period on which we are now entering, the Church was actually impelled to en- deavour te accomplish this object. Contemplated in the light of the ultimate goal, the dogma concerning the Person of Christ occupied, for a considerable period, a position rather of secondary than of primary impor- tance. Its further progress depended, in fact, on other dogmas. These other dogmas continued, it is true, to experience the fruc- tifying influence of the ascertained results at which Christology had already arrived, but must themselves needs gain a more fixed form ere they could be capable of reciprocating the benefit and furthering the progress of Christology. The state- ment just made involves, of course, that the definitions agreed upon by the Church in respect of the nature of Christ, and which also became every day more and more numerous, were and could only be provisional and temporary. The issue of P. 2.— VOL. I. A y. SECOND PERIOD. the efforts for the formation of dogmas which the Church now prepared to put forth, must necessarily be to determine how far the definitions fixed upon at the commencement of the pro- cess through which Christian thought had to pass, were not of mere negative importance, as eliminating what was untrue, but of positive also, as faithful and satisfactory expressions of the truth which lay like a kernel within the faith in the God- man. With this, as it were, expectant attitude, which our dogma was driven to take for a considerable period, it would seem to be inconsistent that unwearied efforts should have been ever afresh devoted to it—that, down to the seventh century, the greatest schismatic and political movements should have been connected with it—and that on it were centred the strugeles and discussions of the councils,—its history constituting, in point of fact, their history. But even if the process through which dogmas were passing in these centuries had run a more satis- factory course than it did, we must not forget that, during this period, it was the Greek Church which still took the initiative, even though its decision might not prevail, in connection with dogmas; whereas, in the West, signs of a different order of things were early discernible. The Greek Church, also, was especially subjected to severe convulsions and conflicts, owing to the circumstance of its Christology constituting, as it were, its entire dogmatical theology, and the other dogmas, relating to man, God, and redemption, not being permitted to have any- thing like an independent development From these, on the contrary, the West escaped almost entirely free. The only independent movement in the East, parallel to that going on in the West, was one which took the shape of Christological in- vestigations into the nature of God and man. These investi- gations, however, were prosecuted with all possible vigour. Assuming it, then, as a settled point, that every step of real advance in the matter of Christology, made by the Church, must be preceded by a deeper knowledge of the nature of God and man, the question arises, Which of these two subjects was first brought under consideration? For atime it appeared as though the impulse towards the formation of dogmas would leave the Person of Christ and the Trinity, and be directed first to anthropology —and that both in the East and West contem- CHRISTOLOGY DEPENDENT ON OTHER DOCTRINES. 3 poraneously ;—in the former, in the school of Antioch; in the latter, in Augustine and Pelagius. But the Eastern Church, which, so long as it retained any life, preferred speculations on the Trinity and on the Person of Christ, was unwilling to join in that opposition to the anthropology of the school of Antioch, which, notwithstanding the many excellent thoughts it em- bodied, was quite necessary ere,a real dogmatical process could be initiated. The Western Church did indeed start an oppo- sition; but both the forms which it took, even that of Augus- tine, bore a one-sided character, and the resulting discussions consequently failed to combine in living unity the elements of truth of which each side was the representative. Pelagius, laying stress on moral freedom, could see in the doctrine of grace little else than something inimical to freedom: to him, therefore, God was merely the Creator, the Lawgiver, and the Judge, of freedom. Augustine, on the other hand, allowed to man no principle of self-determination, no volitional centre of his own, but considered him, in respect of evil, merely as an accidens of the race, and, in respect of the redemptive process, merely as an object of the omnipotent elective grace of God. Owing to this its character, the controversy neither settled the anthropology of Christianity, except on the one point of the general need and capability of salvation, nor determined the inner idea and essential nature of redemptive grace; but merely decided that it was necessary, in general, and that it had found realization in Christianity. The existence of such grace was confessed; its rationale remained unsettled. The magical character given by the current representations to the redemp- tive process in the souls of men, afforded full opportunity for the introduction of a doctrine of freedom which tended to Pelagianism ; and we find, as a matter of fact, that the practice and teachings of the Church down to the Reformation show traces of the separate and antagonistic existence of Pelagian and magical elements. . The anthropological. discussions of the fifth century.could scarcely, therefore, further, even to.a moderate extent, the pro- gress of the doctrine concerning the Petson of Christ. The character of those disputes was still quite elementary ; and their utmost effect was, by the rejection of Manicheean and Pelagian elements, to recover lost ground, and to gain an anthropological 4 SECOND PERIOD. victory parallel to that which had been won over the Ebionitic and Docetic errors. It became, rather, every day more decidedly the normal course of the impulse towards the formation of dogmas, to occupy itself with the plan of redemption (Soteriology),—that is, with the questions, Wherein consists the salvation bestowed in Christ? and, How was this work accomplished by Him ? But the mode of conceiving the work of redemption is in reality a mode of conceiving how God is in relation to men —how He communicates Himself to them: in other words, it involves the formation of a conception of God in the light of the work of redemption. ‘The work of the Church to the time of the Reformation, may therefore be regarded as concentrated on the development of the knowledge of God, as manifested in the work wrought by Him through Christ for the deliverance and perfection of humanity. Progress in this department was naturally followed by efforts to settle Christian anthropology ; —which efforts mainly effected their purpose during the latter part of the period now under consideration, —that is, since the Reformation. Nor can it be denied that, during the long Second Period, sure progress was, in all essential respects, made towards the realization of that which was absolutely necessary to the further development and revival of the dogma concerning the Person of Christ. Elements of a Pelagian and magical character may be considered as having been once for all condemned before the forum of science, which has in it the seeds and capacity of life. Thus, too, were condemned, both that unethical conception of God and His grace which excludes the freedom of man, and that irreligious conception of man’s ability and action, which excludes the necessity for God’s assistance. The combination in one dogma of the parts taken respectively by God and man in the work of redemption, in such a manner that dhey might appear rather as uniting with, than excluding each other, could never be satisfactorily accomplished, until further advances had been made in the knowledge of the nature of God and man. Consequently, all thaf was necessary to the making a new and de- cisive step in advance, was to apply to the purposes of Christology the anthropological results arrived at during the second period. Independently of the circumstance, that on the comprehen- PROGRESS IN THE DOCTRINE OF GOD. a sion of the redemptive work of God, for and in humanity, both in its objective and subjective aspect, were mainly concentrated the entire dogmatical efforts of this period, so far as they took a normal course, that work is intimately connected with the doctrine whose history we are writing. The redemptive..work of God, objectively considered, is essentially nothing else than the work or the office of Christ; and, as it became more and more fully understood, so did the knowledge of man’s need and capability of redemption and perfection become more complete and thorough. The Christian mind advanced along three great lines towards a fuller understanding of the work or office of Christ; and to these three great lines correspond the three great Churches— the Greek, the Romish, and the Protestant. The Greek Church, “seeking after wisdom,” regarded Christ as the manifestation of the truth: im its eyes, He was the personal embodiment of wisdom, which, being free from falsity and error, is also free from sin. It regarded Christ predominantly from the point of view of His prophetical office, though tiot without cherishing the hope that, at the end of the days, He would prove His might as a King in that conflict with evil and death, to which the victory gained over Satan by Christ in a supra-historical struggle, which took place outside of the sphere within which humanity moves, formed the pre- lude. The “orthodox” Church did, it is true, cling zealously and faithfully to the divinity and humanity of Christ; for, in- deed, the doctrine that the Son, the eternal Wisdom, became man, forms a part of the true doctrine. of the Person of Christ. Subsequently to the fifth century, however, few of the Greek Fathers were able to give a deeper reason for the incarnation, than that the best means of exhibiting atid teaching the truth —that is, God—was that the invisible Wisdom should become visible. Redemption (in its subjective aspect), and faith, are theréfore treated almost solely from the theoretical point of view, as consisting in such an acquaintance with, or recognition of, the dogma, as implies it to be true. Placing the chief good in knowledge, the Greek Church directed its main efforts, as a Church, during the period when it still displayed mental activity, to giving its dogmas greater precision of form. The Episcopate was the means employed to this end. 6 SECOND PERIOD. The Romish Church, which, from of old, in accordance with Western tendencies, was more absorbed in the contempla- tion of self and of the world, and was the inheritress of the practical spirit of the ancient Romans, sought not only to teach, but also to administrate and rule the affairs of men, in agree- ment with Christian principles. The Episcopate here is not subservient to dogmas; but dogmas are made a means of in- creasing the power of the Episcopate, of carrying out a spiri- tual rule, and of instituting a new order of life: the prophetic office is subordinated to, and employed by, the kingly. Christ is represented from the point of view of His kingly authority. The Teacher becomes the Lawgiver; the Gospel, the nova lex. And inasmuch as the Church participates in Christ, who came to found a visible kingdom, with fixed regulations of its own, it has a share, also, of His authority and dominion. Being the image and representative, and, as it were, the continuation of Christ, it arranges its organization with a view to this dominion ; in carrying on which, it conceived itself to be acting in the name, and as the vicegerent, of Christ the King. In con- formity with this general view of Christ, shepherds became rulers, priests became judges and lawgivers, entrusted with a power of disposal over even the blessings of salvation, and the future and the nether worlds; and, finally, from the midst of the bishops rose the Pope, who was regarded as the king of kings, because, as the servus servorum, he stood in the closest relation to Christ the King. Dogmas here are considered to form part of the law; and as law requires assent or obedience (assensus, obedientia), so did they consider, not error, or even evil only, but disobedience and the debitum which disobedience involved, to be that from which a deliverance was necessary: obedience to Christ’s government, His laws, and His propitiation, on the contrary, they regarded as the condition of salvation. The doctrine of the second coming of Christ receded, for evi- dent reasons, to the background: the highest glory of Christ is to have been the Founder of this spiritual state, and the plenipotent Bestower on the Church of all that which it needs, of authority and laws, of sacramental grace and rules of life. : As the Episcopate, the Councils, and the quietly growing power of the Bishop of Rome, constituted during the Greek THREEFOLD VIEW OF THE OFFICE OF CHRIST. 7 period the prelude to the form which the Romish Church as- sumed in the Middle Ages, so, in the palmy days of the Pope- dom, Anselm the German became, by means of his work,. “Cur fb Deus homo 2” a kind of herald of the Reformation. At the close of that immortal work, however, he sinks back into the general tendency of his time, and applies his theory to the sup- port of an ecclesiastical royalty. The reward which Christ earned by His innocent sufferings, and which He did not need for His own benefit, he represents as having been conferred on the Church,—a treasure which is the basis, and which it ad- ministers for the purposes, of its authority. The central point of the Church.of the Reformation, con- sidered subjectively, was the personal need of salvation, and especially of the expiation of guilt (culpa, reatus); its objective centre was the Sacred Passion. Christ_is predominantly re- presented by it, under the form of a servant, as the atoning Mediator and High-priest... Just as in the Old Testament the prophets occupied themselves at first with the Davidic kingdom and with Davidic hopes, afterwards returning to that which was inward and spiritual, so has it been in the history of the inward image formed of the manifested Redeemer in His entirety. ‘The commencement of the Evangelical Church was marked by a similar return from the outward to the inward— from the sphere of mere knowledge and works, to that of the feelings and of the immediate self-consciousness, whose recon- ciliation was held to be the thing of first importance. It felt and confessed that there is a reconciliation of the individual person; that there is a work of Christ which is more than a mere institution, which respects the individual man; and that we become participators in it,—mnay, more, that we become children of God and brothers of the First-born,—if we hold to Him the relation not merely of belief in His truth, and of obedience to His will, but of personal confidence in His mighty, divine, and atoning love: in one word, if our Christianity con- sist not merely in knowledge, or in works of the will, but in the utter and confident self-surrender, of a soul which trusts, and can entrust itself to, Christ. | ~~ Such are the general outlines of the advance made towards the understanding of the Divine redemption wrought through Christ, by Christendom, in the three great ecclesiastical forms 8 SECOND PERIOD. under which it has hitherto existed. As a knowledge of the God who revealed Himself in Christ, it involves the knowledge, first, of the wisdom of God; secondly, of God as the righteous Lord, mighty to save; and, finally, of the love of God. At no period was any one of these points left entirely out of view; but what we are now concerned to know is, on which of them, during any particular period, the attention of the Christian mind was chiefly concentrated. Now, although the form in which the three Churches clothed their conception of God was in all cases determined by the nature of His manifestation of Himself—of His presence, and of His activity —in the God-man, Christ; still, these defini- tions of the conception of God, according to their nature, were very differently related to the doctrine of the Person of Christ, and especially to the human aspect thereof. Merely with a view to the communication of the truth, the Incarnation was, in fact, scarcely requisite. Inspiration, sacred books, were also fitted for this purpose. The humanity of the Son occupied in the Greek Church, consequently, but a precarious, accidental position—the position, namely,.of a mere means to another.end. Nor could the humanity of Christ be raised to a firmer and more independent position, unless shown to form an integral portion of the very substance of Christian- ity, and not destined merely to be the medium for manifesting the invisible Divine Truth, or God. | The case is precisely the same with the category of power and righteousness. If Christ be considered too exclusively under the aspect of a King and eternal Judge, we withdraw Him from humanity,—we allow His humanity to fade away before the majesty of His divinity,—and His incarnation is then, as it were, abrogated by His exaltation. He then becomes merely the Logos. His mission was fulfilled when He had founded the Church, had given it plenary power, and had won for it the saving virtues which it dispenses. But how non-essentially, how accidentally, is His humanity related to this purpose! We are, besides, on all hands assured, and especially by the followers of Anselm, that God could have freely forgiven sin and communicated grace even without Christ. That a theocracy could be established independently of an incarnation, is evident from the Old Testament: why, GREEK AND ROMISH CHURCH. a) then, might not also a new Levitical priesthood have been founded, bearing rather a royal than a priestly character? We cannot, therefore, be surprised—nay more, we should look as a matter of course—to find that, so long as the Greek and Roman Churches took the lead, too great prominence was, on the whole, given to the divine. over. the..human.aspect of Christ’s Person ; and that the former. stood. related. to-the latter as something either inwardly alien, or even _exclusiye. The reason thereof is, that those Churches assigned to the humanity of Christ a significance of a merely temporary, accidental character. Only when the Church became more distinctly conscious of that holy love of God which effected the atonement of humanity, did it see that the incarnation was a necessity, and consequently assign to the humanity of Christ a position of essential importance. By the incarnation, and not by grace, which is independent of historical events and facts (which would have been an arbitrary and unethical thing), was the reconciliation of the world actually accomplished: the man Christ_ Jesus reconciled. the .world.with God. This ‘was. pos- sible, because _in. Him God. became man,.” Insight into the possibility of this. incarnation depended, as respects the part taken by God, (1) on His being predominantly conceived, not merely as Wisdom, or as Might and Justice, but as self-com- municating Love, to which the very highest conceivable form of fellowship must be congruous. It.was.on the Lutheran Church, after the way had been prepared during the Middle Ages, that this insight into the fact that the essential nature of God is holy love, and not an infinitude (whether of being, or of wis- dom, or of power and righteousness) essentially opposed to the fipite, dawned most clearly. «2) Further, inasmuch as with this deeper insight into the moral nature of God, and especially into the essentially moral character of the atonement, there was connected a deeper, even a moral and religious, conception of the nature and destiny of man, in opposition both to a Pela- gian and a magical view of the method of redemption; and, inasmuch as one of the fundamental postulates of the Evan- gelical Church was the marriage of man, by faith, in the depths of the soul, with God, man was henceforth viewed, not merely as a finite being, but.as infinity in the form of susceptibility. So that, even though it might at first be only in a general form, a be t Fan a t ’ 10 SECOND PERIOD. perception must have been gained of the possibility of the union of God and man.in Giaice even relatively to. the capacity of human nature. Tor this reason, the Reformation was a turning-point, both im respect to the divine and the human aspects; and, whilst the First Epoch of the Period now under consideration might be described as one in which too great pro- minence was given to the divine nature of Christ, the Period of the Reformation, on the other hand, in point of principle, as also partially in point of actual teaching, may be designated the new Second Epoch—the epoch in which the divine and human aspects attained to a principial, if not to a complete and per- manent, equilibrium. After the Reformation, the leadership in the development of Christian doctrine was transferred from the Romanic to the Germanic peoples; and the Romish Church took up, in relation to the Evangelical, a position similar to that which the Greek es” Church had previously held towards iteelf. It fell into a con- \~ servatism, which showed scarcely any traces of the continuance of that process of development on which the dogmas of the Church had been launched. This is specially observable in connection with Christology. The Evangelical Germanic peoples, on the contrary, desired neither that absorption in the knowledge and vision of God, which was the chief aim of Greek piety even in its noblest forms, nor to alternate between a pas- - sive, willess surrender to grace, whose action bore a magical character, on the one hand, and a Pelagian, arbitrary, and godless subjectivity, on the other. On them devolved the task of asserting, and working out, the true conception of human personality, on the basis of a fuller knowledge of the redemption which had been manifested. The mind of Christendom now, strictly speaking, for the first time concentrated its attention on the development of a Christian anthropology. As we have already remarked, Augustine was in this matter but a fore- runner. His system by no means possessed the power of im- pressing its character either on the period during which he flourished, or on the after-world. On the contrary, at many q points it afforded support to views which afterwards became : the type and standard of the Romanic peoples. The con- tinuous opposition of the Romish Church undoubtedly helped to keep the science of the Evangelical Church, and soon also THE EVANGELICAL CHURCH. 11 its philosophy, to this its task, and impelled it to devote thereto its entire energies. And when the theology which succeeded the Reformation, instead of tending the new Christological germs which had been planted by the Reformers, began almost imme- diately to do homage to a traditionalism which buried its talent in the ground, and apparently made it its highest aim to restore the doctrine of the Evangelical Church to identity with that of the time previous to the Reformation,—that is, to render the preponderance of the divine over the human aspect, if possible, greater than ever,—it became doubly necessary, necessary even for Christology, that the right of anthropology to a place amongst Christian dogmas should now, after_so long neglect, be thoroughly and scientifically established. During the eigh- teenth century, however, the efforts put forth for the solution of the anthropological problem bore, at first, traces of a spirit hostile to Christianity and. Christology. But the greater the freedom, and the fewer the trammels, with which the Evan- gelical Church pursued the course of its development on this point, the more valuable has proved the result which was gained, notwithstanding transient confusions and degeneracies. That result was a scientific conviction, that. the relation between.the nature of man and the idea of God is by no means one of exclusion; but that, on the contrary, man first truly becomes man when he is united with God, without losing his own indi- viduality. How the knowledge of this truth grew and ripened, wl] be our task to narrate when we come to the Third Epoch of the Period under consideration. At that epoch, the human aspect of the Person of Christ predominated over the divine. It formed, consequently, the direct counterpart or antithesis to the First Epoch of the same Period (from the year 381 to the year 1517). That such was the case, can be pointed out, even to the very details,—plainly showing the orderly character of the course taken by the development of our doctrine, not- withstanding the arbitrarmess and confusion which apparently prevailed. | If, then, the collective result of the Second Period was the full concrete knowledge of that which, as to principle, was expressed in the time of the Reformation (that time, of the transition of the divine from its preponderance over the human, and also, in another respect, of the temporary equili- 12 SECOND PERIOD. brium of the two aspects of the Person of Christ),—to wit, Jjirstly, that the only true conception of God is one which, so far from being incompatible with, involves His being determined to an incarnation, by His own eternal moral nature ; and, secondly, that any conception of humanity is false, which, either in a spirit of defiance or a spirit of pusillanimity, would regard the taber- nacling of God in man as a thing either unnecessary or too lofty: we may consider, that with the Third Period the time had arrived, when the conditions might be deemed to have been fulfilled, on which, as we have previously shown, the further progress of this dogma primarily depended, and without the fulfilment of which, all attempts to recognise in the duality of the aspects an unity of the Person of Christ, could only be of a temporary and provisional character. The Christological germs planted in the time of the Reformation were full of promise for the future, and escaped that character of one- sidedness which the attempts put forth, independently of the conditions just referred to, had borne ; hence, also, did they give rise to the fruitful labours of the Third Period, then just com- mencing. Turning our attention now especially to the First Epoch of the Second Period, whose principal feature, taken as a whole, was the predominance given to the divine aspect over the human, the time from the year 381 to the Reformation natu- rally falls into three sections. Beri During the first section. of this Kpoch, closing with the Council of Chalcedon in the year 451, efforts were made, in opposition alike to the school of Antioch and that of Alex- andria, to Ne&torianism and Eutychianism, to défine more pre- cisely the nature‘of the problem. Nestorianism, it was affirmed, evades the problem of the union of the two aspects of the Per- son of Christ, in that it sets up a dead dualism in the place of union ; Eutychianism also evades it, in that its union is but a re-absorption of the human by the divine. The Fathers as- sembled at this Synod viewed the problem positively, as follows : —In Christ is to be recognised a duality of the divine and human; the two infinitely and essentially different natures, which constitute this duality, are notwithstanding united into, and in one Person. In order to secure for this putting of the problem an ecclesiastical sanction, the Church was compelled » DIVISION OF THE FIRST EPOCH. 13 to renounce connection with such parties as were anable to re- cognise in it the expression of their own Christian consciousness. On the one hand, the Nestorians felt that Christ's human nature was not secured against the onesided predominance of the divine by the formulas approved at the Council of Chal- cedon; and, on the other hand, the Monophysites complained, that in opposition to the spirit indicated in the ancient, expres- sion pla pvous, ‘the doctrine of two such natures in. Christ makes a mockery of every attempt at their union,” But the antagonistic principles of Nestorianism and Mono- physitism made their appearance afresh, and gained advocates even within the fold of the Mother Church, from whose limits they had been excluded. It was thus continually reminded of the debt which the Council of Chalcedon had failed to discharge. This forms the principal subject of the other two sections. 3 The second section, from the year A451 to 793, will narrate “how the too powerful inclination. to Monophysitism which pre- vailed in the Greek Church, and which constantly manifested itself ti fresh forms, was victoriously combated by the tendency to unity, mainly in the Western Church; and how the duality affirmed by the Council of Chalcedon, was not only maintained, but reasserted with increased distinctness, in that, not only the existence of two essentially different natures, but also the exist- ence of a duality of capacities of volition and knowledge,—nay more, of a duality of the entire functions of the soul, —was recognised. From the year 451 down to the eighth century was, therefore, as far as the decisions of its Synods are con- cerned, the period of the more distinct and clear definition of the antithesis of two natures affirmed by the Council of Chal- cedon. Nothing worthy of mention was done towards showing how the two natures could be united in one person. But when this tendency to contrast and oppose the two natures had culmi- nated in Adoptianism, whose mission it seemed to be, as it were, to set forth and embody the total result of the previous process and movement, the Western Church shrank back from the consequences logically drawn by the school of Antioch, and a turning-point arrived with the Council of Frankfort, eo “<> The third section of this Epoch, from the Council of Frank- 14 SECOND PERIOD. fort to the Reformation, to describe its character in general terms, was the time of the qualification of the antithesis ap- proved by the Council of Chalcedon. During this period the tendency was predominant to uphold the unity of the Person of Christ. But even during the period comprised in the second section, the antithesis of the two natures had been partially qualified, in that the Logos alone was conceived. to..constitute the Personality of Christ. As all-powerful, He was considered capable of combining and retaining in unity the two natures, however widely they might be separated. This one point was, of course, in itself sufficient to preserve to the divine nature its undue predominance. Against this remainder of Monophysitism or Docetism, which neither had received, nor ever did receive, the sanction of the Church, Adoptianism especially raised its voice, with the hope of being able to preserve the unity of the Person of Christ, even when the human as well as the divine aspect was conceived as personal. But after the turn taken by the science of the Church towards the maintenance of the unity of the Person of Christ—a turn dating from the over- throw of Adoptianism,— the explanation resorted to most eagerly, and most completely carried out, was that of the im- personality of Christ’s human nature. This position was very closely connected with the magical character which attached to the doctrines of grace as taught during the Middle Ages, and concealed within itself, as it were, the type of that ecstasy of man in God, subsequently aimed at by the Mystics. Soon enough, however, were the consequences discernible. If the humanity of Christ is selfless, impersonal, the incarnation is not real, true. In such case, Christ’s humanity is merely the garment of the Deity ; incarnation is a mere theophany; and the strict and proper idea of a God-manhood is renounced for Nihilianism. Christ was thus, as it were, reconverted into the Logos, with a. human garment. The scholastic divines, moreover, sought to show that it was unnecessary for God to become man, although they recognised both that such an event was possible, and even that it had actually taken place, in a Jigurative sense. Thus, under the pretence of a solution, the problem was really cast aside ; and substitutes for Christology began now, en masse, to be introduced into the Church. The words in which Peter Lombard gave honest and open DIVISION OF THE FIRST EPOCH. 15 expression to the secret of this Christology of the Church, were, it is true, officially disavowed ; but the thing itself could not be altered, as long as the human nature of Christ was treated as impersonal, and as possessed of no independent significance. And as the conception of the personality of man began, under other, and those chiefly Pelagian influences, to assume a more definite shape, and to take up a position either alongside of, or even opposed to, the magical cast of doctrine above alluded to, the knot was drawn ever tighter. Some of the scholastic theo- logians remained true to tradition ; but their unproductiveness, and their return to simpler mystical views of the Person of Christ, show that the interest hitherto taken in the rational development of Christology was already beginning to die out. So with Thomas Aquinas. Others began again to take up the position of Adoptianism, which was now no longer condemned ; but, shut up within the formulas of the Church, and feeling the difficulty of uniting the two, they strove in vain to find a solution. So Duns Scotus. On the whole, vacillation and un- certainty prevailed; and the end thereof was a bewildered scepticism, conjoined with blind subjection to the authority of the Church, to which was committed the responsibility of re- conciling the apparent or real discordances in its teachings. In one line, however,—in_that_of the Mystics—enough life remained to preserve the continuity of the process of develop- ment on which Christology had entered. This mystical ten- dency attained its climax, and thus also its normal and eccle- siastical consummation, in the Reformation. Even Mysticism, however, failed, to..advance. beyond. the idea_of the imper- sonality of the humanity of Christ; though it did regard the humanity of Christ, in a general way, as the perfection of human nature. It taught, therefore, at all events by implica- tio; that it is not contradictory of, but solely accordant with, the natures of God and man, that they should enter into the most intimate fellowship with each other, nay more, it 1s con- gruous to the nature of both, and not a curtailment of the human, that God alone should be the true personality in man. How far had it thus departed from the spirit and the principles of the Council of Chalcedon! The Lutheran Church, in its doctrine of the “ CommunicatioIdiomatum” (to its praise be it said), did not, like Mysticism, rest satisfied with the mere unity 16 SECOND PERIOD. of the Ego, and allow the human aspect. to be absorbed in the Divine hypostasis, but declared the main problem to be, the union of the.two natures themselves. with. each. other, me put forth efforts to effect a solution. Inasmuch, however, as at this point a stop began to be put to the puilding of the edifice, at which the Church had laboured from the year 451 to 793, notwithstanding that the principles which had formerly been presupposed still combined to exert an influence, the proper place for discussing the Lutheran Christology will be the Second Epoch of this Period. We shall be able to show, on the one hand, that it formed the conclusion of the old era; and, on the other hand, that it formed the conclusion of the old, in virtue of a principle which fitted it to inaugurate a new, era. We have thus tried to present a cursory view of that which constituted the life and soul of the Christological process in the different sections of the First Epoch (from 381 to 1517). Our task is now to take a survey of the various modes. of conceiving and explaining the union of the. two.aspects ofthe Person of Christ, which resulted from the manifold points of view from which Christology was regarded during this epoch. At no time in its histowy was the Christian Church disposed to dispense with a doctrine concerning the Person of Christ. It constantly applied the knowledge it possessed of God and man, whatever might be its measure, to this dogma. So far, there- fore, the history of Christology is one of the chief sources of our knowledge of the modes in which different periods con- ceived of God and man. But, as a Christology could not fairly be considered to have been formed, until Christ was conceived as the unity of the divine and the human, each period, whatever might be its views in other respects, and whatever might be mG nature of its main Christological efforts, was called upon to say, what, with the premises ech it acknowledged, was its conception of the Unio. The different modes of conceiving of this Unio, which came one after another into vogue, may be classified under three heads. In these, notwithstanding that the first and second were directly opposed the one to fhe other, a regular progress is discernible. ee ee ee OPT cee A ie Net we VIEWS OF THE UNIO FROM A.D. 381. 17 CI. Under the first head belong those views of the Unio which, in that they detracted from, or altogether denied, the individuality and reality of the one or the other nature, had most affinity. with Docetism.or.Ebionitism. They fell into Ebionitism when they represented the divine nature as trans- formed into the human, and into Docetism, when they repre- sented the human nature as transformed into the divine; and they bore a certain resemblance to both, when they represented the one as tempered and modified by the other, so that, as in chemistry, the result was a compound product, a mixture of both factors. The first form was brought repeatedly under considera- tion in the first volume: of the second form was Eutychianism : of the third, was Theopassianism. They all belong to the Monophysitic family, which, as well as the school of Antioch, conceived of the divine | human as antagonistic to, and. ex- clusive of, each other. Hence, the only union possible, was one which vel ed either the entire or the partial absorption of one of the factors ; and usually, the divine factor, which was chiefly described and defined by physical categories, absorbed the human. The chief representatives of this class of views flou- rished, in part, during the First Period. ‘II. Under the second head must be classed those views which followed on, and were connected with, the condemnatory judgment pronounced by the Church on Apollinarism. The two natures were in this case also regarded as mutually exclu- sive contrarieties ; but at the same time efforts were made to preserve completely to both their distinctive characters,—chiefly in the interest of the humanity of Christ, and of a positive con- ception of God. Still it was deemed possible to maintain a unity of the entire Person; though, naturally, only by means of a third principle, external to both natures. That view is scarcely worthy of mention which, mridiout inquiring further into the connecting principle, simply repre- sents the Person of Christ as the sum and result of the two concurrent natures; and which therefore takes no trouble to consider whether the two natures can be thus combined— whether they are so homogeneous as to be capable of addition to one sum (= Person), or whether each is not rather an in- dependent person in itself. It is clear that in this case the two natures are only, as it were, arithmetically added together— Bao B PS 18 ’ SECOND PERIOD. pronounced one; and that they are posited as one merely in thought, so that the Unio is purely nominal—an unio ver balis. All that was done was to postulate that the two natures be thought at one and the same time: the problem was not more precisely defined, much less was any progress made towards a solution. The efforts after a“unio realis took three forms :— (1.) The idea which first suggested itself was, that the divine and human natures are one, inasmuch as the latter is the temple or garment of the former. But to term a mere juxta- position unity, and to represent the natures as one merely on the ground of their presence in one and the same place (unio localis), is to reduce the incarnation to a theophany, and, ex- amined more carefully, is illusory; inasmuch as the divine nature (of which, by the way, no other aspects than those which may be termed physical are brought into view) would appear, in virtue of its omnipresence, to dwell in all things quite as truly as in the humanity of Christ. It leads to a view of essentially the same character, to appeal to the mere power of God, and to judge that by His mere will He could conjoin and form into one whole, two natures which are not only different in essence, and have no sort of internal connection with each other, but are even mutually opposed. This we may designate the Mechanical Unio. (2.) Inasmuch, however, as neither of the two natures is a mere lifeless sane a form of union so dead must inevitably inflict injury on both. Hence Theodore of Mopsuestia and Nestorius, whose ouvadera, in other respects, bore the closest resemblance to the view just now described, combined therewith, the rudiments of a representation which, aia occupying the same platform, was of a higher character. They supposed, namely, that the Logos, raat is present in all things, stood in a. peculiar relation—a relation as it were of elective affinity —to_ the man Jesus; the reason thereof being, that the man Jesus, because of His spirit and disposition, was honoured by God with the dignity of Sonship—a title and rank which belonged.to the Logos by nature. Whether this excellence of the man Jesus was regarded as innate or as acquired, does not clearly appear. This view, which represents the relation of the Logos to the man Christ as taking a special form, on the ground of the pre- VIEWS OF THE UNIO FROM A.D. 381. 19 eminent worth recognised, in the judgment of God, as attaching to Christ's human nature, may be described, when considered from the point of view of its objective basis, as an unio in con- formity to the idea of justice, or as the unio forensis; when considered in its actual character, as the relative union—unio ce EVOOLS TYETLKN. (3.)) The peculiar excellence attaching to the human nature of Christ, and which attracted to itself the special sympathy of the omnipresent divine nature, must on earth, have been rather moral than physical (relating to the dvous),—that it must mainly have consisted in the sympathy for the divine, felt by this-man. Still, the foundation in which this moral excellence inhered, was constituted by two opposed substances,—substances, that is, which were not of a nature to seek an union with, when turned towards, each other; but such, that whilst remaining internally independent, each had the same end in view as the other. Keeping these two points in view, we arrive at a subjective moral unio,—an union consisting in the harmony of two other- wise distinct and separate wills, ean manifest the same ten- dency i in similar forms or modes (a). This was unquestionably a more spiritual conception of the Unio; but still it was un- satisfactory, so far as it represented the acts of volition, on which the main stress was laid, as proceeding, in analogy with the point of view of law or justice, from two separate and opposed centres of life. The natures were no longer supposed to be merely passively combined ; but were conceived as active, as effecting their own union. This union, however, was, after all, external to themselves, consisting in the mere similarity of their activity, and in their having a common aim. The as- sumption of two such centres of life, necessarily led to the assumption of the existence of two eternally co-ordinate per- sonalities. That such must be the result of the attempt ata subjective moral unio, could not long remain unperceived. On the ground that this form of Christology involved a dualism, the culminating points of which (the Egos) were only held together by an ideal unity outside of and above them, it was justly condemned by the Church, no less than the theories classed under the first head,—both at the Council of Chalcedon. The (a) See Note A, Appendix II., for the German of this passage. ‘Tr. 20 SECOND PERIOD. problem of Christology was then laid down in the manner de- scribed above, and declared in that form to be an article of faith. ‘JI. The theories of the second class, just noticed, were logizally driven on, by the progress they made towards a higher form of themselves, from the assumption of a duality of natures, to that of a duality of persons; but, as the only unity at which they arrived, was one external both to the natures and the per- sons, the Council of Chalcedon assumed the duality of the natures, denied the duality of the Egos, in the totality of the Person of Christ, and sought rather to effect a unio by means of some inner principle. The way was thus prepared for the introduction of the third class of the modes of union resorted ‘to during the present epoch. It must not be forgotten, -how- ever, that even the efforts relating to this last class started with the Antiochean..assumption, that the two natures were “essentially different from and opposed to, each other. “In the first place, Monotheletism (which related not merely to volition, but also to knowledge) endeavoured to secure the unity of the two natures by representing their several capacities and their collective functions, or, in other words, the actual activities of their life, as an unity. It taught the unity of the two natures in Christ; not, indeed, a unity of substance, nor a unity consisting merely in a community of the objects of voli- tion, but.an unity of actual concrete character,—that is, 1t was conceived to be a unity of the faculty of will, of the actual voli- tions and deeds. Here, however, may be discerned a remnant of the doctrine of transformation ; for, notwithstanding their abiding inner diversity, the substances, in their actual concrete existence, were supposed to be partially or entirely absorbed by, or transformed into, each other, in order that a living unity of the person might be brought to pass. We may understand, therefore, how the first fruit of the influence of Monotheletism — was, that courage was taken to give utterance to Dyotheletism as a Christological truth. Now, however, the unity was banished not only from the sphere of the natures, but also from that of the capacities and living activities. Christ was represented as a duality of sub- stances,— which duality it was supposed necessary to conceive as a twofold system of faculties and living activities. Whence, then, could arise an inner unity of the Person of Christ ? of VIEWS OF THE UNIO FROM A.D. 381. 21 In general, the reply was necessarily as follows : The Person, as a whole, notwithstanding the distinct aspects or parts BE which it is composed, is one, in virtue of the unity of its centre, or Ego. This is the unio hypostatica (the unity which consists in the unity of the Ego), which now begins to run its historical course as a phase of the dogma concerning the Person of Christ. The one personality no longer appears as the result of the combination of the two natures; but, vice versd, the Person of the Son is the principle which unites, and keeps united i im_one personal whole, the two natures. The hypostasis of the Son is both a part of the compound person, and its centre of unity: He is the personal centre of this compound personality. The last teachers of the Greek Church of any note advocated, but in a manner still very indefinite, this sense of the unio hypostatica. Then in the West there arose the two opposed theories of Adoptianism and Nihilianism. And lastly, at the Reformation, the elements of truth which lay in both began to be combined, at the cost, of course, of a reform of the entire basis anciently recognised, and sanctioned espe- cially by the Council of Chalcedon. (.) The teachers of the Church, especially Maximus and John Damascenus, considered the nobeile of unity ‘to lie within. the compass of the personality itself, viewed in its entirety. One constituent thereof, namely, the Thy poses of the Son of God, became the paepke of unity of the whole: the Person of the God-man was constituted solely by the act of the hypostasis of the Son of God, which assumed human nature. This hypostasis was, at the same time, the personal centre, the Ego, by which the two opposed natures and systems were kept together. ‘Through this personal unity and identity, into which the human nature was implanted, not only did a nominal inter- change (avTidocts) of the predicates of the two natures become possible, but a motion within each other of the two mutually permeating natures was actually brought to pass, and the human powers and excellences underwent an aggrandizement, which may be termed deification (@éwovs). But, inasmuch as all Divine attributes and powers belong to the Ego of the Son of God, in virtue of His divine nature, the human nature was subjected to its decisions, both in the matter of knowlgg ‘ge and volition. 22 SECOND PERIOD. ( (2.) Our notice is next drawn to the antagonistic theories which arose out of this still indefinite doctrine. The zepu- KOPNTES, just referred to, had unquestionably, as a form of the unio localis, greater life and reality, but still it remained essen- tially the same. This mutual approximation and interpene- tration of the two natures, was the first step im, but not a completion of, the process of union. or Bhaoevines: were still supposed to remain, in form and substance, exactly what they were, unaltered ; nay more, the unity is represented as always and at once complete. But nothing was done to show how the independence asserted for the nee nature, and the freedom of will attributed to it, could be anything more than a mere illusion ; and how, on the supposition that the Logos and His omnipotent nature, constituted its inmost and all-dominant centre, the humanity of Christ was not reduced to the rank of a mere impersonal organ. (a.) Adoptianism. might therefore well regard it as a more logical. carrying..out. of Hid doctrine. of the SRaEE: of natures oa functions of life, sanctioned by the Church, when, instead of attributing such a preponderance to the omnipotent Divine hypostasis, it onal that each of the two systems in Christ had its own personal centre, and that this personal centre was at the same time also the point in which the two systems, like two converging lines, met and were combined. The actual centre of unity of each of these systems—that is, the Ego—is also the element common to both: the centre of unity is in both cases identically one and the same. Hence, however diverse the natures may be, the Ego, in distinction from the nature, may be common to both, and the actual centre of unity. Both parties designated this Ego Son, and supposed that in this mezzo termine they had found that which might belong equally to both natures, and prove a bond of real con- nection between them. That the Ego of the Divine hypostasis should also be re- garded as the Ego of the human nature, had not up to this time been GT: and this is the ultimate reason why it was possible for the systems of Maximus and John Damascenus to appear to concede to the human nature of Christ a measure of real independence. Adoptianism, however, forced on a con- sideration of, and a decision regarding, the obscurity which VIEWS OF THE UNIO FROM A.D. 381. 23 these two teachers had left hanging over this point; and when it was rejected, the teachers of the Church gave in their decided adhesion to the view that personality was not predicable of the [see II. (1) ], only that stress was now laid on the divine aspect of the Person of Christ in a manner resembling that of Mono- physitism. | (c.) Adoptianism and Nihilianism were next rejected ; but within the limits of the Middle Ages no trace is discoverable of such an union of the elements of truth, conjoined with the re- jection of the false, contained in both, as we find attending other decisions. The Tridentine Council effected nothing what- ever in this direction. A theology, however, which treated the two natures dualistically, and, banishing unity both from the sphere of the natures and from that of their capacities and func- tions, assigned it solely to the Ego, was no longer capable of ren- dering further service. And yet the entire difficulty — How can the divine and human natures unite if they are infinitely diverse one from another ?—presented itself again. Nor did it help the matter to put the question thus: “ How is it possible for the Divine hypostasis to unite with human nature, on the supposi- tion of their infinite diversity?” Thomas Aquinas held that the Divine hypostasis, without the Divine nature—that is, the Divine personal centre, or Ego, without the Divine attributes — appropriated or incorporated human nature with itself; but still it is not clear how such an Ego could unite itself with human nature, if the latter is absolutely diverse in kind from the former. But whatever attempts at explanation may have been made by the scholastic_theologians, it is unquestionable (and this is the main point) that almost all of them grant that the incarnation declares, strictly speaking, nothing new or special regarding God, but only the existence of a peculiar relation of the human nature in Christ to the omnipresent, eternally un- changeable Logos, who is at once outside of and in it. This. peculiar relation of the humanity of Christ to the Logos might ail 94 SECOND PERIOD. either be regarded as consisting in the hat ‘that the Logos con- stituted the only personality with which the human nature was endowed,——-and then Nihilianism would follow ; or it might be regarded as arising from the circumstance, that in Christ human nature stood in a unique relation of actiyity to the Logos,—the relation, namely, of perfect obedience,—and was thus capable of perfectly receiving Him: which yiew leads back to Adop- tianism. | (2.) Out of this state of vacillation between Adoptianism and Nihilianism, the upholders of the old form of the unio hypostatica could find no exit. A precursory indication of progress may be found in the doctrine held by some of the scholastics, and espe- cially by the Mystics, that the hypostasis of the Son not only did not rob humanity, was not merely an honour to humanity, but that the longing of human nature for personality had been completely met and satisfied in the Person of the Son. As we have remarked, however, this doctrine still to a certain degree savours of the notion, that man is to attain perfection by deny- ing and transcending the very idea of man,—by extasis, and so forth: a notion which Nicolas of Cusa endeavoured to define and systematize. It was reserved for’ the Reformation to bring the unio hypostatica to a crisis,—the effect of which was the more de- cided appropriation of the Divine Person to the human nature, and the revendication to the unity, of the sphere of the natures, their powers and their attributes (idiomata). SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. 25 it a ah THE FIRST EPOCH OF THE SECOND PERIOD, FROM THE YEAR 381 TO THE REFORMATION. THE TIME DURING WHICH UNDUE STRESS WAS LAID ON THE DIVINE, AS COMPARED WITH THE HUMAN, ASPECT OF THE PERSON OF CHRIST. Su Gee DO ONee THE TWO ASPECTS OF CHRIST ARE DECIDED TO BE TWO ESSENTIALLY DIFFERENT NATURES, IN ONE PERSON. From the Council of Constantinople, A.D. 381, to the Council of Chalcedon, A.D. 451. oe CHAPTER FIRST. THE CHRISTOLOGY OF THE SCHOOL OF ANTIOCH. DIODORUS OF TARSUS. THEODORE OF MOPSUESTIA. NESTORIUS. THE present section comprises the period during which the school of Antioch enjoyed the greatest degree of prosperity and of influence in the Church,—a prosperity and influence due partly to such men as Diodorus, Theodore, Nestorius, and others, and partly to the victory gained over Apollinarism by the tendency of which these teachers were the representatives. The force of this school, however, lay not in theological specu- lations. It adopted, and doubtless in all sincerity, the tradi- tional view of the doctrine of the Trinity, even as it affected Christology, and devoted itself with all its weight, and with whatever creative power it could boast, to anthropology :— indeed, in general, to the historical and empirical aspects of theological inquiries (Diodorus, for example, battled with Mani- cheism and Fatalism). This general tendency did not, how- ever, prevent Theodore of Mopsuestia, in particular, from giving 26 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. his conception of the world a speculative colouring, and apply- ing it to the purposes of his very peculiar Christology. Before entering on details, it will repay us to give a general glance at the Syrian Church, whose history, still in many re- spects obscure, justly attracts to itself ever more earnest atten- tion, and on which we may unquestionably expect much light to be thrown ere many years have passed (Note 1) (a). The Syrian Church falls into two main divisions. The Western Division, with Antioch as its centre, comprised the cities of Hierapolis, Laodicea, Emesa, and Samosata, all which have as their representatives in history men of reputation. Of the Eastern Division, the chief centres were Edessa and Nisibis, in the northern part of Mesopotamia; and Seleucia, Ctesiphon, and Babylon, in the southern. Throughout both parts of the Eastern Division very numerous Jewish colonies had been planted; about the time of Christ a Jewish royal family existed in the northern part. Rapidly and quietly did Christianity here take root ;! and Edessa and Nisibis became seats of such learning and culture, that even as early as the second century a prince of Edessa, Abgarus, who reigned from 152 to 187, and was a friend of Bardesanes, became a convert to Christianity.” The remarks made in Part First of this work (see pages 144, 145) on Antioch, and the ancient prosperity of the Church of Western Syria, are equally applicable, in the second century, to the Church of Eastern Syria, which stood in close connec- tion with Persia and Armenia, and was frequently designated the Assyrian Church. The Syrian Translation of the» New Testament, which existed as early as the middle of the second century, the collections of old Christian hymns, and the de- velopment of the forms of worship and of the constitution of the Church, must have given to Christianity in those countries a national position and character at a very early period. That great activity prevailed among the Syrian Christians of the second century, is proved by the numerous forms under which 1 According to tradition, by the instrumentality of Adzeus, and his disciples, Aghzeus and Maris. 2 According to coins stamped with the sign of the cross: Assemanni Bibl. Or. i. 423; Wichelhaus, de Novi Test. Versione Syriaca Antiqua, quam Peschitho vocant LL. iv. 1850, p. 50 ff. Wichelhaus thinks that the Peshito took its rise in Nisibis. (a) See Appendix I. THE TWO SYRIAN SCHOOLS. . mar’ Gnosticism made its appearance there,’ by the works of Theo- philus of Antioch, and of Tatian (the Assyrian—that is, the East Syrian—with the Encratites), whose Diatessaron, as well as the commentaries of Theophilus and Serapion, bear witness that the Syrian mind had been awakened to the study of Scripture. A hint, if nothing more, regarding the inner condition and history of Christian thought in those districts may be drawn from the fact, that the Mesopotamian bishops are said to have at first sought ordination in Antioch, and afterwards in Jeru- salem. After Barchochba it appears that the Church of Kastern Syria asserted for itself an independent position, and that its bishops found a centre of unity in the bishopric of Seleucia, where accordingly the pseudo-Clementine idea of archbishop must have found its first realization. In the third century, besides Serapion, who occupied himself with the pseudo-epi- graphic literature (see Euseb. H. KE. 6, 12), we may mention the learned presbyters, Malchion and Dorotheus (see Euseb. H. E. 9, 29; 7, 32), both of whom were well acquainted with Greek literature. Of these latter, Lucian, pupil of Macarius of Edessa (see “ Vita Luciani Presbyt. et Martyris”) and the teacher of Arius (vide supra, pp. 733, 802, Part I.), became a disciple, especially in relation to the criticism of the Old Testa- ment, and with him an entire school. We have similar accounts respecting a Christian school which existed at Edessa in the third century, and in connection with which Macarius publicly explained the sacred Scriptures. The oldest Synods of import- ance—namely, those held at Antioch in opposition to Paul of Samosata—belong also to Syria. How Paul, and probably also Beryll of Bostra, was connected with Theodotus the Syrian, fragments of whose writings are preserved in Clement, we have shown in a former part of this work (see Part L., pp. 505-516, and 551 ff.). | 1 Many apocryphal writings also originated in the districts of Syria. We should further remember the fruitful Ignatian literature; then the Minzeans (see above, vol. i., p. 305) * or Nazarenes, who also probably arose in Eastern Syria; then the teacher of Clemens Alexandrinus from Assyria (see vol. i. 442, 443), and the one from Coele-Syria; and finally, the Excerpta Theodoti, i. 505 ff., with the Melchizedekians. In the third cen- tury importance attached to this Church as the bridge of Manicheeism, * Correct references will be given when the whole is completed.—Tr. 28 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. The movement to which the causes just mentioned, and especially the influence of Paul, gave rise in Western Syria, and which extended also to the northern districts, has been previously described. In the North, we find Gregory Thau- maturgus and his brothers leading and administrating the Armenian Church ; which again was in close intercourse, even of a political kind, with the Church in Eastern Syria. Worthy of special mention, however, is it, that in the fourth century Nisibis was almost entirely Christian. There flourished the celebrated Bishop James, of Nisibis (comp. his “ Sermones” in the Library of the Fathers edited by Galland, Part V., pp. iii.-clvi.) ; and his disciple Ephraem, called the Prophet of the Syrians, in Edessa, whose school of Christian learning was en- riched with a library. But it was in Eastern Syria also that Audius (Udo) gained his many disciples (Audianites) ; it was in evil repute, moreover, on account of the Messalians (see Esra vi. 12, “those who pray”) and the Hypsistarians, not to mention the traces of Persian and Chaldee influences. The Mesopotamian bishops (of Nisibis, Edessa, Amida, Carrhz, and so forth) attended the Synods at Niczea, Antioch, and Constantinople ; and the hermit Julian Saba, having been summoned to Antioch, there entered the lists against the Arians. To the school of Western Syria, after Lucian, belong Kusebius of Emisa, Diodorus of Tarsus, Carterius, and Theo- dorus,—this last mentioned, first a disciple of Diodorus, and afterwards Bishop of Mopsuestia in Cicilia.’ The not unimportant difference between the spirit of Western and that of Eastern Syria, and which, not having been of a merely temporary character, justifies us in speaking of two Syrian schools, is deserving of special attention. .The peculiarity of this spirit is clearly seen as soon as we contrast Tatian, Bardesanes, and other dualistic Gnostics, with the men of Western Syria (Sec. 2, 3), Theophilus, Malchion, Dorotheus, and Paul of Samosata; or, in the fourth century, men like Audius, James of Nisibis, and Ephraem, with such as Lucian, ‘ Compare Siefferts, ‘‘ Theodorus Mopsvestenus V. T. sobrie interpre- tandi vindex ;” Comment. Regiom. 1827; and my Christmas Programme on ‘‘ Theodori Mopsv. doctrina de imagine Dei, 1844.” The introduction treats of the school of Antioch. THE TWO SYRIAN SCHOOLS. 29 Diodorus of Tarsus, and Theodore of Mopsuestia. They were related to each other much as in Africa the Alexandrian school was related to the North African during the third century. The school of Eastern Syria was distinguished by its vivid fancy, by its religious spirit, at once fiery ahd practical, by fervour and, in part, depth of thought. It exhibited, also, a tendency to ig impassioned style and too gorgeous imagery (Note 2) of the East, to mysticism and asceticism. No other country competed, at an early period (since the time of Hilarion in the fourth century), so closely with Egypt in the matter of monas- teries as Eastern Syria. These monasteries, moreover, were to a certain extent nurseries of science, and held a very ¢ Hae inter- course with those of Lybia and Egypt. They regarded each other as allies, more especially after the old spirit of the Alex- andrian school had given way to dogmatic and monkish ten- dencies,— a circumstance which is of importance to those who wish to understand the history of the Church from the time of Theophilus of Alexandria down, and subsequent, to Athanasius. The Church of Western Syria, on the contrary, displayed even at an early period that sober, judicious, and critical spirit. for which it became renowned, and by which it was especially dis- tinguished from the third to the fifth century. The Eastern school inclined to theosophy, and thus had a certain affinity with the religious systems which prevailed in the East; the Western, on the other hand, took its stand on the firm basis of experience and history. In one word, the contrast between the two divisions of the Syrian Church bore a not inconsiderable resemblance to that which exists between the Lutheran and Reformed Confessions in Germany. Many things might be adduced, especially from the works of Ephraem, confirmatory of this remark.! Apollinaris of Laodicea, whose spirit had more affinity with the tendency which predominated in East Syria than with that of the school of Antioch, inoculated to some extent the Church of Western Syria with his own and related 1 Specially in the doctrine of the Eucharist. Ephraem’s view is similar to that of Ignatius (see above, vol. i. 157, 158). In his Christology, the divine aspect had the decided Peeters: but he still laid very great stress on the unity of the Person, and made use of the formula dvr speedi- crests tov évoecruy in order to allow of the divine nature participating in the sufferings of the human. 30 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. views (Note 3),—a thing which must have been doubly dis- agreeable to a school so consolidated as that of Antioch. From the tone in which the adherents of the school of Antioch, even down to the time of Theodoret, speak of Apollinaris, we may see that they were sorely vexed that a foreign and thoroughly antagonistic element should have intruded its presence amongst them. In no one point does the difference between the two schools show itself so markedly as in the mode of interpreting the Scriptures; and, remarkably enough, this is the point in respect of which there is a measure of affinity between the two. Both schools, namely, oppose-that arbitrary allegorical method of interpretation which had been in vogue since the time of Origen, and require of commentators that they give careful attention to the grammatical meaning of words. But the two schools started from opposed points of view, and arrived at opposite results. The followers of Audius, whose true home was in Eastern Syria, but who spread as fax as Egypt (see Sec. 4), took ad- vantage of this principle to prove that God must be conceived of as like to man,—“ Man is the image of God even according to the body” (see Epiphanii, h. 70; Theodoret, i. h. f. 4, 10): on this ground they were entitled Anthropomorphites. But once assume the existence in God of an eternal humanity, and a germ was planted which might issue in the Apollinarian view of the Person of Christ (Note 4). The adherents of the school of Antioch, on the other hand, set their faces against allegorical interpretations, because they desired to base their views on sober historical investigations. Nor can it be denied that this school rendered good service, not merely in connection with the Old Testament, but also in connection with the Person of the his- torical Christ. In more than one respect its representation of Christ was more accurate than that adopted by the Church, notwithstanding the contempt with which it has been treated since the fifth century. In endeavouring to understand the Christology of the school of Antioch, we must start with its peculiar doctrine concerning the nature and constitution of man. Here the first thing that calls for consideration, is the view taken by the school of the Divine Image. Diodorus says: “The Divine Image cannot refer to the invisible essence of the soul; for both angels and. SE ee — DIODORUS. THEODORE. aii devils are invisible: it refers rather to the visible part of man —to those arrangements of his body which enable him to rule over nature. As the lord or king on earth, as the head of the visible creation, he bears the Divine image. Hence, in 1 Cor. xi. 3, Paul speaks of the man as bearing the image of God; but not so of the woman, as he must have done if fie likeness to God ought to be referred to the soul.’ ‘Theodore of Mop- suestia also denies the latter; but, in opposition to Diodorus, he remarks that spirits also, yea, even evil spirits, exercise power and dominion, without ever being designated Godlike. Man is the only creature in the whole universe to whom such a de- scription applies,—an indication that he is exalted in a peculiar way above all other beings. By a law inherent in them, all the elements of the earth, all animals, and all the luminaries of heaven, seek in-‘man, whom they are meant to serve, their common centre. The like is said concerning spirits in Heb. i. 14. Man, therefore, though in one respect but a part of the universe, is at the same time the point in which the spiritual and visible worlds meet and unite. He occupies God’s place in the world. He is, in short, the cosmical god. For, as all things visible and invisible ear in the Creator their common centre te unity, so has He willed that all things on earth should combine and unite in, and thus ad- minister to the well-being of, man, the witness of the Divine existence. But this cosmical god, man, also in turn renders a service to the world. For the world would be imperfect were its various distinctions and parts not conjoined so as to con- stitute a living unity. This conjunction is effectedin man. It was the will of God that the world, with its antagonisms of mortal and immortal, rational and irrational, visible and invisible, should constitute one great whole; and He appointed man to be the living bond uniting all things together,—the certain pledge of universal friendship and harmony. For this reason, man, whom He created, combines in his body all the four elements, fire and water, air and earth, and is thus allied to the visible world; while, on the other hand, by his spirit he resembles the world of spirits. The world thus called for such a unity of an- tagonisms as is actually realized in the life of man. The whole creation, when it came forth from God’s hands, divided itself “Into numberless antagonisms, which reached a climax in the 32 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. dualism between the kingdom of spirits and the visible material world. But creation was impelled to seek a consummation ; and this it found in man, who reconciled in his own person that deepest antagonism between the world of spirit and the world of matter. Man is the highest creature—the one in whose nature and constitution the victory is gained over the onesided and antagonistic tendencies of things outside of him (Note 5). What we have just advanced, might lead to the supposition that Theodore either regarded man as this God-man (God on earth) of which creation was in quest, or that he left no place at all for any such being as a God-man. We shall soon see, however, how matters stood in this respect. One might, further, also suppose that Theodore, like the psendo-Clementines and the Audianites, either conceived of God as possessing a distinct form, or that he at all events con- sidered visibility to constitute an essential feature of the idea of God; for, in his view, man’s claim to be the image of God is based on the circumstance that he is the unity of the visible and invisible. He may, however, have regarded man as a unity constituted out of the antagonisms of the world; God, on the contrary, as that ereative unity which comprises not ie those antagonisms, but even man himself. Besides, as man was already the visible God in relation to the world, the notion that God must of necessity become visible was too remote to have been entertained. What might have much more readily sug- gested itself was the question, Why, if the unity of the universe is actually realized and secured in God, need it be specially set forth in man? Some of the older feachate assigned to the Eternal Word the position which Theodore gives to man (for example, in Methodius “de Sym. et Anna,” éd. Fabr. 409, the Kternal Son is termed the cvvdecpos, puOuos of the aneeee : they described Him as the chain running through the universe and binding all things together. Theodore invests the Logos with this office (see Phot., ed. Becker, Cod. 177, p. 123); and his name appears amongst those who defended the doctrine of the Church against Arianism. Why, then, does he seek for another bond and pledge of the unity of the world besides the Logos? Unquestionably because «a unity of the world which consists in the creative causality of the Logos is external to the world itself, is not immanent in the world, and passed away THEODORE OF MOPSUESTIA. 33 with the act of creation. This becomes still more plain when we remember that the world which the Logos originated was a free world. At this point the ethical character of his system is seen in all its significance and importance. Theodore’s ethical tendency enabled him to perceive that a Christology was both possible and necessary, though he was unable so far to accord with the doctrine of the Church as to see in Christ a manifesta- tion of God. He believed that souls must be created free; and that, be- fore being stirred by the irresistible might of love, they must be endowed with the knowledge of a law, obedience to which was a matter of free choice. It was necessary that man should be constituted capable of learning the nature of good, and of obe- dience ; otherwise, the good in us might have been an irrational thing, and we should have had no certain knowledge of our own concerning that which is good and that which is evil. It is, therefore, he held, a universal moral law that man cannot be perfect at the very beginning. The beginning and the end must be connected by a moral process, which embraces both knowledge and action, and constitutes a real history. This history having attained its goal, it is not necessary, ac- cording to Theodore, that there should always remain the pos- sibility of a new fall, as Origen thought. A free soul, filled and animated by the irresistible might of love, cannot fall—it is no longer able to fall: and, so far from this being the de- struction, it is the perfection, of freedom. But, in any case, it was impossible that the regal dignity which belonged to God on earth should be conferred on man the moment he went forth from the hand of God. In addition to this, there came the fall. In consequence thereof, the tie which bound spirit and body together in man was broken; the soul withdrew from the body; death then became a physical necessity,—nay more, the body became so independent that it assumed a position of hos- tility towards the soul. Instead of the original dissoluble unity and harmony being established by obedience, it was broken up by disobedience, and the world thus lost its bond and pledge of unity. The higher spiritual world, which once lovingly sympathized with man (Luke xv. 7), and presided over visible things for our advantage, was troubled, and became estranged from us; nay more, as the power of sin, and death advanced PY. VOL. C ee er 34 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. with ever greater strides, they first despaired of us, and then feelings hostile to us took possession of their hearts, because of the mischief that had been done; and, finally, they forsook us as aliens, because, instead of founding and maintaining the peace and concord of all antagonisms, we had stirred up dis- cord and civil conflicts (Note 6). By the fall of man, God lacked a creature, in beholding whom, the world presented itself to Him as an united harmonious whole. It is true, indeed, that, even apart from the fall, this harmony and unity were not at once realized in Adam: their actual realization in man must be a work of time. When Adam came forth from.God’s hand, creation was not-yet com- plete: its completion waited on and presupposed the perform- ance of a moral act by man. Adam’s fall, and the subsequent increase of sin, lead not only to the world’s remaining incom- plete, but to its being involved in rebellion and conflict, and ceasing almost to deserve the name (xdcpos) which it bore. God, however, continued. to be. the guard of the primal idea of the world, and of the idea of man’s likeness to Himself; and herein lies the ground of the Divine incarnation. ‘Through Christ the world became once more a world (7.é., a KOC{LOS) 3 and all those became actually the sons of God who, according to the Scriptures, ought to have been gods and sons of the Highest, but apart from Christ were dying as men. The account just given involves of necessity that Theodore’s Christology must assume a form totally different from any that had preceded it. In the first place, a function of fundamental importance was assigned to the humanity of Christ : the mission of Christ was to be that true and ‘real image of God, which Adam ought to have been, but failed to become. He is re- garded as an indispensable part of the Kocpos; and of such an estimate there are only the faintest-traces in such writers as Trenxeus and Tertullian. In the second place, Theodore follows that ethical tendency which claims that Christ also, so far as He is under the necessity of being truly a man, shall undergo a moral development. Previous to Theodore, marked traces of this ethical tendency are scarcely discoverable in any writings save those of Lactantius and Origen. The former, however, did not view freedom as an essential element of the ethical, but contented himself with dogmatically affirming that Christ is THEODORE OF MOPSUESTIA. | 35 the manifestation, revelation of the living law,—that He sets the law palpably before us in His own Person. Origen, on the other hand, obscured his Christology by the docetical character of his doctrine of the pre-existence of souls, which he applied to Christ. Theodore has most affinity with Origen; differing from him, however, in the greater firmness of his hold on the empirical world, and in his opinion that the destinies of the super-sensual world also depended on the incarnation which took place on earth (Note 7). Lhe point which brings most clearly to light the peculiar character of the Christology of Diodorus of Tarsus and of Theodore, is their conception of freedom. The Christology of“Apéllinaris also startsfrom the same-idea. He says, “ If Christ had a human soul like ours, He must also have had free- dom ;” and therein is he at one with the school of Antioch. But, whereas Apollinaris goes on to say, “ Because freedom of will involves mutability, therefore Christ cannot have had « human soul,” the doctrine of the Church answered confidently, “He cannot have been destitute of a human soul.” When, however, the Church came to treat of the question, “ In what sense can Christ be said to have had a free human will?” its reply was very uncertain.’ By some teachers, freedom of choice was not considered to form at all an essential part of human nature: they were of opinion, on the contrary, that we ought at once to ascribe to the God-man a freedom of the same kind as that which belongs to God. So Hilary (see Part I. 1059, Note, and 1070, Note), Athanasius (see Part I., pp. 973, 1071), Gregory Neeaazen (p. 1075, etc.). Men in genera are liable to fall; for in them creation is not yet complete: i Christ, _on the contrary, it is complete, and therefore He has ie nature true freedom—freedom for good, to the complete exclu- sion of all possibility of the contrary. From such a point of view, freedom of choice appears, of course, rather as a defect than as a good. ‘These teachers, however, contented themselves simply with that image of Christ as a whole which is the re- sult of contemplating Him in the light of His exaltation, and of His significance for the history of the world; or, in other words, in the light of the Divine counsels. But others, who were by no means destitute of deeper insight into the true con- 1 See above, I., 973, 987, 1059, specially 1071-1075. 36 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. ception of freedom, very decidedly teach (and whether in con- sequence of the influence of Origen, or during the struggle in which they were engaged with fatalistic systems, some of which had even a dualistic character, it is difficult to say) that freedom of choice is a good, when they discourse of man; but when they discourse of Christ, they convert freedom into the tperrov, that is, into mutability, passibility, and capability of development,—understanding thereby a passive capacity of de- vetopment: they never view it as the power of self-determina- tion. Such was the position taken by Gregory of Nyssa. Against all such the school of Apollinaris continued justly to protest, and to assert that. the Church had committed an act of injustice in excluding Apollinaris, its head, so long as his teaching was at one with that of the Church on the point which he considered most essential. His aim had been to show that the humanity of Christ had no self, in order to avoid the ne- cessity of attributing to Him freedom of choice, which, in his opinion, endangered both the unity of the Person of the God- man, and the certainty of the fulfilment of His redemptive 4 mission. But the teachers of the Church did exactly the same | thing when_ they denied. to. Jesus. freedom of. choice, in the strict sense of the term. In the place of the human adre§ov- awov, in which Apollinaris considered the true essence of the human vods, in its common acceptation, to lie, they set the overpowering, all-dominant might of the Logos. The postulate of a true human soul necessarily involved freedom of choice, and not merely mutability in the physical sense, or even a dvous dextix?) for antagonistic elements (I. 1071), which, being in Christ’s case from the very commencement wholly occupied by the good, can only in abstracto be described as a susceptibility to evil, or as exposed to conflict. Were not this the case, Apol- linaris might without difficulty have granted the existence of a human soul in the sense of a multiplicity of spiritual powers in one body, which are subjected to the sway of the Logos. It was at this point that the school of Antioch, and above all ‘Theodore, brought its influence to bear on the development of the doctrine of the Person of Christ. In agreement with Apollinaris, Theodore maintained that freedom of will, the power of self-determination, forms an essential part of a true human soul: in opposition to Apollinaris, and in agreement THEODORE OF MOPSUESTIA. 3t with the Church, he claims for Christ a genuine human soul. When he taught that freedom was a necessary part of a true human soul, he touched a point which had hitherto been treated only very cautiously, and concerning which the Church had arrived at no definite judgment. It was his sincere conviction, in doing so, that he was but pursuing the path which the Church itself had rightly taken, and to which it had held when oppos- ing Apollinaris. For how can the human soul or the human development be such in reality and truth, if the human nature be but an absolutely passive organ of the divine nature,—that is, merely a form in which the divine nature manifests itself ? Nay more, what would become of the incarnation itself, if what we see in Christ were not a real man, but merely the appear- ance of a man, called into existence by a being foreign to man, that is, by the Logos, who gathered round Himself a congeries of human powers and attributes without a human centre of gies NRO, unity; and whose object was not to be really a man, but simply to have the semblance of a man, or to appear as God through the medium of an illusory man, as His organ? To Theodore, the conscientious and careful investigator of Scripture, the New Testament presented a totally different image of Christ. He appears there as in every respect a true man: to this, His growth, His temptations, and the sufferings He underwent, loudly bear witness. Theodore did not fail to perceive that by such premises the problem of the Person of Christ was burdened with increased difficulties. The course to be pursued wears a much smoother aspect, if either the view taken by Apollinaris be adopted, or the inquiry, whether freedom also be an attribute of the humanity of Christ, be given up as impracticable, as it was by the Church previous to the time of Theodore. But when, for the reasons just assigned, he applied himself to the task of demon- strating the unity of the Person of Christ from the simple and unmutilated premises offered by the New Testament, he derived support from the higher conception of freedom with which he started, and which had probably dawned on him during his steele with Arianism. Now this very conception of freedom was an object of abhorrence to the teachers of the Church, specially “becatise they supposed it to involve that. mutability which Arius had ascribed. to the Son-of-God (I. 973). The 38 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. same detestation must necessarily also have attended the view upheld by Theodore, had he ascribed the rpemrov absolutely (that is, both physically and ethically, and also as a state destined to endure) to the God-man, even in regard to His human nature. For, in such a case, the Christian mind must have lost entirely its conviction of the certainty of redemption, and revelation could never have assumed its complete and final form. ‘To this, it was necessary that there should be a human nature, but not neces- sary that there should be eternal uncertainty and vacillation. Theodore, however, could neither allow the existence of freedom where God alone was the Actor, nor regard freedom as mere mobility of the power of choice (as Origen did) : power of choice he considered to be an essential element, but not the whole, of the true idea of freedom. He believed the full idea of freedom to involve, quite as necessarily, harmony with the determining Divine Spirit ; nay more, true freedom, in his view, is the higher unity of liberty of choice and neces- sity: such freedom he finds realized in the unrestrainable | energy of free love. But this true idea of human freedom does not allow of its being represented as a thing ready-made and romplete at once; it requires that a process be undergone, which shall effect the union, commingling, and mutual inter- penetration of the apparently antagonistic principles of freedom and necessity. This process constitutes the moral character of freedom: it bears, on the contrary, a physical character when represented as complete from the very commencement, from x the moment of its origination; and that whether it be liberty ¢ of choice, or the being determined by the Divine will. His aim_is.a union of the. human and the divine in a moral, and not in a merely physical sense (youn ph cet). Tascam however, as he deemed it impossible for the human to attain to ootbaatal without the aid of the divine, it was by no means in- consistent with his conception of freedom to hold that the divine exercised a determinant influence on the development from its very commencement, provided only that the true moral character of that development were preserved, by according to man a power of freely acting and deciding for himself. Room being left for this, the humanity of Christ ceases to have a merely Docetic existence; notwithstanding that the very free- dom which discriminates it from, and, so to speek, constitutes THEODORE OF MOPSUESTIA. 39 its independence of, the absolute God, is brought into play, for the purpose of realizing an indissoluble living unity with the Spirit of God—that unity, namely, which Theodore considered to be necessary to the perfection of true freedom. Even before his time, we have found the school of Antioch insisting more strongly on the reality of the human soul of Christ than did the Church generally (Note 8). Its chief aim, however, in doing so, had been rather to assert.in general that He underwent a process, a development; and aie He was therefore mutable. Theodore, on the contrary, was guided by ethical principles i in determining both the true idea of humanity and of its development, and ae true idea of God. ~ Tn his work on the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ, he asks, whether the indwelling of God (évolenaus) is to be conceived as an indwelling of His nature or of His energy (évépyeta)? Before an answer can be given to this question, the true idea of the Divine omnipresence must be determined. Does God dwell in all men, or only in his saints? Inasmuch as His indwelling is the subject of a promise (“I will dwell in them, and walk in them,” etc., 2 Cor. vi. 16), it cannot be a simple matter of course—it cannot denote that God is in all creatures alike, but must be something peculiar to saints. Does the distinction and specialty then consist in God’s dwelling in the saints according to His nature and essence, and otherwise in other creatures? Such an answer would be derogatory to the honour of God: it would detract from the infinitude and omnipresence of His nature, which is bound by no limits of space, by shutting it out from all beings except holy men. _If the indwelling. of God be an indwelling of His nature or sub- stance, it must be ascribed to all men alike,—nay, even to the irrational and inanimate part of creation,—which would be as perverse as to consider His nature to be circumscribed in con- sequence of His indwelling. But either to the first or the second of these conclusions we must be led, if the indwelling of God be an indwelling of His substance: there is, therefore, no alternative but to reject the idea of His indwelling being that of His nature. The case, however, is a perfectly similar one, if we understand by the indwelling of God His energizing in His creatures. Again, we are driven to choose between the two alter- 1 A. Mai Coll. Nov. T. vi. 800-312, from Leontius. 40 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. natives: either, this energy is restricted to saints, and bounded by them; or, all things participate in this energy—all things being, in fact, subject to its sway. If we take the first alter- native, we are met at once by the inquiry— What place would then be left for the Logos, whose office it is to exercise pro- vidence, to govern the world, and everywhere to work what is right? On the second alternative, we should necessarily re- duce the Divine indwelling to something absolutely indeter- minate and general. Consequently, neither according to His substance, nor according to His energy, is God able to effect what is termed an indwelling. How then shall we express and preserve its distinctive character? It is the good pleasure (evdoxia) God takes in His saints that causes His presence in them to be of a different character from His presence in other creatures. In other words, by the indwelling of God, Theo- dore means a moral union or alliance (Note 9). As to His illimited, omnipresent nature, God is in all beings alike : as to His complacence, He is far from some, and nigh unto others ; He is far from sinners, but nigh unto those whose disposition constitutes them worthy of His nearness. By itself, His nature (vows) produces neither a greater nearness nor a greater remoteness; the nearness or remoteness of God is de- termined by the temper of mind of the being concerned (cyéoes THs yvouns). Now, as the Divine evdoxia determines God's nearness or remoteness, so also is it the instrument of His per- fect indwelling. No limitation does He allow His nature and activity (fvow Kal évépyevav) to experience from those in whom He dwells: as to both, He continues omnipresent, though He is at the same time separated from the unworthy, on account of their character. We see thus, that Theodore distinguished between God’s physical or metaphysical omnipresence, and His moral presence; at the same time, he considered the essential nature of God to lie not in the moral but in the physical. ‘By means, however, of the distinction drawn between God’s moral presence or being in man, and that being of His décus and évép- yeta which we designate omnipresence, he secured a place for a peculiar alliance of God with man. He remarks, moreover, that so far from the infinitude of God’s nature being disparaged by the affirmation that, besides His omnipresence, there is another kind of presence, namely, an ethical one, which is - THEODORE OF MOPSUESTIA. 4} peculiar to those with whom He is well-pleased, on the con- trary, His omnipresence in the general sense is not characterized by freedom, but is simply a natural necessity, unless we hold that, though omnipresent, yet by His complacency He is nigh to the worthy, and far from the unworthy. God would appear en- slaved to the infinity and unboundedness of His own nature as to a fate, if the omnipresence of His nature involved the omnipresence of His complacency. For then He would no longer be present as to His disposition (yvwun), that is, by a free moral volition, but would be subjected to necessity, and His disposition (yv@u) would be the enthralled puppet of the infinitude of His nature.’ But, he then proceeds, as God is everywhere present with His nature and activity, but only “dwells in” a very small number,—as, for example, in the Apostles and in the righteous generally,—in whom He takes pleasure, and whose virtuous character is to Him a source of joy; so is His indwelling not in every case equal, for the same evdoxia, through which His indwelling is brought to pass at all, determines also its measure and mode. He does-not..dwell-in--other-men as-He dwelt in Christ ; for in Christ God dwelt_as in the Son. By His in- dwelling, the Logos united the entire man assumed by Him to lineal, and fitted Him to share all the honour which belonged by nature to the indwelling (eternal) Son. The result of this union was one person. Hence Christ's dominion, His judg- ment of the world at the last day, and.so. forth, are quite as truly acts of His human, as of His divine nature. After such a view of the doctrine of the Person of Christ, it might. appear.as though the union with the Logos was realized in Jesus in consequence of, and by way of reward for, ‘His virtue : a supposition which must necessarily lead to an essentially Cerin- 1 P, 302: His infinitude peCovas cbferces, orev Dalyyras “n ws avaryxn rivl dovrcvav ra adrepiypadOw tas Qucews. Ei wey yap dravraxov rapoy Tn ebdonier, erépis ALY civ oiyim dovAEvaY evploxero, OUKETL HATA Yuan THY % LpoU- cloev wolovevos, dAAR rH drelow Tis Qvosws noel Tiy yuapony Eromevyy EXOY. L. c. p. 806, ix., he says: ‘‘ What a change of place is to us, that God effects by means of His will.” When we say, ‘‘It is my will to be yonder,” we are compelled to change our place; but this is not necessary for God, who is everywhere present as to His nature. But still He is able to be present in a special manner in a place, through His mind or will. It is of interest to compare with this his discussion on the omnipresence of God, sec. 16. 42 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. thian, or even Ebionitic Christology. But in Theodore’s esti- mation, evdoxia does not designate merely God’s pleasure in virtue, as might possibly be concluded from Matthew ii. 17, but also the fulness, and the free manifestation, of His grace (see Col. i. 19, comp. i. 9). Moreover, as we well know, Theodore’s conception of human freedom was not that deistic one which necessarily requires it to have been separated from God, at all events in the beginning, in order to be really freedom: he held, that without prejudice to the reality and truth of freedom, it was possible for God to exercise a de- cided influence upon it from the very beginning; provided only (and this condition he regards as essential) the result be more than a mere physical process or illusory development. Theodore consequently represents the Divine complacency, or the indwelling of the Logos, as enjoyed by Jesus from the very commencement, not arbitrarily, but wisely or with fore- sight. When this man was first formed, the Logos united Himself with him, foreseeing what he ne become (xata mpoyvwcw omoids Tis €otat). For a time, it is true, because it was requisite, He suffered the man, previously to his crucifixion, to exercise his virtue, for our benefit, according to his own pur- pose; but even then the Logos worked in him most of what he did, impelled him onwards, and strengthened him for the perfect fulfilment of his task. When Jesus arrived at the age at which, in the ordinary course of nature, human beings begin to mee between good and evil, yea, even previous to that time, the capacity and habit of Hideaan en developed themselves, under the influence of the Logos, with extraordinary rapidity; and in such matters Christ was remarkably in ad- vance even of those who excel the generality of men. Indeed, He must necessarily have been superior to other men even in respect of the human, seeing that He was not originated like | other men, but was formed by the Divine power of the Spirit. He was also stirred by a mighty impulse towards the good, for the sake of union (€vwovs) with the Logos—that is, with God —who honoured him by descending from above to unite Him- self with him. As the consequence of these superior advan- tages, the moment Jesus distinguished good from evil, he felt abhorrence for the latter, and followed after the former with irrepressible love. Enjoying a co-operation of the Logos, THEODORE OF MOPSUESTIA. 43 which accorded with his own purpose and disposition (mpoOeots, yvopun), he remained thenceforward free from the possibility of a change : for the worse; and that as much because he him- self was minded for good, as because his resoives were formed under the eye of the Logos. With the greatest ease, there- fore, did he lead a life of the most finished virtue: both in his observation of the law previously to baptism, in his con- duct during his state of grace (Thp év ydpiTe peTi@v TroduTElav), and, lastly, subsequently to his resurrection and ascension, he stands as an example for us all. In the presence of the cross, indeed, we find him still hungering and thirsting, trembling, and on some points ignorant, although he adhered firmly to his resolve even in the midst of suffering. His life in the state of exaltation, however, exhibits the perfect realization of union with the Logos: there he acts no longer distinctly and sepa- rately from the Logos, who is God; but the Logos is completely and entirely in him (cavtedds, xaborov), and because of his évwots with, works all in, him. Theodore thus preserves a specific distinction between Christ and the Apostles and. Prophets,—a distinction grounded not merely i in His sinlessness, but in His supernatural g generation by the Spirit of God, and, finally, in His union with the Logos. For the two latter reasons was Christ the realization of aie original idea of humanity, and is the true Godlike man. He was the fulfilment of all that had been previously declared con- cerning man’s likeness to God, and concerning the significance of that likeness in relation to the universe. In. (Cree the world, humanity, became.the alter Deus, the cosmical God, the son af God, and that in unity with the Eternal Son. We see thus that Theadore did not, like most of the teachers of the Church, content himself with simply affirming Christ’s human- ity to be of one substance with our common humanity: he re- garded Christ’s humanity, on the contrary, as distinguished not merely through the indwelling of the Logos, but in itself (Coll. N. vi. 307; xiv. 203, u.). And yet he at the same time so carefully insisted on the necessary laws of human development, that he could undertake to incorporate into his Christology all those passages of the life of Jesus which allude to His develop- ment. It must not, however, be supposed that even for a single moment he regards Christ by Himself as a mere man born of 44 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. the Holy Ghost, and the union with the Logos as having been first initiated at a subsequent period. He believed, rather, that at the very moment when the man Jesus was formed, God the Logos began to unite Himself with him, in accordance with the Divine foreknowledge of His virtue (Note 10). The completeness of his conception of the humanity of Christ may be seen from a series of individual traits which he has preserved for us. Mary gave birth to Jesus, not to the Logos; for the Logos was, and continued to be, omnipresent, although from the very commencement He dwelt in a peculiar way in Jesus. The Logos did not originate with.and in.Jesus. Mary, therefore, was..properly the mother of Christ, not of God. Only in a figure, per anaphoram, can she be styled the mother of God—namely, on the ground that God was in Christ in a special manner (1. c. 309, xxviil.). Strictly speak- ing, she bore a man, with whom the Logos had already, it is true, begun to unite Himself; but the union was at first so far from complete, that Jesus could not then have been termed Sen of God or Redeemer. He was called Jesus—a name which Joshua also had borne. Not till after His baptism was He designated Son of God by the voice of the Father; just as Simon and Saul received, at a later period, the names Peter and Paul. He grew in years, wisdom, and favour with God and men, and was, as a man, though eminent and peerless, subject to the law until His baptism,—to which fact may perhaps be referred the words, “ He was justified in the Spirit.” John saw Him come to him for baptism as aman; and the words, “I have need to be baptized of Thee, and comest Thou to me?” do not prove that the Baptist did not look upon Him asa man. John knew, of course, that he himself was far surpassed by Jesus in energy of spirit and of virtue; and by a vision it was afterwards made known to him, that on this man had been conferred the honour of Divine Sonship, and that He was therefore distinguished by the title, Son of God. But even subsequent to baptism He was a man, and had a human will and a human understanding of His own; which, however, constantly united themselves with the will and thought of the Logos. Through ever fresh tempta- tions was this union to be confirmed and displayed. In the _wilderness He overcame the temptations of Sov, do£a, and of the dya0a Tod Kocpov (1. c. 308, xxiii—xxv.). But He was ex- THEODORE OF MOPSUESTIA. 45) posed far more to spiritual than bodily assaults (xxix.) ; espe- cially in Gethsemane had He to sustain so severe a struggle, that an angel was sent from heaven to strengthen Him. These things clearly show that He was a man (p. 306, x.). By nature this man was neither Son of God nor Lord (comp. Mar. Merc. ed. Baluz. p. 347). He underwent death also,—that tribute which, according to the law of nature, every man is forced to pay (Merc. 344). In short, He wore the appearance and spoke the language of a man, and was held to be nothing but a mere man by all who saw Him (Facund. Herm. defens. trium Capitul. ed. Sirmond, p. 73). Subsequently, however, the Apostles, enlightened re the Holy Ghost, saw that the Eternal Son of God was in Him. Never, as Apollinaris taught, did a com- mingling (xpdaovs) of the divine and human take place in Him: both natures remained ever distinct from-each-other. On this point ‘Theodore was completely at one with Diodorus of Tarsus. It cannot be denied that Theodore was stirred quite as much by a regard to the interests of religion as to the requirements of exegesis, when he insisted so strongly on the humanity of Christ. If it were God’s purpose to make changeable human nature unchangeable, it was necessary that He should assume human nature in its state of mutability. So also had taught both Trenzeus and Athanasius. But Theodore deemed it necessary to the accomplishment of the work of salvation, that Christ’s free will should sustain a conflict with evil. For, unless a true, and not simply a perfect, man, were its paecinle and ground, salvation would be an arbitrary thing, a thing effected by a species of magic; and if this man had not been compelled to pass through grave and genuine conflicts, His human life and struggles would be for us a mere spectacle (Oéarpov), devoid of all reality. When, then, the humanity of Christ is either cur- tailed or denied, as is the case when His personality is regarded 1 Mar. Merc. 349; Jesus grew, etc., etc., which cannot be said of the Logos, who neither has need of anything, nor grows. ‘'Non enim ei mox formato vel edito omnem propriam sapientiam Deitas contulit, sed hanc particulatim corpori (?) tribuebat.” Therefore also is He ‘‘a Prophet from amidst His brethren,” in Deut. xviii. The Word of God is not our brother. If we refuse to discriminate divine and human, says he, in opposition to Apollinaris, we might also maintain that He who was of David’s seed was not of David’s seed, but existed eternally. 46 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. as solely and exclusively divine, the work of redemption which God appointed Him to accomplish is deprived of truth, and re- duced to a vain show. Theodore’s opponents, however, objected that he had by no ~ means shown that an actual union had been effected in Christ, or even that an incarnation of the Logos had come to pass. To these objections he replied (vi. viii. xxx. cll. xxxiii.), and at the same time endeavoured, by means of his reply, to make clear and intelligible the mode in which the union was realized. A commingling of the two natures would have been re- pugnant to both. There is a difference between the divine form and the servant’s form; between the temple chosen, and Him who dwelleth therein; between Him who underwent the dis- solution of death, and the One who raised Him from the dead; between Him who was made perfect by suffering, and the One by whom He was perfected; between Him who was made a little lower than the angels, and the One by whom: He was humbled; between Him who was crowned with glory and honour, and the One by whom He was thus crowned. ‘This distinction must be preserved: each nature remained indis- solubly what it was in its own essence (dad.ahuTws éf’ eavTijs). But it is quite as evident that a union (€vwovs) was congruous to both. For, being thus brought together, the two natures (dices) constituted, as far as respects the union, one person (xpocwmov). Hence, as the Lord said of man and wife that they were no longer two, but one flesh, so, in conformity to the union, can we say that there are no ‘longer two persons, but one,—preserving intact, however, the distinction of the natures. As, in the former case, the oneness of the flesh, so far as we can speak of such a oneness, is not destroyed by the duality, so, in the latter case, the unity of the person is not dissolved by the distinction of the natures. Looking at the natures in their distinction from one another, we characterize that (vows) of God the Logos as complete; in like manner, also, His divine personality : ei a self-existent being cannot fe said to be im- personal (ovde yap ampicwrdv éotw trootacw eimew): but we characterize the human nature and person also..as perfect.and complete. When, however, we direct our attention to the con- junction (cuvddem), we say, There is one person (vi.). We affirm, it is true, most decidedly that the Logos has taken to 1 Ane arte oman | THEODORE OF MOPSUESTIA. 47 Himself a man; but we hold it to be an absurdity that He became man. When John says (see chap. i. 14), “The Logos became flesh” —that is, man—-the expression is not to be too strictly interpreted; otherwise it would imply that the Logos changed Himself into flesh, which the Evangelist did not intend to teach. John spoke, therefore, according to the appearance of the thing. That the Logos took to Himself a man, was not a mere show and seeming; but it was only in appearance that He be- came man (viil.). Moreover, it was not the Son of God who was born of Mary, but simply a man in whom God was. This very significantly indicates Theodore’s peculiar posi- tion. He strove, in the first place, to conceive the two natures as personal, in order to conceive them as complete ; and was therefore, in the second place, indisposed to bring them into so near relationship to each other, that the one should constitute a mere modification of the essence, and form part of the being, of the other. On the contrary, in the third place, he recognised no union where there are not two actual.persons. Lssentialiter, they ‘continued to be two persons; actualiter, they had the ap- pearance of one person. ‘They constituted one person, in such a manner that the aneet and volition of the man.Jesus- are that, at all Beanie: in the state of exaltation, all the thought and eoliion of the Logos appertained to the man. He maintained, however, that the form in which the mind. of. Jesus actually expressed itself, was determined by the Logos ; ; though, in con- sonance with Ne theory of freedom, he represented | tig deter- mination as a mere influence of the Logos. ‘Theodore never really arrived at the conception of volitions and thoughts which were at once divine and human (divine-human); for he sup- posed the two natures (represented by him, at the same time, also as persons), as to their inmost essence, to continue separate and distinct,—and that, not merely previous to the assumption of humanity by the Logos, or during Christ’s development, but eternally. Strictly speaking, the two _persons were one only in outward appearance, as the image of marriage shows. Inwardly, they were-still’ two persons, though harmoniously related ; and so closely connected, that everything done was done at the im- pulse of the Logos in Christ. This view is confirmed when we, by way of conclusion, glance back at his idea of man’s like- 48 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. ness to God. He held it to have been fully realized in Christ, and believed that thus the great thought of the world reached its eternal goal. Principially, Christ was the realization of the idea of the world. This does not involve, Theodore maintains, that the world was restored and led back into the divine life or essence, when, by the incarnation of the divine, the human be- came divine. But the Man kav’ é£oy7v, that crown of the world and principle of its unity, took up in the world the position of God. Spirit and nature found in Him their centre of unity, and became again one, as they were when they pro- ceeded forth from God, their primal source. ‘These two prin- ciples had separated and become discordant; but in Christ, within and from the world itself, though at the same time through the action of God, they are restored to unity. Thus, as the perfect man and the image of God, Christ is the cosmical God: to Him, therefore, pertain all authority and honour as God, after that He became the Son of God for the good of the world, and for the sake of its unity and harmony. It is evident that here there was presented to Theodore a point of connection for what we have termed the Mystical_ Christology,—ot course, in a peculiar form, and with the reservation, that in Christ neither God became man, nor man God. So far from allow- ing this, he maintained that God (whom he viewed a as a ae apart, secally separated oF their essential nature ; which, whilst permitting the two to be connected with, and to exert an influence upon, each other, does not allow of a union in which the human is counted to belong to God, and the divine, there- fore, to have become human. Nor does he concede even to love the power of bridging over this chasm, notwithstanding the strong stress he lays on the ethical. The reason thereof: is, that he did not consider the ethical to constitute the very essence of God—to be that on which His nature is dependent; but held the nature of God (omnipresence, and so forth) to be an independent power in Him, and only so far subject to the divine will, that it cannot prevent God, notwithstanding His omnipresence, taking up His abode at certain points of the living world in a peculiar way, and even dwelling in an unique and unexampled manner in Him who is the centre of the world, and through whom, henceforth, God is connected with the THEODORE OF MOPSUESTIA. 49 world.’ Substantially, this is a species of Arian view of the Person of Christ,—with the difference, that the place of the pre-mundane central creature is (and, if one may so say, more after modern fashion) occupied by the Son of God, who be- comes man. The doctrine of the Trinity, which may unques- tionably be said to have taken its rise in the efforts to understand the nature and Person of Christ, becomes, notwithstanding its loftiness, an abstract and unproductive thing as soon as we deny that the Logos became man; and although Theodore clung very firmly to the Trinity, his system afforded no suf- ficient foundation for it. The Sen is constantly represented as retaining His hypostasis for Himself; and one cannot see why the activity, and even the unique indwelling in Christ, attri- buted to Him, should not be referred to God’s general presence. On the contrary, almost the sole aim of the Trinitarian con- ception of God seems to be, to set forth God as self-contained, self-sufficient, and to assert His unapproachable and absolute transcendence. | There remained still another aspect of these considerations to be applied to the work of Christ. One would have supposed that, as Theodore laid such stress on the freedom of man, he would devote equal attention to man’s consciousness of personal responsibility and guilt. But this was not the case. His at- tention was directed almost exclusively to the other result of sin, namely, punishment,—summed up_in death and mortality. In this point he exactly resembles the other Greek Fathers of the fourth and fifth century. ‘Failing to pay special regard to the fact of human guilt, the work of Chris appeared to em to consist not so much in the atonement, as in the overcoming of death, or in the bestowal of immortality by His kingly power. Still, in fairness, it must not be forgotten that the older theories of the atonement took, in general, little notice of guilt, and that they chiefly occupied themselves with death. They began with that which was most external, and thence penetrated more deeply towards the centre and root of the matter. Some, in fact, employed the term @dvaros, as it is not unfrequently used in the New Testament, to designate the state of misery involved im, and constituted by, sin. Theodore’s system, however, con- tains no trace of this spiritual meaning of death. According 1 Compare the passage XXvVi. ey ne Leeks D 50 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. to it, the term no longer denotes the mischief in its totality, both internal and external, but merely its outward aspect; and the mode which he took to show that outward death itself con- tained a principle of spiritual corruption, was not altogether free from artificiality. On the other hand, with reference to sin itself, Theodore taught, as distinctly as other orthodox Fathers of the Greek Church, that the Spirit sent by Christ exercises an influence on the free human will; nay, he took more pains than the others to show freedom to be a reality, and not a mere illusion, whilst he at the same time represented the work of redemption as a work of sanctification. In his view, freedom was not the mere capability of being turned, now in one direction, and then in another, but the faculty of self-de- termination; and yet he showed, on ethico-religious principles, that there is a point at which the free will cries out for the_help of grace. In this respect he occupied a higher position than the first Fathers of the Greek Church—than such as Origen, Athanasius, and the Cappadocian bishops; whilst, on the other hand, he differed decidedly, to his advantage, from Pelagius." In common with the former, however, he was quite unable to give a reason why the gift of the Holy Spirit was dependent on the manifestation of Christ: in other words, though he did not consider sanctification, or deliverance from sin, to be merely the work of man, yet he was unable to bring this grace into more than a merely outward connection with the work of Christ. Theodore of Mopsuestia was the crown and climax of the school of Antioch. The compass of his learning, his acuteness, and, as we must suppose also, the force of his personal character, conjoined with his labours through many years as a teacher both of churches and of young and talented disciples, and as a: prolific writer, gained for him the title of Magister Orientis.” He laboured on uninterruptedly till his death in the year 427; and was regarded with an appreciation the more widely ex- tended, as he was the first Oriental theologian of his time. What specially commended and extended the influence of his teachings, was the aversion of the Church to Apollinarism, of which Theodore proved himself a very warm opponent, without allow- 1 Compare the Programme by Dr Dorner, p. 19 ff. 9 2 See the Programme by Dr Dorner, pp. 5-0. CYRILL OF ALEXANDRIA. NESTORIUS. 51 ing the Arian elements which partly coloured his theological syatein to detract from the deity of the Son. We shall not, however, be mistaken if we trace the opposition raised by the Church to Apollinarism to causes somewhat different from those which influenced Theodore. His aim was not so much to assert the thorough reality of the incarnation of God,—for in this respect his method of procedure was defective,—but mainly to distinguish clearly, and to emphasize duly, the reality and freedom._of the human aspect of Christ’s Person. No wonder, therefore, that attention was soon directed to this cha- racteristic of his teachings, and that fears of Ebionitic elements should begin to be cherished. The antagonism which, at this period, divided the Western Church, was fought out in the East in connection with Christology (Note 11). CHAPTERII. CYRILL OF ALEXANDRIA IN CONFLICT WITH NESTORIUS. Arrer the disappearance from the scene of those distinguished Fathers of the Greek Church, Athanasius, the two Gregories, Basilius the Great, Didymus and others, who in general held Origen in saga remembrance, a reaction set in against that teacher, due especially, as is well known, to Dp ae and Jerome, and in Alexandria to Theophilus. Through the influ- ence of Theophilus, the monks of Origen’s school were worsted by the uneducated anthropomorphite monks who had settled round Mount Nitra. And in proportion as the Origenistic element, which continued for a time to work in the Church of Alexandria, died out, in that proportion also vanished that noble | spirit of inner ParnOHeHG and of magnanimous tolerance, by which Athanasius was still iegiieataiel and that sobriety in religion and judiciousness in meclonicd science which had once prevailed. In their place came a ieee and passionate polemi- cal spirit, an orthodoxy ambitious of power, and gloating over the condemnation of the dissentients. And so, at the end of the fourth, and during the course of the fifth century, Alex- 52 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. andria presented a very different appearance from that which it bore during the fourth century. It would be a false pragmatism, however, to trace the dif- ferences which now broke out between the school of Antioch and that of Alexandria solely to the intolerant spirit to which reference has just.been.made. ‘’o it was due only the manner in which the struggle was conducted between Epiphanius and Theophilus on the one side, and Chrysostom (who refused his consent to the condemnation of Origen on the other), Cyrill of Alexandria, and Nestorius. The differences themselves, with which alone we are for the present concerned, had deeper roots. Widely extended, and for a time almost irresistible, as was the influence of the school of Antioch in Asia and Constan- tinople, especially after the elevation of Chrysostom, the Roman Church, and Africa in particular, did not at all sympathize with it. One part of Africa, it is true, decided by Augustine, took very little part in the conflict against the school of Antioch; but nevertheless both parties in the West—that, namely of Pela- gius, and that of Augustine—were distinctly conscious of their affinity with the respective Christological views which stood in antagonism to each other in the East. On the one hand, Augustine joined issue with the monk Leporius, whose doctrine had a Nestorian cast; and on the other hand, the mission of the Pelagian Cassian to Theodore of Mopsuestia shows that the two schools expected to make common cause with each other. The relationship between the Pelagian and the Antiocheian type of doctrine was by no means a recommendation of either of them, in that part of the West which was under the influence of Augustine. The eastern part of Northern Africa, on the con- trary, manifested a strong inclination to mysticism, which came to a focus in the monachism of Egypt. Two opposed tenden- cies may be distinguished in this monachism,—the one to specu- lation and free thought; the other, which lacked culture, to a stormy emotionalism: both, however, were opposed to the An-. tiocheian spirit, by their bias to either speculative or practical mysticism ;—especially the latter, which grew ever stronger, and was on terms of friendship with that old mystic tendency which we found existing in Syria alongside of the school of Antioch (p. 25 ff.). Decided additional evidence of the lively intercourse carried on between the Mystics of Syria and those NESTORIUS. Je of Egypt, has recently been furnished by Cureton’s discoveries regarding the Epistles of Ignatius. To the influence of the Syrian monks, among other causes, may be attributed the cir- cumstance, that the Nitraeaan monks—as, indeed, generally those of the Scetic desert—gradually fell more and more into a churchly mysticism. At first, under Theophilus and Cyril, they were Anthropomorphites (Audius the Syrian was their precursor in this path), and were assailed by the bishops; soon, however, they gained great influence, and whilst supporting, to a certain extent also controlled, the Episcopacy. This state of matters throws light on the Nestorian contro- versies. Subsequently to the period treated of in Section V., the Church of Alexandria was mainly under the influence of a mysticism which was antagonistic alike to Origen and the school of Antioch, and which had adherents and defenders in Syria. Although intercourse was kept up with Athanasius in Alexandria, and a partial opposition was raised to the An- thropomorphites, and the connection with the synodal tradition from the year 325 to 381 was maintained with special zeal, these Councils being described as inspired by the Holy Ghost, yet the supposition that Apollinarism, though condemned by the Church, underwent a partial revival in Alexandria, was one that might be deemed not merely convenient, but also probable, by the adherents of the school of Antioch in general, and ‘Theo- doret in particular. That mystical spirit with which the school of Antioch had carried on in Syria a long and severe struggle, manifested itself afresh in Egypt; and, as we learn especially from the example of Theodoret, the hatred cherished towards its native opponents was very soon transferred to the Alexan- drians, who were held to be advocates and agents of Apolli- narism. Nestorius, who in point of doctrine was a disciple of Theo- dore, having been raised to the Patriarchate of Constantinople in 428, endeavoured to make dominant in the Church the tendency represented by the school of Antioch, especially the Antiocheian Christology, which, with perfect good faith, he might | have regarded as the view sanctioned by the Charck when it rejected the doctrine of Apollinaris, That such was his aim must be acknowledged, whatever else that is estimable may be said respecting him. By way of accomplishing his 54 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. purpose, he sought to set aside the name of “ Mother of God” given to Meee which had already become naturalized, “and found a support in the monkish worship of the Virgin then in vogue. This, however, brought him into a fatal conflict, which soon enough, alas! became ae conflict of the Patriarchates. His doctrine, so far as it can be gathered from the Transactions of the Councils (Mansi. T. iv. 1198 ff., v. 753 ff. 762), and from his own discourses preserved in Mane Mercator, differs from the Christology of Theodore, only in its containing fewer speculative elements, and in its evincing less anxiety (perhaps on polemical grounds) to preserve the unity of the Person of Christ, than was displayed by his teacher... The point on which he concentrated all his efforts, was to guard completely against the heathenish elements, which, in his view, were endeavouring to force their way into the doctrine of the Person of Christ. In the first instance, therefore, he gave in his adhesion to all those propositions laid down by Theodore, which were held to distinguish between the Godhead of the Logos and humanity, His garment or instrument. Hence his opposition to the term . Georoxos. To say that. God had been born, would lead back, he thought, to the mythologies of heathenism, and would. consti- tute Mary a goddess, anda mother of gods. The utmost that can be said is, that Christ having been peculiarly allied to the Logos from the very beginning, was, therefore, even as a man termed @eds,—namely, in the wider sense of icotipia, akia. Only in this sense can Mary be designated @eoroxos; but never in the sense of her having given birth to the Deity, to the very Divine essence (Ocornta). It is impossible for a creature to bear the uncreated, for the later to bear the elder. Inas- much now, as one party styles her merely the mother of a man, and the other the mother of God, the best expression —that which would reconcile both extremes—is yptororoxos. But the same grounds which forbid us ascribing birth to the Logos, forbid us also, he urges, to say of Him that He suffered, died, and was buried; seeing that to predicate these things of Christ would be to give again to heathenish elements a home in the midst of the Church (Mar. Merc. Serm. I. II.). His humanity was the Beodoyxos popdy, with which the Logos was inseparably, though invisibly united. Both, therefore, are to be regarded with the same reverence (icotiplg) : tiv popouséerny TO hopodyTe cuVTI- CYRILL. 55 [L@ Lev dicer —two natures, but one honour. As to nature, we acknowledge two Christs; as to worship, we have but one (that is, the Ghristian consciousness subjectively recognises but one Christ). But the objective basis of this oneness i reverence is taken away, as soon as we deny that Christ was really and truly one person. Now, as Nestorius made no distinction be- tween natures and person, he ought, in strict consequence, to have.concluded from the existence of two natures, the existence of two persons. Subsequent witnesses, however, inform us that he, or at all events his school, sought to escape from the difficulty by means similar to those ndonid by the later Mono- theletes,—namely, by representing the two natures as converg- ing in a unity of will. But neither he nor hts school expressed themselves very distinctly on the matter. He remained satis- fied with Theodore’s evdoxia: he never arrived at an incarna- tion of God, but only at a relationship (cxéous) between two natures which continue separate,—a relationship which he termed a mysterious conjunction (cvvddera). | That the Patriarch Cyrill of Alexandria was not rman moved by envy or ambition of power to oppose the school of Antioch, is clear from the general character of his fundamental views, which are marked by unity and consequence; and quite as decidedly necessitated making.God.the. starting-point in an inquiry, as the views of the school of Antioch necessitated—be- ginning with man. It is clear also, from the circumstance, that ~Cyrill composed his treatise on the Incarnation of the Only- begotten One as an appendix to his work on the Trinity (Dialog. 8) under Atticus,—that is, not only before the struggle with Nestorius commenced, but even before Nestorius was elevated to the Patriarchate of Constantinople. We are warranted in eae the treatise to this date, not only by Cyrill’s own tes- timony,' but by its entire tone, which may be very advan- tageously compared with his later polemical writings (such, for example, as that most passionate Dialog. 9, “ @ued unus sit Christus”). | Nestorius’s attack.on the expression, “Mother of God,” was but the external occasion of the outbreak of an antagonism both older and deeper. 3 To designate this antagonism in as general terms as possible, so far as it affects Christology, we may say that, whereas the 1 Epist. ad Nestor. 2 Opp. Cyr. Al. T. v. 2, p. 21. Hd. Aubert, 163: 56 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH school of Antioch, by way of preventing an Apollinarian iden- tification of the divine and the human in the vods of Christ, . distinguished between the two aspects as two natures, the school of Alexandria started with laying emphasis on the unity (€vwots guoixn), and then proceeded to consider what could. be said concerning the duality. Both held that the divine nature, the Logos, Had a substantial existence, an hypostasis; but whilst the Alexandrians attached the humanity of Christ, including the soul and its powers, to the divine hypostasis as little more Peheen a receptive passive material, the Antiocheians, for the reasons previously mentioned, strove to prove that the human factor also had a relative Eddies but showed themselves not infrequently inclined to the use of expressions which attributed to the human aspect an independent hypostasis or personality. Cyrill did not by any means return to that old indefinite mode of speech, in the employment of which the faith of the Church had been guided by an instinctive perception of the unity of the Person of Christ in its totality. Nor will the effort to bring him into complete accordance with later stan- dards of orthodoxy succeed, unless, like the Council of Chal- cedon, we determine what his doctrine was, from fragments of his works, in which he expresses himself cautiously or hesitat- ingly, or seeks to bring about a compromise. ‘The strong terms in which he speaks of the one nature of Christ, and insists on the unity of His dvous, might indeed be dunvibed to a difficulty experienced in finding terms accurately expressive of the distinction between the ideas or words, “ Person”’ and “Nature,” and which occasioned his speaking of the one vous of the Incarnate, when he meant to speak of the one person. But this explanation is by no means sufficient. In his use of the word tzocracis he inclines, it is true, at one time to the meaning, “substance” or das, and at another time to that of Person—pocwror: this, however, was not accidental, but in the interest of his fundamental views. Where it was his interest to do so, he drew a very sharp and decided distinction between person (mpdcewov) and dvcus; and he never took the human vows in the sense of wpocwmov and wméartacis, as he did the divine dvais. He proved himself competent enough to show how, if the two natures are separated from each other, as two persons, no such thing as an incarnation has taken place. But CYRILL. 57 he sought to convict Nestorianism of holding a duality of per- sons, because it distinguished two natures even after the incar- nation; and of not being able to reduce this duality to a unity deserving of the name.’ When endeavouring to express himself accurately, he designates the unity which resulted from the union of the two natures, not so willingly by the term which at a subsequent period became dominant, “ one person ”’—éy mpocwmov, but rather by the term “ one essence,” “ one indis- soluble substance or existence” (ula dicts). Not as though he confounded dvcis and mpdcw7ov, or treated them as synony- mous terms, but because it is characteristic of him to treat the unity of natures In Christ as a substantial physical unity ; and further, especially because, instead of conceding to the human aspect of the Person of Christ an existence of its own, he regarded it as a mere congeries of real attributes appro- priated by the Logos to Himself, and thus incorporated with His substance or gvats. “Christ is simply God, that is, God with us (Immanuel), God physically united with a part of the world ; and, so far as it is included in the one Person of Christ, humanity is a mere attribute or predicate of God.y Considering the matter, however, in connection with the _ development of the Church and its dogma, much may be said / ~ in favour of Cyrill; and we find that his fault was principally\ | | that of too tenaciously clinging to the vagueness of expression) and thought which prevailed at an_carlier_period, without its defectiveness being felt,—treating it as though it were perfect and satisfactory, and setting himself in opposition to those who demanded that the unity should be more accurately defined, and the rationale thereof be more distinctly exhibited. The conse- quence thereof to himself was, that that earlier indefiniteness, which rather called for, than excluded, greater clearness, settled down into an obstinate and decided partiality, and that his opposition to Nestorianism, however justifiable in one respect, fell far short of effecting the recognition of the element of truth which it certainly asserted. 1 Ep. ad Acac. p. 116: Prior to the incarnation there were two Qvaess, one xpdowrov, not two. Ep. 4, Cyrilli ad Nestor. p. 23 f. : In the incarna- tion there was not an fvwoig rav spocarav, but an evwoss nab’ vrooTaoty. The result, according to Ep. ad Monachos Aeg. p. 9, 1s, évorns Quarxy 5 according to Ep. ad Acac. p. 115, wie Qvous. 58 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. Let us first direct our attention to Cyrill’s polemic against the Christology of Nestorius, and then to the view entertained by himself. He was above all opposed to the Nestorian “ con- junction” (cvvadeva). He considered that it left the Son of God, and man, separate from, and outside of, each other, ae Peetining feet mechanically, so that @repos was év repo.’ In the system of Nestorius, says he, there isno trace whatever of such an union as is required : he resolves the saying, “The Logos became flesh,” into a mere juxtaposition of two beings, God and man. He represents the human aspect as in possession of such a degree of independence, and the two natures as continuing so foreign to each other, that we ought logically to assume the existence of two (ducal troctdces or Tpocwta (p. 725 lc.) 3 that the Son of God must be regarded as little more than a mere guest of this man’s (apofevos, mapaxopuctys) ; and that there only remained certain relations and connections between the two (cyetixn cvvadea, p. 730). If the Son of God did not make humanity really His own, he argues, then His rela- tions thereto cannot have been other than merely external; and Christ the man was a Son merely by participation and adjudi- cation (webexTiKds Kal etcKxexpiévos). A thing, however, which is merely bestowed as a gift, or awarded, and rise not Aabivalie flow from the very inward nature of fe being, may be after- wards lost: that which is conferred from without (7d @vpabev moptoGev) may be again taken away. The Nestorians_affirm, indeed, that ‘they do not teach the existence of two Sons;” but the reason thereof is, that they term the Logos alone, a “Son by nature:” they also deny teaching that there are “ two Christs ;” but the explanation of this is, that they only desig- nate the man, “ Christ (anointed) by nature.” They retain, not- withstanding, two centres. When they term Christ “Son,” it is not dice, but only bécex (vids Gers): that is, He is noe more than an adopted Son, who is held to partake of the Divine dignity and the Divine powers. But what sort of a son would he be? To worship a man, who stands in mere cuvddeva with God, is manifest idolatry : it would be equivalent to setting up a new God, ejecting the Logos from His position of supremacy, and compelling Him to give way to the man Christ, that érepos, were we to allow the adoptive son actually to share in the see De IncarnsUnigy ae 0a. CYRILL AGAINST NESTORIUS. 59 worship due to the only-begotten Son. There would then be no real difference between Christ’s nature and the sonship which becomes ours. ‘The Nestorians try, it is true, to avoid the diffi- culty, by resorting to the use of the figure of dvagopa. They say, namely, that even as a. man_.Christ.may.be worshipped, if the worship be referred in thought to God, or to the Logos united with Christ. But this would be no worship of Christ. Nor can the mere ovvddeva ever justify the worshipping of humanity. Even marriage is more than ovvddea; for Paul says, “ He that is wedded to the Lord is one Spirit” (1 Cor. vi. 17). And yet believers are not worshipped. The Nestorians wish to do away with the old recognised term évwots, although it by no means implies a confusion, but only a cuvopopiy of the divine and human. For we do not employ the term “ unity” to designate merely that which is simple, or povoesdées ; but also that which is compounded of two, or even three elements. But the terms cvvddera and cuvdecpos, which the Nestorians retain, do not involve any closer.relationship than that between.-master and pupil or assistant. Cyrill then proceeds to adduce argu- ments drawn from the work of Christ. The Nestorians, he urges, cannot fairly speak of a humiliation: according to their teachings, the Logos continued as, and what, He was; to the man, on the contrary, ever more and more was given. The Son, therefore, instead of being a deliverer, was Himself ever more fully delivered from imperfection (p. 745). Save us He could not, merely as a man united with God, nor as a man like God (ciSorroimOels Oeds, p. 730): He could only save us as God, becoming like us who are surrounded by danger (p. 744), and thus enabled to reach us (p. 753). A God somewhat resembling God, would be @eds yrevdavupos, vids etarrointos, vobos troBo- Apatos. Inasmuch as, according to Nestorius, the Logos re- ceived nothing, and did not even undergo humiliation, the suiferings of Christ were merely those of a man, and. therefore did not possess infinite value (p. 760 ff.). Further, how could’ Christ be called our Head on the ground of His being God-man, and communicate to us the divine life, if the Logos did not really become man ? In_short, the entire system of Nestorius was the fruit of mental incapacity to fathom and grasp the depth of the Divine mystery (p. 744). Cyrill used most bitterness, However, when referring to the nullification of 60 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. the fundamental idea of the incarnation, to which he supposed the teachings of his opponent to lead. He asks (p. ON of God being called man?” ‘They. eee For the_same reason that Jesus was called a Nazarene, because He dwelt in Nazareth. They regard Christ, therefore, as an avO@pwroTonirns, as belonging to a man (dv@pa7raios), but not as a man in Him- self. But Christ could not be styled man merely because He inhabited a man, any more than He could have been called Nazareth because He dwelt in that city. The Father and the Son dwell also in other men, but are not, on that ground, termed man. And when Nestorius teaches thes Chast diftobel from believers and prophets in that He was full of the Holy Spirit from His very birth, He posits merely a quantitative, not a qua- litative distinction. Only when the Logos became really man, did the principle of universality, the central divine principle, become actually a part of the world (p. 700).* From the character of his controversy with Nestorius, we see at once the point in which Cyrill was especially interested. _ He maintains that in Christ God is present with men, and has actually become part of the world; and that, as He allows human nature to share in all that is His, so He participates in all that is ours. A favourite expression of his is, “ Christ is Immanuel, God with us.” He was led to take this course mainly by a warm interest in religion : he was anxious that the marvel- lous love of God, manifested in the incarnation, should not suffer the least diminution of its glory, but that it should be compre- hended in its entire depth. Undeniable is it that he had a far clearer perception of the greatness and importance of the pro- blem in its religious aspect, than the Antiocheians, nay, even than Apollinaris himself. He regarded Christ, above all, as_a gift of God to humanity, not merely as the example or type of aman who is like God: in his view, Christ was not merely endowed with the power of communicating an immortal life in the future, by way of reward for His virtue, but was by nature filled with Divine powers of salvation. His ability to save did not arise from the Logos as such, but from that real participation in 1 Other passages touching on this mystical aspect are, ‘‘ de Inc. Unig.” 690, 692, 693, 698, 700, 704; Dial. ix. 723, 744, 761, 764; ‘‘ Ep. ad. Mon. Aeg.” p. 18. | CYRILL’S OWN VIEW. 61 tle Divine power of the Logos, to which humanity attained through Him. The main object was not simply to.make the in- visible Logos visible, : and to exhibit Him to.man. That would have been mere teaching, and the mere semblance of an incarna- tion (de Incarn. Unig. 690 ff., 702, 705-707). Rather was the Logos under the necessity of Leceane, actually man—of enter- ing into complete and vital fellowship with human nature, inas- fen as His mission was, to bestow both immortality on the body, and righteousness on the soul. He effected both by becoming our brother according to the flesh, and by communi- cating to our nature, primarily in His own Person, quickening and sanctifying powers: thus also did He secure in His humanity, an organ through which He was able to act upon the whole of mankind, as upon that which was essentially like Himself. In order, however, to his being able to bestow on His own humanity, and through His own humanity on ours, a share in His divine nature, it was before all things necessary that He should _parti- cipate in our nature—not in a glorified and perfected humanity, but in humanity as it is, with ahs exception of sin. Nor was it possible for Him to appropriate. humanity. to Himself, without in turn communicating Himself-to-humanity : one is the condi- tion of the other. Only when both are realized together, do we gain areal view of that loving will of the Logos which is mighty to save, and which enters into true and complete fellowship with us, in order to lead us to fellowship with God. Cyrill regarded the incarnation as the interpenetration, the mutual permeation of the two things above referred to—of the appropriation of our nature (olxelwats, idvoTrolnats, |. c. 704, 707, 712, 'T. v. 2), and the communication of His (xowozroveiv, p. 711). In the one Person of Christ, both things were effected: the Son of God appropriated the en to Himself, and communicated Himself toman. That which is written concerning Christ in the New Testament does not apply to the one nature or to the other, by itself ; but to His entire Person in its unity. For when the one Son of God became incarnate, He desired to call everything His—both human and divine—weariness, hunger, learning, praying (l.c. 758). All that is said concerning Christ’s human nature,—as, for example, that He was born, suffered, rose from the dead, was exalted, —must_be referred to His divine nature ; and that especially, eect the Son of God alone was the 62 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. subject in which the attributes of the Person of Christ inhered. What we ought to say, therefore, 1 is this: He who, in the first instance, was born of God, was, in the second instance, born of the seed of David (p. 696); and of one and the same being we predicate alike eternal existence and death (p. 727 conf. 726), yea, even the anointing with the Holy Ghost. Could the Son of God not be said to have been born, had Mary not . given birth to Him, the Incarnate One, but only to a man, there would have been in fact no real incarnation. But_if. we are forbidden to deny that the Son of God was born, we are equally forbidden to deny.that..He suffered, or to represent His God- head as a stranger to suffering (p. 775 ff.).’ On the lag hand, however, the Logos constituted His humanity a partaker of ahi glory : hina became the actual possession of human nature (Dial. 8, 1. c. 706, 707; Dial. 9, p. 749). Miracles, for example, were worked not by the Father, or by the Logos, alone, but by the incarnate Son of God. He animated the humanity.which.He-had. appropriated and made one_aspect. of Himself, with Divine,.vitalizing.power. His humanity is now the organ through which He communicates His Spirit: He is our Life, not merely as God, or by means of the Holy Spirit, but by giving us for food His own exalted humanity (decry wapatiOnos tiv dvadnplcicav prow, p. 707). What we have just advanced brings to view mainly the religious roots of his Christology: it exhibits to us, also, as the SoHeEIPT image resulting from his Christological inquiries, the actual hata, manifestation in Jesus of Hie loving will of the Logos, who seeks by participation and communication to esta- blish the closest and most complete interchange between Himself and the human race. In this participation and communication, the Logos is conceived by him as from the commencement the only.active.agent. In Cyrill’s system, no.signi 1 Only with regard to the words, ‘“‘ My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me ?” was he willing to allow that they did not directly refer to the incarnate Son of God (p. 755). Nor were even the Nestorians disposed to attribute them to despondency, or the alienation of God; the words were therefore held to have a deep mystical significance. Christ cried out thus in our stead, as the second Adam. As one of ourselves, He uttered the words for the whole of human nature. _ * i ~ CYRILL'S OWN VIEW. 63 taches to the man Jesus as such, either as an end in Himself, or as a mundane. good, as was the case in that of Theodore & Mopsuestia : ‘but he eran nature is simply the instrument employed by the Logos for the manifestation of His. love; and it became capable of discharging this function, in consequence of His appropriation of its wenn and of His communica- tion of His Divine powers. But, however right it may be to consider the incarnation as the unity of Divine participation and communication, it is not enough merely to postulate the combination and mutual inter- penetration of these two activities ;—-we must show how the two constitute a real Christology, especially as it is by no means self-evident that they can be thus conjoined. Tor if the deity of the Logos communicates.its own attributes, nay more, its very self, to the human nature of Christ, Christ?s humanity. would seem to be thus raised above all imperfection and every possibility of suffering ; ‘consequently, it is mere pretence to represent the Son as appropriating these characteristics of humanity. On the other hand, if the Logos did really assume these 7d0n, so that the finite imperfections which form part of human nature as it actually is, became really His attributes, how was it possible that He, being thus emptied of His Divine power, should communicate. it to humanity? That personal relation of love, into which the Logos seeks to enter with us, demands, it is true, both participation and communication, yet the one seems to be incompatible with the other; and that both should be effected in conjunction, seems a sheer impossibility. Now, how far did Cyrill aid in the solution of this anti- nomy? He felt deeply the difficulty of the problem; but, rather than follow the example of Nestorius, and do away with it, he preferred falling back on the assertion that it is an Eieolute mystery and miracle.’ Such is his procedure i in innumerable passages. This was not, however, all that he did; for he put forth honest and flioenn efforts to arrive at a solution. In endeavouring to show clearly and intelligibly how it was possible for the Son of God to appropriate to Himself human passibility and finiteness, the thought would readily suggest itself, that the Logos emptied Himself of His glory; and, having thus resigned the divinity, whose possession was incom- 1 Homil. xvii., p. 227. 64 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. patible with human finiteness, was able to appear in the form of aservant. We have already repeatedly met with this idea; and Cyrill gave it his careful attention, but it failed to gain his appr oval.t He discusses two forms of the thought :—I. Accord- ing to some, the Son left all ‘His divine attributes (or His divine nature) behind Him in heaven, and did not bring them to the earth; His divine Personality, on the contrary, was on earth as Immanuel, and not in heaven. On this view, the only bond between the Logos and humanity would be the hypostasis of the former Rcnont the divine nature: His personality, alone, and not His divine essence, would be united with man.” Cyrill was unable to adopt this theory, because he attached quite as great importance to the communication of the divine nature, as to its participation in humanity. He raised also the objection, that hypostasis and nature cannot thus be separated from each other,—that the divine nature of the Son could not be so limited as to be unable to be on earth at the same time that it was in heaven. He disapproved, also, of representing the Logos _as mutable, in so far as He could pass hypostatically out of the sphere of the divine, into that of the mundane, without at the same time continuing in the former. II. The other form of the doctrine of the Slratacein ede of the Logos, 2 represented not only His hypostasis or person, but also His divine essence, - as passing out of the divine world of infinitude, which was un- fitted for the accomplishment of an incarnation, into the world of finitude, and the xévwors as extending ere to person and nature: the divine nature was thus circumeene and made appropriable (oier7) by human nature.’ Cyrill, reasoning that if the Deity of the Son were curtailed, as it was represented to be, at all events, for a time, He was reduced to the position of a subordinate cosmical being, characterized the conception as heathenish, and as akin to Arianism, which also spoke of a divine lament existing apart from God. 1 Ady. Anthropomorphitas, L. i. c. 18. 2 L. ce. The Anthropomorphites say : ‘Qs 6 wovoyevns rov Osod vids xara psy thy delay ris Osdrytos nal ovoias avviy To ToTpl, nvine eri yas expn- pecttiae xab Tois avOpwrro1s ovvavectpeDero, we Omoovatos Ov waite’ xara dé Tov THS UTOTTHOSWS Aovov ovx Ets. Kextvaro yap aon, as avtol Dacor xa vioriny Umar HOS Ex TE THY OUPAYaY Kal HITOY TAY THTPILOY XOATOY. SLi Cul: CYRILL. 65 Since, then, Cyrill refused to base the possibility of the appropriation of human nature by the Son of God on the conversion or transformation of the Son Himself into a finite nature; since, further, it is quite as impossible to show that Cyrill, like Apollinaris, supposed humanity or finiteness to be an eternal attribute or determination of the Logos Himself ; how could he maintain that the Logos had constituted human- ity a determination of His own being? Special difficulties arose in Cyrill’s way from the prevailing conception of God, to the ethical element of which had not been secured due preponderance over the physical, even in the system of a man like Theodore, who attached such great importance to the ethical. In order to escape from the charge made by the school of Antioch, of representing God, after the manner of the heathen, as physical and passible,—a charge founded on his appropriation of the human to God by means of the Logos,— Cyrill declared most emphatically that he conceived the divine and human as separated from each other by an infinite gulf; and the expressions which he employs im doing so, are scarcely a whit less strong than those of the Antiocheians. He speaks of an dvicos, avdpotos, érépa dvows of God and man (TI. v. 2, p. 688). Nay more, he says God is essentially immutable— incapable of change, incapable of suffering (T. v. 2, 683, 743, 744; Dialog. de Trin. T. vi. 625). - It is as impossible for the divine nature to resign its stability and immutability, as it is for human nature to leap or be transformed into the divine.. God, as to His essence, is uncircumscribed, without shape or form, without substance or quantity, and therefore essentially different from us. Omnipresence belongs to His nature; and God can no more be circumscribed by humanity, than humanity can possess omnipresence. The two natures being thus defined, man and God would seem to be necessarily exclusive of each other; and a real appropriation of humanity by. the Son,_.or real participation of humanity.in the.Deity, would seem to be. an impossibility. _If God is by nature, and essentially, incapable of suffering, how can He take upon Himself human sufferin gs? If He is unchangeable, how can He become flesh? If God 1s essentially unlimited, how can He so subject Himself to the limitations of the humanity of Christ, as in Him to be really with us? In fine, if He be in essence altogether different from bees Pema f, BNO 3 E ee 66 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. man, how is an appropriation of the human possible to Him, or a participation in the divine possible to us? Or is Nestorius right when he writes to Cyrill—“Cyrill deserves praisefor.dis— angushing the two natures, and confessing that the Godhead cannot undergo suffering. He thus Toles in the steps of the Council of Niczea, which acknowledged an incarnation, but did not allow that God suffered, or that the Son of God was born of Mary. At the same time, however, all else that he says is inconsistent therewith, unless his words have some hidden wise meaning; and whether that be the case or no, must be left to him to declare. At one time, he says that God cannot suffer or be born’; afterwards he declares that He did suffer and was born, as though every attribute essentially belonging to the Son of God were suddenly destroyed by His assumption of flesh. Cyrill therefore is an mnovator, and carries the idea of appropriation too far.” But Cyrill did not at all alton himself to be thus imposed upon. He answered,—As far as our power of comprehension is concerned, ‘the fare and human natures cannot be made to constitute a physical or natural unity (dovpBata ets Evwow dueiny). Notwithstanding, both were united, and_that most intimately (a4ppactos cuptrAoKi, otvosos, PRA 1) QVOTAT® évwats). (Note 12.) The result was not, it is true, that the natures became one and the same: the natures, in point of number, were not one, but two; and yet they were so united, that though we distinguish between the two, they are no longer specifically different (dcenv éTepoTnTa). We can_no_ longer say, that.each stands by itself separate, but.the thought.of the.one-necessarily gives, rise to. the-thought~of-the other (T. v. 2, p. 731 ff.). To attempt now to conceive of the one apart from the other, would be as perverse as for any one to represent the human body as aman in and by itself, or to say that a mother had brought forth a body, instead of, that she had brought forth a man. The one Son, who was dices God, should also be conceived as a man (lp. ad Monach. p. 15). It is not, indeed, proper to designate Christ, a man who became God, but only, a God who has become man (T. v. 2, Homil. xvii. p. 231 f.). When John says,“ The Word heearis flesh,” he refers, as indeed_is_ the case with all that takes place in God, not to His essence.and an alteration 1 in it, but to His action, to His operations (‘Thesaur. ots - CYRILL. 67 Assert. xii.). The Logos underwent neither augmentation nor diminution through ait incarnation: He remained impassive even in the midst ofthe sufferings to which through the flesh He was susceptible; He remained omniscient, despite the ignor- ance to which His humanity was subject; He remained also omnipresent apart from the flesh of Christ, and yet as to His entirety had become man. From this it would seem as though Cyrill considered the inmost nature of the Logos to have remained entirely unaffected by the” seer my “humanity to have been a mere external “ascititium” of the Logos; and the union, after all, to have been no deeper than the superficial and inefficient one referred to when we say, that in Christ there was the divine nature, im- passive, omniscient, and so forth, and alongside of it a human nature, subject to tern jiyitedt and so forth. But Nestorius also granted that there was no gatiidl for assuming the divine personality and nature to have been united with the human per- sonality and nature. In order to understand him aright, how- ever, we must remember that he supposes the Logos to haye been the real subject in the Person of Christ : He who from eternity was an_hypostasis.or.person, and whose nature remained un- chan ged, assumed humanity in such.a.way.that.all attributes, the ‘ease as well as the divine, could be predicated of .Him, and Him alone. For this reason, these attributes must not be ascribed to the human nature in Chiist as to something specifically dif- ferent from and external to the Logos; but the Logos made them His own, in addition to those which originally belonged to Him. But when a specific human nature was spoken of as the vehicle and bearer of these human attributes subsequently to the incarnation, Cyrill considered the miracle of the incarnation to be either depreciated or altogether denied. He eschewed the notion of the human nature having any per: sonal centre of its own: to him, it was merely the sean of the divine centre, which was its sole real point of unity. It had, therefore, no in- dependent substance: the divine substance had taken the place of the human; and the human nature continued to subsist merely in the form of a congeries of accidents, held together solely by the Logos as their centre. The human nature. of Christ never had an independent centre ‘of unity ; and, there- fore, there was no need. for. its..being absorbed : from. the very. 68 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. commencement the human nature was brought into existence and constituted by the Logos alone Strictly speaking, there- fore, Cyrill’s system taught no such thing as a transformation or transubstantiation of the human into the divine substance : it_ might, however, allow of an. Ansubstantiation as_ well as_ an jae postatization of human nature in the Logos. ‘The incar- nation having taken place, flesh became a determination or attri- bute of the Logos Himself as the sole personal subject; it be- came one of Bis qualities, apart from which no conception may be formed of Him— it is now physically, naturally His (Dial. 9, p. 770). The Logos and humanity constitute, accordingly, one nature (ula dvots): an &vworts duowxi is thus established; and without the loss of His original and peculiar attributes, He has appropriated also human attributes, which, inasmuch as He is their personal subject or centre, cannot but be regarded by Him as His own. Now, although what has been advanced shows very clearly that Cyrill ae canard himself cardinally from the school of Antioch, by laying stress on the unity of the person, and even of the nature, of Christ, and by his assertion of the otxelwaus of human attributes by the Logos, nothing was done in the way of answer to the question, “ How was it possible for the Logos to appropriate to Himself human attributes in addition to His own infinite divine attributes?” And having failed to show how these opposite attributes could be united in one and the same person, the apparently inevitable dissolution of the unity of the person could not be prevented, by conjoining them in paradoxical propositions. Cyrill did try to render some service in this direction ; but, as we have said, without making himself master of the ethical conception of God. In the judgment of Cyrill, the will of the Logos was the ultimate ground of His ability to assume eee nature, its capacity of suffering, and so forth. Now, although this will is considered by him rather from the point of view of mere power than from that of almighty love, still the notion of an ability of the Logos to eran a His own nature is involved therein. By the action of this will, the divine nature was made endurable by the human (oic7), Homil. p. 230, 1. . 736, 737) (a). The (a) See Note B, Appendix II. . CYRILL. 69 position thus taken implies that the Logos, at all events in His actuality, subjected Himself to limitations, in order that He might be able to assume human nature as human nature in the true sense, and as exposed to suffering. He did not, however, advance far enough to see that the unchangeableness and the inmost essence of the Logos are love, which remains unaltered, even though it express itself in acts of self-abasement. On the contrary, he dissociates the participation in finitude and the communication of the Godhead, each of which is incompatible with the other so soon as both are represented as being fully realized at one and the same time; supposes that at the begin- ning the divine participated_in the human, but that the human did not at the same time. participate.completely in the divine ; and in this way leaves room for a human development. This leads us to the second moment of Cyrill’s view of the incarna- tion; namely, the communication of the Deity to the human- ity of Christ. Cyrill will not, indeed, have us say that the humanity of Christ grew cna hoe (Hom. xvii. 230). That would be ascribing to it too great independence. And yet he does not by any means wish to detract from its reality and truth by the communication of the Divine attributes. The Logos, he conceives, appropriated human nature in the form which i it naturally takes at the various stages, and in the various circumstances, of its. life. Cyril repeatedly denies that the Son of God effected any transmutation of the human into the divine, or any identification of the two. The human nature, although nothing in comparison with the divine, was not dis- sipated by the latter; but the divine made the human nature im- mediately its own (ayéows idla, Dial. 9, p. 776), as that human nature existed in, and was given by, the Virgin; the Logos appropriated it to Himself, with its measures, laws, and relations (Hom. xvii. p. 227). To this connection belongs the expression quoted above, “The divine nature made itself endurable by human nature” (1. c. 736, v. Hom. xvii. 230); which does not signify that human nature was endowed or anointed with the power to receive the divine, but refers to that act of the Logos by which He, as it were, extinguished or dimmed His rays, and did not allow His Divine essence to have free course. Although * The human nature od Dem avderett, vmoxngrreras by the divine: 1. c. 736, Tat. 70 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. the Logos participated in human weakness in order to raise it to His own strength, yet He communicated Himself to human nature only within the limits which must have been recognised by Him as binding when He resolved on an incarnation. This he expresses as follows:—When the Logos assumed human nature, He allowed the laws thereof to exercise a certain power over Himself.’ From this point he ought to have been led logically to the doctrine of a gradually Ales informing of the divine nature in the haman—to the recognition of the dependence of the communication of the Divine attributes on the laws of a true human (moral) development, as well as of the dependence of the entire divine nature in its actuality, on the ethical will of the Logos. In that case, the incarnation could not have been con- sidered to have been at once completely realized by a mere act of will on the part of the Logos, but must have been represented as dependent on the continuous volition of the Son of God. Here again, however, Cyrill was unable to escape from the circle of physical ideas within which he moved. He does, indeed, repre- sent the union of the Logos with the congeries ri ina attri-" butes as originating in His evdox/a, in His love; but he also represents the volitional process as being brought at once to a termination in a naturation (Naturirung), in a physical result, — that is, in the €&vaous gvowxn, which, in his view, was by no means merely an évwows Tov Pvoewv, but a union which had become actually, veritably, the nature or essence. In this way alone did he consider the indissolubleness of the unio to be made certain.” Had Cyrill regarded the incarnation under the aspect of an actual and continuous process, it would have been possible for him to concede not only the initiatory imperfection of the human, and of its appropriation by the Logos, but also that the divine was communicated to, and united itself with hu- manity, in ever increasing measure. Plainly, however, the humanity of Christ could not then have been conceived as 1 °HQies rots peérpots rijs dvdpwardrnros 2Q Eavry +e xpereiv. Dial. 9, p. 760. 2 L. c. p. 738:—Whatever is not based on physical laws (Qvarnois tonptioret voieoss), leaves room for fear that it may again be lost. P. 705: —The Logos was not put into man as from without ; He was not &repo¢ év éréow, eSadev eyxexpsecevos, but Qvaes xpooay (Dial. 9, pp. 745, 770). Paty it CYRILL AND NESTORIUS COMPARED. 71 impersonal or selfless, as a mere attribute of the incarnate Logos without immanent laws of development of its own, and without freedom. For the realization of the object to- wards which his efforts were directed, Cyrill. needed. exactly that element._.of truth ..which.was..maintained.by...Nestorius, but overlooked by himself. He fancied that the incarnation was the more worthily estimated the more exclusively it was regarded as the sole act of God; forgetting that the Logos would have served no end by His act of incarnation if He had not posited an actual man, the true man, who, whilst man, is at the same time God, and not a mere épyavov of God, whatever ingenuity and similarity to man might cha- racterize its system of powers or susceptibilities.+ Cyrill’s experience thus teaches us very forcibly, that, whatever may be its fervour and depth, the religious view of the Person of Christ must fail to arrive at definite results, as long as it undervalues the ethical, the volitional, aspect, in comparison with the dvous. ‘To this lack may be traced Cyrill’s continued vacillation, and the antagonistic opinions expressed by him,— antagonisms which he hoped, but im vain, to bridge over by means of analogies drawn from the natural world. For example, he says, in reference to the formula (which, be it observed, is not to be understood docetically) ava@as erable, /“* As fire may be incorporated with a substance—for example, Para iron—and yet, when the iron is struck, the fire does not suffer, so also the Godhead did not suffer.”? If this com- parison proved anything, it proved that the divine and human might interpenetrate each other without haying eyerything.in common... It is, therefore, quite as much a Nestorian compari- son as anything else; for, as to the main point,—that is, the attri- bution of suffering also to the Son of God, to a common centre of consciousness, and without detriment to the Divine dignity and unchangeableness of the Logos,—it is decidedly defective. Such an attribution is only possible when the ethical—that is, love—is conceived to constitute the essence and the glory of 1 He avails himself most readily of words of the neuter gender for the designation of the natures, specially of the human nature ; for example, axpeyuere. Compare Ep. ad Monach. p. 9; De incarn. Unig. 700, 708, 713. 45 ECan OF 72 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. the Logos, which remains unalterably the same, not only not- withstanding, but even through, His participation in human nature. The same remark may be made respecting his attempt to reconcile the abiding omnipresence of the Logos with His ex- traordinary and exceptional presence in Christ. He makes use of the comparison of light, which, on the one hand, is accumu- lated in the luminous body of the sun, and yet, on the other hand, diffuses its rays throughout infinitude.’ But, however striking may be the conception of Christ, as the central organ of the light and the life of the world, subsequently advanced, he fails to show how it rhymes with what he elsewhere teaches regarding the essential and necessary omnipresence of the divine nature. In order to show that God might be present in Christ in an exceptional manner, notwithstanding His omni- presence, he ought to have advanced beyond that physical omnipresence which is a natural necessity, to the ethical aspect of God’s essence, which cannot be subject to the natural necessity of being everywhere present alike, but which has power over the natural aspect of the Divine Being. To his mind, the Antiocheian formula, “It was God’s good pleasure that the fulness of the Deity should dwell in Christ bodily,’ did not exclude the possibility of a severation of the Logos from humanity, and represented the whole too exclusively as resting on a mere act of will, and not as firmly rooted and grounded in the very being (Sein): the course was therefore open to him to treat the ethical in the light of a substance, as constitut- ing the true and innermost nature of God. Had he taken this course, he might have assumed, after the manner of Apollinaris, the existence in the very nature of God of an eternal tendency to incarnation. But nothing whatever justified him in his simple exclusion of the type of doctrine adopted by the school of Antioch; and he himself experienced the evil results of his eonduct in this respect. Cyrill justly rejects an unio which aims merely at a kind of interpenetrative consociation of two natures which are inwardly external, the..one..to.the.other.(mechanical.unio); or which merely comprehend the two under one name and title; or which consists in the mere relatedness of two natures which continue separate..and distinct (ayéows, Evwois oyeTIKN). ‘He 1 Ady. Anthropomorph. L. I. c. 18. CYRILL AND NESTORIUS COMPARED. 73 nevertheless does manifold injustice to Nestorius, not only by undervaluing the ethical element, but also by attributing to him views which he had no intention of holding; as, for example, Arianism, the theory of -two Sons, and a denial of the incarna- tion. If an unsatisfactory solution be the denial of a problem, Cyrill was in the same position as Nestorius, although in an opposite direction. Not an ethical, but primarily a pb tica, Christology, was the result of his inquiries; for, according to his representations, the incarnation was, strictly speaking, ac- complished as soon as the Logos had appropriated the human, and made it an actual modification of Himself, so soon as the human became physically insubstantiated with the divine. From that time onwards, the human aspect pursued no longer even a relatively independent course, although the Logos during His mundane existence was mindful of, and regulated His self- representation according to, human laws. On his view, there- fore, Christ_was.simply.God..with.the-appearance of aman, but not a real man: and, consequently, He did not arrive at a real incarnation of God. Several of the i images employed by him (for example, those of fire and iron, wine and water), show undoubtedly that he aspired beyond the mechanical, to the dynamical, view of the union of the divine and human i Christ. But his images still bear a chemical character: he was still far from the moral dynamical, and took a view of the process of redemption which savoured not a little of the physical. In this respect, the school of Antioch represented an element of truth which Cyrill lacked. Its representation was unquestionably an imperfect one, for it had no clear knowledge of the meta- physical, ontological character of the ethical, of love; and there- fore the Antiocheian Christology seemed to Cyrill to be built in the air, to be destitute of the “ physical (¢vcus) basis.” Scientifically regarded, therefore, both tendencies _are_sub- stantially the same. Both were an advance on Docetism_and the older ‘doctrine of the Logos, inasmuch as they treated the appearance of Christ not merely as a means of. teaching. and revealing truths, but as a new reality. More closely considered, Cyrill’s strength lay in the religious view he took of Christology, as the redemptive act of God, which brought not merely a system of doctrines, but an actual reality. His view of this reality, however, lacked the necessary ethical character. God 74 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. incarnate was held to have overcome the foes of man by His might ; a representation which leads further to an unethical con- ception of sin. Evil is set forth more in the light of a curse, or of a foreign deadly power which holds sway over man, than as personal guilt. On this subjective moral aspect, the school of Antioch laid stress: it rightly perceived that in ethical matters nothing can be decided by mere power. Hence also did it disapprove of any theory of deliverance which savoured of the magical; holding that man himself must personally co-operate in his redemption. Apart from the future, it was especially as an example, as a moral prototype, that the school of Antioch considered Christ to be its Redeemer. Starting with this dis- tinction, we may say that Cyrill was content rather with the view of the gift of God in its entirety, with the unity of the Person of Christ; whereas the school of Antioch fixed the unity whilst it was in progress towards completion, stamped with permanence the very process by which the unity was effected. Taking a survey of this state of matters, it is impossible not to confess that these antagonisms were destined to be mutually complementary, that neither of them without the other could realize the object at which it aimed. The one found in Christ, it is true, a marvellous work of God, but failed to discern that ethical character from which it derived its true value; the other found, it is true, an ethical reality, but under such a form that religious contemplation was unable to dwell upon it as upon a veritable act of God, and a true unity. It is greatly to be re- gretted, therefore, that foreign and alien influences should have introduced perturbations into the course of the Church’s de- velopment, and hindered the interpenetration and union of elements which belonged to and complemented each other ; above all, that impatience should have driven Synods on to pre- cipitate conclusions—Synods which were swayed more by sub- jective and political considerations than by the true spirit of the Church, and which resulted rather in hollow treaties and con- cessions, than in mutual understanding.! 1 As the following narrative of the history of the dogma is composed under the conviction that the Council of Chalcedon had neither an internal nor an external vocation to form a positive decision, which was in reality premature and unsatisfactory, this will be the proper place for justifying —— COUNCIL OF EPHESUS. TD Tn the first instance, Cyrill, leagued with Ccelestine of Rome, retained the upper hand of the Patriarch of Constantinople, at the Council of Ephesus, in the year.431. The chief reason thereof, apart from the intrigues of Cyrill, the weakness of the Emperor, and other considerations well known in ecclesiastical history, was, that Cyrill’s view undoubtedly more carefully pre- served the marvellous act of God, and the mystery of the in- carnation, and that it was more fitted to enkindle a warm interest in the mass of the people and the monks, who attached no importance to clear conceptions, than the representation of Nestorius, which, whilst more modest, was also less capable of affecting the religious feelings. But, notwithstanding the great power and authority exerted by Cyrill, the Council of Ephesus consented neither to draw up a confession: of faith of its own, nor to endorse Cyrill’s anathemas. Even after Cyrill’s victory over the person of Nestorius, the Eastern Church was so far from coinciding in his doctrine of one nature after the incarna- tion, that he found himself compelled, either for the sake ot keeping peace with the Emperor, or because, for the time, nothing more could be attained, to subscribe the so-called Oriental Confession of Faith, which John of Antioch, in the name of the Eastern Church, presented to the Emperor at Ephesus. This confession contained the milder form of doctrine which, whether for the sake of peace, or from want of dogma- tical acuteness, had been accepted by the mass of Oriental bishops (Note 13). In the course of these later negotiations between Antioch and Alexandria, the terminology —“ two natures, but one per- son” (imdctacts)—was already being adopted. This expres- sion, however, was adequate only to the position assumed by the later and more moderate adherents of the school of Antioch. Cyrill, on the contrary, as is clear from the Epistle to Acacius, employed these terms in an unusual. sense. He took them, namely, to imply, that even subsequent to the incarnation, one may speak in abstracto (érwoie) “of two natures, and may em- ploy double dwvds, although in reality there was only pula pvats, to wit, that of the incarnate Son. The formula of concord, therefore, instead of removing, merely concealed, the antago- that conviction by details of the manner in which the decrees of Chalcedon were alrived at. 76 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. nism, which was destined soon enough to break out again. Each party regarded itself asthe—victor: Cyrill, because Nestorius had been condemned, and because he himself had not accepted the Oriental Confession without persisting, for his own part, in his anathemas: the Orientals, because Cyrill appeared to_have conceded the two. natures, and the application to them of the declarations of the New Testament; that is, he appeared to have granted that the two natures still existed after the incar- nation. But Cyrill was as far from conceding the latter as the Orientals were from conceding the pla dicts, when they joined Cyrill in condemning Nestorius. The term @eotd«os they allowed to pass; not, however, as signifying that the Person of the Logos had been both of Mary, but merely, that on account of the connection or relation into which the Logos entered with human- ity, that which, strictly speaking, concerned the latter alone, because predicable also of the former, so far as He constituted the personal element in Christ. The moderate Antiocheians, of whom ‘Theodoret was the type, were undoubtedly distinguished from the older followers of that school, in that they more decidedly ceased to count the personality as belonging to the natures as such; and by not only objecting to a double person- ality, but even inclining to regard the personality of the Logos predominantly as the personal centre of Christ. How they could, notwithstanding, so persistently keep aloof from Cyrill, and assume a double series of spiritual actions, both subsequently to the incarnation, and without a human subject, is another question, which will again come under consideration at a later opportunity. The Nestorians, repelled and persecuted by the Council of Ephesus and the party of Cyrill, formed at the eastern confines of the Empire, in Edessa, Nisibis, and Seleucia, a kind of mis- sionary Church for the interior of Asia, extending their labours especially from Chaldza and Assyria towards Persia. At their head were teachers of note, such as Ibas, Maris, and Barsumas, who were the means of propagating a zealous study of the Scripture. Under Persian protection, they obtained an ecclesi- astical organization of their own, and continued divided from the great body of the Church, under a patriarch (Catholicos), as a special schismatical Giarch party. ‘This was the first party which the Church showed itself incapable of overcoming—an AUGUSTINE. JULIAN OF ERLANUM. Vir incapability arising from its neglecting either to appropriate, or to evolve from itself the element of truth of which the party was the representative. or the same reason, at a later period, fresh attempts were repeatedly made, in the very bosom of the Church, to bring about a recognition of the fundamental Apis of Nestorianism, which was, that Christ possessed a true finan nature with a true personal self (Note 14). In the West, the Gallic monk Leporius gave in his adher- ence to Neutias but was persuaded by Augustine to retract. He then accepted merely an incarnation of the person, but not of the nature, of the Logos: of the latter he conceived the Logos emptied Himself im order to become man. Neither Augustine nor Ambrose (de Incarn.) developed any productive- ness.worthy of mention in connection with.the.present-dogma. The former effected the introduction of the for mula, “* Two natures in one person,” into the West. before the time ab Leo (Note 15). Augustine was less successful than with Leporius in his contest with Julian of Erlanum, who also directed his attention to Christology. The discussion started with anthro- pology, and revolved around the question, How are we to con- ceive of the impeccability of Christ? Augustine maintained that there could have been no concupiscentia in Christ, for that were sin. It was not enough that Christ fulfilled the panes th “ Walk not after the lusts of thine own heart ;” He also fulfilled that other, “Thou shalt not lust.” From these evil lusts He was freed by being born of.a-virgin. Julian objected, that this was confounding the ethical with the physical. If it was not actually penis for Christ to lust, He owed His virtue to a natural inability to feel as we feel. In this case the power, nay more, even the reality of His example, would have disappeared; for they are grounded on the fact, that although born of the Virgin and united with the Son of God, He was exposed to temptations as we are, yet. without sin, that is, without consent- ing to the temptations. Augustine says, urged Julian, that if lusts ever arose in Him, He was ipso facto a sinner, even though He might not suffer them to pass into action: but herein he does but confound the ethical with the physical. For, to assert that Christ could have been a sinner without consenting to evil, would be to assume the existence of an evil substance or nature, and to regard moral worth as independent of the free will. We 78 - §ECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. are bound, therefore, to say, that the rising of lust within us is not itself sin, but merely the possibility of sin. But Augustine (so proceeds Julian), after the manner of Apollinaris, denies the existence of a free will in Christ, without which virtue is inconceivable, and furbishes Apollinarism, which the Church has rejected, with the Manichzan principle that there exists not only amoral but also a natural evil, and that, out of regard to His impeccability, we must assume the presence of a idteed good. inChrist. To s say this, however, would be equivalent to saying that Christ did not take our nature (Note 16). At first (de Nupt.) Augustine’s views on the subject of con- cupiscentia were not quite Breca) His uncertainty was greatly due to the opinion, already prevailing, that chastity was a virtue of a higher order. The fact of Jerome’s going almost as far, in his contest with Jovinian, as to throw the blame of sin on generation as such, because it is connected with lust, contri- buted also thereto. When considering the matter more closely, however, he distinguishes (Op. imp. L. v.) between the “motus” of the “ natura sana,” and those of the “ natura vitiata.” From the latter alone does he affirm that Christ is free ; but, be it re- marked, by nature free. When Julian urges, that in such a case Christ could neither be said to have virtue nor to be our example, he forgets that even God is an example to men. Christ bore a perfect resemblance to our nature, but not to its faults; otherwise He could not have healed them. Some, indeed, suppose that that is no virtue which does not stand where there is a possibility of sin; but this is equivalent to say- ing, that the more virtue one desires to exhibit the more libido must one feel (c. Jul. v.15; Op. imp. iv. § 49). It is there- fore false in Julian to impute to him (Augustine), in any sense, a denial of the true humanity of Christ: he only | denies ‘to Christ the deformities of human nature. Physically, ‘it was possible for Christ to experience every kind of lust, as far as His humanity was concerned; but not necessary. He was. also, it is true, Son of God. The righteousness of Christ, like ours, depended on the active assistance of God; and when Julian maintains that Christ’s righteousness flowed from no difference between His nature and ours, but from the free act of His will, he proceeds as though he meant to deny the in- carnation ; for he seems to maintain that the righteousness of MONOPHYSITISM. COUNCIL OF CHALCEDON. vis Christ owed nothing at all to the circumstance that the assump- tion of human nature by the Logos had constituted God and man one person (Note 17). The question was thus brought to a point beyond which it could not advance in the then position of anthropology. The course taken by Augustine necessarily led to the denial of the freedom of Christ’s will; and this denial alone enabled him to retain his hold on the incarnation, though it involved the sacrifice of the truth and reality of the human development of Christ. Julian, on the other hand, was anxious to assert for Christ freedom of will, and the possibility of temptation and sin ; but failed to do it in such a way as enabled him to show that Christ could be more than a mere virtuous man, even the God- man. Lhe overthrow of Pelagianism soon hid from view, even in the West, the defect of a Christology of Augustine ies déscribed, anil strengthened the presumption (undoubtedly, for the most. part, tacitly held), that the will of Christ was not free; or, where freedom was conceded in name, the possibility of actual temptation was denied. CHAPTER THIRD. THE ATTEMPT TO MAKE MONOPHYSITISM SUPREME; AND THE COUNCIL OF CHALCEDON, A.D. 451. CYRIL had only entered into the compact with the school of Antioch in 432, on the one hand, because he found it unneces- sary to sacrifice his own view of one nature after the incarna- tion, and, on the other hand, because, by securing the general condemnation of Nestorius, he supposed himself to have got an earnest of the condemnation of Nestorianism and of the Antiocheians. This is evident from the fact that he did not then keep quiet, but made preparations for employing the 1 Jerome rendered still less service to Christology than even Augus- tine. His reply to Porphyry’s charge of vacillation with respect to John vii. 8 cll. 10 is as follows :—‘t Porphyry speaks thus: Nesciens omnia scandala ad carnem esse referenda” (caro is unquestionably equivalent to, state of accomodatio,— regarding which he had come into conflict with Augustine on account of Gal. ii. 11 ff.; Cf. Dialog. c. Pelag. i. 8, ii. 6, iii. 1). 80 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. position he had gained as a basis of operations to secure to his doctrine concerning the Person of Christ authoritative recogni- tion in the Church. His further literary efforts against Theo- dore and others were devoted to this purpose (Note 18); but, ere his object could be attained, he was overtaken by death in the year 444, His successor was Dioscurus, who trod in his footsteps. With the passionate zeal that characterized him, this man might well hope to accomplish the purpose for which his predecessor had laboured—to wit, the suppression of the already modified doctrine of the school of Antioch, and the establishment of the supremacy of the Alexandrian, especially as the close ties between the monks of Egypt and Syria had, in the course of time, been more and more firmly knit, and the Alexandrian type of doc- trine had made allies not only of them, but even of the abbots and monks in the neighbourhood of the metropolis. By the condemnation of Nestorius without any formal statement of what Nestorianism was, and without accepting the doctrine of Cyrill, the whole question in dispute had been brought into a false position, and the knot only more firmly tied. To both parties, reconciled as they were merely in appearance, the position must have been an unpleasant one. The party of Dioscurus had gained nothing so long as under Theodore’s name the doctrine of Nestorius could be propagated without hindrance, and that in a still more precise form. It felt that it must lose even the little it had already gained, unless it gained something more. The other party, however, was under a still more urgent necessity of securing for itself a more favourable position,—if it were not prepared, sooner or later, to submit to the conclusion, evidently justly drawn by Cyrill, that unless it had merely pretended to join in the condemnation of Nestorius, it must of necessity concur in Cyrill’s condemnation of Nestorianism. The consequence thereof would have been a denial, on their part, of the duality of natures_in Christ, taught. by Nestorius (he had never taught that. there were.two.persons), and the affirmation of the unity of nature, taught by Cyrill. In order to escape, once for all, from such a demand, and to avoid giving in their adherence to Monophysitism, only one course remained open to them, namely, to bring about supplementarily, or even under another name, the condemnation of the doctrine of Cyrill. PLANS OF THEODORET. Sl Cyrill’s efforts against Theodore having come to nought, and the Emperor being resolved not to favour a further advance of the Alexandrian doctrines, the situation seemed to present a favourable opportunity of making good the blow which had fallen on Nestorius by a counter-blow against. the doctrine of Cyrill, and consequently of bringing the matter, as far as pos- sible, back to the point at which it stood prior tothe Council of Ephesus, ‘This result was in part attained at the Synod. of Chalcedon. All that that Council. really did, was to decide on tw vo negations—the negation of the unity of nature, and that — of the duality of persons. Now, as Nestorianism had never really meant to assert the duality of the persons, it was less affected by this decision than the doctrine of Cyrill, who actually had taught the unity of nature. But let us now pass to the preliminary. history of the Council of Chalcedon. In 448 Theodoret published his book entitled “‘The Beggar” (épavictis), or 7 or modvpopdos; which was a decided challenge to the entire party of Cyrill, especially to the monks, to whom even the title of the work may possibly be a satirical allusion. By this challenge he aimed at rendering it impossible for the Church to sanction the ‘doctrine of Monophysitism.. He showed that it must end in representing God as subject to suffering and change, in introducing a confusion of the divine and area —all which threatens to corrupt the purity of the Christian conception of God with heathenish (pantheistic) elements. These arguments, which had long been the standing ones em- ployed against Cyrill, he did not expressly direct against Cyrill, but (and not without adroitness) against Apollinaris and the revivers of his error, whom he styled Synousiasts (cuvovcvactns) because they held that the divine and human essence coalesced in one. This mode of procedure was unjust, in so far as Cyrill and his party had also reprobated both the Apollinarian denial of the human soul of Christ, and the LopEoN that He had a veritable human nature even ineternity.' Still Theodoret was not so com- pletely unjust as some seem to suppose. For Apollinaris also had taught that there was pla dois; understanding thereby, undoubtedly, quite as much the essential oneness of he divine and human, as the unity of the person. . Cyrill, on the contrary, had deemed it necessary in thes? to insist on the infinite diversity, 1 See above, Part I., p. 1006 ff. 1021. P. 2.—VOL. I. F $2 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. yea, heterogeneity, of the divine and human. He had further taught, exactly as Apollinaris did, a unity, and not a duality, of thought and volition in Christ: in this respect keeping aloof from the later Dyotheletism. He attached importance also to the view that not only God (the Logos), but also Christ, pos- sessed and exercised a Divine miraculous power, and that the flesh of Christ was endowed with quickening Divine powers, especially in the Eucharist.‘ And, lastly, Cyrill made as little use of his doctrine of the “human soul of Christ” as Apollinaris of his opposed doctrine that Christ had not a human soul: it remained a dead thing. Apollinaris said, “If Christ did not learn, He must have been wise and holy from birth: He must have been raised above the necessity of exercise in knowledge and virtue.” Cyrill’s principles, strictly carried out, led to the same result, notwithstanding the artifices to which he resorted, —at one time affirming that the same Christ knew and did not know the same thing; at another, tracing such predicates of Christ as implied human imperfection to His love, which lead Him to take the place of human-kind, and to consider or speak of that which belonged to it as His own, although in the strict sense it belonged only to the men outside of Him.” To bring to light this family resemblance between the tendency followed by Cyrill’s party and doctrines already con- demned, accorded remarkably well with the design of the school of Antioch to pay off the blow struck at them by a counter-blow, and to raise up a barrier in the way of the Church’s rejection of that which constituted the central-point of historical Nestorianism. It can scarcely be regarded as ac- cidental, that in the same year in which Theodoret’s aggressive work was published, a formal attack on a chief representative of the Monophysitical view was made at a Particular_Synod held at_Constantinople,—so toned, however, that there was an appearance of agreement with Cyrill and Dioscurus. Theodoret’s “Eranist” may be regarded as the programme of this Synod. 1 T. v. 2, pp. 702, 707. 2 Ignorance, the acquisition of knowledge, and the strengthening of capacities by practice, were accordingly attributed to the humanity of Christ merely in a sense similar to that in which He is said by Paul to have become a curse for us, namely, by transference,—that is, by an évaPopé, in the manner of Cyril. THEODORET. EUTYCHES. 83 Eusebius of Doryleum appeared there_as_a_ complainant against Eutyches, the leader of the Monachist party in Con- stantinople: he thus also indirectly attacked the Egyptian party." Meanwhile, it would appear that the party of Dios- curus had managed to inspire the Emperor with a degree of distrust of that Synod; and the Patriarch Flavian tried to induce the Council to let the point of dispute rest, but the bishops insisted on prosecuting their case against Eutyches. Eutyches was, at first, unwilling to define more accurately his conception of the nature of Christ, and kept to expressly scriptural terms. At a later period, however, he acknowledged that he viewed Christ simply as his God, and as the Lord of heaven and earth; and that, after the incarnation, he could find no place for.a.duality of natures, although he granted their existence previous to the incarnation. How he explained the transition from duality to unity, is not very easy to dis- cover.” He admitted, it is true, that there was a copa avOpertwov, even subsequent to the unio, but not that there was an avOpwrov; consequently, viewing the Deity as the exclusive principle of personality in the one nature. The main difference between him and Cyrill lay in his further maintain- ing, that “this body of Christ was not of the same substance with ours.’ Still it was by no means his intention to represent the body (to the soud he makes no allusion) as absorbed by the divine nature, though later writers do attribute to him the doctrine of a dvats cvvOeros. He expressly repudiated the notion of a transmutation of the human element, derived from Mary, into the divine, ending in the volatilization and disap- pearance of the human ; as also, the doctrine of the swallowing up_of the humanity, which. Theodoret.-tried.to-.fasten-on--him. In his view, consequently, it continued to exist in some way or other. When, therefore, on the other hand, he shrank from 1 Mansi Concil. Coll. T. vi. 495 ff. and 650 ff. 2 The charge against him, of teaching the doctrine of the pre-existence of the humanity of Christ, that is, its existence in heaven, and of two persons which afterwards became one, was unquestionably mere logical wire- drawing. The same remark applies to the charge of teaching that the Logos did not assume anything really human, but merely produced some- thing resembling the human, when He erpérras érpaxn and became flesh, and that He merely passed through Mary. Theodoret was his calumniator in this respect. 84 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. declaring it, after the unio, to be of the same substance with us, his idea must have been, that the effect of the unio was not merely an. exaltation or glorification, ch an ennobling transmu- have compared the Aad nature to a a ‘of honey cast_into the sea, yet no comparison of the unio, as set forth by him, can be more relevant than that to such a chemical permeation (Note 19) of the human nature by the divine, as allowed of the former still continuing in some sense to exist. Eutyches was deposed ; and the condemnation of the doctrine that there was_but.one nature.after the incarnation, oud that the humanity of Christ..was completely. ojwoovevos ati Ours, resulted in the transference of the leadership once again to the school of Antioch. Cyrill’s doctrine was condemned by impli- cation, notwithstanding the stratagem resorted to, of employing him as a “testis veritatis,’ by means of passages of his writings wrenched from their proper connection. Kutyches, however, did not rest; but appealed to the Bishops of Alexandria and Rome, who, undoubtedly, in the days of Cyrill had always acted in concert. In agreement with them, he expressed his readiness to teach two natures. At this point the Hgyptian tendency (strictly so termed) was summoned to the foreground. It was to the interest of Dioscurus to attempt to make good the defeat he had suffered at this ctvodos évdn- podca, by means of a General Council; and both his great influence with the Court, and the expectation of having the Bishop of Rome on his side, encouraged him to hope for an issue of the most favourable character (Note 20). The contest, which, after being only half decided, had been interrupted by an armistice, it was now intended to bring to a definite conclusion. An Cicumenical..Council was summoned by the Emperor for the year 449 (Mansi Cone. vi. 503), in declared hostility to the Patriarch of Constantinople, Flavian, and with the express purpose of tearing up the Nestorian heresy by the very roots. Theodoret, and others who shared his opinions, especially all the members of the Synod held against Eutyches, were refused admittance to, or at all events were deprived of the right of voting at, the Council: Dioscurus was appointed to preside, and was entrusted with extended powers against the enemies of the holy, that is, the Alexan- THE ROBBER SYNOD, A. D. 449. 85 drian, faith. At the Synod itself, a multitude of fanatical monks, with the Abbot Barsumas, who had a seat and vote therein, at their head, wielded a terrorism which threatened to suppress with violence every opinion opposed to the doctrines of Cyrill. The first thing Dioscurus did, was to go back to the Council of Ephesus, urging that everything had been then unchangeably settled, and that, consequently, a reopening of the inquiry into the Church’s doctrine was inadmissible. The Kgyptian monks and bishops cried out against the doctrine that Christ consisted of two natures, saying, “‘ Whoso speaks of two natures is a Nestorius, and let -him be even cut asunder.” By means of tumult, violence, and trickery, the bishops of the oppo- site view found themselves compelled to acknowledge that there was one nature in Christ. The position taken up-was,-that the doctrine of two natures in Christ is opposed to the spirit of the first Synod of Ephesus; and that, consequently, the condemna- tion of Eutyches was unjustifiable, and the Synod of Constan- tinopte- héretical. Flavian and Eusebius were, in consequence, at once deposed. The same fate was designed also for Theo- doret and other leaders of the school of Antioch. Dioscurus was unquestionably right when he affirmed that the Council of Hphesus in 431 was substantially on his side ; and Cyrill’s mode of procedure then, was not so totally different from that of Dioscurus now, that it can be considered consistent to designate the first Council of Ephesus a holy Gicumenical Council, if it be just to call the second the Robber.Synod. Dioscurus followed up his victory with the same violence as he had used in gaining it. The Orientals either yielded to com- pulsion and outwardly conformed, or, like Theodoret, went into exile. Unexpectedly, however, the scene was destined to change. The Bishop of Rome, Leo the Great, a man of strong cha- racter, undaunted courage, and clear practical understanding,— more skilled, however, in the composition of formulas of a full- toned liturgical character than capable of contributing to the scientific development of a doctrine,—on whose co-operation Dioscurus had at first confidently reckoned, but to whom, in the violence of his ambition, he had neglected at Ephesus to pay due respect, had not yet 1 recorded his vote (Note 21). The course taken on a former occasion by “Eutyches and Flavian,* was ' Compare Mansi, v. 1823, 1329, 1351. eee: 86 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. now taken by the oppressed Orientals, especially by Theodoret," —they appealed to Leo at the close of the second Council of Ephesus. Even at Ephesus itself, Leo’s nuncio, the deacon Hilarus, had united in the protest entered by Flavian against the decision of the Synod. From this time Leo energetically _supported the Orientals (Note 22). As early as the 13th of June 449, Leo wrote to Flavian the celebrated Epistle, in which he endeavoured finally to decide the true doctrine of the Church regarding the Person of Christ. A distinctive peculiarity of this treatise is, that whilst, on the one hand, it lays down decidedly and_clearly, in separate pro- positions, that which Leo considered ought..to. form part_of a general Christian confession of faith ; on the other hand, it en- tirely evades the task properly devolving on a hoapean eee is, not merely to bring these propositions into juxtaposition, but also to exhibit their _internal.compatibility, and closemutual relationship,—in short, to present a clear connected image of the Person of Christ. This is the case, notwithstanding that, both in point of compass and form, he had attempted rather a theological treatise than a mere symbol or creed. Not in the tone of in- vestigation and argumentation, but in that of judicial decision,— in the full-toned solemn style of the Church, and with frequent recourse to arhetorical collocation of full-sounding antitheses,— he commences with the error of Kutyches, which gave rise to the dispute. He charges him with the denial of the true humanity of Christ, and Ma him first from the Apostles’ Greed,-and then fn the Scriptures (c. i.). Leo concedes that the gene- ration of Christ was unique and miraculous; but would not allow that the temporal birth of Christ either took anything away from, or added anything to, His divine eternal birth; or that, by the novelty of this creation, its distinctive generic cha- racter was abolished (ut per novitatem creationis proprietas remota sit generis). Christ devoted Himself entirely to the restoration of man, in order by His power to overcome death and the devil. We should have been unable to overcome the author of sin and death if our nature had not been appro- priated by Him, whom neither sin could stain, nor death retain ; —which independence of sin and death He owed to His having been conceived by the Holy Ghost in the womb of the Virgin, 1 Letter of Theodoret to Leo, Mansi, vi. 35. LEO’S LETTER TO FLAVIAN. 87 whio herself both conceived and gave birth to Him in the state of spotless virginity. He passes then to the question regarding the natures; and after deciding that there were two, He touches on their relation, not sc much ee each other, as to the individual acts and functions. In reference to the Sesh point, his main proposition is the following :—God so became man_that each nature and substance preserved its. distinctive characteristics, whilst both were conjoined in one person.’ This Boronalig might. in itself be the Ego—the bond of the unity of the natures: and then would arise the question as to its origin— whether it proceeded from one nature, or both, or from no nature at all; or again, whether it were a third something, in addition to the natures. Leo, however, understands by the personality, not so much the Ego, as the result of the conjunc- tion of natures, the sum-total of both, the collective person or centre of vital unity, which is at once ‘God andman The In- visible, Incomprehensible One, wished to become visible and comprehensible. In order to be a true mediator, it was neces- sary that in one aspect He should be able to die, in the other aspect, not be able to die.? He assumed the form of a servant without sin, thus exalting the humanity without curtailing the Deity ; for the self-abnegation by means of which the Invisible made Himself visible, and the Creator and Ruler of the Uni- verse sought to become one amongst mortals, was not a loss of power, but a compassionate act of condescension.? Both natures retained their individuality: and, as the form of God did not do away with the form of the servant, so the form of the servant did not detract from the form a God. God was not changed by His compassion, nor was man con- sumed by the Divine majesty. The true God was born in the entire and perfect nature of a true man: He was “totus in suis, totus in nostris.” ‘Thus, according to Leo’s representation, the Christian consciousness requires not merely that God shall 1 “Salva igitur proprietate utriusque nature (et substantize) et in unam coéunte personam, suscepta est a majestate humilitas, a virtute infirmitas, ab eternitate mortalitas, etc.” Cap. iii. 2 “ Ad resolvendum conditionis nostre debitum natura inviolabilis nature est unita passibili ; ut,—unus atque idem mediator dei et hominum et mori posset ex uno, et mori non posset ex altero.” 3 “ Assumsit formam servi—humanam augens, divinam non minuens: quia exinanitio illa—inclinatio fuit miserationis, non defectio potestatis.” — ©88 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. _ have human predicates in Christ, or that He shall have and bear a man both as to body and soul, or that He shall be and dwell in a man, but that He shall ss man; and yet, at the same time, it is not satisfied unless the two hs are repre- sented as existing on unmixed, and the divine nature as neither gaining nor fost anything ie the union. On the one hand, the ane should she represented as having become visible ane tangible in the form of a servant; on the other hand, humanity arent be represented as overshadowing the inaruhade of the Divine majesty, which yet remained internally undiminished and. entire. It was a deep thought, when, in answer to the charge of introducing an alteration into God by the incarnation, Leo reminded his opponents that God, so far from undergoing a change when He experiences compassion or love (miseratio), does: but pursue, by means of His work of love, the course already prescribed by justice. Nay more, Leo gives them to understand that God ought far rather to be said to have changed, if at the beginning He had been all goodness, and, after the fall, all severity, towards man,—if He had allowed justice to rob fim entirely of goodness, instead of supplementing His first loving arrangements by a still more secret mystery (sacra- mentum).! ; arene tine of God is eee by His love ; Tat observes, m a contrary spirit, that when the Son of God descended from the Divine tinone He did not quit His Father’s glory.’ If the descent of the Son from the throne is not combined with Ifis omnipresence, then to say that He still retained His glory, is equivalent to saying that He did not really empty Himself, but, strictly speaking, only veiled, or did not reveal, His Divine majesty. When giving prominence to the unity..of-the—Person of Christ, he does not hesitate to teach that the Son.of God not_ only fanned human nature, but actually became man—that the Eternal was born in time, that the Impassible suffered: and yet, when his aim is to preserve the distinction of the natures, he 1 “Opus fuit, ut incommutabilis Deus, cujus voluntas non potest sua benignitate privari, primam erga nos pietatis suze dispositionem sacramento occultiore compleret.” 2 Cap. iv. ‘‘ Filius Dei de ccelesti sede descendens et a paterna gloria, non recedens ingreditur heec mundi infima.” LEO’S LETTER TO FLAVIAN. 89 defines the mutual relationship as a mere relationship of commu- nion—the two natures are merely conjoined i in action.’ Cyrill had directed his entire efforts to the retention of a principle of unity even subsequent to the Unio, at the same time conceding the diversity of the predicates, and had aimed to characterize all acts and sufferings as at once divine and human (divine-human): Leo, on the contrary, distributed one thing to the divine, and another to the human nature, even after the Unio ;- for example, miracles he apportioned tothe divine nature, sufferings to the human. “It did not become one and the same nature to say, ‘I and the Father are one,’ and, ‘ The Father is greater than I.’”? God and man were indeed, in Christ, one person, and_there- fore reproach and honour were common to both; but the re- proach of each, and the honour of each, came from a different ‘quarter. Leo says clearly, and this constitutes his merit, that the fundamental truth of Christianity is sacrificed. quite cea by a curtailment of the humanity, as_by a curtailment. of. the divinity 0 of Christ. 3 He displayed also great ecclesiastical tact in the manner in which he repeatedly describes Nestorianism and Kutychianism, as two opposed rocks, on each of which alike a correct doctrine of the incarnation must suffer shipwreck,— a thought to which he often subsequently recurred.* At the Council of Ephesus the Church was brought into such a posi- tion of antagonism to Nestorius, that the victory of Cyrill’s doctrine of one nature seemed inevitable ; but Leo now did_all in his power so to influence the development of the Church, 1 “ Agit enim utraque forma cum ulterius communione, quod proprium est, Verbo scilicet operante quod Verbi est, et carne exsequente quod carnis est.” ‘** Forma” is in the nominative case. 2 Cap. iv. ‘‘Unum horum coruscat miraculis, alterum succumbit in- jurlis—non ejusdem nature est, dicere, ‘Ego et pater unum sumus,’ et dicere, ‘ Pater major me est.’” With the doctrine of a real ‘‘ communicatio ? idiomatum,” such as is taught by the Lutheran Church, the Epistle of Leo, sanctioned by the Council of Chalcedon, is not in harmony. 3 Cap. v. ‘‘ Catholica ecclesia hac fide vivit, hac proficit, ut in Christo Jesus nec sine vera divinitate humanitas, nec sine vera humanitate divinitas,” for, ‘‘negatio vere carnis negatio est etiam corporee passionis. Unum horum sine alio receptum non proderat ad salutem et zqualis erat periculi, dominum Jesum Christum aut deum tantummodo sine homine, aut sine deo solum hominem credidisse.” * Mansi, vi. ep. 54, p. 46; ep. 75, p. 97; ep. 90, pp. 127, 180. Tom. v. ep. 30, p. 1398. Tom. vi. ep. 88, p. 124. 90 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. that it should pursue a middle course between two equally ob- jectionable extremes. Whether he or the Council of Chalcedon actually hit upon this middle course, is another question. ‘One thing only is certain, be it precursorily remarked : that Leo’s rejection of the twofold personality ascribed to Nestorius, and of the doctrine of a conversion (transubstantiation) of the \ human nature into the divine, in which there then remained only a congeries of human predicates as accidents of a foreign | substance, throws little or no positive light.on the Unio itself, \ and the internal relation of the two natures. Most of the other | propositions adduced above are mere verbal conjunctions of enantiophantes, which are imposing as paradoxes, but in no re- spect clear up the difficulty. This letter to Flavian, partly through the influence of him and his friends, and partly through its own intrinsic value, speedily attained wide circulation and recognition. But when Leo found that the so-called Robber Synod not only refused to accept his exposition, but that Dioscurus had even undertaken to excommunicate him ; when, further, he had received an accurate account of the tumults which had taken place at the Synod, of the maltreatment of Flavian, and the deposition of others,—he drew up the project of anew Cicumenical Council, to be held in Italy, for the special consideration of this subject. Theodosius the Younger regarded him, it is true, with little favour; was formerly, and still remained, devoted to Dioscurus; urged that the peace of the Church would have been at once established had the decisions of the second Council of Ephesus been carried out; and, further, questioned Leo’s right to pronounce judgment in the matter. Moreover, great difficulty attended the reinstate- ment of the deposed bishops; firstly, because not only a great part of the Church, comprehending the Egyptian, Palestinian, and Illyrian bishops, who, leagued with a host of monks in Asia and Africa, formed a considerable force, took the side of Dioscurus ; but also, secondly, because nearly all the Oriental bishops at the Synod of Ephesus had, even though under con- straint, subscribed that which Dioscurus required. Here again Leo acted with remarkable circumspection and prudent calm- ness, in endeavouring to compass his end. Possessing the spirit of a statesman, he had an inexhaustible mine of resources. So long as there was hope of securing any one as an ally, he LEO’S CHURCH POLICY. 91 adopted a moderate and persuasive tone ; but no sooner was the desired ally seen to be an opponent, than he openly opposed him, speaking and acting firmly, and with increasing plainness. As his Epistle to Theodosius produced no effect, he addressed himself to Valentinian and Marcian, and some of the female members of the imperial family; but their interference also proved of no avail. Towards Flavian’s successor, Anatolius, who had announced to him his election, Leo took up an expect- ant posture, until he should have signed his Epistle to Flavian. At the same time, he was unwearied in his efforts to sustain the courage and faithfulness of those who were favourable to Flavian. With this view he wrote both the series of letters to Greek and Gallic Dishone, and the cireular to the clergy and people of Constantinople.’ In these he tried to prove the reality of the humanity of Christ from the holy Eucharist. In this mystical repast of spiritual food, says he, it is given us to receive the strength of the heavenly food, that we may be changed into the flesh of Him who became our flesh.?- He further shows, that in passages which speak of an exaltation of Christ, we must necessarily allow Arianism to be in the right, unless they be referred to a veritable humanity. Eutyches, he maintains, must either con- ceive the Godhead to be subjected to suffering, or altogether deny the truth of the humanity of Christ. The Pane Son of God became a Son of man, not by a transmutation of His substance ; but, assuming our nature, He came to seek that which was lost. His coming was proclaimed from the very beginning of the human race (cap. iv.). Not, however (cap. ul.), by an approach as through space, or by a bodily movement towards us, as though He had previously been absent, and now became present; nor did His coming involve His leaving the 1 Mansi vi. ep. 59, pp. 57-64, compare ep. 50, p. 29. 2 “Tn illa mystica distributione spiritalis alimoniz hoc impertitur, hoc sumitur, ut accipientes virtutem ccelestis cibi in carnem ipsius, qui caro nostra factus est, transeamus. —In quibus isti ignorantiz tenebris —jacuere, ut nee—cognoscerent quod in ecclesia dei in omnium ore tam consonum est, ut nec ab infantium linguis veritas corporis et sanguinis Christi inter communionis sacramenta taceatur:” cap. ii. As Augustine deemed the holy rite of Baptism (specially infant baptism) to have an important bear- ing on the formation of an anthropology, so Leo the holy Hucharist on Christology. The conversion he regards as taking place in us. 92 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. place whence He proceeded. He came in and through that which was visible and accessible to all, in order that He might become an object of immediate perception; He assumed the’ body and soul of man, in order that He might unite the form of a servant with the form of God, which He retained eae exalting His humanity..without curtailing His Deity! He lacked “nothing that can certainly be said properly to belong to human nature,—neither soul, reason, nor body. ‘The last mentioned originated neither in a transmutation of the Word into flesh, nor in a new creation, but was taken from Mary (cap. v.). Dioscurus he did not excommunicate; and that, unquestion- ably, because of the intended Council, and the number and influence of his adherents ; for it was desirable to avoid a breach which might either give Dioscurus the predominance in the Council, or at all events endanger the victory. Leo’s prepara- tions were nevertheless unwearied. He particularly adopted the plan of holding lesser synods in Rome, which rejected the second Council of Ephesus as a Robber Synod, and gave in their adhesion to Leo’s doctrine. The Gallic and Oriental bishops did so also. It is hard to say, however, whether he would have attained his goal had not Theodosius the Younger died in 450. Through this event Leo gained the powerful support of Valentinian, and especially of Marcian: Dioscurus, on the contrary, lost his ally. With the greatest readiness did they agree to Leo’s demand for a Council; desiring, however, that it should be assembled in Asia Minor, not in Italy. Now, however, Leo suddenly preferred that the Council should be postponed, if not altogether abandoned; professedly, on account of the incursions of the barbarians into Italy, which rendered the absence of many of the bishops impossible;—really, 1 Compare herewith the passage quoted in note 2, page 88. This ex- altation is involved in the very fact of the incarnation of the Son, so far as honour was thus done to humanity ; especially, however, in the fact of the resurrection (compare Hagenbach’s ‘‘ Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte,” 3 Aufl. 1853, p. 230),—de resurr. dom. c. 4: Resurrectio Domini non finis carnis sed commutatio fuit nec virtutis augmento consumta substantia est. The caro remained ‘‘ipsa per substantiam, non ipsa per gloriam,” for, ‘‘factum est corpus impassibile, immortale, incorruptibile.” Relatively to the body of Christ the process was conceded, which, in reference to the soul, was for the most part denied. COUNCIL OF CHALCEDON. 93 because the Council was not to be held in Italy, and because, in thé altered position of affairs, a satisfactory issue appeared easier of attainment without a Council.! But the Council was appointed to meet; and the space intervening between the con- vocation and the assembling was so short, that it was impossible for all the bishops to receive the summons in time (Note 23). Still Leo was unwilling to oppose the Emperor. He only ex- pressed a hope that the members of the Council would not be under obligation to meddle with difficult points of dispute, espe- cially as the Orientals had already subscribed the condemnation of Nestorius and Eutyches. Leo’s idea had been,? not to allow any controversy whatever on matters of faith at the Council, but simply to set before the bishops the alternative, either nt abiding by Cyrill’s letter. to. Nestorius,. or. of adopting. Leo's letter to Flavian ; and to open the door for the readmission, under the prescribed conditions, of all those bishops who eal either taught or acted in opposition thereto (as, for example, by subscription at the Council of Ephesus). The imperial rescript, however,..required the...more. accurate. definition. of matters of faith. | When the Council of Chalcedon was opened, two great parties stood in direct opposition to each other; and the two chief representatives of these parties—in the one case Eutyches, in the other Flavian—had been in turn deposed and excom- municated. It would have been necessary for these two parties to continue much longer under the moral and _ intellectual treatment of the Holy Spirit, ere attaining to concord, had not the power and will of the Emperor supplied the place of harmony of spirit. The proceedings commenced with an indictment, in due form, of Dioscurus, and the validity of his Council. His adherents, however, were so powerful, and so little inclined towards the milder doctrine of the school of Antioch, which was in the end adopted by the Council of Chalcedon, that when Theodoret, who had again been acknow- ledged bishop by the Emperor and Leo, entered the assembly for the purpose of taking his place in it, the bishops from Egypt, Palestine, and Illyria cried out with a loud voice, “The faith is perishing ; the laws of the Church cast him out; cast 1 Mansi, vi. ep. 84, p. 105. 2 Ep. 70, pp. 86, 87, 1. c. ad Pulcheriam. 94 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. out the teacher of Nestorius.”! When the same cry was raised against Dioscurus by the Orientals, the civil authorities present at last secured quiet, by causing (with very little impartiality it must be confessed, when we recall to mind the Council of 431) Theodoret to appear in the character of accuser, and Dioscurus in that of accused. Only very unsatisfactorily, we must allow, could the latter justify his violent and illegal pro- cedure at Ephesus; but, as regards the matter of faith, he was fully able to show that he had then adopted no other course than that which Leo, in his manner (as has been ob- served above), intended to pursue at Chalcedon. No disputes about the faith ought to be allowed, but they should simply abide by the old decisions. Amongst these, he of course reckoned, not alone the decisions of Nicea, but also those of the first Synod of Ephesus. Whoso takes away therefrom, or adds thereto, let him be excommunicated. After this, and what had passed before, he felt justly conscious of not desiring any other faith than that of Cyrill, and of not at all needing innovations. All he wanted was the general recognition of the principles which led the first Synod of Ephesus to depose Nestorius. As Dioscurus took his stand firmly on this posi- tion, the situation became an awkward one. Authorities were opposed to authorities. A decision would involve a split; nay more, it would be impossible to arrive at a decision unless Leo and his party could succeed, as Cyrill had done at Ephesus, in transferring the question from the sphere of the dogmatical to that of the personal and formal. In that way the opposed party might be struck down in its leader; and after a victory over the person of Dioscurus, which would give a tone to the whole affair, they might return to the dogma, and succeed in forcing concessions from his dispirited party. The attention of the Council was first of all directed to the acts of the two Synods of Ephesus, as also to those of the Synod of Flavian, held at Constantinople, with the view of testing the legality of the procedure of Dioscurus in deposing Flavian and reinstating Eutyches.’ 1 Mansi, Tom. vi. conc. Chalc. actio prima, p. 590. | 2 To this circumstance we owe the preservation of, at all events, a large part of the acts of the said three earlier Councils. They were incorporated with the acts of the Council of Chalcedon. f 4 COUNCIL OF CHALCEDON. 95 Not before the conduct.of Dioscurus-had-been investigated, and he had been pronounced worthy of deposition, was. the dogma in “dispute. again brought under closer consideration." In this connection, it is more remarkable than gratifying to observe the difference in the manner of employing the autho- rity of the very same Fathers, between the two Synods of Ephesus, in 431 and 449, on the one side, and those of Con- stantinople and Chalcedon, on the other side. The principal Fathers of the Church are cited in part in support of the decisions of opposed Synods,—especially the Bishops of Rome. As favourable to the doctrine of Oyrill, were adduced at the first Synod of Ephesus, on whose authority the second Synod of Ephesus leaned in dogmatical questions,” the testimony of Peter of Alexandria, of Athanasius, of the Roman Bishops Julius and Felix, of Theophilus of Alexandria, of Cyprian, Ambrose, and Gregory Nazianzen;’—some of whom employed the ex- pression Geord«os, as Gregory and Athanasius; others protesting against a duality of Sons ; and others again teaching, either that Christ is nothing but the incarnate Word, or that it is correct to speak of the one (but that the) incarnate nature of the Word of God. Basilius says, that through the medium of His flesh, God suffered without suffering. Similar passages from Atticus of Constantinople and Amphilochius of Iconium were then also adduced. Suffering is invariably represented as the chief end of the incarnation :—not that the suffering was supposed to have touched the essential nature of ie Deity, which rather remained unaffected, but that God sub- jected Himself to it through the eR of His flesh. In short, Dioscurus said, at the second Council of Ephesus, “ We conceive of the presence of Christ in the flesh as did Athana- sius, Cyrill, Gregory, and all orthodox bishops.” The Council of Constantinople, on the contrary, had ap- pealed to a letter of Cyrill to Nestorius,* in which he writes :— Sp Incarnation was not a transmutation of the Logos into flesh, nor into an entire man with soul and body. He is man in that He united_hypostatically with Himself (évwcas éavtd xad’ iméatacw), a fleshly body animated by a rational soul. Hence was He designated, ‘ Son of Man ;’ not merely because it was 1 Mansi, Tom. vi. actio il., p. 937 ff. 2 Mansi, vi. 867. 3 Mansi, vi. 876-886. * Mansi, vi. 661. 96 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. His will or good pleasure to be so designated, nor merely be- cause of His assumption of a (human) person. The natures thus conjoined in true unity are indeed different, but the two constitute one Christ and Son. Not as though the distinction of the natures had been abolished, for the sake of the unity ; but by being mysteriously canvanen in unity, they constituted for us the one Lord and Christ.” Reference is then further made to the previously noticed letter addressed by Cyrill to John of Antioch, which, whilst favourable to the school of Antioch, through its adoption of their creed, yet gave it such an interpretation as might have contented even Eutyches. Other passages from Cyrill’s writings, which contain his real doctrine, and where he employs such expressions as pla hious doyou cecapKapévn, puoikn Evwors, were passed over in silence by the Council of Constantinople. The Fathers at.Chalcedon resorted to methods of harmonizing characterized.by-precisely the same arbitrariness. That which was opposed to their views in the writings of Cyrill they silently suppressed. Nor did even the cry of distress, raised by the justly astonished adhe- rents of Dioscurus, at such a representation of Cyrill, “ Dios- curus rather holds the faith of Cyril,” bring his real teachings to the light. Scarcely, however, would the. Egyptian ae have lowed themselves to be persuaded to recognise the Cyrill of the Council of Chalcedon, who was much..too like an Antiocheian to pass for the genuine Cyrill, had not the oppo- sition to Dioscurus already gone to great lengths, and the dog- matical bias of the Court been clearly manifested. These two considerations supplied any lack of force in the historical argu- ments adduced by their opponents. At Chalcedon, the two letters of Cyrill above mentioned were publicly read; then that of Leo to Flavian; and, afterwards, a series of passages from Hilary, Gregory Nazianzen, Ambrose, and Chrysostom, and some also from other writings of Cyrill. Hereupon the bishops cried out, with reference to the letter of Leo, “That is the faith of the Peres: that is the faith of the Apostles: Peter has spoken through Leo; Leo and Cyril have taught the same doctrines ; fats Cyrill be held in eternal Pee iranced Ana- thema to him who does not hold this faith! Why was it not thus read to us in Ephesus? Dioscurus concealed it from us!” As though the Egyptian party, accurately acquainted as it was - COUNCIL OF CHALCEDON. . 97 with the writings of Cyrill, did not well know that not merely the conflicting aspects of his doctrine, but even the real doc- trine itself, had now been suppressed.’ In this way it became probable that the wish of the Emperor—a wish undoubtedly inspired by political considera- tions—would attain realization. At first, a great part of the assembly, along with Leo, deemed it advisable not to enter upon strictly dogmatical discussions, and not to attempt the construction of another new creed; but Marcian persisted in desiring that the two _great_and_powerful ecclesiastical parties should, if possible, be united by means of one formula of con- cord. And many showed an inclination to fall in with this wish. After the alarming personal defeat of Dioscurus, and after the reading of the quotations just referred to, the imperial authorities present in the assembly were well able to ask, “ Who, after all that, is in doubt?” whereupon the bishops cried out, “No one doubts!” Still, Atticus of Nicopolis begged for a delay of a few days, in order that, in calm reflection and quiet, a formula might be constructed (tu7@64), which should embody what was consonant to the will of God and the holy Fathers. Leo’s letter, he urged, has been read, it is true; but Cyrill’s letter to Nestorius, to the twelve chapters of which he required him to assent, should also be read, in order that the bishops may be properly prepared to enter on the business before them. Others then cried out, “ We demand also that the Fathers be thoroughly examined!” The ship was thus again steered towards the breakers from which it had just scarcely escaped. The imperial judges and senators hit upon the expedient of a five days’ postponement; requesting the bishops, however, to advise with each other, and with the Patriarch of Constantinople, regarding the faith, and to get light upon their doubts. The bishops, probably the Orientals, then cried out, “We believe as Leo believes; none of us doubts; we have already sub- scribed (viz., Leo’s letter). But the authorities replied, that it was not necessary for all to meet, but yet right that doubters should be convinced; and, for this purpose, it would be well 1 Now, it is true, we stand at the close of Actio ii., Tom. vi. 971 ff., when this party saw fit, instead of making an uproar, as at the commence- ment, to ery out, ‘‘We have all sinned ;—forgiveness for all! We pray you have compassion on all!” (p. 975). LPI Freeh AOA WES IC G 98 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. for Anatolius to select from the number of those who had sub- scribed, such as were fitted to enlighten the ignorant and doubt- ing. What this meant, was plain enough to the Egyptian party. Instead of a discussion in which the same rights were to be conceded to them as to their opponents, the imperial authorities gave them to understand that they were expected to allow themselves to be convinced, by Anatolius and others, of the correctness of Leo’s doctrine. And now the Egyptian party exclaimed, “ We ask for the Fathers, for the Fathers of the Synod.” But the opposite party cried out, “Of the Synod, those who agree with Leo; into exile with Dioscurus; whoso holds fellowship with him is a Jew!” and then the Egyptian and Illyrian bishops begged for mercy for their own persons and that of Dioscurus.’ Still they were by no means convinced, and had no intention of surrendering at discretion. A degree of obscurity lies upon these private proceedings. What took place in the first instance, can only be learnt from a sudden change which came over both the Emperor and Ana- tolius. The Egyptian party showed itself, possibly, more ob- stinate and dangerous than the Emperor had supposed: the haughty and defiant Barsumas, who had taken part in the murder of Flavian, had again made his appearance: Eutyches stirred up the fire—a host of monks was like a swarm of bees when excited —and held out bold threats of the excommunica- tion of the bishops; they refused to recognise the deposition of Dioscurus, and went to him for counsel. Petitions were ad- dressed to the Emperor, who was the more inclined to adopt a considerate mode of treatment, as the few Egyptian bishops who were still present had already withdrawn from the Synod, declaring that they must be prepared for a general feeling of indignation at the Council in their dioceses, and for certain death as the penalty of their participation in it. In short, the first signs of the brewing storm of.Monophysitism, which was destined soon enough to burst, showed themselves. even at Chalcedon. In addition to this, the Emperor wished his metro- polis, the new Rome, to be a patriarchate of the second rank, which was only possible at the expense of Alexandria; on which ground both he and Anatolius were probably disposed to make concessions in other matters, especially as both of them began 1 Mansi, vi. 973 ff. ae ee COUNCIL OF CHALCEDON. 99 to feel annoyed at the very marked predominance exercised, however deservedly, by Leo. Finally, it must not be forgotten that Anatolius had formerly been in the service of Dioscurus, and therefore had probably shared his dogmatical views. Ac- cordingly, the following project_seems to have been-sketehed. Nothing was to be done to prevent. Leo’s circular from continu- ing to enjoy the recognition which it had gained (nay more, efforts were made to influence the Egyptian party in its favour); for, both in itself, and on account of the Orientals and Leo, that was undesirable. They took up, instead, with the idea of a new special creed, in which the dogmatical views of the Eeyptians should be duly recognised. Inasmuch as the sym- bolum of the Synod itself must naturally attain to greater practical importance, and be accepted as the standard for the interpretation of a treatise approved by the said Synod, if they could succeed in carrying through such a symbolum, Leo’s letter would be made as harmless as possible, and the Egyptian party perhaps tranquillized. To this end an ambiguous formula was quietly constructed (apparently without the prevision of Leo’s nuncios) ; communicated in the first instance to a wider circle of bishops, which must have comprised a very large number; and, immediately after Actio IV., when Leo’s letter was accepted by the bishops in council, and every one, con- sequently, on the Oriental side secured, laid before the Synod. By those to whom it was first communicated it was universally approved. But, whether because the Roman nuncios had afterwards bethought themselves, or because they had never been favourable to it, when the symbolum was laid before the Synod, the Orientals, with whom the Romans agreed, loudly NETS ST ATE been preserved; but it must have contained the formula that Christ consisted_of two natures (éx dvav dicewv). This, of course, the Monophysite part could adopt; for they granted, in abstracto,that Christ had become out of two natures one, and only repudiated that which this symbolum cannot have in- cluded, namely, that after the unio also there were two distinct natures in Christ; or, that Christ subsisted in a duality. of 1 John of Germanicia expressed the doubts of others in the words (Tom. vil. 100), Odx xyes xeerds 6 Coos, wal éDelrce naras yevecdas. 100 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. natures. When it was found that this symbol did not produce concord, and that the nuncio threatened to leave if they de- parted from Leo’s letter, the inclination of the Emperor to make concessions to the obstinate Egyptian party was again paralyzed ; and the only effect of the whole incident was to bring clearly to light the contemptible dependence of the Synod on the will and power of the Emperor, the influence of intrigue, and especially the fact, that the majority of these men were capable of giving in their adhesion to two opposed symbols at one and the same Synod. The Emperor now issued an injunction to the Council to prepare another symbol (Note 25). A commission, consisting of representatives of the different parties, met for consultation, and agreed upon “the Symbol of Chalcedon,” which,.on_being laid before the Synod, was adopted and_ subscribed without protest. At the following sitting, the Emperor Marcian ap- peared in person; announced it to be his will that all his peoples should hold one faith; declared that Constantine was his model in ecclesiastical matters; and promised to take measures “for securing the universal recognition of the doctrinal decisions of the Synod as authoritative, and for preserving to the Church the blessing which had proceeded from their labours.” ‘The decisions of the Council were then solemnly read in his pre- sence. They had been already subscribed in the former sitting. The Emperor then asked whether all assented to the formula as it had then been read to them. They exclaimed, “So do we all believe; we are of one mind, one opinion. That is the faith of the Fathers, of the Apostles: this faith hath delivered the whole world! Hail to Marcian, the second Constantine, the second Paul, the second David!” Nor did they forget to designate the Empress a second Helena! Both were lauded as lights of orthodoxy, and peace was promised to the whole world. The conduct of the Emperor was the most dignified and honourable. He first thanked God, although he had caused them great trouble; but he admonished them to pray that God would everywhere bestow peace. He then notified that punish- ment would be visited on those who should stir up discontent and confusion in opposition to the conclusions now arrived at. As far as the decisions of the Council of Chalcedon them- selves are concerned, they repeat the Nicene and Constantino- THE SYMBOL OF CHALCEDON. 101 politan symbol of the year 381: the Council of Ephesus also is mentioned, although only in a general way, with approval.' The Nicene-Constantinopolitan Council, it was observed, was, strictly speaking, sufficient, in regard to the Trinity and the in- carnation, for such as sincerely accepted it. But as the enemies of the truth, by their heresies, had given rise to new errors, — some venturing to corrupt the mystery of faith by the denial of the @coroxos, and others introducing confusion and commixture by teaching that the flesh and the Godhead were one nature, that the divine nature of the Son was made capable of suffering by mixture,—the Synod determined, in order to put an end to all such machinations against the truth, to give a full and per- fect statement of the doctrine which from the beginning had re- mained unchanged. In carrying out this purpose, they adopted the synodal circular letter of Cyrill to Nestorius and the Orientals, in opposition to the errors of Nestorius; as also the letter addressed by Leo to Flavian, in opposition to the Euty- chian heresy. It repudiated alike those who, rending asunder the one mystery of the Divine economy, tried.to bring in. a duality ‘of Sons; those who. take upon themselves..to.say.that the Godhead of the Only-begotten.is.capable.of suffering ; and those who teach, either that the two natures were intermixed or blended, or, that the servant’s form assumed..by Him. was. of heayenly,.or any other than. human,.substance, and who pretend that, previous.to.the union,.there.were. two natures, but. after it only one. “ Following the example of the holy Fathers, we , Le i> \ teach and confess one and the same Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, the same perfect in deity, and the same perfect in ferney, very God and very man, consisting of reasonable soul and flesh, of the same substance with the Father as touching His Godhead, of the same substance with us as touching His humanity; in all things like to us, without sin; begotten of the Father, as touching His Godhead, before the AZons; begotten in the latter days, for our redemption, of the Virgin Mary, the mother of God, as touching His humanity; one and the same Christ, Son, Lord, Only-begotten (do we confess), in two natures (al. of two natures, éx duav dvcewy), acknowledged unmixed, unconverted, undivided, so that the distinction of natures was never abolished by the union, but rather the peculiarity of each preserved, and 1 Mansi, vil. 109. 102 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. combined into one person and one hypostasis (Note 26): not one, severed or divided into two persons, but one and the same Son and Only-begotten, Him who is God, Adyos, and the Lord Jesus Christ.. And inasmuch as the holy Synod has formu- larized these things in all aspects, with all accuracy and care, it decrees that it be not allowed to propound any other faith, neither in writings nor in thought, nor to teach it to others. Whosoever dareth to act in opposition to this decree, shall be deposed, if of the clergy; shall be excommunicated, if of the laity.” We have not concealed how much corruption was mixed up with the movements and struggles which took place between the first Council of Constantinople and the Council of Chalce- don. Very far indeed was the latter, notwithstanding its 630 bishops, from deserving to be invested with canonical authority. The Fathers of this Council displayed neither the unanimity of an assembly animated by the Holy Spirit, nor that firmness of judgment which is raised above vacillation and inconsistency, nor that courage in the maintenance of convictions,-which is possible where a clear and distinct common understanding has been arrived at, after long internal conflicts. When this has taken place, the clarified and ripened knowledge easily, and at the right moment, finds a common expression, in which all believers recognise their own views, which they afterwards justly hold in great honour, and which they fit in to the growing edifice of the Church’s knowledge, as another solid and well-wrought stone. But the decision at Chalcedon was premature, originating in an impatient desire for an absolute uniformity of creed, such as we do not find in the first centuries of the history of the Christian Church. The Council compelled entire churches to choose between blind submission to decisions, of the correctness of which they were still very far from being inwardly convinced, on the one hand; and exclusion from communion with the Church General, on the other hand: and when the latter alter- native was preferred, they were thrown back upon themselves, and shut out from the wholesome influence of the rest of Christendom. The Church also thus deprived itself, as far as lay in its power, of the co-operation of a factor whose help was still urgently required if the Christological process should not be brought to a standstill. THE SYMBOL OF CHALCEDON. 103 This, however, is but one, and that the empirical aspect, of the matter. If even a scientific view of history, in the general sense of the word, justly requires that a higher reason be seen to hold energetic sway over the human weaknesses, vacillations, and passions which cross each other continually, and of which no one in particular can claim to have all the right on its side ; and if, at decisive conjunctures in ancient times, which have ex- ercised a lasting influence on following ages, it is especially inclined to expect to find that some step has been taken in advance, which, though not perhaps blameless in manner, is still worthy of note: then surely it becomes Christian science to contemplate and weigh decisions like those of the Council of Chalcedon, whose effects were so decisive and enduring, not merely in the light of their empirical origin,—with which, un- questionably, much ungodliness both of thought and act was associated,—but with the reflection, that even the impurity of man is unable to stay the progress of the work of the kingdom of God.. Without prejudice, therefore, it is our duty to con- sider the question, whether in Chalcedon something salutary was not effected for the development of the doctrine of the Person of Christ. ~ When we examine the decrees of Chalcedon from this point of view, we find, firstly, that their determinations were, in part, genuinely — Gixsiohcical secondly, that, as contrasted with Monophy sitism, which was ready to rest euttcd with a unity in its immediate, undeveloped form, they have both a scientific and religious value, however unsatisfactory and inconclusive the new positive theses of the Council may be in themselves. Firstly, It cannot be denied that Nestorius and Hutyches were; in point of fact, treated unjustly at the Councils. of Ephesus. and. Gialeadon’ They had not taught what these Synods represented them as teaching; and consequences drawn from their teachings were treated as principles distinctly laid down. It was not proved that Eutyches held either the divine nature to have become capable of suffering in Christ, or the human nature to have been absorbed in the divine; and yet, at the Council of Chalcedon, he was reproached with both views, and that although they are scarcely reconcileable with each other. It has been proved that Nestorius did not mean to teach a duality of persons in Christ. But, even though the 104 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. Synod was wrong on this point, it was not wrong in deciding that the two theories of Nestorianism and Eutychianism, to which henceforth a dogmatical, instead of a merely historical, } significance attached, dhoald ne anticipatorily laid down as buoys pointing out to the Church the middle course, along which its voyage must proceed. In this respect, the Symb. Chalc. may be characterized as a declaration, on the part of the Church, that no doctrine of the Person of Christ can lay claim to the name of Christian which puts a double Christ in the / place of the incarnate Son of God, or which teaches either a mere conversion of God into a man, or, vice versd, of aman into God. The former, that is, the Nestorian view, does not admit of a process by which God becomes man, and a man becomes God: both, on the contrary, are left, as in the ante-Christian period, essentially and eternally separate. On the other hand, its EKutychian counterpart represents the process as advancing with a physical rapidity, so that either the divine nature, being converted into human, ceases to exist, and the man alone re- mains behind in Christ (Ebionitically); or, at the first con- tact of the divine with the human, the latter is transmuted into the former. But a true incarnation of God is incompatible with either of the just-mentioned alternatives. Docetism and Ebionitism equally do away with the fundamental fact of Chris- tianity, which must be perennial; and it makes only an appa- _ rent difference, whether the reality of either the divine or the human aspect of the Person of Christ be called in question from the very commencement, as in the case of the early Ebionitism and Docetism; or whether the annulment of the one or the other be the result of the process commenced with both aspects. The atpértws, acvyy’tas must, therefore, hold good of both aspects of the Person of Christ, namely, of their essence. Be- sides rejecting the notion of a twofold personality, by the adoption of the more precise terms ddvarpétas, ay@piotas, the Council decided that the two aspects_of the one person-may not be conceived as separated or.divided. Now, although these are but. negative determinations, they involve the demand that the two natures should constitute a real unity, and the repudiation of an identification either in the one or the other mode. Secondly, In the history of our dogma up to this time, there has passed before us, it is true, a multitude of attempts to show ee THE SYMBOL OF CHALCEDON. 105 how the two natures, according to the conception thereof in vogue at each period, were united in the one person. But, apart feat the circumstance, that down to the fourth century the conception formed of the two natures was an imperfect one, and that, consequently, the conception of their union could not but be also imperfect (as in the case of Arianism and Apollinarism), the form which this unity of the Person of Christ took in the common faith of the Church, with the single exception of the school of Antioch, was such that no further endeavour was made to discriminate the two aspects subse- quently to the Unio. Not that there was any intention of denying the reality of the two aspects; but doubt, seemed to it to be thrown on the very incarnation itself, unless everything human in Christ were represented as also divine, and every- thing divine as also human. And, in point of fact, even that grand Christian intuition, which we have designated the mysti- eal one, and which united as it were in one view such apparent opposites as the infinite and the finite, entirely failed, so far as can be ascertained, definitely to distinguish between the divine and the human. ‘This, indeed, was only possible on the con- dition that a conception had Been formed of each by itself, and apart from the other, such as the Unio was not avakidered to admit. On the contrary, special delight was taken in setting forth how humanity in Christ was endowed with the power of God, how it worked miracles, how it ascended with Christ to the heavens, and there sits at the right hand of God; and fur- ther, how God was with us in Him, and appropriated every- thing human to Himself—birth, suffering, death. So long as the divine..was.contemplated be itself, and the human hy itself (that is, apart from the Unio), it was felt that their indi- vidual reciting remained naph anea but. being united, they have all things in common.’ It was both natural aad necessary for the Church to make this latter a part of its doctrine,” Tor, unless the divine nature of Christ took part, in His work, in some way or another, no satisfactory conception could be formed of the work of redemption ; out of regard to which, the Latin and Greek Fathers always attached the great- est importance to the view of Christ in the totality and unity of His person. In this interest, older teachers of the Church, such 1 Gregory of Nyssa c. Eunom. iv. 589 ff. ; compare Munscher, iv. 37. f { 106 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. as Ireneus, Hilary, and Athanasius, made use of expressions from which, if pressed, the conclusion might be drawn that the divine nature suffered. Subsequently to the fourth century, the, it is true, somewhat vague qualification was often added, that the divine nature sees without suffering,—showi Ing that their sole purpose was to assert for the divine nature a participa- tion in the work of redemption. Similar motives led, even (as can be shown) as early as the fourth century, to the introdae tion of the term Oeordxos into the style of the Church. Look- ing chiefly to practical interests, the Church invariably inquired, first of all, what was the final sum-total ; it troubled itself little about the way in which that sum-total was arrived at,—that is, about the mode of conciliating the different factors (which con- ciliation presupposes them to have been already distinct and se- parate); but, conscious that in the work of redemption the divine and human natures were united, clung with cheerful faith to the grand result which lay before the inner eye of Christendom. It would be easy..to show that the greatest Church-teachers of the fourth century, not to mention earlier ones, conceived the duality of natures to have been abolished by the act of in- carnation. After the incarnation they no longer distinguished accurately between divine and human; for, by so doing, they would have believed themselves detracting to some extent from the marvellous greatness of the final Me Trenzeus having set the example, it became for a long period the custom to define \ the union as.a.“mixture” (is, cpacis, avdKxpacis, KaTaKpacts) [ 4 } t ) of the divine. and human,—a definition which implied not merely the homogeneity of the divine and human, but also the production of a third new substance. That the humanity of Christ in the Unio is not like ours, although our humanity was assumed and glorified by the Logos, is not only taught by Hilary, but is also essentially involved in the mystical view of Christ as the Head, above referred to, as well as in the idea of the uniqueness of His nature. In like manner, the teachers of the Church—as, for example, Cyrill and Hilary—did_not hesitate to say that the Divine Word had. emptied itself, in order that human nature might be capable of being its vehicle and bearer. Gregory of Ny ssa went so far even as to teach | that the humanity was.converted. into. the Deity, by the com- / mingling of the latter with the former; for he says, that the >. THE OLDER DOCTRINE OF THE UNIO. 107 body which suffered, being mixed with the divine nature, became, by means of this mixture, the same as the nature which assumed it;' and he uses the simile,—as a drop of vinegar, when cast into the ocean, loses itself, and is changed into the nature of the ocean, so did the flesh pass over into the immutable ocean of the Godhead.’ This, of course, overshot the intended mark; for what was aimed at, was not the utter cessation of the human, and the resumption of the incarnation, under the pretence of its complete realization. The words were really meant to express, though in an exaggerated rhetorical form, the thoroughness and completeness of the union between the divine and the human. So much, however, is clear, that Gregory, in using such expressions, had not the least notion of a permanent GRR: between the divine and human natures in the Unio: on the contrary, the two aspects of the Person of Christ were posited as homogeneous magnitudes, which might very well be combined to form a new, third something. Nay more, this homogeneity i is so defined by Gregory Nazianzen..as.not. to admit of more than a quantitative distinction: which would, of course, logically warrant the conclusion that, by means of Me Unio, the humanity was either converted into, or swallowed up in, the Deity. Especially, however, were the duality of substances, and the continued existence of this duality subsequent to, and within the Unio, expressly controverted in the letter, which we have attributed to the Roman Bishop Julius (see the First Part, Sec. 4). He expresses himself in the strongest manner against the doctrine of “two natures,” because aie two-Ghrists~are posited, — one, a perfect man—the other, the Son of God. Such a discerption, he affirmed, must lead directly to a Samosatenical conception of Jesus. And although the Western Fathers, Am- brose, Augustine, Leo, soon taught otherwise, Ccelestine of Rome still took the part of Cyrill. Even an Athanasius, however ear- nestly he had endeavoured to maintain the completeness of the humanity of Christ in opposition to Apollinaris, taught that there was but one substance, the incarnate nature of a Logos 1 Greg. Nyss. c. Eunom. iv. 581. * Epiphanius rejects the cvyxve1s and rpory, on the ground that, as the mediatory function related to two aspects, it required éxaérepa. But still he says that ‘‘ God was, ra@ Ovo xepacas sig ev.” ° Doubts are indeed thrown by some on the genuineness of this letter. 108 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. (ula Ocod rAdyou dicts cecapKopévn), after the incarnation.’ To this tendency and this terminology the Alexandrian theo- logians remained peculiarly faithful; and they found most adherents amongst those who looked for nothing good from scientific distinctions and conciliations, and who, in the partial continuance of the distinctions, as they existed apart from the incarnation, saw nothing but a partial denial of the main fact, an attenuation of the grand unity which had been realized. Their opposition was partly based on religious considerations : to these were due its obstinacy and long continuance. They were unwilling to allow that mystical image of the Person of Christ to be either stolen from them or disfigured. Even froma scientific point of view, they deemed the attempts in an opposite direction to be superficial; for, as they observed, the mark at which aim is taken is not the true one, the problem is shortened that the solution may become possible, and thus the pretended explanations are a denial of the great marvel in its depth. The opinion, that when the Fathers who took this view of the matter protest against two naturas, dvces, they really mean only to _ repudiate two persons, is historically untenable. It is true, that » in the use of the words, dvcus, ovola, UTocTacis, TpocwTror, natura, essentia, substantia or subsistentia, persona, a vacilla- ‘tion long prevailed, which made it difficult to find precise expressions ; but it is almost ludicrous to convert this whole earnest struggle into a mere battle about words. An unpreju- diced consideration of the course which this dogma pursued, must convince us that, prior to the Council of Chalcedon, the doctrine of a duality of natures within the unio, was not really a doctrine of the Church ; however confidently the.teachers..of--the-Ghurch “might hold that the unity, whatever it were, had_been..consti- tuted by the union of two natures. Behind the two natures, which continued to exist even in the perfect Unio, they not only thought they saw a duality of persons, but regarded the eternal duration of the two substances or natures in the one person as a derogation from, and alteration of, the Unio itself, and of the sig- nificance of the very act of incarnation. Instead of establishing distinctions even within the Person of Christ, they preferred to dwell on the first, most immediate and inward aspect of the 1 Compare the remarks in Part I., 1078, of this work, on the Quo:my gvaots Of Athanasius. - — THE OLDER DOCTRINE OF THE UNIO. 109 union, which had been accomplished in Him between the re- motest contrarieties. In such a state, however, the matter could not remain. This immediate unity, and the image, in its mystical totality, of _which it was the basis, must at last allow of justice being done both to the distinctions, and to the process by which the distinct elements were mediated, in order that a higher unity, satis- factory both in a scientific and religious point of view, might be the final result. The school of Antioch, during its struggle with Apollinaris, had seen clearly enough that it was necessary to pass from that immediate unity to an examination of the distinctions; and the ecclesiastical favour with which it was for a long time regarded, was due to the feeling, if not to the clear perception, of this necessity. Described historically, Cyrill’s fault was that of re- fusing to learn the lesson which the history of the Church since Apollinaris taught him, and of supposing that he would be surest of hitting upon the right, if he could maintain the earlier and more pence point e view, and, as though nothing whatever had taken place during the en could effect a restoration in opposition to the Antiocheians. This is the most general reason why Cyrill, and Dioscurus (who meant to be thoroughly . of one mind with him), when considered in the light of later events, appear as forms of but very ambiguous orthodoxy. When Cyrill is regarded in connection with the course of the development of the Church and its dogma, much may be urged in his favour; but still it must be confessed that he failed to discern the true character of the point at which this develop- ment then stood,—that he resisted, and, in the main, without result, a step which the dogma was now not only justified, but necessitated, to take,—and that, by his works, he caused much trouble to, whilst he exercised little wholesome influence on, later generations, which, on account of the irrevocable Council of Ephesus, could not avoid estimating him in the light of the orthodoxy of a subsequent period. Whosoever, at crises such } as the one referred to, when the Church is called upon to quit | an old path, and to enter upon a new sphere both of thought | and speech, persists in keeping to the old, will be left behind | by orthodoxy; and not the firmest Lontenenee in the justice of his own position, nor the strongest authorities of former ages, 110 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. can save an orthodoxy, so obsolete, from bearing an ambiguous and doubtful character. Such probably was the experience of Cyrill and Dioscurus.* But we must now examine the reasons why it was neces- sary that, from the fifth century onwards, the attention of the . Christian Church should be directed to the distinctions in the Person of Christ, and why the Council of Chalcedon was jus- tified in its opposition to Monophysitism, which resisted the turn matters were taking. In general, the Church may be said to have already upheld the interests of Christian science in opposition to the Mono- physitism of the Alexandrians and monks of that age. Cyril took pleasure in bringing into juxtaposition the most marked paradoxes;—for example, Christ created the world; God suf-, fered and yet remained unchangeable. And yet he did very little to explain the mystery, preferring to lay stress on its ab- solute incomprehensibleness. In this respect he made an un- fair use of the religious intuitions which, to judge from many deep passages in his works, he must have possessed in great intensity; for he employed them to throw discredit on efforts to exhibit the rationale of faith. This would only indicate that the Christian consciousness was in the retrogressive or sickly condition of doubting its ability to keep abreast of cul- ture and science in general. Herein were the Orientals, and above all the Antiocheians, in advance of Cyrill. Two alter- natives lay before Christian intellect ;—either to stand still, or to apply itself to a subject which the Alexandrian party en- deavoured by all means to proscribe, namely, to the analysis in thought of that primitive and immediate intuition of the unity of the Person of Christ possessed by faith, in order after- wards to undertake the synthetical conciliation and combina- 1 Such examples from the history of dogmas are highly instructive, both in relation to the laws of development in this sphere, and to the ortho- doxy of the individual. We learn from them, that in the judgment of history, a man may become heterodox through orthodoxy. Whoso seeks to eternize a particular mode of thought, which has been merely experimentally adopted by the restlessly self-developing spirit of the Church, may easily miss its true significance, and thus prove faithless to it through very per- sistency and lack of freedom. The above words, which occurred in the first edition of this work, I repeat here the more readily, as illustrations enough of their truth have presented themselves since the date of its appearance. me xu S: : MERITS OF THE COUNCIL OF CHALCEDON. abuts tion of its elements. The Council of Chalcedon, so far from making a dogma of the absolute.incomprehensibility of this doctrine, by the very mode in which it defined the problem, ‘ather encouraged attempts at its solution, This one point alone, entitles the Council of Chalcedon to grateful recognition. That which is absolutely incomprehen- sible estranges the mind, and can lay no claim to mould and determine the view it takes of the world in its totality ; and as Christology necessarily claims to be the very centre of any general view of the world, it cannot, without inconsistency, start with the assertion of its own utter incomprehensibleness. Mention should be further made of a circumstance which was of special importance for that time. In the fourth century, as we have previously remarked, the heathen found their way into the Church in masses. Now, the more rapidly this took place, the more necessary was it for the Church to guard, at all events in the matter of doctrine, most carefully against heathenish and pantheistic elements. But without question a pantheistic mode of thought might. find. support—a very firm support too—at the very centre of Christianity, so long as a doctrine was received by the Church like that of Monophy- sitism, Which posited a unity of the divine and human without doing justice to. the-distinction~between-the- two. Further on also, we shall find pantheistic tendencies manifesting themselves within the sphere of Monophysitism; nor was it the work of mere fancy, when the Fathers of the Council were reminded, by the Monophysitism of Eutyches, of Gnostic and Apolli- narian errors. Here, however, it will be well to cast a glance at the history of anthropology in the Church, especially as re- lated to the doctrine of the nature of God, that we may dis- cover the whereabouts of the Church in the fourth century, and better understand how necessary it was that a deeper view should be now taken of the distinction between the divine and human. During the period of the rise and ascendancy.of the Logos- doctrine, but little heed was paid to the distinction. According * We shall soon find that a pantheistic element could be very well com- bined with the above described exclusive view of the idea of God taken by Cyrill, according to which God, as to His nature, is absolutely different from, and exalted above us. en allel FR Sti IIT Lie . SECOND PERIOD. | FIRST EPOCH. to that doctrine, the human and the divine are in all cases partially one ; for human reason is itself a divine emanation. This opinion seemed at first very favourable to Christology ; but, in reality, the notion of such a primitive immediate unity of the divine and the human, made the position of Christianity a very precarious one, and concealed from view its moral and vegenerative. bearings (Note 28). “To the unimpaired conser- vation of the essential characteristics of Christianity, more earnest reflection on sin was necessary ; and, as is well known, this condition was fulfilled especially in the West, by Ivenzeus, Tertullian, and others down to Augustine. All that the Greek Church did, was sternly to repel Manichzism; it had only a doctrine of formal freedom, such as even Pelagius laid down, to oppose to it: whereas Augustine, in the course of his de- velopment, had not without profit passed through the stage of Manicheism. Such reflection on the human, in its common empirical, sinful condition, must have been, more than anything else, fitted to modify the doctrine of an universal and’ direct participation of humanity in the Logos, and to establish the necessity..of. the historical redemption of humanity by the God-man—it_must also. have added force to the tendency to lay stress on the dis- tinction between the divine and the human. The Church ac- customed itself to give prominence to the infinite distance between the divine and human (the empirical form of the latter involuntarily exercising a decided influence on its idea), to the absolute difference between the nature of God and man. ‘This may, perhaps, be the ultimate reason why in the West, with the exception of the brief period of hesitancy on the part of Julius and Ceelestine, who were inclined to Monophysitism, from the fifth century onwards, Dyophysitism pretty constantly found representatives. There was, no doubt, a wide difference between the early anthropological doctrines of the Greek Church, and those of Augustine, or Tertullian, or Hilary; the former having been more inclined to a moral view of the nature of man, the latter to an absolute supernaturalism in religion. Still, each of these opposed tendencies in anthropology served to further Christ- ology; and in consequence of their momentary concurrence at Chalcedon, it became possible to clear the way for the assertion Pe ke. ee - —— ye> Soe od ad SCHOOL OF ANTIOCH AND AUGUSTINE. 113 of the distinctions in the Person of Christ, in opposition to an identification-which would have again.introduced an.heathenish or pantheistic conception of God. But the two concurrent parties were influenced by very different considerations. Those who thought with the school of Antioch, guarded jealously the moral freedom of man, and supposed themselves therefore — unable to assign to the divine in Christ more than a foreign and external position. Led by religious considerations,. the Westerns, on the contrary, insisted on the infinite distance of the human from the divine, for the purpose of bringing out the Divine miracle of the incarnation. So much the more sig- nificant, therefore, must the fact be found, that the strongly antagonistic views taken of anthropology by such as Augus- tine, on the one hand, and by such as were inclined to Pela- gianism, on the other, should have found a meeting-point and ‘a common expression, at all events in Christology. It may be, that in the unadjusted antagonism between the Antiocheian doctrine of freedom, as a factor essential to the completeness of human nature, and the Augustinian doctrine of grace, there slumbered a further, even a Christological, anta- gonism: but what was necessary for the present, was accom- plished at Chalcedon, in that, by the more careful distinction of the divine from the human, at all events the foundations of Christianity were secured against an anti-ethical theory, of a physical character,—against Pantheism. Had the discrimina- tion of the divine and human within the Person of Christ been pretermitted, and had the Church persisted in that unreflective spontaneous view of the unity of the divine and human which had hitherto been in vogue (annihilating instead of conciliating the distinctions), by thus refusing to do justice to these distinc- tions, the unity would have been converted into mixture or identi- fication, and the conviction of the reality and completeness of, at all events, the human aspect of the Person of Christ, which had been gained during the first period, would have been again endangered. The danger of this was all the greater, as the Antiocheian Christology had had for a considerable time no dis- tinguished representative; and as, from the whole spirit of the time, a curtailment of the divine aspect of the Person of Christ was less to be expected than a curtailment of the human. The Christological antagonism which slumbered in the P. 2.—VOL, I, HH 114 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. anthropological, is, in fact, easy of recognition ; and the con- sideration of it will form a transition to the defects of the Chal- cedonian formula. In the supposed interest of moral freedom, stress was laid by some on the human aspect, to the essential and eternal exclusion of the divine. These, therefore, could not consistently admit the actual realization of a union between the divine and human. By way of describing the loose, outward connection established between the two, they employed the simile of a temple or gar- ment; by no means intending, however, to represent the human nature of Christ as a mere thing destitute of independence. Others placed themselves on the divine side; but equally posited an absolute difference of essence. A Christology be- came thus, in itself, a simple impossibility. But, whereas the former failed seriously to recognise the necessity of a Christo- logy, the latter bridged over the gulf by means of their religious consciousness of sin and of the Divine omnipotence. Even though the gulf between God and man be an infinite one, the infinite power of God, they considered, bridges it over for our salvation ; and the deeper and wider the gulf, the brighter was the radiance of the miracle of the Divine omnipotence. But, by giving such prominence to the Divine omnipotence, and, in connection therewith, to the absolutely supernatural character of the mystery, we fail again to free ourselves from the notion of the inner exclusiveness of the factors (in this case, of the divine), and to cast out the leaven of Pantheism. The Divine omni- potence is, after all, but a physical determination. Love may be represented as the inmost motive of omnipotence In accom- plishing the incarnation; but, unless its mode of operation be also conceived to be moral, an ethical process in Christ cannot be admitted: furthermore, mere omnipotence, as such, would exclude the reality of the humanity of Christ; and, notwith- standing every appearance to the contrary, leave it only the semblance of an existence. Thus, instead of our seeing God in Christ, who is also the veritable Son of man, full of grace and truth, the humanity of Christ must logically be lowered to the position of a mere selfless dpyavov of God, or even to that of a mere temple or garment. These images are here again em- ployed, where the intention is, on the one hand, to uphold a real Unio, and yet, on the other hand, to indicate the impersonal DEFECTS OF THE CHALCEDONIAN SYMBOL. 115 character of the humanity. Even the Augustinian denial of human freedom bore traces of Pantheism ; and a conception of God, the chief feature of which is the attribute of omnipotence, is chargeable with the very same anti-Christological exclusive- ness which distinguished the anthropological idea of freedom taught by the Orientals. These two tendencies, which, by means of their mutual alli- ance, ‘and of the aid_ of the State, succeeded in gaining the victory at. Chalcedon, were agreed in representing the divine and. human as mutually exclusive, the one of. the other, though they started from opposite points of view. However just might be their joint antagonism to Monophysitism, which was unwill- ing to admit of a unity constituted by the rational conciliation of distinctions, on the point just mentioned they were at one. And when they, notwithstanding, concurred in reducing the distinctions to the expression, “ Two natures or substances” (dicets, ovciar), the true historical meaning thereof is this, — that the two natures are infinitely and totally, or essentially, different from each other, but that the Divine omnipotence made the impossible possible. ~The positing of such a duality of natures cannot be designated a progress in Christology, but was simply a grave fault, which might have been avoided if there had been less haste to form a symbolum. Through the eagerness to triumph. prematurely over Monophysitism, instead of making it their ally and servant, the Fathers at Chalcedon subjected themselves to an inward bondage to that contrariety. They supposed themselves to possess the truth when they had shut out the pretended double person- ality of Nestorianism, and had established the simple opposite of Monophysitism ; not considering what was required in order that the unity which was desired even by themselves might be possible. The religio-ethical tendency pursued by Augustinianism in the matter of ponerology(a), did not at all necessitate the posit- ing of two natures in the Person of Christ, which must eternally remain substantially or essentially different. Its fault, on the contrary, was, that instead of carrying the ethical point of view fully out, it ended physically or metaphysically in the omnipo- tence of God; or, in other words, that it did not extrude the (a) ‘‘Ponerologie ;” from zovnpés and Adyos = doctrine of evil or sin. —TR. 116 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. pantheistic element which still remained behind. Evil is not truly known until it is seen to be as strongly opposed to the idea of man as it is to the idea of God. The pure idea of man cannot be incompatible with the divine: they are bound and belong inwardly to each other; and to bring them together is not a work of mere omnipotence. Not until the ethical had been truly recognised as the essential and characteristic (not a -merely accidental or adventitious) feature of each, could the distinction between God and humanity be completely secured against the inroads of Pantheism: but, this once confessed, the distinction was safe, for, being moral, each is related affirmatively to the other, instead of necessitating its curtailment, or even dis- sipation. If, then, the ethical is Wie most ental element of the idea both’ of God and man, it can be no longer permitted to describe the idea of humanity, which attained realization in the humanity of Christ, as fundamentally ‘different from God. Prior to the GRetsteaton as.is well. known, few.traces_are discoverable of such a logical following out of the ethical prin- ciples laid down by Apanetine! On the contrary, an unreal and incoherent semi-Pelagianism,—that jumble of a doctrine of freedom which excluded the divine, and of a doctrine of God and grace which excluded the really moral in man, that com- pound of Pelagian and magical elements,—for the most part took the lead. This having been confessedly the characteristic of the Romanic Church, it would be a mark of great shortsighted- ness to maintain that ans Christology of this period—which, like all others, could only operate with such conceptions of the ae and human as happened then to prevail—took none but sound forms, needing no reform. Not that we mean by any means to deny altogether the orderliness of its further course ; for even error, where it has penetrated, is compelled to pursue a normal path by the strong cohibitive arm of truth. After what has been advanced, we are justified in saying, that the Council of Chalcedon Ae not..form..a.deep-enough estimate of the distinction between. the divine and the human, but so defined it, that the two, when they meet, commingle, and the human fedegeee disappears in the nana which is related to the human, as the infinite, to a finite power. The reason thereof is, that the distinction between the two is not conceived as ethically conciliated. “Every one allows that a DEFECTS OF THE CHALCEDONIAN SYMBOL. ably form of inspiration which suppresses human self-consciousness is unethical, and even pantheistic, in so far as it allows the indi- vidual Ego to be nothing but an impersonal organ of the Divine power, to which it succumbs. If now we conceive the action of Divine power to be extended to the will, and to all the psychical and somatical (corporeal) functions; if, moreover, we suppose it to be, not merely momentary, but perennial and retained to all eternity: then the result is, not a Christ who is both Son of man and Son of God—not a filial position for humanity, but a permanent state of bondage, if not even less :—in one word, such a view leaves us only a Christ whose origin and home is the domain of pantheistic intuitions. The doctrine of the Church had the desire to discriminate itself from Pantheism ; but the discrimination was not carried through, because it was not transferred to its true sphere, the sphere of the ethical, where alone Pantheism can be overcome in its very principle, and the distinction be again conciliated. This same thing is clear also from the consideration, that to treat the Deity and hu- manity predominantly as ¢uvceus, as physical substances, is in effect to represent them as essentially equal—as immediately primitively equal. The equality, moreover, is one before which any inequality, however great it may otherwise be, vanishes ; inasmuch as everything that is merely gdvovs pertains to a sphere, from which the ethical is in the first instance excluded as something essentially disparate. This Christology, based as it was upon views of God and man, which we were compelled to trace to a parentage’ still partially pantheistic, found cha- racteristic and conclusive expression, at a subsequent period, in the doctrine of the impersonality of the human nature—a doctrine which, though sanctioned by no Cicumenical Council, was certainly adopted by later teachers of the Church. How- ever unwillingly and late they arrived at this position, it was but the open and plain confession of that which necessarily followed on the eternization of the duality of essentially dif- ferent natures in the Person of Christ. With the defect just described was associated another. The formula of Chalcedon, viewed in its historical connec- tion, may be said to have taken the side of the discrimination, in opposition to that of the oneness, of nature, in the Person of Christ; and to have stamped the distinction as an eternal 118 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. duality of natures.’ It thus sensibly estranged itself from that mystical image of the Person of Christ in its unity and totality, which represents the entire Deity of the Logos as having become man, in such a way that the man also, at the same time, became God. Regarded from the point of view of that mystical Christ- ology, the Dyophysitism which now rose to supremacy lowered the Christological task to one of the mere combination of the two natures in one person ;” but still without any reasonable prospect of thus bringing about a solution of the problem. Witnesses for that higher, original Christological image, never at any time utterly failed; the religious interest, which con- centrated itself chiefly on. that image, burst out ever afresh, sometimes conjoined with logical inconsistencies, and sometimes in circuitous paths. But the Council of Chalcedon threw obstacles in the way of that intuitional image of Christ, by withdrawing from it that without which it could not be carried through, and by imposing upon it that with which its existence was incompatible. The Fathers displayed herein most clearly that same lack of deep interest in religion, which was evidenced by the whole spirit of their proceedings. The Council had nothing further to say concerning the humanity of Christ, than that it was of the same substance as ours, with the excep- tion_of_sin ; whilst, in the discussions relative to Eutyches, it entirely overlooked the fact, that even as touching His humanity, to Christ must be attributed a thoroughly exceptional character, in virtue of which He, and He alone, is the Head in the organ- ism of the true humanity, and alone sets forth that true idea of humanity which through Him is to be realized in us. This plainly shows that the image of the Person of Christ, in its totality, must have receded very far into the background, as compared with the interest in maintaining the distinctions ; and yet, at no period was there a greater necessity for keeping firm hold on it than now, when the duality of natures and their infinite distinction from each other had been definitely ~1 Ag Niedner well remarks, it favoured and met the modified Anti- ocheian, rather than the monophysitic tendency. ; 2 The piety of the Church would no longer suffer itself to be deprived of the expression ‘‘ Mother of God” (ésoréxos), although, strictly viewed, it owed its origin to another period, and one more favourable to Monophysitism, to wit, the pre-Chalcedonian period. DEFECTS OF THE CHALCEDONIAN SYMBOL. 119 posited :—a circumstance which made a conciliatory element doubly needful. From all this we see that even Monophysitism was partially justified i in its opposition. to the Council of Chalcedon. But it was impossible for the ancient Church to do justice to that sys- tem.’ It started with the unity of the person ; took up, there- fore, its point of view at the very centre of Christianity, within the precincts of the incarnation already accomplished; and sought thence, as we shall see, to effect the discrimination of the unity. The Church, on the contrary, now starts with the duality of natures ; begins its constructive work from the. pre- Christian © ‘point | of view ; and, instead of taking the unity for granted. as an inexpugnable axiom, leaves it to be developed. in the course of the scientific process. through.which dogmas. were passing. ~~ And when we find the Church continually vacillat- ing, during the process, between a principially pantheistic an- nihilation of the human by the divine, on the one hand, and a Judaistic separation of the two, on the other; we shall see merely a not unexpected counterpart to that fluctuation between a Pelagian and a magical view of the doctrine of man and of grace, which was peculiar to the Romanic Period. For more than three centuries the dualism of natures posited by the Council of. -Chaléedon gained ever wider recognition, in oppo- sition to the traces of Monophysitism, which still remained in the Church, ‘until the Christian mind was warned, by the rise and spread ali _Adoptianism, to do justice to the unity of the Person of Christ. In discharging this debt, however, it made such a use of the doctrine of the spicier of he human / nature, that the tendency _ towards the magical. view..of. the operations o of grace, and towards transubstantiation, which was characteristic of the Middle Ages, found ever increased satis- faction. 1 The debt due to Monophysitism began first.to be discharged by the Lutheran” Chri hristology. SSR eee, 120 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. SECTION II. THE SETTLEMENT AND THE LOGICAL COMPLETION OF THE CHALCEDONIAN DOCTRINE OF TWO NATURES. From the Council of Chalcedon, to the Council of Frankfurt, A.D. 794. CHAPTER FIRST. DYOPHYSITISM IN CONFLICT WITH MONOPHYSITISM. FROM THE COUNCIL OF CHALCEDON, A.D. 451, TO THE COUNCIL OF CONSTANTINOPLE, A.D. 553. As the threats uttered by the monks and their representa- tives, prior to the Synod of Chalcedon, would have led us to expect, the Monophysites did not submit to the Council, and considered themselves quite as justified in designating this Synod a Party Synod, as did the Fathers at Chalcedon, the Synod of 449. The doggedness of the resistance offered by the vanquished, may be partially explained from the little moral respect which the history of the Council commands ; but was, primarily due also to religious considerations. The Mono- physite party now separated itself from the great body of the Church, and constituted itself into a sect, as the Nestorian party had previously done. ‘The compass of the former, how- ever, was far greater than that of the latter. Not only in Illyria, but even in Constantinople, did the Monophysites re- main for a long time powerful; and more than one Emperor, induced by the consideration of their great influence in the Kast (specially in one part of Syria and Armenia), in Egypt, and in Abyssinia, was repeatedly on the point of either consign- MONOPHYSITISM. 121 ing the decrees of Chalcedon to silent oblivion, or more directly assailing them.’ The party rose further in intrinsic significance, from the circumstance that many of its adherents exhibited a truly philosophical spirit, and applied themselves in particular to the Aristotelian philosophy. On the one hand, it understood how to enchain the immediate Christian consciousness of the people by its manner, and, on the other hand, displayed both skill, and to a certain extent superiority, in its scientific enforcement of its view of the unity of the nature of Christ. It is quite true, of course, that in the efforts which were put forth, much formal subtlety, sophistry, and scholasticism came to light: this struggle was, to a certain extent, a prelude of the struggle between Nomi- nalism and Realism : ells moreover, the religious considera- tions which were the primary motive fell into the background. But still it deserves more favour and attention than have been ordinarily bestowed on it.? If it be interesting to watch how, from the date of the Council of Chalcedon, when the Church formally posited the duality of the natures, it was compelled to inquire what could be done for the assertion of their unity ; it must be equally interesting to watch how the Monophysites, starting with the unity, ana bent on preserving it untouched, endeavoured to arrive at a duality, if not of natures, of aspects of the Person of Christ. And, as though it had been ordained that Christendom should make attempts in all possible directions, we find amongst the Monophysites also, an interesting and inter- nally progressive variety of opinion. To this the more attention should be paid, as it was perhaps necessary to the formation of a more satisfactory Christology, that the process, whose direc- tion was from duality to unity, should also take the direction from unity to duality; although the direction taken by the Church, under the leadership of the Council of Chalcedon, from 1 The inexpressible confusion introduced into all the Churches of the Kast and the West by the monophysitic controversy, and its changing phases, are depicted with special vividness by Nicephorus in his Church History, vol. xvi. 25. 2 Both Gieseler and Baur have recently done wlan to throw light on the history of the Monophysites,—the former in his ‘‘ Commentatio qua Monophysitarum veterum varie de.Christi persona opiniones imprimis ex ipsorum effatis recens editis illustrantur,” T. i, ii. 1835, 1838; the latter in his “‘ Die christliche Lehre von der Dreieinigkeit und Menschwerdung Gottes in ihrer geschichtlichen Entwicklung,” vol. ii. 87-59. saccatwe sr M SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. duality to unity, must probably take the precedence and first arrive at a fixed result. The most notable men of the Monophysite party were, on the one hand; Dioscurus, Timothy Ailuros, Patriarch of Alex- andria, Julian, Bishop of Halicarnassus, Stephen Niobes, and Theodosius;! “on the other hand, Severus from Pisidia, Patriarch of Antioch,‘and Xenaias or Philoxenus, Bishop of Hierapolis or Mabug, both about the year 500.7 The former demanded that the unity of the Person of Christ should be so maintained as to involve, not indeed the total extinction of the human nature, but still its ceasing to be of the same substance with ours. They clung, therefore, to that. doctrine of transmutation which repre- sents the human as converted into divine. On the other hand, they asser ted that the divine suffered only according to grace, as Dioscurus says, not according to nature ; supposing that thus they preserved intact both the unchangeableness of the divine nature, and the power over its own vaca condition. Each nature in this way undergoes an alteration by means of the other: the divine communicates its own nature to the human, and the human gives its own attributes, as it were, iz exchange to the Logos,—in whom, therefore, its existence is ec frac guaranteed. ‘This view. is directly allied to the teachings of Kutyches. The point ‘of view of Dioscurus is most stake seen from his relation to the sufferings of Christ. He was very far from wishing to deny the sufferings of Christ: he meant, on the contrary, merely to teach that the blood of Christ is ae blood of God,—and that, not in consequence of the intervention of the divine person, but in its own nature. Unless this were the case, it would not be heavenly and im- perishable. It would be profane, Dioscurus considered, to say that the blood of Christ was of the same substance with any- thing merely natural. Similar also is the remark of Timothy Ailuros: Christ has homoousia with us, only so far as He was Compare the fragments of Dioscurus’ letter in A. Mai’s ‘t Nova Coll.” Tom. vii. 289, and of Timotheus Ailuros, in Tom. vii. 35, 277, 304, 305 of the same work; Evagrius iii. 14, iv. 39; Photius, cod. 162, 227. 2 Philoxenus wrote a work, in three books, on the Trinity and Incarna- tion; compare Assem. bibl. or. ii. Pp. 25. The chief interest of the question lies in its fooler a demand that Christology should again be intuited and Seamed in conjunction with the doctrine of the Trinity. If the Son of God be indissokubly and eternally united with humanity, nay more, if humanity is a constituent 1 Mansi, T. viii. 498. Otherwise John II. Compare Baur’s “‘ Dreieinig- keitslehre,” ii. 72. 2 Compare Fulgentius Ferrandus’ (of Carthage) ‘* de duabus in Christo naturis et quod unus de Trinitate natus passusque dici possit,” Bibl. Max. Lugd. ix. 502 f.—Confessio Maxentii, ib. p. 534 f. 8 Mansi, T. viii. 765 ff., ix. 384. Anathemat. x. Compare Baur 1. ¢. ii. Walch ‘‘ Histor. der Ketzer,” vii. 248 ff. PETER FULLO. THEOPASSIANISM. 127 of His person, then humanity is introduced within the sphere of the Trinity ; for the incarnation is represented as an expres- sion, not merely of the activity, but also of the very being of the Son of God. An alteration cannot by any means be said to have been thus imported into the inner nature of God, for the Son, as such, is not affirmed to have suffered : but still the Son undoubtedly became, by means of the incarnation, what He had not previously been,—although that which He had pre- viously been did not undergo any change. Now, that which He is represented to have beni was either Gonetine merely acci- © dental and external to Him,—with which would be incompatible that it should be impossible from henceforth, for ever, to form a true conception of Him apart from Bueth eer: it must be referred back to an eternal purpose of incarnation, arising out of the very nature of the will of God, in order to exclude the appearance of change even in reference to the Divine de- termination to become man. Thus far, however, they did not advance; but still, the position in which the question stood, shows the need that existed of connecting the external ceco- nomy of God with His immanent and eternal ceconomy, by referring the former back to the latter. Religious considera- tions unmistakeably operated in this connection, and that even at an earlier stage than logical considerations. It was meant that the Godhead of the Son, in all the majesty with which we behold Him clothed as a member of the Trinity, should partici- pate in the work of propitiation, in the sufferings on behalf of the world (Note 30). Theopassianism aimed to further the intimate unity of the Person of. Christ by importing the likeness of the human as much as possible into the divine; and from the same motive, endéavours were made to bring the human aspect of the Person of Christ nearer to the divine he representing the Unio as having given rise to aresemblance of the former and to the latter. ii general, indeed, not_a doubt was entertained, that the humanity of Christ was, eee not merely Rommel but even exalted by its connection-with the Logos,—at all events subsequently to the resurrection: and as the principle laid down by John Cassian in the words, “nec quasi per eradus et tempora pro- ficientem in deum, alterius status fuisse ante resurrectionem credamus Christum, alterius post resurrectionem sed ejusdem 128 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. plenitudinis atque virtutis,”* was universally taken for granted, in all consistency the humanity of Christ ought not to have been regarded as any longer in the state of humiliation ; unless, by its own will, or by the will of the Deity, that servant's form had been again imposed with which the Unio in itself was incompatible. But the opinion that the incarnation was imme- diately, and at once, an absolutely and perfectly accomplished fact, had not been, as yet, by any means so logically and definitely worked out, that, in opposition thereto, the humanity of Christ could not be represented as at the commencement in its natural state of imperfection and weakness, and as needing development. The monophysitic tendency was destined to aid in bringing the Church to a decision on this point also. One party of Monophysites, founded by Julian, Bishop of Halicar- nassus, and thence designated Julianists, deemed it necessary, for the sake of eee the unity of the Person of the God- man, to teach that the body of Christ, having been essentially united with, shared the racumennie: life (abOaperia) of, the Logos; that it possessed this life, by a | physical necessity, as a sift conferred upon it by grace; and that it constituted, as it were, a higher second nature, through which the first had been abolished, even prior to the resurrection. ‘Theiroppo- nents termed them, consequently, Aphthartodocetists (ap@ap- Tos, Soxetv); and they retorted with the name Phthartolatrists (bOaptos, AaTpeda). On one point all were agreed, namely, that the humanity.ofChrist. also possesses PRS Tis power ; and that the Logos, who is the life, is its life. But, in the first place, the teachers of the Church would not AT that the human nature underwent any alteration in consequence of the communication of Divine power; or that, in consequence thereof, it ceased to be, as truly as before, of the same sub- stance en us. ‘They preferred rather to define this communi- cation as an increase of.its-power (according to Leo, “aug- mentum ;” see above). In the second ‘place, they vor not grant that these higher predicates beeame the natural possession of the humanity w Christ. These two things were manifestly self-contradictory. If the Divine communication has merely 1 See his work, ‘‘ De Incarnatione Domini,” editio Cratander 1524, page 17. The passage is cited from Leporius: compare Cassian’s own work, pp. 47 and 187. Ph ly JULIAN. APHTHARTODOCETISTS. 129 the effeet of perfecting the nature itself, then, what is com- municated, must be held to form part of the nature, in its full and true condition; if, further, what is communicated to the nature does not really belong to it, then, notwithstanding that it is communicated, it is evolved by the nature from its own substance ; and thus the very removal of the human imperfec- tions would consist as it were in a permanent extasis or transport of the humanity out of its own strict and proper essence, instead of being the perfection of the humanity.’ And, inasmuch, as the magical view of the operations of grace had already gained a strong enough hold on the Church, the Monophysites were the more justified in demanding assent to their doctrine, that the humanity of Christ ceased from the very commencement of, and through, the Unio, to be of the same substance with ours, having been rather transfused into another being. They there- fore further developed the propositions laid down by Eutyches and Dioscurus, and maintained, that the humanity of Christ, according to the @vcvs which pertained to it subsequently to the Unio, could not be said to be susceptible of human. weaknesses and sufferings ; and that, on the contrary, the body of Christ, equally with the Godhead, was in itself, or by its very nature, raised above even innocent physical needs and weaknesses (7a0n advdBAnta). It was a&bOaptos, and was of the same “nature as the body of Adam before the fall, which also would never have died had not Adam sinned. Im asserting the supernatural character of the body of Christ, they did not intend to deny its actual reality ; they did, however, aim at giving greater prominence to the love of Christ, by tracing, not merely the sufferings themselves, but even the possibility of suffering, to a free act of love, by which Christ renounced the impassibility which previously characterized His body,-and undertook both our capability of suffering, and the sufferings themselves. We have seen above that Hilary of Pictavium came near taking up the same position, although, by his doctrine of the self-abnegation of the Logos, he qualified that of the im- mediate and direct deification of the human nature. And had not the Julianists attributed a physical character to the process in connection with the results of the Unio, the religious interests involved, would haye been completely satisfied by the proposi- 1 See Note D. App. ii. east Vi liaals I 130 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. tion,— That Christ’s humanity was not, indeed, free from the weakness and capacity of suffering natural to it, but that the spiritual energy of Christ could have overcome every external cause of suffering, and even mortality itself, had His moral nature made it its task. And, in point of fact, according to the account of Timotheus,’ some Julianists did say that Christ’s body remained potentially (Svvduer) POaptos ; but that by the power of the Logos it was raised above actual d@opd. Not that they by any means intended to take a docetical view of the matter: they only sought to give greater prominence to the loving act by which Christ not only shut out His body from the deificatory influence of the Logos, but even gave it up to actual suffering. After what has been advanced, we can well conceive that such expressions, being glorifications of Christ, His majesty and love, would find an echo also in the Church of that period. And, in point of fact, Justinian made another effort to secure to the doctrine of the Aphthartodocetists authority in the Church, by a religious edict. But it failed to gain the approval of the Church: its teachers saw that to acknowledge sucha. transport..of.the.common human ¢vots of Christ into a supernatural. nature, in virtue of the direct physical action of the Unio, would involve the abolition of the humanity itself, as to all its essential determinations of quan- tity and conliey of tactility, visibility, and limitation, and the substitution of another, that is, in reality of a Divine essence. By consequence, the Unio, in its most perfect operation, would involve the denial of the incarnation itself. Only for single moments, and for distinctly practical purposes, could the hu- manity then be said to have had a real existence: usually, it would either be non-existent, or, at the utmost, would have a merely potential existence, either in the will of the Logos, or in the supernatural corporeality of Christ. One party of the Julianists went so far as to maintain, that after the incar- * De recipiendis hereticis Cotelerii Monum. eccl. Gree. T. iii. 397. This was probably also the opinion of Philoxenus, although he asserted the identity of the body of Christ with that of Adam :—‘‘ potuit non mori,” he says, but not ‘‘non potuit mori.” With regard to the Julianists or Gajanites, compare Leontius, de Sectis, Actio v. 3, in Galland. Bibl. xii. 640 ; Nicephorus 1. c. xvii. 29; A. Mai Coll. N. 1. ¢., and Assem. Bibl. eed Catal. T. i: 8, p. 229. f.; peice [roan a174—1(0, Me A) NS ar APHTHARTODOCETISTS. ACTISTETES. Low nation, Christ ought not to be spoken of as a created being, even in respect of His humanity ; but that, even as a man, He should be designated God and Creator, and must therefore have been a proper object of worship from the very beginning.' This party,—themselves called Actistetes (axTioTos == un- created), whilst they designated their opponents Ctistolatrists (xtusT0s == created; Aatpea = worship),—was ready to go even to the extent of representing everything human in Christ as divine from the commencement. Yet they appear to have had as little intention of teaching pure Docetism as the Apol- linarists, when they put forth the doctrine of an eternal hu- manity in God. It is more probable that they started with the doctrine, universally held by Monophysites, that the incarnation was accomplished by the entire negation of every substratum and vehicle of human predicates, and thus arrived at their view. Inasmuch now as the Logos employed human predi- cates alone as characteristics of Himself, and from the very commencement disowned all predicates which bore reference to a human development, the substratum necessary to creature- hood seemed to be wanting,—nay more, this predicate seemed no longer to admit of Christ’s being included under it. We may, however, well be permitted to say, that if the continued existence of the human as such is consistent. with its losing, from the commencement of the Unio, all predicates which 1 Timotheus de recept. heeretic., Cotelerius Monum. Eccl. Gree. T. iii. 398 ; Assem. Bibl. Orient. T. ii. The Julianists had their seat especially in Armenia: the Gajanites were the corresponding party in Egypt. Their opponent was the Monophysite Patriarch Damian, who himself was an ad- herent of Severus. In the eighth or the ninth century they appear to have utterly disappeared from Syria, and, in general, from Asia, with the excep- tion of Armenia; as also from Egypt. A portion of them, however, pushed their way to Ethiopia and Nubia, where they had a patriarch of their own. 2 All the Monophysitic propositions in which, for the sake of asserting the inward unity of the Person of Christ, human features are on the one hand partially attributed to God, and divine features on the other to man, were adopted in the Lutheran doctrine of a ‘‘ communicatio idiomatum :” the Lutheran Church, however, maintained an abiding duality of sub- stances as the basis of this ‘‘ communicatio.” Regarded from this point of view, the Lutheran doctrine is a combination of the Chalcedonian and Monophysitic types. The two types, however, are not so brought together as to be mutually inwardly permeant; but rather follow upon each other like two different doctrinal formations. 132 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. would be incompatible with the divine being, with its incor- poration with the divine substance ; then the difference between the human and divine natures is not.one of essence, but-solely of accidents; and these accidents are abolished by the Unio. The position, that the divine and human are not merely fundamentally, but even immediately, primitively, the same in essence, was taken up by one of the most eminent Monophy- sites, Stephen Barsaduili, about the year 488." He is said to have taught that, as Father, Son, and Spirit are one nature, and the body ¢¢ the Word is of the like substance with Himself, so must every creature be of the same substance (consubstan- tial) with the Godhead. He does not, however, appear to have assumed the imme- diate actual divinity of all things; for he gives, of the passage, “To-day and to-morrow I work miracles, and on the third day I shall cease,” the following explanation :—With us it is now the sixth day of the week (Friday), which denotes the present period of the world, and which Christ calls also the evil period. The Sabbath, Christ’s day of rest after death, he appears to have explained chiliastically, as a Sabbath-period, followed by the perfectio, when God will be all in all, and everything be of the like nature and the like substance with God. The charge of abolishing baptism and the sacraments, brought against him by Xenaias, may therefore imply, not that he entirely let go the distinction between nature and grace, but perhaps that, after the manner of Origen (conf. Assem. i. 303), he assumed the restoration of all things through the medium, as of punishment for the wicked, so of the manifestation of Christ for the right- 1 Barhebreeus or Abulpharagius reports that he laid down his views in a work, published under the name of Hierotheus, the teacher of Dionysius Areopagita. Compare Assem. Bibl. Orient. T. ii. p. 30 f. 290, 291. Ac- cording to the testimony of Xenaias, Barsudaili was a learned man and writer, especially a commentator on the Holy Scriptures, and a native of Edessa. Against him, Xenaias wrote a letter of warning to Edessa. In that letter he represents him as teaching that future punishments are not eternal, but that both the ungodly and demons will be purified by fire and obtain mercy. In the end, as Paul says, God will be all in all, and all things will be transformed into the divine nature. A related phenomenon were probably the Ioéxpioros, Origenistic monks in Egypt. See the Church History of Evagrius, iv. 88; Baumgarten-Crusius’s ‘‘ Comp. der Dogmen- geschichte,” p. 207. SECOND CLASS OF MONOPHYSITES. 133 eous. With this it would be quite compatible, that he should regard all things as potentially of the like substance with the divine. Well-accredited men, says Xenaias, have reported to me, that they found in his cell the inscription, “ All nature is consubstantial with God;” but that, from alarm at the excite- ment it caused, he had afterwards printed out the inscription. It may not atone be just to attribute to him a coarse Pan- theism, but still he must have developed in a more logical way the germs of Pantheism, which, as we have previously shown, slumbered in Monophysitism ; aaa there is no reasonable ground for doubting, that he taught not merely that the divine and human natures were brought to sameness of essence in Christ, but that humanity in general is essentially divine. He does not appear, like Origen, to have ever acknowledged the exist- ence of freedom; what he conceded, was rather a kind of fate.? . The Reonennyaies hitherto nasal under consideration, .“. may be regarded as the continuation of Eutychianism ; ; and they gradually 3 more and_more_ lost. sight of the distinction between the human and the divine. nee now remains to be considered the second and more important principal class. The most emi- nent Monophysites, Xenaias or Philoxenus, and Severus, endea- ter we nde eco voured to show that, in ‘the sel a distinction was preserved between the divine and human.’ Xenaias, it is true, still firmly maintained that one of the Persons of the Tray was crucified :° he also recognised solely voluntar y, not natural, suf- ferings of Christ. By t the latter expression, however, he Ria mean, even though he did not employ it solely with respect to the Godhead, that there was no inherent necessity for the suf- 1 Assem. ii. 32. ? With regard to Xenaias, compare Assem. ii. pp. 10-46 ; with regard to Severus, Leontii Monachi Hierosol. Apolog. Conc. Chalcedonens. (about 610); Galland. Tom. xii. 719-750 ; Leontii Byzantini solutiones argumenta- tionum Severi, ibid. 708-715; ae Mai, Tom. vii. pp. 8, 9, 71, 73, 123, 186 ff., 151, 277-281, 283 f., 285-290, and 307. Both fionriched Suan tHe a quarter of ie sixth Sunes bad adopted Zeno’s Henoticon, and lived in the enjoyment of episcopal dignity till the persecution of the Monophysites under Justinian, about the year 522. Both together may be designated the founders of that form of Monophysitism which the Jacobites still pro- fess to the present day, and which rose to supremacy in Egypt, probably subsequently to Damian. The Copts hold the same views at the present time. $ Assem. |. ¢. p. 28. * Assem. p. 4. 134 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. fering of the humanity of Christ, apart from the voluntary determination of the Son of God to subject Himself thereto. His doctrine he laid down in eight propositions ;+ and he repu- diated the Eutychians, whom he designates Phantasiasts. The very personality of the Son,—that is, God the Word,—he remarks, descended from heaven, and dwelt personally in the Virgin: He became a man, of the Virgin, of her flesh.and of her That personally without conversion: He became a visible, tangible, compound man; and yet as God, He continued to pos- sess that spirituality, subtilty, and Stivaltietas which became Him.? He who is God, became man; hence the same who is God was born of the Virgin, and from her derived His true body. He is not another and another (ein Anderer und ein Anderer): -the child that was born was no other than the exalted highest God, even the Word. Nor did that one Person of God*which became man grow into a duality, but in all words, deeds, miracles, and sufferings, however diverse they were, there was only one and the same God the Word, who became man without change; and as the work of suffering and death is ascribed to Christ, or to the Son, so is it unblameable to say that God or the Word was crucified or died. For, that one only-begotten One who appeared in the world, and was tried in all that is human, with the exception of sin, is Christ, the Son by nature. But He who is Son by nature, must also be God by nature: if, then, the Son suffered, who is not a Son by favour, but by nature, then God satferea! and died, and not a man who was separated from, or obedient to, Him, or in whom He dwelt, as one may dwell in another. In asserting the unity of the nature, he did not mean to teach an absorption, either of the deity or of the humanity, by the conversion of the one into the other; nor, further, did he hold that a double transformation or mixture RANE place, result- ing in the evolution of a third, and, as it were, chemical product : he intended to teach the existence of one -nature-which was con- stituted out of two, which was not simple, but twofold. The technical term for the unity, in his view of it, would be, pia 1 In a book, ‘‘de Trinitate et Incarnatione,” Assem. 25 ff. Compare especially p. 29. 2 Xenaias, like many of the Monophysites, set his face against image- worship, yea, even against representations of incorporeal beings. God must be worshipped in spirit and in truth. Assem. i. p. 21. Stes XENAIAS. SEVERUS: 135 dvows cbvOeTos or pia dvois dutty. The image in greatest favour both with Xenaias and his followers, was that of the body and soul; only that these two cannot have been regarded by them as two distinct and particular parts or substances. In order to make this image harmless, the teachers of the Church made the remark,—Man also consists of two substances, and it is simply a misuse of terms to speak of one human nature.’ Although Xenaias enjoyed so great a reputation for ortho- doxy among the Monophysites, that Severus, in his controversy with Julian, begged him for his judgmentin the matter, still Severus, who became Patriarch of Antioch in the year 511, was, strictly speaking, the scientific leader of the most compact portion of the party, and was treated as such in later times: against him also were mainly directed the more important polemical writings of the Church. According to the accounts we have of him, great difficulty was experienced in gathering ‘up, and forming a connected view of, his opinions. This may, perhaps, have been partly attributable to the relation in which he stood to the Henoticon of the Emperor Zeno, of which he approved, and on the ground of which he and his party regarded themselves as still forming part of the Church. A further reason of the difficulty—one, too, connected with the last men- tioned—was the relationin which he stood to Cyrill of Alexandria, with whom he, in all principal points, wished to be and actually was one, and whose pliancy in regard to the Oriental symbolum had also to be taken into consideration.2 Matters being in this state, we must pay special attention to the precise words em- 1 So taught the Roman Bishop Gelasius I., in his work, de duabus naturis in Christo adv. Hutych. et Nest. Bibl. Man. PP. Lugd. T. vii. 699 ff., 702. This was connected with, or even gave rise to, the doctrine taught in the Church of Spain, that Christ was one person compounded of three substances (or natures): see below. Gelasius, like Leo, made use, in this connection, of the Holy Eucharist. As the elements remain in ‘‘ suze proprietate nature,” although they are transfused by the Holy Spirit into the divine substance, so also the human nature of Christ. 2 Timotheus (not, as Leontius of Jerusalem thinks, Ailuros ; compare Gieseler 1. c. i. 7) says, according to Galland. T. xii., and A. Mail. c. 138, that, like Noah’s sons, Severus tried to cover the nakedness of his father Cyrill, and exposed himself in consequence to the charge of self-inconsis- tency. But that his self-contradictions were not merely apparent, is evident from the constant reassertion of the fact by those who conducted the Church’s polemic against him. Si eNO ay 136 | SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. o ployed by him ; for, in accordance with the conciliatory position he aimed at occupying, he followed the traditional formulas of the Church as closely as possible, although at the same time in- dicating the sense in which he accepted them. Oyrill, says he, was right in teaching, “of two natures: but out of his expression “the Council of Chalcedon made, “in two natures ;” assuming also the continuous existence of an évépyera of the humanity, even subsequently to the incarnation. Leo also went so far as to say that Christ performed human acts in His human nature, and divine acts in his divine nature: whereas, on the contrary, after the Unio, everything must have been the act of the God-man.. But, as a purely human évépyeva presupposes a purely human substratum, or a purely human | monas, side by side with the divine—that is, a second focus, ‘as the active cause of the pure human activity, —the unity of the life is destroyed.’ If such a duality of substrata or subjects (pe- atara) be objected to, we must not assume a duality of activities. Again, if we aim to preserve the unity of the activities, we must not admit a duality of natures in the sense of special aa inde- pendent foci (uovdades idvuoctcrator). He thus argues from the fact of the redemptive activity having been at once divine and human (divine-human), that there can have been but one nature. On the other hand, however, he is ready to speak of otciat, pucets, io@para, ari the Person of Christ. He not only . repudiates the opinions of Kutyches, but, equally with N estorius, affirms that the attributes of the pre aspect continued to exist even after the Unio, and that, in distinction from the at- tributes of the divine aspect. He spoke most decidedly against a Julianistic Monophysite, the grammarian Sergius ; condemn- ing not only the idea of the annihilation of the one nature by the other, but also the mixture or blending of both by means of a compromise.” The two. different natures, he urged, con- 1 A. Mai vii. 71. “H avvod0s xai Agwy—dv0 Quosis zr eleeoe wale BOB routay evepysias (Quaines, xal dirra beranuware ; compare the following frag- ment) épiscmevos usta thy &Ppactoy evworv, Oinwing avabsuarilecbucay, ws Toy ve Xpioray eis dv0 Tpdowmre xarameplouyres, ov yap evepysi wore Pvass ovx% UPeoracn. ? Galland. xii. 736. Epist. ad Serg. II.: dpc yao 4pxdn wev (both, in the view of Sergius) 4 eyvwois éx ovyyvosuc, nal remavras y ovvbcois xeel ete flay ovale merexapnoey ; iva, Os Atyels, 4 dyla tpies Duran tpiads, xal or} TEpitToOy Tpoowmroy weepaocanr ces. ~l SEVERUS. LS tinued rather to enjoy an uncurtailed and unaltered existence in Christ—remaining, as Leontius of Jerusalem said, the same both in quantity and quality." And yet he speaks in the most decided terms against the doctrine of a permanent duality of natures, of the divine and human, and anathematizes the Synod of Chalcedon. How are we to reconcile these various state- ments? Did he perhaps merely mean, as we found in the case of Cyrill, that‘we can discriminate the two natures in thought even after the Unio, but that there was nothing in reality answering to the discrimination, although the unity, as it actually existed, was constituted out of two veritable and different fac- tors? Or, in consideration of the fact of the person having been constituted out of two natures, did he sometimes admit of a plurality of otvc/az, in the sense in which causes can be said, in some way, to continue their existence in the effects? He undoubtedly did employ these distinctions (the one of them may be found in A. Mai vii. 186%, 278°; the other, 280°), but they are not sufficient, because he was really and seriously _anxious, especially in his controversy with the J ulianists, to maintain the permanent existence of a plurality of natures even am Christ ; and yet, on the other hand, he was quite as persevering in his opposition to the duality of natures in the Person of Christ. The only explanation that we can find of this apparent incon- gruity is the following,—that he used the word nature in the sense which it bears, when we speak of the nature or essence of righteousness, or of any other guality, In this sense, he might, of course, admit of a plurality of natures in Christ, even after the Unio—of natures which all unite in one focus, and which, in the higher signification of the term nature, constitute pia gious or vrootacis; but against the duality of natures he unremittingly protested, because in that connection the word 1 Severus contra Joannem Grammaticum, lib. Il. cap.i., in Galland. Bibl. xii. 785. Kai ray 2 ay 4 evwots, wevovrayv ciusiorov xal dvaarnroiirov ey guvbtces Of UPeoratay xal ovx tv moveasy idosoovoraross, ib. 736. In the Ep. ili. ad Sergium, he says, ‘‘I have proved to the Julianists, by many testi- monies, that it is net allowable to call the Immanuel, pds oboias re xal roornros xa Evoc losapearoc. No reasonable man will say that the nature of the Logos and the besouled rational humanity hypostatically united with Him, became psas ovolas xael wotornros.” The word Qvats he employs less willingly within the Unio; though, in the sense of ote/a, he does not alto- gether object to it. 138 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. “natures” had acquired the meaning of two.separate-monads, foci or centres; whereas he was unable to see his way clear to conceding the existence of more than one such focus in Christ." Severus’ conception of the incarnation was, therefore, the following,—that all the human qualities remained unchanged in their nature or essence, but were so amalgamated with the totality of the hypostasis, that they had no longer any kind of centre or focus of their own, no longer constituted a separate monas. The foci, on the contrary, had become one; the monads were conjoined, the substrata, in which the qualities of both natures inhered, no longer had an independent subsistence (uovddes idvocvararoe), but formed a synthesis,” and all the idiomata or attributes subsisted in this composite hypostasis or nature. We must therefore follow the example of Dionysius Areopagita, the Wise, and make use of the expression,—through the humani- fication® of God (avdpwOévtos Oeod), there arose a divine- human, a theandric (Geavdpix7), that is, a composite nature and hypostasis ; and this composite hypostasis has put forth a new divine-human, that is, a composite activity (Ocavdpixn évépyea). A favourite argument adduced by Severus for his view, was the walking of Christ on the sea. This cannot be termed a simply and strictly human act; and yet, on the other hand, it Is quite as incongruous to attribute walking to the divine nature in itself. The act was, therefore, divine-human.? How, then, can we still say, with Leo, that “the Logos worked what pertained to the Logos, and the body what pertained to the ' The above explanation is supported by the fragment, ibid. 736: dvade- eeeeriCovres rolvuy rods Oicespovvras Tov Eve Xplorov mere Typ Evoowy TH Ovads THY Qvoswy, ov 0” aro To Adve Doosis y lOsernras 4 evepyelas Uravabeueriobivrsc ToUTO Dauey, AAR Ose TO Aéyery Ovo. These Monophysites said, rae cépsduds idtocveraray gorl Onawrincs. A. Mai vii. 64% and 278%. From the work against the Grammarian, the following: (dod, ro sv dv0 oxoreiv, 77 Pavra- Gig TOY vou edvov EDieracs Oseexplvovros ry OvecQopay riy ds ev wororyTs Dvoixn. Ibid. 279: rag ob xarayércorov xal ro Agyety OVo ldsorynrees Y OVO Evepryelas 3 TOAAL yeep tot xal ov Ovo edvoy Excearns Dvoswe. 2 Galland. xii. 735. Ep. ad Solonem. * Generally, I have rendered the German word ‘‘ Menschwerdung ” by ‘‘ incarnation,” though it is not an exact equivalent. In this connection, however, I have coined a word for the sake of expressing more precisely both the German and the Greek idea. ‘‘ Humanization” (not so legitimate a form) has another meaning, or I might have adopted it.—Tr. 3 A. Mai, pp. 285, 286. SEVERUS. 139 body,—that the former shone in the miracles, and the latter sub- mitted to suffering?” In that case, there would only have been a relative community of natures, a unity of relation (eyerux) KowWovia TOY popPav Kat UTTO yvaplKhs Suabéceiws), such as was advocated by Nestorius. To say that the Logos raised the human nature to His own glory and power, may be true; but it is irreconcilable with Leo’s assertion, that “each nature re- tained its peculiar characteristics unaltered.” So far from that, the Logos did not permit the human nature, in some cases, to act according to its own laws; for example, when Christ walked on the sea, and when He rose from the dead. Both acts transcended the laws of human nature, which, therefore, were so far partially abolished. For death befell the body by a physical law (this against the Julianists; see A. Mai, vu. 287), and the lance inflicted a physical wound on Christ, because such was the free determination of the Logos ;— even so did the resurrection transcend the law to which the dead body was naturally subject. The teachers of the Church tried to escape from the perplexity by discriminating..between.what is opposed to, and what is above, nature; between the contra- natural and the supra-natural. Such a communication of power on the part of the Logos may indeed transcend human nature ; but it is simply an exaltation of its essence, and neither a spoliation nor an annihilation. We have already remarked, however, that such a communication is incompatible with the doctrine of the essential difference of the two natures, else- where taught. For, if we conceive this communication of power to have been without measure, then did human nature possess as its own, and as constituting its true, nay more, its truer essence, the very divine qualities which constitute the divine essence. One would almost have expected, that in his controversy with the Julianists, Severus would be forced, after all, to substitute for the divine-human activities which he up- held, a distinction between the divine and the human activities. But it was in his power to reply,—Although the qualities of the divine and the human natures remain unaltered in Christ, still both are qualities of the one composite nature or Person of the Logos. The Logos appropriated these qualities and sufferings of human nature, and, according as His work re- quired it, left the body over to its physical laws and assumed 140 - SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. human sufferings, or displayed His divine energy and allowed His body to participate therein. From Julian, therefore, he discriminated himself, by representing the laws of the human - body as suspended merely for the moment, and as potentially continuing to exist: Julian, on the contrary, regarded even a momentary otépnots of the human aspect, as a proof against the unaltered continuance of the human qualities, and held it, consequently, to be more consistent, instead of contending for the unchangeableness of each, to maintain that the flesh of Christ was converted into the divine immortality through and after the Unio. Following the general example of the Monophysites hitherto mentioned, cba neglected to submit the human soul of Christ to a closer examination. The passage, “ Not as s I will, but as Thou wilt,’ he remarks, does not prove the existence i a will distinct from the divine; nor do the words imply either that the will of Christ grew faint, or that a struggle took place in Him: the passage is simply a word of instruction (for us). The Logos could neither have feared death, nor have made the human unwillingness to die, His own; but freely permitted the flesh to undergo the sufferings to which it was physically sus- ceptible (1. c. 288): so that here also, no act can be said to be either solely human or solely divine, but all are alike divine and human. The adherents of Severus then endeavoured to demonstrate the rightness of this view. No one objects to call man pia dvats, although he consists of soul and body, which are two different substances: just so must it be possible to designate Christ pia vows, although divine and human elements are united in Him without alteration. If we teach that there are two natures in a state of union, we ought also to teach that there is one, and that a composite nature (A. Mai, vu. 62 ff.). But if we object to that, we must necessarily saan posit two sub- nay more, two mpocwrra. For, even when we discriminate natures or substances merely.in.thought, we at once posit, also in thought, two persons (rpocwra) : no sooner is the distinction stablisherl than each assumes to itself a separate and independent form. On the other hand, the duality of hypostases and persons posited.in thought.and—phan- tasy, disappears the moment we conceive the natures..which strata, UTrooTracets, SPEER 8 Se oe SEVERUS. THEMISTIUS. 141 constitute the one hypostasis and nature of the incarnate Logos as subsisting in synthesis; the supposed dyad converges into a unity (eds év 71), that is, into the one hypostasis which consists of two, and which is then consistently termed, the Person (A. Mai, 2797). Although the Monophysites in general, admitted that Christ eRe a human soul, still the fre JERE whose doctrine was of a more physical cast, and which culminated in the Aph- thartodocetists (&p@apros, Flan aagutldt Soxeiv, to seem) and Actistetes (detistos = — uncreate), spoke almost exclusively of the body of Christ, and of its glorification by the indwelling Logos. Severus, as we have seen, taught, in reference to The will of Christ, that the divine and human wills were one, not merely in virtue of the identity of their_aim, but also in virtue of the identity of the volitional principle; and, however ear- nestly he tried to discriminate himself from Euerohes Dioscurus, and Timotheus, by supposing that the difference between the divine and human aspects was somehow preserved in, and along with, the unity of the nature or Person of Christ,—relatively to the soul, he was unwilling to admit the existence of a differ- ence between the human and the divine, in the matter either of volition or knowledge. But when he placed the imperfection of the body, its mortality and so forth, to the account of the general laws of human nature, which could only be momen- tarily suspended, consistency would have seemed to demand a similar admission with respect to the soul of Christ—the ad- mission, namely, that though, through the action of the Logos, the spiritual energy of the human soul of Christ might, for the time, or at all events in part, lose its limitation, the said limita- tion, however, continued to exist potentially. Accordingly, we find, that after the death of Severus, the Deacon Themistius, in Alexandria, came forward as an advocate of the doctrine, that the human soul of Christ was like ours in everything, even in ignorance—a doctrine which had been repudiated by the other followers of Severus (in Egypt, designated Theodosians).t Even in the Gospels Jesus says, that “no one, not even the Son, know- eth the hour, but the Father only;” and He asked also, “ Where have ye laid Lazarus ?”—a question involving ignorance. : Geliana: xii. ; Leont. Byz. 2, de sectis, Actio'x. cap. ili. p. 654, Actio v. cap. vi. p. 641. Compare Phone Cod. 230. 142 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. By their opponents among the Monophysites they were termed Agnoetes (ayvoéw), and were assailed especially by the Severian Bishop of Alexandria, Theodosius, the successor of Timotheus. He, however, was soon ejected by the populace, to make way for Gajanus, a Julianist; then he was restored by Justinian, and finally was banished to Byzantium. Like Coluthus,’ Tareas aimed to represent both the will and activity of Christ as one, and His knowledge as one ; for, he urges, the knower was as truly one as the willer and eee Whether he supposed the Logos to have emptied Himself in regard to knowledge also, or that, for the sake of preserving the unity of His person, He appropriated also the human pre- dicate of ignorance (words to which it is scarcely possible to attach a distinct thought), cannot be clearly ascertained owing to the lack of sources of information. This question had, how- ever, as yet, by no means been decided by the Church. It might have been expected, that as the doctrine of two natures had received the sanction of the Church, the doctrine of the Agnoetes, who constituted simply a small branch of the great party of Severus, would meet with a large measure of approval amongst the teachers of the Church. And some, in fact, were favourable to it. Amongst these, at a later period (about 610), may be specially mentioned, Leontius of Byzan- tium, who, from the fact that ignorance is attributable to us, and that Christ was of the like nature with us; further, from the circumstance that in Luke ii. He is said to have grown in wisdom ; and finally, “on the basis of the testimony of many, nay, almost all the Fathers,” concludes that a certain kind of ignorance must be ascribed to Christ. But although it was an universal doctrine that Christ grew on earth in respect to His humanity, it was considered better—for example, by Jerome (ed. Vallars. T. vii. 34, on Ps. 15)—to refer the passages which imply ignorance, rather to the Church, than to its Head. Similarly also, Ambrose (on Luc. ii. 52) was of opinion, that “ nostra ignoratione nescit, non quia aliquid ipse nesciret ;”? and that, to.assume the ne of the principles of intelligence, or a coated knowledge, would be to run the-4isk of dividing Christ Himself. Fulgentius characterizes it as an error, to suppose that the soul of Christ had not the full knowledge of 1 A. Mai, 1. c 72%; Cotel. Monum. 1. c. 399, 406 ff. f | . CHURCH DOCTRINE OF CHRIST’S KNOWLEDGE. 143 the Godhead, in common with which it had one personality. Beda (on Luce. ii.) says, that “ growth is the sign of a human soul ;” but, at the same time, also remarks, that “from the hour of His conception, Christ was full of wisdom; for this man was at no moment anything other than God.” Similarly Alcuin observes (ad Carolum, 1. ii. 11), “The soul of Christ may not be held to have lacked any part of the Divine knowledge, inas- much as it formed in the Trinity one person with the Word, that is Christ.” And this doctrine attained to ever gcreater predominance, its advocates not failing to resort to the most violent expedients. The most common of these was to say, that Christ did not wish, on ceconomical grounds, that is, for men’s sake, to appear to know: He merely meant that, for His disciples, He did not know that which they could not bear, and concerning which they inquired of Him. Nor was His asking a question a sign of ignorance, but merely an incitement to discourse, an introduction of conversation! In this matter, therefore, the roles were completely exchanged : Monophysites | became Agnoetes; and the adherents of the Council of Chal- ° cedon, who took their stand on the duality of the natures, ap- proved of that which we should have expected to find defended by the Monophysites: so that, even internally, there was no distinct line of demarcation between the two parties, whose re- spective outward boundaries, in consequence of the Henoticon, had for some time ceased to be recognisable (Note 31). From the time of Justinian, who first treated the Monophy- sites with mildness, and then persecuted them hotly, the hitherto so lively intercourse between that party and the Church was broken ever more completely off.? Robbed of their patriarchs and directors, they were now held together principally by James Baradai, who travelled through the districts inhabited by Mono- physites under the disguise of a beggar, ordained bishops, and * Compare Beda Venerab. ed. Colon. 1688, Tom. iii. 245-247. In re- ference to the passage, ‘‘ Neither also does the Son know the day of judg- ment,” Gregory of Tours remarks, ‘‘ The Son who here speaks is the adopted son, that is, humanity: hence also the angels are mentioned be- fore him.” ? The only effect of which was to prepare the way for the adoption, by Monotheletism within the Church itself, of a Monoplysitic view of the Per- son of Christ. 144 | SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. established a church union, especially in Syria. But the flourish- ing period of Monophysitism, in a scientific point of view, had now passed. Amongst its adherents who had received a shies sophical culture, denne arose whether the middle position taken up in reference to Christology, by Severus and the followers of Baradai, by Damianus the Monophysite, Patriarch of Alexan- dria, and Peter the Younger of Kalliniko, was a tenable one. Stephen, an Alexandrian Sophist, with the surname of Niobes,! taught, that the distinction in the natural essence of the things, out of which Christ was constituted, cannot be held to have con- tinued (as the party of Severus Hees after the Unio; and thus made himself the representative of the stricter Monophysite doctrine which now began to show itself. When opposed by Damian, he assigned as the ground for his view, that if there remain a distinction in the things out of which Christ is con- stituted, it is impossible to avoid separating and numbering the natures in accordance with the constant assertion of the teachers of the Church. Damian condemned his teachings. About this time, two learned and eloquent Monophysites, Beshes and the Archimandrite John Barbut, came to Alexandria with Peter, the Monophysite Patriarch of Antioch. Probus decided on re-. futing Stephen in a writing: but, whatever the reason may have been (the Patriarch Peter is said, at an early period, to have remarked an inclination on the part of Probus and John to the view of Stephen), after the work had been composed, Probus, without informing John, openly adopted Stephen’s view of the untenableness of the middle position between the doctrine of the Council of Chalcedon and Monophysitism, taken up by Severus and his party. By means of letters and discourses they diffused their views in Alexandria, until they were driven out by Damian. Probus, further, having been deposed and excom- municated, they betook themselves to the East, where they laboured with such great success amongst the monks, that, at their pressing invitation, the Patriarch Reter was induced to convene a Synod in Guba, at a later period the seat of the Jacobite patriarchs. At this Synod, John endeavoured to show that Probus had been unjustly deposed. But both of them, and all their adherents, were excommiunicated. In the name of the 1 Assem. Bibl. Orient. ii. 72-77. From the Church History of the Monophysite Patriarch Dionysius ; compare Photius, Cod. xxiv. %. ’ THE NIOBITES. 145 Synod, Peter wrote a work laying down the doctrinal system of Severus as the orthodox one: he especially maintained the orthodoxy of the opinion, that the natures out of which Christ was constituted, continued to be distinct even after the Unio, though without Wate separated or numerically dual. John and Probus now changed over to the Confession adopted by the Council of Chalcedon. In part, without doubt, this resulted from fickleness; at all events, before his death, Probus, who afterwards became Bishop of Chalcedon, is said to have returned to Monophysitism. Still, one can well conceive that men who had received a Bielerical culture found it impossible to remain in suspense, as did the adherents of Severus; that they then attempted to follow out the Monophysitie idea to its logical re- sults, and to justify their continuance as a separate ecclesiastical party; and that subsequently, not merely failing therein, but seeing Docetism to be the necessary result of the abolition of all and every distinction, they felt the Chalcedonian doctrine to be really more self-consistent, although not calculated to be per- manently satisfactory. At all events, after the death of Peter in 091, they laboured with great zeal in and around Antioch, advocating the cause of the Council of Chalcedon, both in writ- ings and in disputations with monks out of all the Monophysite monasteries, and endeavouring to show the inconsistency of accepting a difference, and yet rejecting the duality, of natures. They even succeeded in bringing over many, particularly entire towns in the neighbourhood of Antioch, to the Chalcedonian doctrine. The result of the Niobite Controversy, as respects the remaining Monophy sites, was to bind them more firmly to their traditional views, especially as the sanction of an Oriental Synod might now be pleaded on behalf of the doctrine of Severus. In the history of the Monophysitic Party, we find displayed a fruitfulness and acuteness of mind, and a vigour in attack, which could not be overlooked or lightly valued by the orthodox teachers of the great body of the Church. Let us now glance at the principal. arguments employed by the defenders. of the Council of Chalcedon, in opposition to the Monophysites, and especially to the ne (Note 32). If-the-two. natures are entirely one, then are they one nature. But now the Severians themselves say, that that which is not in reality completely one, constitutes one nature in Christ ; consequently, their one nature P. 2.—VOL, I. | K 146 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. ee is, after all, not one nature.—If the two aspects form one nature, then are they of the same essence, of the same substance and the deity of Christ has, therefore, the same essence as His Kamantee But this the Monophysites themselves deny ; and, consequently, they hold not one nature, but diverse natures.— They grant that Christ was constituted out of deity and humanity, and that, after the Unio, He consisted of deity and humanity. But, as certainly as the former denotes two different natures, so certainly - must a duality of natures be conceded in the latter case, espe- cially as they disapprove of a Unio by mixture, and only believe in a conjunction of two natures.— When they allow that Christ was constituted out of two natures, and yet deny that there are two natures in Him, we are compelled to ask, whether that of which a being is and consists, is not in it. In what being then is it, if it is at all? They protest, however, specially against the duality, saying that “what we count, we divide,” as if one could not count what is united, and unite what is counted. Number, in itself, denotes neither separation nor union ; it only expresses the quantum, not the essential nature of a thing. They, therefore, lay too great stress on the matter of number.— If the Logos and the flesh are in no sense two, they are in every sense one. But then the Word itself is flesh, and the flesh is the Word, not less eternal, and not less consubstantial with the Father, than the Word. For, if the Word and the flesh are one nature, and if the nature of the Word and the nature of the Father is one and the same, then is the nature of the flesh and of the Father the same; and, inasmuch as the case 1s the same with the Holy Spirit, we should have to conclude not only the Word, but even the Trinity, to be man.—The Severians say that even the one nature is composite. Now, as the nature of the Logos is simple, it is for them to show how the simple nature of the Word is discriminated from the composite nature of Christ. Its discriminating charagteristic is plainly the humanity which is added to the deity. Ci, then, that which is composite is not simple, the nature of Christ must be dual; and the doctrine of two natures ought to be taught.—If Christ never had a twofold nature, it is, of course, absurd to speak about a Unio: but if He ever had a double nature, when did the double nature become one ? and what is this one to be supposed to be? Is it the nature of the appropriator, or that of the appropriated ? POLEMIC AGAINST MONOPHYSITISM. 147 We must then ask, what has become of the other? If both continue to subsist, how are they one? Or, is Christ’s nature a new, third something, compounded of both? In that case, however, Christ would be of a different substance from the Father, seeing that the substance of the latter 1s not com- pounded.—The union between the Logos and the Father can- not possibly be less close than the union between the Logos and the flesh, and yet the Father and the Word are two: why, then, cannot the Word and the flesh be in any sense two? (This argument was directed specially against the ‘Tritheites among the Monophysites.)— The Monophysites said: The nature is never less than the person, and, in the case of rational beings, involves personality ; so that Soc ohW et assumes the existence of two natures, must posit also two personalities. Plurality sepa- rates ; whereas the monas is without quantity, and is, therefore, in itself idee. The orthodox replied,—The éévxov is denoted by the hypostasis; the nature, on the contrary, is the expression for the xowov (the general). If the two natures are not one as to their hypostasis, still they are one as to their nature. But if deity and humanity are one nature, this one nature is the generic term under which are comprehended deity and hu- manity, both of which must somehow be held to continue to exist in the composite nature of Christ. Now, if deity and humanity are two species or individuals of the same genus, then the deity and humanity in Christ stand in the relation to each other of two individuals: at this point, therefore, Mono- physitism passes into Nestorianism." The simplicity of the nature of Christ cannot, therefore, be any longer maintained. Such simplicity is predicable, indeed, of the ‘Trinity, when it denotes that general divine substance in which the particular foci of characteristic peculiarities inhere, so that, along with unity of nature, there is difference of hypostases. But in Christology the situation of things is just the reverse. ‘There, unless the doctrine of Nestorius be followed, we must posit unity of hypostasis along with difference of natures. In both dogmas, however, substance or nature designates that which is general or common to several (the divine nature of Christ is the nature both of the Father and the. Spirit,—the human nature is the nature of all other men): person, on the other 1 Galland. loc. cit. 714°. 148 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. ' hand, denotes the individual, the ééc«dv, that which discriminates the Son from the Father and Spirit, and the God-man from other men. Person is distinguished from nature, as the accident, the superadded, from the substance. In God, of course, this accident, which is at the same time hypostasis, is inseparably connected with His essence; nay more, not in relation to His substance is it to be called an accident, but merely in relation to the other Doane The Monophysites, on ane contrary, use the word.“‘nature;”-as we use the word “ essence,’ to denote not merely the general, but also the special or individual. Accord- ing to them, everything actu existent, must also exist as a parti- seth individual: we must not suppose that the general exists merely also in the individual,—it exists merely as that which particularizes or individualizes itself." Hence the Tritheism of John Akusnages and John Philoponus amongst the Monophy- sites (Note 33). Where the controversy was conducted scientifically, the question as to the relation between nature and person was con- stantly brought under discussion. The Nestorians.and the Monophysites expressed themselves in the same way regard- ing it, and raised the same objections to the definitions and ontological propositions laid down by the teachers of the Church, maintaining that the nature cannot be impersonal, and that where there is a vous, there must also be an t7o0- otaots. From this it followed, according to the Nestorians, that because there are two natures in Christ, there must also be two independent hypostases; although somehow united to form the one Christ. As the Monophysites, however, abso- lutely repudiated the duality of persons, they repudiated also the duality of natures, which seemed to them to involve the duality of persons. That every nature is also an_hypostasis, they endeavoured to prove as follows :—The essence or nature is that which is common to all the individuals of a genus (the xowov) ; this, however, never exists by itself alone, but solely in an individual. Consequently, the essence can be conceived as independent, solely in thought; actually, it never exists by itself, independently. Whether it is a reality in itself, or is merely a nominalistic notion, remained herewith quite unde- termined. It did, however, follow from this positions that a 1 See Note E. App. ii, GENERIC AND INDIVIDUAL IN CHRIST. 149 real humanity can only subsist as (dv); as is the case also with deity. But everything (ducov they term tirdctacis: in their view, Urdctacis is the essence or nature itself, in the form of a particular individual; ovc/a or vous is, therefore, essentially an individual. Every definite idvcov, or the tzo- oTacts, is an accident in relation to the universal, to the essence (or genus)—it is that which is superadded to the essence: at the same time, an idsxov must be superadded, in order that the essence may really exist. The ¢cdvcov is further discriminated from whatever else is of the same substance with it, by marks which are peculiar to it amongst all others. From this the Monophysitic Christology drew the conclusion, that the natures of Christ cannot be conceived as real, unless they are also con- ceived as hypostatic or as éoucov. ‘The problem, then, would be to effect the union of the divine ¢évxov of the Son and the human i6uxov of the individual man Jesus (the essence of each involving the iotxov of each). Now, as it would be impossible to consti- tute one hypostasis out of two hypostases, of the same dicts or genus, the question must of necessity be one of the union of two different natures. This cannot, of course, be effected by uniting the twofold idccov of both, whilst the essence of each remains separate; for then the essences would be able to subsist alone, separated from the united idccots: they cannot, however, - subsist alone, but solely in individuals. The unity thus effected would be one merely of the accidental, the idvcoy ; in the prin- cipal matter, namely the gvous, no result would have been arrived at. If the @vces continue in their duality, they must necessarily, in order to exist at all, tend towards a twofold iotxov, each in its own kind. It would, therefore, be well to | begin from the opposite direction, and first to endeavour to effect the union of the gucets. Should this attempt succeed, and should the two guvaets be constituted to one new and unique dtcus (the Xpiorotys, the theandric or divine-human nature), then, relatively to this ovcia or dvats also, it must be maintained that it can only exist as i6vxy, or in an individual. The danger that this nature would necessitate the assumption of two hypostases in Christ is thus obviated. Christ is accord- ingly an individual person of divine-human essence." + The Monophysites regarded Christ as a thoroughly distinct, living, indissoluble synthesis—a synthesis which had become an évyreAdyese ; and 150 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. Over against this deduction, the teachers of the Church were not in ail cases and at once able to take up a safe and in- telligible position. They at once, it is true, manifested sus- picion of the union in the sphere of the natures, and their fear that an irreverent doctrine of conversion or mixture would be the result. But they did not at first know whether they ought to allow or not, that no déats really exists, except as an (dcxov. (Not a few supposed, at the outset, that they ought to deny the exist. ence of an individual humanity in Christ, because, from the exist- ence of an individual humanity, the. Monophysites immediatel concluded the existence also of a human hypostasis in Christ” * They also thought that they ought to maintain that the general substance of true humanity, considered not as an idea, but as a congeries of real powers, was assumed by the Son of God. With this there then readily connected itself that form of the mystical Christology which taught that humanity, in its totality, was included in Christ, as in the second Adam (Note 34). The Monophysites,-however, replied that that would lead to a species of Nihilianism ; for, if Christ assumed humanity in its entirety, but without appropriating anything definitely_human, He did not in reality become anything; and if a is not raion He is nothing. Further, Christ would then be the universal generic human being; but, as it is essential to the generic sub- stance to pertain to all the individuals of the same genus, all men must consequently be Christ. The teachers of the Church then withdrew from the position which they had assumed, and conceded the existence of an individual human essence in Christ (Note 35). Until far into the Middle Ages, very different views were, of course, taken of the “ Principium Individua- tionis :’ sometimes it was conceived quantitatively, either as a negation (atépnots) or limitation of the collective contents of the genus, or as an enrichment of the universal generic idea ; whether as effected from without by the material element (capé), or as a qualitative 1 inner principle. A special epoch in the relation of the Church to these maintained, that to analyze Him into His constituent elements, was not to comprehend Him. Through the analysis, that which was characteristic of Christ, that which discriminated Him both from the simply divine and the simply human, to wit, the Xpsorcrns or the Christhood, would be done away with. —— se, a Pes, BOETHIUS. 15f questions, was constituted by the work of Boethius against Nestorius and Eutyches,' with its definitions of the terms, natura, substantia, persona, which he declares to be equiva- lents for the Greek words, dvcus or otcia, tmooctacis, and mpoowrov. He admitted that every essence or every nature exists as an individual; but questioned the validity of the Monophysitic at gratin that, therefore, he who teaches the existence of two natures in hiss teaches also, in effect, that there are two individuals or persons in Christ. Not two per- sons; for there may exist a nature which has not an hypostasis or person, as the entire irrational creation proves: the Mono- physitic conception of person is therefore too physical, and makes it equivalent to physical individuality. Spiritual natures alone can be also endowed with personality. It is true, then, that, as an actual man, Christ must have been, in the physical aspect of His being, a human individual; but this does not ne- cessarily imply that there were two persons in the one Christ. Nor did it even imply, as later writers added by way of making the statement complete, that there were two individuals. Two individuals of the same substance (Paul, Peter) cannot, indeed, become one; but here we have to do with individuals of a dif- ferent substance. Besides this, it must be remembered that the divine nature of the Son is not an individual or part, and that God is not a genus,—which would lead to Tritheism. That undoubtedly signifies,—towards the Son of God, who is not a part of God, but the whole God, the human individuality 1 Boéthii opp. ed. Basil. 1546, ‘‘ De duabus naturis et una persona ee adv. Eutychen et Wogeras ” pp. 948-957. 2 P. 951: ‘ Natura est ue: substantie specificata te DOR persona vero rationabilis nature individua subsistentia. 960: Hujus (Kutychetis) error ex eodem quo Nestorii fonte prolabitur, nam sicut Nes- torius arbitratus non posse esse naturam duplicem quin persona fieret duplex, atque ita cum in Christo naturam duplicem confiteretur, duplicem credidit esse personam, ita quoque Hutyches non putavit naturam duplicem esse sine duplicatione persone.” He then puts the question, and with special interest,—How can two natures be constituted one? It is only possible on the condition, either that one of them cease to exist by being converted into the other,—as, for example, when a drop of wine is poured into the ocean ; or, that the two things commingle, and modify each other, so as to produce a new third thing which is neither the one nor the other, in that each is determined by the other, agendo et patiendo,—as, for example, honey and water are combined to form a new third thing, which we term mead. 152 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. cannot stand in so independent and exclusive a relation as towards another human individuality. They then proceed to say:" Of course, no spiritual nature, consequently not even that of Christ, can be destitute of personality; but we are not therefore necessarily compelled to say that it must be personal in itself, in order to have an actual existence. The spiritual human nature may have been incorporated with the Person of the Son; and thus it would not be without personality. By the assumptive act of this divine person, an individual human nature, both as to body and soul, was formed, which, although a mere individual part of humanity as actually existent, was nevertheless so constituted as to contain in full perfection and purity all that is required by the general conception of human nature. The Monophysitic doctrine, on the contrary, by as- suming the existence of a new vous in Christ, and by repre- senting it as (6vx7, leads to the conclusion, that, as in all other cases, so here, the dvaus of the Xpuerorns may undergo a mani- fold individualization ; and thus involves the destruction of the distinctive and unique character of Christ. This polemic against Monophysitism shows clearly enough that the teachers of the Church must not only have distinguished between nature and person, but must also have held that human nature might exist in a sense by itself, without a personality of its-own:” it shows further, that when their aim was to effect the union of the two natures, they were only able to accomplish their object by declining, after the example of Apollinarism, to assert the completeness of the human nature of Christ, and by as- suming a mixture, or transubstantiatio, in the sphere of the per- sona, similar to that which Monophysites assumed in the sphere of the natura. Only its human individuality did they preserve to the human nature of Christ.? For the rest, notwithstanding ' Compare, for example, Leontius’ ‘ de Sectis,” Act. vil., in A. Mai Ic, 'T. vil. p. 52 ff., pp: 18 £., 19, 20. ? The teachers of the Church were, in like manner, moved to distinguish more definitely between the dxdarears and the Qtois or ovix, even in the deity of Christ, by the objection with which they were met, that if the nature of the Son, which is also the nature of the Father and the Spirit, became man, the Father and the Spirit must also have become man, as to their nature. * Though, if the Logos be the persona in Christ, and if Boéthius’ defini- tion of persona given above were adopted, even this would not be quite certain. THE CHURCH AND MONOPHYSITISM. 153 the zeal with which they asserted the existence of a human nature permanently discriminated from the Son of God, they left it no real independence: it subsisted solely in the eens The Logos was the substantial: human nature was merely the selfless Heelan tals ; and the individual human element in Christ was not conceived to be related to the human genus, as the manifestation of its true and genuine nature, but as the mani- festation of the accidental. There is no mistaking, however, that the teachers of the Church did not continue to attach quite the same meaning to the terms “natura” and “ persona.” On_the one hand, they said, “ persona non subsistit preeter na- ‘turam;” that “ natura” is that in which “persona” inheres; that the “ persona”’ subsists.in the“ natura,” ately so far therefore, is rather “ substantia” than “ foodies ;’ and that, in relation to the “natura,” the“ persona” is the accidental (ouppeBnes). Such are the terms they employ, when the human is the subject of consideration. But when the endeavour was made to apply these distinctions to the deity, the eas: was made,—In God nothing can be said to be “ accidens :” the Person of the Father, for example, does not inhere in something else as an “ accidens,” but subsists in itself; and this is the true definition of sub- stance. Further, the Divine Person or hypostasis in Christ, was the substance in which the human nature inhered, or had its subsistence.’ But, whatever may be said regarding the relation of ovcla or vats to trootacis in general, or in con- nection with one of the natures, such a representation reduces humanity to the position of an “accidens” of the deity in which it inheres, as in its substance. The } Monophysites were willing, indeed, to allow that a union had been effected in the sphere of the “natura:” they did not, however, consider human.nature.to_be a determination of. ihe divine essence (as Apollinaris did), and thus ensure it an eternal existence. Whatever persistency might be displayed in holding that the divine nature, subsequently to the Unio, belonged quite 1 Leontius in A. Mail. c. p. 52 (and similarly Gelasius) : the evyxo- ovarov—the human ovcie —is that which év érépw exes to elves, wal ovx ev Suur@ bewpeires; the vardoraorc, on the contrary, zal tov rod xab avro eivecs Advyou xuréxer. "Avumrdoreros, indeed, the (human) Qvors cannot be termed ; but it does not therefore follow that it is an saxdorceots, for it may have its subsistence in another—even in the divine hypostasis, 154 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. as truly to the human as the human to the divine, they still treated the human as a mere selfless “ accidens” of the divine nature: We thus see clearly that the two parties were not in reality so far removed from each other as they themselves sup- posed. The Monophysites, on the one hand, represent the Nisus to attain a more intimate union of the natures than was attained by the Chalcedonians ; but did no more than the latter to exhibit the inner connection between the divine and human. The Chalcedonians, on the other hand, represent the Misus to preserve to the human element a relative independence without mixture or conversion ; but they did not, in reality and logically, get beyond the Monophysite notion of the insubstantiation of » the humanity in the deity, although they confessed it not to themselves. Nor is any essential change made in the relation of the deity to the humanity, by designating the substance in which the humanity has an impersonal subsistence, hypostasis. This was the chief reason why Monophysitic elements con- stantly made their appearance afresh within the Church itself. And accordingly, despite the long and fruitless struggle carried on by the victors at Chalcedon with those who, though van- quished, refused to surrender, about the middle of the sixth century the stream of Monophysitism within the Church itself became again so powerful, that the Three Chapter Controversy may be taken as a proof of the withdrawal of the favour which had been predominantly bestowed on the school of Antioch at the Council of Chalcedon. Indeed, at the Synod held_in the year 553, Justinian succeeded in carrying through the formula-which forms the complementary counterpart to the Oeoréxos—namely, that one of the Holy Trinity was crucified forus...-With-this revival of Monophysitism was connected the Monotheletic movement in the following century. At the same time, the feeling that Monophysitism must lead to the annulment of the reality of the incarnation, retained its life, and gave rise to a reaction against Monophysitic elements on the part of the ad- herents of the Council of Chalcedon, which daily gained new force. Against the full victory of such elements they were 1 The Monophysites affirmed also, that, according to the Fathers of the Council of Chalcedon, the unity of the person was not a substantial reality, but merely an accident, an attribute. Compare the interesting discussion of Barhebreeus (sec. 13), Assem. 1. c. ii, 288 ff., and of Elias, sec. 8, Ass.ii. 96, MONOTHELETE CONTROVERSIES. 155 protected, by the existence of a Monophysite counter-Church, so long as the Greek Church continued to be the main arena of dogmatical controversies. Following in the footsteps of the Nestorians, the Monophy- sites sought Resins. after they began to be persecuted by the Emperors, outside of the boundaries of the Greek Empire. Powerful in Syria, Armenia, and Egypt, they kept up a lively connection amongst themselves, especially through the medium of the monks; until the danger arising from Mohammedan in- cursions, and the weakening of the Empire by the schism of the Monophysite party, induced the Emperor to try new con- ciliatory measures (Note 36). At this point, however, our attention is called to the Monothelete Controversy. CHAPTER SECOND. THE MONOTHELETE CONTROVERSIES OF THE SEVENTH CEN- TURY. THE CCUMENICAL SYNODS OF THE YEARS 680 AND 698. How far the Monophysitic mode of thought was from having been fully overcome at the date of the Synod of Chalcedon, is sufficiently clear from the immense compass of this long-endur- ing and not hitherto terminated controversy :—indeed, down to the time of Justinian, it may be regarded in more than one respect as a controversy within the Church itself, to the doctrinal efforts of which, it in several instances gave a new direction. Not before the time of Justinian was a decided blow struck at the influence of Monophysitism in the Greek Church. ‘This result was due, partly, to the continuous schism which existed in the party, side by side with a retrograde movement towards aspecies of Dyophysitism; partly to the circumstance, that the Monophysites, after they began to be persecuted, made the countries which lay outside the Roman Empire the principal scene of their operations, and that, in the following century, they were for the most part shut out from the influence of the other Churches, through the inroads of Mohammedanism. Considered in relation to the Council of Chalcedon, the matter 156 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. ay be said to have stood as follows :—the unquestioned and sole supremacy of the doctrine of the two natures, in the Greek. and in the Latin Church, dates from Justinian; and all attempts to call again in question the authority of the Chalcedonian decrees, or to obtain for the Monophysites some sort of a place in the or- thodox Church, were, from that time onwards, entirely dropped. But with all that was blameworthy in it, the fundamental intuition of Monophysitism had struck its roots so deeply into the Christian consciousness, that even after it had been formally proscribed the Monothelete Controversy arose within the very limits of the Church.’ On the part of its chief teachers—the Patriarch Sergius, and Pyrrhus of Constantinople, Cyrus of Alexandria, Theodorus of Pharan, and Honorius, Patriarch of Rome—Monotheletism may be considered as.an attempt to-effect some kind of solution of the problem of the vital unity of the Person of Christ, which had been so seriously proposed by Mono- physitism, on the basis of the now firmly established doctrine of the two natures. Nor, looked at in this aspect, can it be denied that the Church had now arrived at a stadium in its develop- ment, when, even on internal grounds, this attempt required to be made; although political motives and plans induced the Emperor to attempt to turn the rising impulse to an irenical (eipnvixos) account—to use it as a basis for the reconciliation of Monophysitism with the main body of the Church. Regarded in connection with the Council of Chalcedon, on the contrary, the result of the controversy was the logical and consistent evolution of one important aspect of the Chalcedonian doctrine. This evolution was, however, of such a character, that another solution of the problem referred to was the more imperatively required, when the Monothelete solution had been condemned by the Church. The most prominent representatives of this aspect, were Sophronius, at a later period Patriarch of Jeru- salem, the monk Maximus, and Agathon of Rome. Let us now examine these controversies more closely. We have spoken before (p. 52) of the great influence of the Egyp- tian monks, which had made itself felt from the end of the fourth century. From the fifth century onwards, we find a connection of varied character existing between them and the 1 The Monophysites persisted in maintaining that two natures must also have two wills or modes of expression—that one will demands one nature MONOTHELETISM AND DYOTHELETISM. Nay Syrian monks, especially that part of the Syrian monks which shared the mystical tendency, which had originated with the elder Ephraem. ‘To this connection must it be attributed that, despite the efforts of a Theodoret, and despite the more ase tone assumed by the Council of Chalcedon, towards the old school of Antioch, Monophysitism attained to so wide-spread an authority in Syria.and.Asia. In these monasteries, also, was probably produced that peculiar mixture of Platonism or Neo- Platonism and Christianity, the most characteristic expression of which are the writings of the Pseudo-Dionysius Areopagita, that oracle of secret wasdort whose fame the Monophysites, in- deed, were the first to proclaim, but who rose to great importance in the Church also, on account of the mystical nature of his teachings. His praise was echoed even during the Middle Ages, and his heavenly hierarchy may be said to have been the type of the earthly. These writings probably originated in the fifth century. It will be necessary to dwell for a time upon them, both because their mystical Christology formed an important link of connection between Monophysitism and the doctrine of the Church, and because they not only greatly aid in account- ing for. ate rise of Monotheletism, but were even a_ prelude thereto. Moreover, the extended influence enjoyed by the name and the views of the Areopagite, may prove to be an im- portant confirmation of the assertion previously made, that in the old Monophysitism there was a background of Pantheism : not that we mean to affirm that the Areopagite was a declared Monophysite ; certainly, however, that his entire mode of view- ing the world and God belonged to this family (Note 87). In his work on the Bite Names (c. 2, § 10) he remarks, —The deity of Jesus, which is the cause a all things, fills all things, and preserves all the parts of the universe in concord with the whole,—is neither a part nor a whole, and yet again is both a part and a whole. For it comprises all the parts and the full whole in itself: it is perfect in the imperfect, for it is the prime originator of perfection; but in perfect things it is imperfect, for both as to dignity and origin, it transcends their perfection. In the things which are defective as to form, it is the forming form and the principle of form; but it is also, at the same time, destitute of form, in the forms, because it is itself above all form. It is the being which completely dwells 158 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. in all beings without stain, and is at the same time entirely exalted above all beings.! All the principles of things, and all ordinances, it determines, and yet stands above every principle and every ordinance. It is the measure of things, and their time (that is, their measure, as to space and time), and yet it is above, and prior to, time: it is full in needy things, and over- flows in full things: it is unutterable, innominable: it is above understanding, above life, above substance, above nature ; and so forth. Thus, on the one hand, the Areopagite represents every conception of God, every nominable Divine attribute, as absolutely swallowed up in the incomprehensible Divine unity in the Divine obscurity; and not even from the operations of God may any conclusions be drawn, according to the law of causality, respecting God Himself. “The causes are outside their effects, and are exalted above them, in accordance with the law of their own original, primal ground.”* The very strongest expression is thus given to the exclusiveness which characterized this con- ception of God, in relation to everything finite and human ;—a conception which lay also at the foundation of Monophysitism. From this point of view there is absolutely no resemblance between God and even man,—there is not even an objective relation between the two: God is too highly exalted. But the converse aspect of this matter is also necessary,—namely, that the world has no real existence as a world; that, so far as it can be said really to exist, it is simply the existence of the divine in it. In so far as it really is, God is the unity of that which is divided, the essential being in that which is, the one power uniting the powers, the life of the living; in such a way, how- ever, that whilst He is allowed to be all this, He is conceived as transcending it,—as an absolutely peculiar, and absolutely in- comprehensible, supersubstantial (iiberseiend, depovoros) being. We are here carried back, in all essential respects, to the point of view of Philo; with the difference, that Philo sums up and 1 See Note F. App. u. 2 There may have worked here a precognitive feeling, that a free caus- ality is out of the question, so long as the law of causality takes only a physical form,—that is, so long as certain conclusions can be drawn from the nature of the effect to the nature of the cause. But a free causality, such as he describes, which bears no resemblance whatever to its operations, is in reality physical, because it is arbitrary, notwithstanding its apparent loftiness, and its absolutely supernatural character. 7 - MBA DIONYSIUS AREOPAGITA. 159 comprises the positive relation of God to the world in the Logos, the negative relation in the dv. That out of this dv, the idea of the supersubstantial (vepovevov) should have been formed, may have been due, partly, to the transcendental character of the Christian conception of God,—a transcendence in which the Son also, according to the Areopagite, must participate. A difference in the positive aspect of the Divine relation to the world could not fail to be brought about by the idea of the in- carnation;—an idea which the Areopagite took also into con- sideration. But this step in advance, as we at once find, was, in both aspects, but uncertain and precarious, for precisely the same reason, and because of the very defects, which we remarked in Philo. Both the religious and philosophical consciousness here made their boldest flight towards that absoluteness of the Divine nature which is fitted to attract a pious spirit, or to fill it with reverence, and to give to thought the appearance of in- finite depth: in_reality, however, these-attempts-did but reveal the inner poverty and emptiness of an idea of God which can only be defined by categories borrowed from the domain of the physical. As though intoxicated with nature, and given up to ecstasies, these men Semon the ethical nature of God; and yet at the same time imagined themselves able to advance an infi- nitely more sublime conception of God. But, seeing that God is the one, who is at once in all and above all,—yea, outweighs the negation of the many by the Divine unity,—all idea of distinct hypostases in God ought consistently to be renounced: in the superessential God every- thing sinks down into a unity without distinctions. Much is said, indeed, of the Many, along with the One; but the trinity in God retains merely a completely precarious position.! The Areopagite aims at beholding the One in motion, in process. But a process is only possible where there is a real distinction of momenta; whereas, in this case, the distinctions are not deduced from the unity itself, but are empirically or traditionally adopted, and are then again allowed to disappear in the undiscriminated unity. Importance and significance could, therefore, attach to. the distinctions only so far as they mark a lower stage of con- sciousness, which had not yet advanced to the highest unity. By the distinctions or the many, the Areopagite signified the * Compare Baur, a, a. O., Band ii. 8. 235-239. 2 See NoteG. App. ii. 160 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. world. For the reason just assigned, however, the world could have merely a docetical existence ; for it is quite as truly nothing as something, inasmuch as all that it is, God is; and yet God, again, is quite as truly not in all, but above all. The result, as far as Christology is concerned, is very plain: after laying down such premises, it was impossible for the Areopagite to justify, either anthropologically or theologically, a specific incarnation in one. If he taught it at all, it was because he had adopted it from the creeds of the Church, and he was quite unable to put himself into a sincere and true relation towards it. He says,— Inasmuch as the deity of Jesus, in its exceeding goodness, came even to nature (bis zur Natur), and truly assumed the substance of our flesh, so that the Highest God could be called “man,” the ansheanel and -supérsubstahtial essence shone forth out of humanity. Not, merely because He communicated Himself to us without mixture or change (for in His overflowing fulness He suffered no harm from His unspeakable humiliation), but— and this is the most marvellous amongst all marvellous things— He was supernatural in our natural; He was superessential (iiberseiend) in that which belongs to our being (Sein); and He possessed in an unique manner all that is ours, of us, and above us! “How can Jesus,’ he asks, “o wavrev éméxewa (ultra) be essentially united with all men; that is, not merely in the sense in which He who is the Author of man, can be designated man (in accordance with his notion that God may be named with the names of all His creatures), but in the sense that He was truly man as to His entire nature?” We call Him, he replies, not “man,” for He is not merely man: nor is He merely above our substance (d7repovovos) ; but He is actually man, vIrép avOperous Kal Kata avOpmmous. The superessential One is é& avOporav ovcias ovotwpévos: but He does not, therefore, the less overflow with superessential essence, seeing that He is al- ways beyond and above all being (Sein). He remains concealed even after the revelation of Himself; or rather, to speak more divinely, He remains concealed even in the revelation of.Him- self... For this reason, even when He entered into being, He was invested with a being above being (t7rép ovciav otciwOn). In a manner above the human, He performed human acts. In 1 De div. nomin. ed. Paris, pp. 271-273; compare also Euthym. Panopl. I., Tit. vii., pp. 39, 40. aN a 2 aaa . Se St a = Sa i al s p ; ve ae ~ reek oa DIONYSIUS AREOPAGITA. 161 short, He was not a man, not as though He were not man, but because, though born after human fashion, He was, notwith- standing, really man above the human mode, and above man. Not as God did He perform divine acts, nor human acts as man; but inasmuch as in Him, God had become man, He de- veloped a new, that is, a divine-human, a theandrical activity (Geavdpexny évépyecav).' From what has been advanced, it is clear enough that the Pseudo-Areopagite could not really ac- knowledge the duality of the natures. It is true, he further suggests, in the words last quoted, that the entire activity of Christ was neither purely divine nor purely human, but in all cases theandrical (Oeavdpix7) ; and he accordingly approximated towards the view of the human in Christ as the mere form of the divine, or as the configured divine; but it was out of his power to set it with distinctness before the mind. The super- essential, formless essence of the divine, which remains the same even during the incarnation, presented a constant hindrance in the way of his conceiving the Son to have been really and actually present in Jesus. And, inasmuch as..he sought. to unite the human with the divine, by representing the former as participating in the superessential essence of the latter, the human is again reduced to a something vague and general, and acquires a Docetic character. His whole view of the world, as set forth in his heavenly hierarchy,’ owing to the pantheistic and universalistic nature of the deiticatory process on which it rests, rendered it still more difficult for him to assign to the God-man Jesus any distinctive and integrant place in the uni- verse. What place can Christ occupy in this order, which is divided into two parts,—the heavenly, and its symbolical anti- type, the earthly? Does He occupy a place in the earthly? But then He is on a stage lower than the very lowest of the heavenly order. Or, does He occupy a place in the heavenly ? But then His earthly existence is an illusion: He must, further, 1 Epist. ad Cajum Medicum, 3, 4; compare the Schol. of the Confessor et Monach. Maximus, as appendix to the Oxford Edition of the Opera of Joh. Scotus Erigena, 1681, p. 58 ff. ? The divine nature is represented as diffusing itself in multiple forms through all that is, in that it descends from the highest to the lowest stages, and becomes ever more and more disintegrated; but, through the purify- ing, consecrating, and perfecting action of these same stages, it returns upwards again into the simple unity which is in God, and which is God. hen 2.—VOL. 16 L 162 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. either be co-ordinated, or put on one level, with the heavenly spirits (whether they be the highest or not, is immaterial), and be held to be merely one of the High Priests of the universe, who collect divine life within themselves, and again diffuse it ; or else He stands at the apex, as the highest unity. In the latter case, according to this system, Christ must be coincident with the Deity, the humanity must disappear, and either all beings must be in a graduated measure God-men, or there is no God-man at all. In point of fact, the latter is the truth: for God, as God the Superessential One, in the view of the Areopagite, is by His very idea incommunicable, like the God of Philo, and can neither reveal Himself nor be known. For Christ, consequently, there would only remain a subordinate place: His appearance and revelation is not a purely positive thing, but is as necessarily marked by negation and limitation, as everything else that is finite. Dionysius knew no other way of escaping from that Hellenic Ebionitism into which, at this point, he might easily have fallen, than by calling the Logos Himself Jesus: thus confessing, by implication, that he only retained an eternal Christ, and that the historical Christ had faded away before his eyes. The Monophysites were the first to regard the teachings of the Pseudo-Dionysius with favour, and to concede to them authority :' from the Nestorian party they met with a differ- ent reception. But, even in the Church, they soon came to be regarded with not a little consideration. This was due, partly, to the wider diffusion of an acquaintance with Platonism, to the revival of Origenism amongst many of the monks, espe- cially those of the monastery of Laura, to the transcendental character and apparent loftiness of the conception of God con- tained in the works of the Areopagite, and, finally, to the favour with which his idea of an hierarchy was regarded. A physical conception of God, such as these writings set forth, could not but be felt to be favourable to the idea of magical 1 Even if these writings did not proceed from the Monophysite party (see above, p. 196). In the religious colloquy opened at the instance of Justinian, the Monophysites appealed to passages from the Areopagite ; but their orthodox opponents declared that they had previously had no knowledge of those writings, and therefore refused to allow them to be quoted as authoritative. Say ————_— & oe ee oy re) *~ THE AREOPAGITE AND THE CHURCH. 163 powers, administered by a regularly graduated hierarchy : and, inasmuch as the teachers of the Church represented, on the one hand, the divine and human natures as absolutely different substances ;* and yet, on the other hand, could not avoid regard- ing God as the prototype and goal of man; the necessary con- sequence was, the adoption of..a-doctrine of redemption which made it necessary to the perfection.of-man,.that-he should_relin- quish his own nature and be raised to another and higher nature. When man corresponds to his true idea, he is good: but there is a higher goodness and virtue than the common, and this higher goodness becomes the portion of him, who either raises himself, or is raised, above human life, by means of those magical forces. Hence the distinguished position assigned by the Areopagite to Monachism. The highest virtue is not genu- inely human, or the human in its true form and condition, but the negation thereof. An ethical system of this nature neces- sarily leads to the conclusion, that man, in order to attain to perfection, must cease to be—must be absorbed or transformed into God. The principle was not followed out. to its.logical consequences ; but there was an unsteady alternation between the ethics of ecstasis and ethics proper. The latter, namely, ethics proper, contented itself with the conclusion, that so long as man is quantitatively different from God, he cannot be per- fect ; and accommodated its requirements to this conclusion. That such views necessarily admitted only of a negative con- ception of evil, does not need to be expressly shown. In all these respects, the system of the Areopagite did but give a general expression to the real secret of the point of view of the Western theology of that day. Accordingly, in the following century, the genuineness of these writings was de- fended even by the teachers of the Church, and the champions of orthodoxy went to the extent of lauding Dionysius as the Divine. At first, indeed, the Church probably felt that they had a strange and unfamiliar sound: but the heathen schools of the Neo-Platonists having been closed, and Christianity having been, outwardly, universally recognised, these writings, 1 See above, p. 144 ff. Compare also Boéthius 1. c. p. 952, against the Nestorians: ‘‘ Deo atque homini quid non erit diversa ratione disjunc- tum, si sub diversitate naturge personarum quoque credatur mansisse dis- cretio ?” 164 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. with their high-flown rhetorical tone, must have had the more overmastering a charm for a perversely cultivated age, as they clothed with the appearance of deepest divine knowledge views of God and the world which had really an heathenish origin, and which the Church did not allow to become influential in its midst, without experiencing at first great scruples of conscience. The Pseudo-Areopagite played an important part in the history of Christology from the circumstance that the expression employed by him, Oeavdpixn évépyeva (divine-human activity), appeared a formula happily fitted to meet the demand for unity, whilst leaving untouched the doctrine of two absolutely opposed substances. With regard to one point, no doubt whatever seemed to be entertained,—to wit, that if the man Jesus acted for himself, and the.Son-of God-in like-manner for Himself, no result was attained by the incarnation, and-that;con } sequently, the unity of person must..express. itself, at.thewery least, in the activity. Accordingly, in Christ, God and man were held, not merely to will the same thing, but to will the same dace in the same manner; and, eonecquenily both the form and the contents of the will of tho two natures interpenetrated and constituted a unity. Hitherto, also, there had been no lack of teachers of the Church who taught, without hesitation, that in Christ there was unity of action and unity of will. Besides all, the hope was entertained of a possible reconciliation of the Monophysites by means of the doctrine of one will :—a con- sideration to which the Emperor Heraclius especially, attached great importance, on account of his difficulties with the Mo- hammedans. The older authorities do not inform us whether the Bishops Athanasius and Cyrus, who first brought this matter before the attention of the Emperor, had been led to the view they took by political reasons, or reasons connected with the peace and unity of the Church. We should suppose the former not to have been the case, so far as, in the natural course of things, we should be justified in expecting the will of Christ to be now made the subject of inquiry ;—the corporeal and intellec- tual aspects of His Person having been hitherto so frequently discussed. That Monotheletism could not have owed its rise to any merely external considerations, and that the decision of the Council of Chalcedon did not by any means, as a matter of course, include the doctrine of two wills, was due, partly, to RISE OF MONOTHELETISM. 165 the conviction, that two wills in one person seem most decidedly to presuppose two centres or Egos,—the will being most inti- mately connected with the personality ; partly, to the circum- stance, that the doctrine of two natures and one will in Christ had, at first, been received with very general favour, because the Patriarchs Sergius of Constantinople and Cyrus of Alex- andria, and even Pope Honorius, had distinctly expressed their approval of Monotheletism. The Emperor Heraclius, there- fore, did not hesitate to lend it the force of his authority. And the Monophysites in the Patriarchate of Alexandria were actually reconciled to the Church by means of this doctrine, including as it did the formula of Dionysius. Cyrus and the Alexandrian Synod of 633 (Neander says, 630?) repudiated the notion both of mixture and separation ; aimed, however, at the same time, not merely at an hypostatical, but also at a physical union, the two factors of which should not be mixed in thought, but continue to exist and act distinctly, though co-operating in a divine-human operation. Before entering into the details, it will be advisable first to endeavour to find the bearings of this confused controversy, which hitherto has not been sufficiently cleared up or understood. The Monotheletic Controversy went through three stadia. In its first stadium, which may be considered to extend from the year 623 until towards the year 638, the controversy bore chiefly on the question, Whether we are to assume only pia évépyeva (Qeavdptxn) in Christ, as did the Monophysites and Monotheletes, or dvo évépyevar? Theodorus of Pharan, Sergius, Cyrus,' the Synod of Constantinople of the year 626, and the Synod of Alexandria in the year 633, took the first view ; Sophronius the second.” The volitional power was, as yet, not at all brought under special consideration. In consequence, however, of the ambiguity even of the word évépyeca (operatio),—an ambiguity which allowed it to denote, on the one-hand, the actual volition, or, the activity and mode of operation, and, on the other hand, the deed or effect of the volition (dmroréxecua),—the contro- versy still continued to be marked by indefiniteness. If évépyeva were taken in the second sense, the majority must have been disposed to acknowledge that there was but one évépyera. ‘This 1 Mansi x. 585, 603, 744; xi. Conc. Cstp. Act. 13, pp. 558-579. * Mansi xi., Act. 11, pp. 461-485. His ‘‘ Ep. Synodica ad Serg.” 166 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. position was the most favourable one for the defenders of the unity, though it was at the same time the position of least importance as regards the idea to be formed of the Person of Christ; for, in itself, the doctrine of two natures and wills was quite compatible therewith. In_this_first stadium, the question. of one or two wills was not at all agitated: the prin- cipal and only question was, “ Are the two natures to be con- ceived as active and efficient or not?” The one party, at a later period designated Monotheletes,avere disposed to represent the deity of Oh ist alone as active, and not the humanity. So, for example, Theodore of Pharan. Dyophysitism was tlfus reduced to a dead, impotent proposition ; and, by assigning to the human- ity of Christ, at the utmost, a weacive position, they took a most decided turn towards Monophysitism. But when their opponents —for example, Sophronius, and in part also, at a later period, Honorius— maintained that both natures were active, from a fear of opening the door to Monophysitism, they were still far from conceding the duality of wills, along with the duality of natures. They rather conceived the two.potences, each acting in its own way, to be reduced to unity in the personality, and assumed for this purpose the existence of an hypostatical will in Christ, with which the final decision rested. Naturally, therefore, they held the deed or effect to be one, to be divine-human. Accordingly, the one Christ, or His one deciding will, accomplished the one divine-human work (amoréXecpa), through the medium of the two powers, or congeries of powers (natures), each of which acted in its own way. Examined in the light of the later Dyo- theletism, these also must be classed with the Monotheletes: in fact, some of them were actually classed with the Monothe- letes ees example, by the Council of 680), especially Honorius. Sophronius, on the contrary, the originator of the controversy, whose teachings, as we shall see, were essentially the same as those of Honorius, was, marvellously enough, recognised as orthodox by the Sixth Council. In consequence of the mistakes which have prevailed relatively to this matter, the greatest con- fusion has been introduced into the course and history of this controversy. The second stadium was inaugurated by Honorius. He asserted that there were two natures, each working 1 in its own way, not one évépyeva ; but one will, which he assigns to the per- SOPHRONIUS. HONORIUS. 167 sonality. Now, for the first time, was a definite doctrine of one will laid down: the occasion thereto was given by the work of Sergius. (Sergius, however, appears to have reserved to him- self the right to apportion this unity of will to the natures in- stead of to the person; and thus also to teach play évépryevav.) The "ExOecis mlatews of Heraclius in 638, the successors of Sergius—Pyrrhus, Paulus, Petrus, maintained the same view ; and the expositions given by these men, determined the form which Monotheletism bore in the eyes of those who assailed it. Acceding to the desire expressed by Honorius, through the medium of his envoy, Sophronius composed. himself: and, in- deed, there cannot have been any great difference between the views of Sophronius and Honorius. But this doctrine of one will, whether the will were attributed to the natures or to the person, was most hotly controverted, both by Sophronius’ pupil Stephanus, and by the succeeding popes,—especially by Martin I. One reason for this opposition was, that its defenders, from a desire to favour Monophysitism, refused to combine..with.it the doctrine of two natures, which, though acting in conjunc- tion, were yet distinct. Another reason, and one which especi- ally influenced St Maximus, whose doctrine had considerable weight with the Lateran Council of the year 649, was, that the reality of the humanity of Christ was not believed, and that with justice, to be ensured, unless it were allowed to possess freedom—the ability to move for itself, and to take independent initiative ;—which ability seemed to be curtailed, if, as Honorius taught, the will of the divine hypostasis or nature had deciding, and, as it were, arbitrative power. But, for the preservation of the unity of the two series of activities and of the two wills, which run parallel with each other, little or no care was, in this connection, taken. Dyotheletism, as laid down by Maximus and the Lateran Council, started with the évépyeva, or mode of action of each nature, and thence passed to the “potentia,” to the capacity possessed by each nature (including therein the intellectual faculty): it distinguished, further, between the évépyera as activity (will “actualiter”), and évépyera as deed, effect (darorédecpa) ; and endeavoured to carry out the duality in all these three respects. Monotheletism gained thus, for the first time, a clear under- standing of its own nature and_tendencies. In the course of 168 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. the third stadium. (from the year 649 to 680), it perceived that it must attach more importance to the preservation of the unity of the volitional faculties, in the inmost centre of the person, than to the assertion of an undiscriminated unity of activities and effects. For even Monophysitism had been accustomed, since the time of Severus, to allow room for distinctions in both those aspects. ‘The Monotheletes, accordingly, still asserted the unity of the will, but were induced, even previously to 645, by the charge of denying the reality of the humanity of Christ, to assume a will, in some way or other composite, which admitted of, or comprised, distinctly acting powers (natures). This was RS atilts the view of the nuochean Patriarch Macarius, who no longer insisted on one “ operatio,” but merely on a Geavdpuxny évépyecav (without the addition of uiav): he still adhered, how- ever, to the unity of the OeAnua of the hypostasis. The Synod of Constantinople, however, in 680, maintained that the two natures had two wills; and tried also (see their letter to the Emperor, xi. 664) to make it appear that they had established a free human will in Christ ; but we shall find that they again contrived, by means of unexpected addenda, to give to the will of the divine aspect such a predominance, that the human will was degraded from the position of a free, to that of a merely tenes power (conceded to it even by Monotheletism), con- stituting little more than a point of transition for the all-decisive divine will. Thus, at the very moment when Honorius was ranked among heretics worthy of anathema, and his writings were burnt by the hand of the Synod, his view was in all essential features adopted by the Council.’ After this general survey, let us now enter on the details. FIRST STADIUM. From the year 623 to 688. Previously to this controversy, many had unhesitatingly adopted the formula, ia évépyera; partly on the authority of the * Mansi xi. 621, 636, 684, 582, etc. The defence of Honorius put forth by Maximus (Mansi x.) is poor, and contradicts the second letter of Honorius. A better justification of him may be found in the decrees of the Cicumenical Council. See below. | MONOTHELETISM. FIRST STADIUM. 169 Areopagite,’ and partly because, notwithstanding the duality of the natures, they were anxious in any case to preserve the unity of the work, of Christ. But the term évépyeva embraced both the activity and the result of the activity. The testimony of the Fathers was unquestionably not unfavourable, — Cyrill’s funda- mental view was in favour thereof,’—everything in Christ seemed split up, and the unity of His Person more completely dissolved than it was even according to the theory of Nestorius, who ex- pressly taught the play évépyevav, if the duality were extended even to thie évépyeva, instead of its being constituted the point in which, or by which, the unity of the person was preserved. Accordingly, Bishop Theodorus of Pharan, the oldest and most important defender of the pila évépyeta, although a Dyo- physite,’ taught that all the deeds narrated of Christ, even all that appertained to His soul and body, proceeded singly and undividedly from one principle (apyoevdas, wovadixds Kal advat- pétws), beginning in, and, as it were, welling originally forth from, the power, wisdom, and goodness of the Logos, though emerging through the medium of the rational soul, and of the body. Sleep, weariness, hunger, thirst, motion, and rest, he considered, should alike be referred to the all-wise and omni- potent activity of the Logos, who purposed to become man: everything, therefore, must be attributed to the one activity of the whole Logos, as. One. In Christ, consequently, there was one will, and that will was divine.* Even His so-called suffer- ings, eneren they were the natural expression of human motions, must all be designated the one activity of one and the same Christ, put forth in order to bring us salvation. Natural motions also, were activities in Christ, —activities, that is, of the Logos. Our soul, indeed, is not master of the body in relation to density, or mass, or weight, or colour, and so forth ; but it was otherwise with the body of Christ, possessed as it was of divine power and life. For He proceeded forth 1 Sophronius was no doubt justified (as even Pyrrhus allows) in blaming Oyrus, for citing the expression “iav beavdpsxqy tvépyesev, as though the Areopagite had employed it; whereas in reality he uses the word xa:vy», instead of w/av. Substantially, however, Cyrus was right (see above, page 160), as is plain, both from the use of the singular, and from the word éeap- 001%. 2 Compare Mansi xi. 533. 3 See Mansi xi. 568, 569. * L. ¢. 568. Avrod yap ro beanuce ev tort, noel rovro Oeixov. 170 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH from Mary, and from the grave, and passed through doors, as one who had no body; He walked on the sea, as on a solid road. If, then, such an one was, notwithstanding, affected by sufferings, it must have been due to the action of the will of the Logos, who purposed it." Body and soul in Christ were simply the ready organ of the alone-dominant Logos, the medium for the arolutien of His évépyeva, which he designates the pia Oeob évépyeva. The motions which pertained to the human nature, did not penetrate to the upper sphere: the Logos, with His nature, is represented as having occupied the place of the personality, and the humanity is thus mance to the rank of a mere garment, or means of revelation, which stands in a completely passive rela- tion to the divine nature,—the divine nature being, at the same time, also the personal element. When Theodorus speaks of the évépyeva in the sense of effect, he does not fear to describe it as both divine and human (as it were, composite) ;? but when he understands by it the activity, the principle itself as active, he can only attribute it to the Logos. The question—W hether we can speak of one will of the natures, did not at all suggest itself to him. In avery similar way, Cyrus of Alexandria. also clung to the ula évépyesa, both in his transactions with the Egyptian Monophysites,—thousands of whom he gained over by his formule of concord,—and in his letter to Sergius. He makes no mention whatever of the will, or of the unity of the will,’ as a faculty, but confines himself to requiring wia Oeavdpixn evép- ryeca,—-understanding thereby both the effect and the activity. In point of thought, therefore, he certainly does assert one actual will,—a one me Howeted of such a character,.as-not. totally to panne living movements on the part of the two natures (which 1 This reminds us of Aphthartodocetism. His principal object, how- ever, was to represent everything as the act of the Logos. For this reason even sufferings are converted into acts: a thought which, in itself, is im- portant ; but he does not employ it to the advantage of the humanity or soul of Christ also, but only to that of the Logos. 2 L. c. 568 below, compare with 569 above. 3 Compare his first Letter to Sergius, Mansi xi. 560, 561, and especially the Deed of Union (Vereinigungsurkunde), p. 565, can. 7, where he appeals to Dionysius, and recognises the formula, iw decevdpixy évépycre: he also recognises the Chalcedonian formula, ¢y dv0 Qvcsoiv,—inserting, however. various clauses. THEODORUS. CYRUS. Laat it was his wish to preserve); provided only that the duality either terminated in a synthesis, or even, as Theodore main- tained, took its rise in the unity of the all-determining Logos. Very similar expressions are used by Sergius in his reply.’ Leo’s letter to Flavian, with regard to which Cyrus still betrayed certain doubts, he remarks, in order to put him at ease, does not teach that there were two modes of operation; nor was it so understood by Eulogius of Alexandria. Many Fathers, on the contrary, have taught that there was but pia évépyea. He himself, he says, had begun a collection of the testimonies of the Fathers, which he was in the habit of sending to his friends : amongst them, it would appear, indeed, that there were some spurious ones. Jor the rest, he praises the wisdom and zeal developed by Cyrus in reconciling so many to the Church. Sophronius, however, a learned monk, who was in Alex- andria whilst the negotiations with the Monophysites were pro- ceeding, appears to have had his suspicions awakened, precisely by the mixture of conciliatory aims. He feared a revival of Monophysitism, unless a duality of activities, correspondent to the duality of natures, were accepted.” In what sense, we shall shortly see. The matter was laid before Sergius, as the prin- cipal Patriarch in the East,’ who prevailed upon him to promise to cease the controversy which had been begun. Shortly after- wards, however (in the year 634), Sophronius was made Patriarch of Jerusalem; and at his entrance on office he issued a circular letter, embodying a very detailed confession of faith, written in a very turgid and bombastic style, and characterized by a spirit of hatred towards heretics, reminding one of an Epiphanius: he especially revived the controversy concerning the évépyeva of Christ, which had been allowed to die out.* He first advanced the usual statements against Monophy- sitism. The Logos cannot be circumscribed in the flesh, for He is omnipresent ; whereas the flesh is circumscribed. Christ’s body went from one place to another, but not the Logos: the former was tangible, the latter intangible; the latter is eternal, the son of Mary was temporal. But the Son of God, who was 1 Mansi xi. Act. 12, pp. 525, 528. 2 Ib., pp. 572, 532. 8 According to the letter addressed by him somewhat later to Honorius in Rome, Mansi xi. 529-537. * Mansi xi. Act. 11, pp. 461-488. Le SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. eternally the One, became the other, without change, by the assumption of humanity. If the unity is, and remains, un- changeable and undivided, so also must the duality of that which _presents.itself.in unchangeable distinction, and shines together in undivided altereity (Anderheit), remain unchange- able. ‘They are natures, essences, forms (uopdat), out of which the mysterious union was constituted, and in which one and the same Christ is beheld. The one remains one,—to wit, the result produced from the natures,—which result is no longer divided into two, but without conversion or separation still shows that, of which it consists.! That is the hypostasis, the composite person, which subsists by means of a mixture without confusion, and of a conjunction which knows no division. The hypostatical union it is, which does not involve the identification of the natures (tavréTns), but preserves the distinction between them.’ Both natures act, each in its own way; after the Unio, they have neither precisely the same conterminous modes of action, nor merely one mode of action. But they do not there- fore separate: they rather pursue a mutually correspondent mode of action,—they work in conjunction (catddXdos évép- yeta, cuvépyera), that is, for the one result or work (amroTéXeo pa). This conjointness of action is theirs through the hypostasis of one and the same Christ, who is beheld in the two natures, and who works what pertains to each of them, in accordance with ° the essential inborn characteristics of each. Sophronius, con- sequently, attributes to each of the two natures its own mode of action or its own activity: to the hypostasis (or the Ego) of Christ also, which he terms at once composite and monadic, and which stands alongside of or above the natures, he attributes an activity of its own. Nay more, this one Christ has the power of decision. When it was His will, He gave the human nature time or space to suffer, or to work, or to grow, and so forth. For He did not allow Himself to be the involuntary or constrained subject of such things, although they were con- gruous to human nature; but God consented to suffer as to the 1 See Note H. App. ii. 2 Yet he also terms it Quocndy xad’ sordorceory evworv, p. 477. P. 481: Cyoinh nal x08 vrdorastw tvoois. The preceding quotation runs in the original text: Méves ré éy ev, 70 2 wbray (QDicewy) yevyoucs &mrorerccuece, ennérs Oigee Oscespovmevov. | SOPHRONIUS. 173 flesh: and yet He neither worked nor suffered because, and when, the natural or fleshly motions called for it, and stirred up to action or suffering, but only when it was His own will. Human sufferings and activities were, as it were, collected and stored up in His Person: nay more, He was not merely their living store- house (raplas), but also the arbitrator (Schiedsrichter, TpvUTavis), who presided over their distribution. For this reason (because the divine Ego, strictly speaking, both decided and acted), what was human in Him was superhuman, in that it was not His by nature, but was freely, voluntarily assumed. Nor did He work under constraint or coercion (tupavyiKas, avayKaoT@s) ; nor, again, was there ever in Him, as there is frequently in us, any lack of willingness ; but whenever and in what degree He willed, He gave opportunity both to those who sought to inflict suffer- ings on Him, and to the sufferings themselves which acted natu- rally (kata dvow). All the miracles, indeed, were wrought by the person, but through the human nature, in order that the divine nature might be recognised in them, as the human nature was recognised in and through the sufferings. And so was the one Son known, who evolved every activity, both divine and human, out of Himself. Divinely enlightened men admonish us to draw a distinction between some biblical words and others— to refer the one to the divine, the other to the human nature: and so also do they say regarding the same Son; they affirm that no one can divorce the collective activity, from the one Sonship.” From what has been said, it is clear that Sophronius, with whatever zeal he might assert the duality of the évépyelat, placed above them the will of the hypostasis, and in the strict sense, attributed to it the sole decision. In reality, therefore, if not in words, he posits one will, which carries out its volitions by means of the modes of action of both the natures, and allots this will to the one Christ. A duality of wills he never men- tions; nor could he in any case have regarded a will of the human nature as, strictly speaking, a free will,—he could only have viewed it as an active power, which derived its impulse from another source. The sole difference, consequently, be- c., p. 485. a 4 e ~ ~ ~ Z > ¢ 488 : Eis vids éyivaoxero 6 weouy 22 wirov (1. avrovd) wpoPépwy evép- ysioy, Osiev re xoel civdowmrivyy. "AAAR xeel obras grt cov Eve vied Dac (ol Li 4-3E, ecDpoves), weanu—éeveoyeiev ovx dy Tis xuploces TIS bas VIOTNTOS. ’ 26 174 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. tween him and Theodorus is, that the latter always speaks of humanity as passive, and distinctly describes the Logos as the sole actor; whereas Sophronius, whilst representing the human- ity over against and in relation to the hypostasis (to which he goes back rather than to the Logos) as. altogether determined, and as, therefore, so far passive, conceives it also to be in itself endowed with its own law of motions.’ For this reason, the Areopagite also, he supposes, spoke of a new theandrical mode of action, because the one divine-human person, in reality, works everything, though by means of the two natures (see p. 160 f.). The position thus taken up by Sophronius towards the Alexandrian work of peace, and to the pla évépyea, induced the Patriarch Sergius to apply, by way of precaution, to Hono- rius. Sergius feared the approach of a storm, especially as he understood Sophronius to intend also to assert a duality of wills in Christ, and not merely the duality of the modes of action under the one will of the one Christ, who Himself did every- thing. In his letter to Honorius, he expresses himself to the following effect :— After his victory over the Persians, Heraclius held a con- versation on matters of faith with a follower of Severus, and successfully defended the orthodox faith against him: in that conversation, too, he spoke of one évépryeva of Christ. Of this in- terview he afterwards gave an account to Cyrus, then the Bishop of Colchis. Cyrus, however, being uncertain whether it were right to speak of one évépyesa, had applied to him (Sergius) for instructions. Meanwhile, Cyrus had won over almost all Egypt, Thebais, and Libya by propositions, of which the pia évépyea was one; and, in consequence of this condescending adapta- tion, which the Fathers not only had not forbidden, but had often exercised themselves, he had brought the Monophysites to recognise the doctrine of two natures, laid down by the Chalcedonian Council and by Leo. Sophronius, then a monk, very recently chosen Patriarch of Jerusalem, is opposed to this adaptation. This circumstance Sergius wished to lay before Honorius. In his view, it would be cruel, disputatiously to dis- turb the union which had been scarcely established, for the sake of a question which did not endanger pure doctrine, as must be 1 The doctrine of Sophronius is designated orthodox, Conc. vi. Mansi x1. 556. ~~ hi pW] oy SERGIUS TO HONORIUS. Lie the case, should the words wia évépyeca, be again struck out of the formula, agreeably to the demand of Sophronius. Sergius had discussed the matter at large with him, and Sophronius had not been able to prove the doctrine of a twofold évépyeva, either by patristic or synodal testimonies. ‘To Cyrus he had written, advising him, in consideration of the peace which had been established, to allow no one to teach either the unity or the duality of the évépyevas, but to limit them to setting forth one and the same only-begotten Son, who worked everything— both that which befitted God and that which befitted man,— the incarnate God, out of whose unity everything undividedly proceeded, and back into whose unity everything must be re- ferred. The formula, pla évépyea, although employed by some of the holy F athers, wears still a strange face to some, and excites the suspicion that there may be an intention of leading them into Monophysitism : it would, therefore, be better avoided. The formula, dvo évépyevat, had never been employed by any recognised teacher of the Church, and is a stumbling- block to many; and it should be the more strictly avoided, as the assumption of two évépyetat, necessarily involves the Meant of two wills, and that, of two opposed wills. It is, for example, as though the Logos partially willed the sufferings, and the humanity resisted His will, which would end in the recognition of two subjects, choosing opposite courses ; for there cannot be two wills, in reference to the same thing, at the very same time, in one and the same subject.“ € To assert that, would be to separate the humanity of Christ from His deity, and to abolish the incarnation... The doctrine of the God-taught Fathers tells us plainly enough, that the flesh of the Lord, animated by a rational soul, never accomplished its natural motions separately and of its own impulse, or in opposition to the suggestions of the Logos hypostatically united with it; but merely when, as, and in the measure, in which God the Logos willed it. As our body is governed by the soul, so was the entire human life- system of Christ, always and in all things, impelled by God. Gregory of Nyssa also allots the passive to the flesh, the active to God. Sergius, therefore, counselled him against the use of the formula of unity or duality, although the hush-word pia évépyeta ought not to be quite repudiated, as some demanded ; and Sophronius had expressed himself satisfied therewith, had 176 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. promised to keep the peace, and had only required a written declaration, which Sergius had given him. To the like intent, he had also recently eesdiel Bene to the Emperor, warning him against too subtle investigations, and counselling him to bs content with that which had been handed down from of old,— namely, with maintaining that every divine and human act proceeded, undivided and unseparated, from one and the same incarnate Word. Leo also had evidently taught the same doc- trine in the words: “ Agit enim utraque forma cum alterius communione, quod proprium habet.”? SECOND STADIUM. %” The Dominance of Monotheletism in the Church ; and the opposi- tion made to it, especially in the Western Church, from the year 638 to 648 Honorius answered Sergius, on the whole, approvingly.’ Both formulas he regarded as equally and solely fitted to stir up useless school controversies; but differed from Sergius, who evidently gave the preference to the ula évépyea, in not find- ing it suitable, whether it be referred to the natures or to the personality. For the personality has not merely one or two, but many activities; and the natures act, each in its own way : it is, therefore, right to take no account of the évépyeva (the activity, mode of Haas but, on the contrary, to go back to the will of Christ. He treats as almost self-evident, what Sergius had scarcely hinted, regarding this will of Christ : « Inasmuch as the humanity was naturally united with the Logos (naturali unitate copulata), and Christ is therefore One, we acknowledge one will of Christ (he does not say one will of His humanity, 1 The Latin text has ‘‘ forma utraque” in the nominative; whereas the Monotheletes took these words as the ablative “opQv; in consequence of which the subject of the verb is ‘‘ the person,” instead of ‘‘ the natures,” and the one person appears as the sole actor and willer (even though through the medium of the natures). 2 Mansi xi. Act. xii. p. 537 ff., gives a fragment of a second letter to Sergius (Act. xiii. pp. 580, 581), written after Sophronius had sent an em- bassy to Honorius. ‘Through this embassy, Honorius instructed Sophronius not any longer to insist on the formula of dvo évépyeres. This the embassy promised in the name of Sophronius, provided Cyrus would desist from teaching the wia evépyerm. MONOTHELETISM. SECOND STADIUM. Wee as Maximus subsequently tried to explain his words). It was owing to the supernatural mode of His birth, that there were not different or contradictory wills in Him; and when He said, ‘I do not mine own will, but the will of My Father,’ it was out of condescension to our state and position, for whom He desired to be an example.” In his second letter he says,— 216 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH avriocews, with the one hand what he had taken away with the other. rom the Unio «a@ troctacw, which, in his view, should be held to have been complete from the very commence- ment (7eAeva), he deduced, in the first place, the repuywpnors of the natures in each other (“de fide orthod.” L. iii. 3, 7, 17, 19). In like manner, Gregory Nazianzen (Or. 51) had aporee of the natures as mepuxcopoveas ee aNipas TO NOYO THS TUp- pvias; and this “ circumincessio” had long ago been applied, with a similar intent, to the Persons of the Trinity. The parts (~épn) of which the person was composed, held a living relation to each other. They did not exist outside of each other, but lived and moved in each other. This, however, must be limited (according to lib. iii. 7) to the extent of saying, that the divine nature alone permeated the human ; for the divine nature pene- trates and permeates everything, as it chooses, whereas it is itself penetrated by nothing. ‘This, however, was naturally not in- tended to signify, that the all-penetrating Logos was united with humanity only in the manner in which He is united with all other beings :—to describe the relation between them, frequent use was rather made of the image of iron which is heated by fire. ‘The substances of the iron and the fire do not cease to be different, and yet they are united and work in union (jvepévas ou DP iGuoe ; even so, like iron and fire, the deity and the humanity performed different things, —each that which was peculiar to and became it. But the main point is, that this meps- xopnos brought about a communication, not indeed of the human elements to the divine nature, which remained untouched by suffering, but of the divine glory to the human nature (yera- dldwoet TH TapKt TOY oiKelwy avynudtorv, c. 7). As the “Unio hypostatica” is at the foundation of the wepuyépnais, so the Tepixwpnaots is the foundation of the tpomos avriddcews.? Many teachers before the Damascene had spoken of an in- terchange taking place between the two aspects within the Person of Christ, designating it, avtipeOlctacis Tov dvoudtar, éTadday), ovowatav érifevéts. An dvtidocis iSiwydtav was taught by Leontius in his work against the Nestorians and the Kutychians, and the Damascene set himself to make the dyriSo- avs available for the assertion of the unity of the person.? He remarks, that, according to it, the Logos communicated to the ' Lib. iii. cap. 23. 2 Lib. iii. cap. 3. JOHN OF DAMASCUS. 217 flesh that which pertained to Himself (veradiSwor). But when this avtidocts came to be practically exemplified, it turned out to be a mere transference of names (avtidocts dvopdtov).! For the behoof of the unity of the person, names which strictly belong to the one nature, are transferred to the other also. In- deed, we are expressly warned against supposing the attributes of une one nature to be attribute or to belong actually, to the other.’ But what real difference is there between such a mere nominal communication of attributes, and the avadopda of the school of Antioch, which Cyrill considered to be so objectionable? John’s doctrine of deification (Oéwots) and of appropriation (olKetwous) carries us somewhat further. A deification of hu- man nature, he represents as resulting even from the mere act of incarnation.’ The divine nature permeated the human, and united it inseparably with itself, even as heated iron cannot be touched without the substance of the fire being at the same time touched. Hence, the human intellect of Christ, which was by nature imperfect (ayvoeiv), participated from the very [/ beginning in the all-comprehensive divine knowledge.* Logi- cally, the same must hold good of the will also. When it is said in the Gospel, “‘ He grew in years, wisdom, and favour,” we must understand it to mean that Christ, as He grew in years (and He did really increase in years), Marien ever more and more the treasures of His wisdom, and more and more completely fulfilled the will of God. But whoso supposes that in these latter points He really and truly made progress, neces- sarily denies that the union of the Logos with the flesh was fully accomplished from the commencement, and, instead of confessing that there was an hypostatical union, does but allow a Nestorian oyertixi Gao. and Widi évoienows. For if the flesh subsisted in the Logos from the commencement of its existence, and was even hypostatically identical with the Logos (tavtoTns vrocTarx?), must it not have been enriched by His ' Lib. iii. cap. 4. 2 Ov pane ecocey auTIS (dséruros) Te TIS Serene Br08 iDapeara— ovre Of THS Geepxos, Yrot Tis avbpuarorntos xaTnyopovmey Ta THS Hed yTOS iiapara— éml THs Vroureosus, nev ex TOV auvaLQorépov, xeY eS Evds TAY wEcpaY TaUTHD dvomacamey &uPoripwv ray Quosay ra iOapare avry emiribewer. SSH 19: * L. iii. 21, 22, de duab. vol. untatibus, § 38, p. 550. The Logos xar- exrovrnce, the human nnture, ray ray werrdvrav yaoi. > 218 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. wisdom? The human soul became, in fact, the soul of the Lord, of the Logos. Hence this idea rendered it impossible for the Damascene to attach any real meaning to the prayers offered by Christ (Ll. iii. 24). In Christ, God was the per- sonality; how, then, could He need to pray for anything? Considered in relation to its form, prayer is a rising of the soul to God; how, then, could He who was God need thus to rise? All he could say, therefore, was, that Christ had played our part in prayer, desiring to be an example to us, and to do honour to God. In other connections, also, the Damascene ver ss readily resorted to the supposition that Christ assumed our role." In opposition to the Julianists, he maintains, indeed, that the physical aspect of Christ shared the #@opa of humanity; alleging as the ground thereof, that the purpose of incarnation directly involved the assumption of the human capability of suffering: but he at the same-time asserts that it participated also in the power of giving life,—it was, as Cyrill so energeti- cally affirmed, Cwozords. Furthermore, since the resurrection it has been raised above all capability of suffering and all hu- man needs, although it continues to be circumscribed, limited.’ Christ's body was always limited, and will be limited when He comes again: God alone is unlimited; but humanity sits at the Hioht hand of God :—words which are not to be explained literally, but simply signify that the honour and glory of the Deity, which the Logos had ever possessed and retained, are now shared by His humanity, and that one worship must be rendered to His person, inclusive of the humanity. “ Tron heated by fire I avoid, as I do fire itself; and so, the humanity of the Logos I worship in conjunction with Him.” 1 L, ili. 25. That is, ofxe/aors; of which there are two kinds:—1. A real and true appropriation and assumption of our nature (Quoin, oba1ddec), in accordance with which His purpose was to share human experiences. 2. AN oixorposwm inh or oyerint appropriation, when, solely in virtue of a pecu- liar relation to us, for the sake of the love or compassion borne us, He spoke in the person of another, precisely as it became Him in the réle He had undertaken; or rather, precisely as became, not Himself, but the other whom He represented. So does he explain Matt. xxvii. 46; Gal. iii. 13; 2 Cor yeeeie 4 Jy) Mee Soniye =o: 3 What we have advanced above shows that he recognised no human development, save that of the body. And yet he only needed to extend JOHN OF DAMASCUS. 219 We should very much deceive ourselves, however, if we took this avridocts, or even Oéwors, to imply that through it divine at- tributes were veritably appropriated to human nature. Accord- ing to the Damascene, the divine attributes cannot be separated from the divine substance; every nature maintains itself only. by retaining the essential qualities which constitute the idea of | its nature (cvotatixa THs dicews), and by excluding others | which might be incompatible therewith. Through the deifica-’ tion (Vergottung), the humanity became merely the nature of the Logos,—a nature permeated by Him, and His by appropria- tion (oixelwots). This flesh became the flesh of the Logos; this soul, the soul of the Logos—His property in the most special sense, because of its most intimate, that is, because of its personal, union with the Logos. But, in essence, the human nature re- mained unaltered; even the beanies of both natures remained | uncurtailed, unmixed : solely for the sake of fellowship’ (which in itself presupposes a duality) was the flesh of the Lord enriched by the divine activities (évépyecat). It did not receive divine attributes in and for itself (ii. 17, 18, 19). The human will, which had become the will of the Logos, was indeed almighty also, but not in itself ; it performed divine acts,—not, however, by its own proper power (xat’ oixeiay évépyerav), but solely in virtue of its union with the Logos, who manifested the power inherent in Himself through the medium of the flesh. Strictly speaking, therefore, he A not understand by the deification a_ real transference of divine attributes to the human nature, but. simply the undivided co-existence and co-operation of the two substances,—an idea which necessarily involves the impossibility | of coming into contact with the humanity of Christ, without at the same time coming into contact with His deity. And as far as concerns that perfect wisdom and virtue, which the God-man is said to have possessed from the beginning, they were not an independent possession of the humanity of Christ; but through his doctrine of the repexapeiv of the Logos, which left room for such human motions as had the consent of the Logos, a little further, and he might have conceded the possibility of a mental development of Christ. Like Maximus, he often quotes Mark vii. 28, but only for the purpose of showing that there was a human will in Christ, side by side with the divine: so also John vil. 8; Matt. xxvi. 39; John v. 30, viil. 50. ! Therefore is the expression @savdpixy Evéprsice, a pees or phrase employed to denote that two things are combined in one Aggies: ii. 19. 220 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. the Logos, who became the hypostasis of the humanity, and who possessed them eternally, they became the property of the humanity." He aptly remarks, also, with Maximus (iii. 18), that, to represent the saints and prophets as moved by the divine will, without their having the power, and being free, to move themselves, is the Old Testament type of the action of God on man. So, however, was it not with Christ: His hu- manity did not move merely at the nod of the Logos (vebmare Aoyov), as Sergius said, but had a freedom of its own,and freely willed what the Logos willed. And yet he goes on to say,—it was one and the same Personality of Christ that willed both according to the divine and according to the human will ; consequently, the two wills of the Lord differed solely as to their nature, not as to their object and sentiment (yveéun). We see again, however, that, in the last instance, the human will of Christ was not really complete,—that a humanity per-' fectly free, and freely determining itself to the good, was not manifested even in Christ, but merely a humanity determined by the vedua Aoyov. In a word, the human will, according to the Damascene, was simply the medium through which the Logos moved the man Jesus. | It is evident enough that the Christological result thus arrived at by the ancient Church, whatever may have been the extent of its traditional influence even down to recent times, was far from bringing the matter to a close. The human nature of Christ was curtailed, in that, after the manner of Apollinaris, the head of the divine hypostasis was set upon the trunk of a human nature, and the unity of the person thus pre- served at the cost of the humanity. Further, and this is simply the reverse side of the same fault, the entire doctrine of the natures and wills taught by the ancient Church, admitted of nothing but an external union of the divine with the human ; ? Lib. iii. cap. 15. He expresses himself similarly also in reference to the evépyere of the Qvois. He appeals to the words of Gregory of Nyssa (used by him in reference to the Trinity) : dy 4 évépyeie pla, rovrov rdvrwg noel fy Ovveemers 9 adr reac yap evéorscee duvapenc amorércoua. A created nature cannot possibly have the same d’yes¢ with the uncreated, nor the same evépyera; otherwise the Logos would have been affected by fear and sadness. The one évépyera of the deity and the flesh must have been com- promised; and then, that of the Logos could no longer have been one with that of the Father. JOHN OF DAMASCUS. 22) and the two natures, continuing unchanged even as to their attributes, were but, as it were, inserted into each other in the Person of Christ. We can, indeed, discover the rudiments of something better; and they warrant us in supposing that the theory adopted failed, notwithstanding its rounded appearance, to give adequate expression to the image of Christ which hovered before the mind. The doctrine of the freedom of the humanity of Christ was plainly intended to play a more im- portant part than it actually did, in the system of John of Damascus. He did not mean merely to teach that the hu- manity of Christ was passively carried and moved hither and thither by the Logos, that it lost its personality in the personality of the Logos; for it would have contradicted one of his funda- mental postulates, which was, that nothing that forms an essen- tial part of any nature—and the hypostasis must without doubt be counted essential both to the Logos and to humanity—can fail, without involving the destruction of that nature, nor be really communicated by another nature, especially if of a dif- ferent substance (Note 45). And, on the other hand, when he laid down the doctrine of the dvriSocts, repuyopyats, oixeloors, he had in view a much more intimate union between the divine and human natures than he arrived at in his systematic ex- hibition of the matter,—invariably ending, as it does, with denying that either the natures or the attributes were really interchanged. , v2 Not that this resulted from his being bound by the deci- sions of previous Councils :—his own conception of God and man brought him into this situation. In endeavouring to arrive at the true idea of man, he goes to work inductively, assuming that the true idea of human nature must consist in that which remains after the abstraction of whatever belongs to this or that individual. Accordingly, he looks to humanity as it was before Christ, after the first creation ; and that which was common to it, he concludes to be human nature in general, or to constitute the true conception of human nature. This course might be admissible if it were right to consider humanity as a mere part of nature, or as a merely natural being. It is, moreover, only right and fair to distinguish as carefully as _ possible between such a humanity and the deity, both in the interest of the idea of creation and of the ethical. But he over- 223 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. looked the circumstance, that the Christian doctrine of the second Adam implies that the true idea of man was not realized at the first creation, but solely at the second creation. He did not take into consideration that humanity, unlike beings which constitute a part of mere nature, and which are subject to its laws, is capable of a history; and that, therefore, its true idea can only be realized in the course of a history. ‘To the realiza- tion of the true idea of man, it was necessary that God should progressively reveal Himself, and thus bestow a share of His divine life (2 Pet. i. 4). If such be the case, then, with the true idea of man, any idea of him must necessarily be very imperfect which is derived from the world of the first creation, especially in the fallen and sinful condition of man. Nay more, it cannot be enough even to go back to Adam; for, unless a mythical view be taken of his first condition, there could not have been in him more than the beginnings of a true human life: on the contrary, we must start with the conception of man which Christianity is at once capable of realizing and re- quires to be realized, and which was first truly realized in the Person of Christ. But the idea of humanity revealed and embodied in Christ, does not require us so to separate between it and God; and as this necessarily reacts upon the conception formed of God, the distinction between God and humanity will need to be otherwise defined than it was, when the natural Adamitic humanity was taken as a starting-point in estimating the nature of the humanity even of Christ. This Person of Christ, he conceived to be compounded of two parts (wép7), which were in turn independent wholes, but were united into a new whole, not by the divine nature, but by the hypostasis of the Logos. Other less definite terms to describe the unity are as follows :—He is the two natures ; they are the one Christ, and Christ is the two natures (iii. 19). Even the Chalcedonian formula is more precise,—The two natures conjoin in Him to constitute one person. His most precise definition is the following:—The one broctacis Treptek- TiKH €oTt TOV SO hicewr (c. iii. 3); or, Christ is one composite person: and he-often-employs.the simile of man, who is com- pounded of body-and soul. When the Monophysites objected, —This image teaches the contrary, teaches one compound nature or one compound substance; for if man is compounded JOHN OF DAMASCUS. 223 of two substances, body and soul, Christ should rather be said to be compounded of three natures or substances (Note 46) ;—he answered: Body and soul are only the parts, of which human nature is the whole; and with this whole, the divine, which was also a whole, was hypostatically united as a second nature. But, if it is not allowable to regard the body and the soul as individual natures, and as constituting, together with the divine, three natures; and if, further, as the Damascene main- tains, the two substances, body and soul, whatever difference there may otherwise be between them, combine to form the one substance, which compound substance we designate human nature,—then he had no right to blame the Monophysites for following out the same analogy, and saying,— Man compounded of two substances, and yet, as every one allows, one substance, is a type of that which we see in Christ, namely, of the union of this human substance (nature) and of the divine into one substance, embracing both. John of Damascus saw very clearly how near such a conclusion lay, and replied,—Un- doubtedly two substances do unite in man to form the one human nature (av0pw707ns); but we cannot say that there was in Christ only one essence (or nature) resulting from a poten- cized (potenzirter) combination: for humanity (avOpw7dr7s) is the common, the generic (kowdv, eidos); but there existed no such thing as a common generic Christhood or Christity (yptotorns), inasmuch as there was only one Christ (lib. iii. 3). But the eidos of a being cannot be dependent on the number of the individuals in whom it is embodied. Why then might not the Monophysites have answered, that the ypuororns was in Christ, and in Him alone? that He was the perfect and only representation of that higher compound unity, designated Christhood? Or, what was to prevent them from saying, that, as the natural man is neither merely an animated body, like the animals, nor merely spirit, like the angels, but his dis- tinctive character consists in his being a compound of both substances ; so the Christian is a higher being than the natural man, in that the natural compound unity enters into a new real union, an union with the divine (an union which is nothing more than a bare possibility in the case of those who are not Christians); and that, in this sphere, the ypsororys occupies an absolute and specific position ? Sie ppd st SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. If we take our start with the Monophysitic definitions of nature and hypostasis ;'— essence or nature is the generic idea, which has no independent existence, but is merely that which remains behind in thought when the ééucdv has been abstracted; and hypostasis 1s nothing but the independent subsistence of a nature for itself, or the circumscription of a nature by means of certain peculiarities :—the two natures must be allowed to be at the same time, also, two hypostases, inasmuch as otherwise they would be destitute of reality. For this reason, the Mono- physites say, that through the union, the two hypostases and the two natures became one nature and one hypostasis; but that it is thoroughly inconsistent to teach, that after the Unio, there were two natures and one person, instead of that there was one nature, and one hypostasis. For, how could the two natures have an existence of their own, apart from the hypo- stases corresponding to them? how could Christ have humanity without having an individual man? As certainly as each of the united elements must have both ¢vovs and iméortacts, because the one is not cogitable without the other; so certainly is the union an union of natures and hypostases, excluding the possibility of a separation of the latter from the former. Had two hypostases really become one, as the teachers of the Church assert, the union would have been perfect as to the hypostases, but imperfect as to the natures; whereas, both being inseparable, must have a like fate. From their point of view, therefore, the doctrine of the Church appeared inconse- quent and discordant; and the union, complete in reference to one aspect (the éés«ov) of the natures, but incomplete in refer- ence to the other aspect. * Compare a fragment from the dsasrnrde of Philoponus, opp. Joann. Dam. i. p.-101 ff. *' THE DAMASCENE AND MONOPHYSITISM. Payay existence; in Him alone it had its primal subsistence; and He therefore was its hypostasis. What has just been advanced, how- ever, 1s quite sufficient in itself to direct attention to the Pict that hee again a conception of hypostasis is adopted, comers dif- erent from that with which the definition given above started, —namely, the conception of hypostasis as the constitutive prin- ciple of the Person of Christ, and the ground of its existence. Two points of view are dieaemetls therefore, i in_ the writ- ings of the-Damascene also,—two points of* view, moreover, “a are not united. According to the one, the one person- ality pertains quite as truly to the humanity as to the deity, being, as it were, an indifferent..middle.thing, a yewpiov or ter- iat in which both natures participate. He took this point of view, when his aim was to assert the existence of a human will and activity different from the divine will and activity. For a volition is impossible without a volitional subject (OéXwr): this subject of human volitions in Christ was furnished by the deity, in that it gave its own hypostasis; the divine nature, however, could not act in direct connection with its hypostasis, but was under the necessity of refraining from its natural opera- tions and volitions, in order that the human aspect might have free play. Here, therefore, the divine nature is most distinctly discriminated from the divine hypostasis:—the former co- operating not as such and in its entirety, but solely by means of that constituent of itself which accommodated itself to, and was required by, the human nature, in order that there might be a proper subject for the volitions formed in its name. Ac-— cording to the other point of view, he would seem to have been | clearly aware that that middle thing, the personality, was, notwithstanding, of divine nature, and that the nature could not be separated from the personality. In this connection, he treats the divine nature.as the focus and centre of the entire Christ ; he assumes it to have been entrusted with the sole hegemony and decision, and does not hesitate even to represent the human nature as subjected to the divine, just as our body is subjected 1 L. iil. 4, p. 209 ; cap. 9, p. 217; cap. 3, p. 206. To this connection belongs particularly, also, his designation of Christ’s Person, with Maximus, aS weplextinn 4 le vrocracls THY idlay wepay; further, also his representation of the divine and human natures as parts which were constituted into a whole, comprising both by means of the one hypostasis. ie 2.—VOL. Te P 226 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. ‘to the soul.’ But to suppose the humanity in its totality to have been merely, as it were, a body for the divine nature, is irreconcilable with the assumption of an independent human will: and we thus arrive again at the Monotheletism of Hono- rius. It is true, that by the philosophy of this age, the will was held to pertain to the nature, and not to the personality, on the ground that to will, is characteristic of the genus Man. By a similar course of reasoning it might be shown, that subjectivity and personality appertain to the nature of man. And when he proceeds apagogically to argue,—“ If the will does not belong to the nature, it either belongs to the personality or is against the nature. Now the latter is not the case; and were the former the case, the will of the Son would be another than the will of the Father. But inasmuch as in the Trinity the will belongs to the common nature, which is one, and therefore there are not several wills in it; so also in Christology is the will to be allotted to the nature, and therefore a\duality of wills to be assumed in Christ :’”—the reply readily suggests itself, —If the three Persons of the Trinity do not merely will the same thing, but have one and the same faculty of volition, much more must the per- sonality, which in Christ is only one, be limited to one will; and if the Persons of the Trinity, to which particular wills should most decidedly be attributed, were such an attribution in any case possible, are, notwithstanding, combined in one will, how much easier must it have been for two natures, of which one was impersonal, to have one will, even though it were a will in which the divine and the human united to form a God-man! As we have remarked above, the reasonings of the Damascene conduct him to an unity of will of this latter kind. Asa human will without a volitional subject is an impossibility ; and as the divine subject, bringing with it, as it does, the divine nature, cannot be held to take the place of the human hypostasis, without giving to the divine aspect either a Monophysitic or Monotheletic predominance; the real duality of the wills and natures can only be established at the price of a duality of * Lib. iii. cap. 15; cap. 6, p. 213 ; ‘“‘ De duabus voluntatibus,” p. 549, § 35; p. 552, § 42... He even goes so far as to say, that the vove of Christ was not a ovvoixos (fellow-inhabitant) of this person, but that, like the flesh, it was the xapiov of the deity ; whereas, from the first point of view, he regards the hypostasis as the xwp/ov of the deity and the humanity alike. : THE DAMASCENE AND MONOPHYSITISM. 22 personalities, or even at the price of a human subject for the human nature. In this case, we should have to acknowledge the existence of two hypostases in the one Christ,—a final conclusion which the Church has never drawn, inouon the premises of two essentially different natures and wills seem to render it un- avoidable. In fact, we shall soon find an approximation thereto in Adoptianism (Note 47). All the means supplementarily employed by this Christo- logy (a Christology which put the finishing stroke to the efforts of the old period), on the basis of the doctrine of two natures of different substances, for the purpose of preserving the unity, along with the distinction, of the two aspects,—such means, for example, as the unity of the by: sees the mrepiyo- phos, and the avridocts, Céwows, and oixelwous based on the TrEptyxwpnoats,— however ingeniously devised, were fruitless, and failed to set forth the Person of Christ in its living actuality and unity. An actual unity does indeed appear to be effected, butatus an “ Unio absorptiva ; ;’ and in this case, the dualistic character of the view taken of the natures is evinced in the divine being represented as holding a relation of negation and exclusive- ness to the human. At the bottom, however, the principle of two natures or substances of different essence, which is the ultimate ground of the schism just referred to, remains eternally immove- able and firm, applying even to Christ’s state of exaltation. The doctrine herein involved is the following, — Ere the natures themselves are shown to stand in an inner relation of unity, so that they shall seek each other, in obedience to their own inmost essence, it is of no use to produce an appearance of unity by interweaving their essentially different being, their activities, and their operations. Such an union is only itil at the price of a curtailment of one of the two aspects. A real vital unity—an unity in which the distinctions are fully and justly recognised—can never be the result of this mode of procedure.? We have now arrived at the point at which, in consequence of the failing productiveness of the Eastern Church in the matter of Christology, the dogma began to be treated scholas- tically, even before the rise of the Western Scholasticism. Of ' Nicolaus of Methone and Nicetas algo, recognise no real ‘* communi- catio idiomatum.” 228 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. this traditional theology, a picture is presented to us in the “ Panoplia” of Euthymius Zigabenus, and in the works of Nicetas of Chone , but it will not repay us to devote further at- tention to it.’ At the same time, there remained a green track even in the desert of Oriental theology, mainly unrecognised, it is true, by the official leaders of the Church, but still pursued by not a few; showing clearly how, even in seasons of dearth, the Christian heart continues to beat, and, regardless of the empty din raised about orthodox ideas, instinctively directs its gaze to the Person of Christ in its undivided totality. Even amongst the most zealous champions of the later formulas of ecclesiastical orthodoxy, nobler spirits, such as Maximus, John of Damascus, Theodore Abukara, and others, did not refuse to drink at this fresher fountain. The Christological ideas which we shall here have to discuss, are amongst the principal pheno- mena of that Greek Mysticism which took its tone from the so-called “divine Dionysius.” They are the more deserving of attention, as they form the presupposition and foundation of the Romanic Mysticism of the West. In Maximus we have hitherto seen solely the dialectician, and the most important champion of Dyotheletism. This would at first sight seem incompatible with the mystical, Areopagitical elements, which now call for our attention, and to which he evidently clung with the whole intensity of his love. But it was as though he violently opposed Monotheletism and Mono- physitism, because of the strong monistic, or even pantheistic, tendency he perceived in himself. Before his own conscience, he pleaded (we may imagine) his advocacy of Dyotheletism as a justification of his unrestrained devotion to the monistic tendency. He made it his aim to incorporate the principle of freedom with the system of the Areopagite, and therefore succeeded in further developing, at all events, its anthropology, and in laying the corner-stone of a system which required the world neither to be * Compare Ullmann’s ‘Nicolaus v. Methone, Euthymius Zigabenus, und Nicetas Chon., oder die dogmatische Entwickelung der griechischen Kirche im 12ten Jahrhundert ;” in the ‘Studien und Kritiken” of 1833, iii. ? A more connected view of Greek Mysticism was first given by Gass, in his work, ‘* Die Mystik des Nic. Cabasilas vom Leben in Christo,” 1849 ; inl. pp. 1-224. He was unfortunately unable to make use of the works of Maximus. GREEK MYSTICISM. MAXIMUS. 229 a mere illusion, side by side with God, and a symbol of God, on the one hand, nor a reality, that is, a God-emptied reality, on the other. Duality he considers to be the preliminary con- dition of all true unity: so in the Christology of the Church, so generally. In his Mystagogy, he describes everything in the world as a symbol of God,—above all, the Church. ‘Typically, the world has, like God, the same energy as God." However varied may be the antagonisms it includes, on all alike it confers a divine form. We see from this, that Maximus, whom we have found defending with all acuteness the doctrine of the duality of natures in Christ, in all its aspects, by no means in- tended the duality to be a dualism. His system rather tended to reduce the actual world to the precarious position of a mere symbol of the existence of God. But he further proceeds to say,— Not only are the Church and the world a symbol of God, but God and the world are also a symbol of the Church. Yea, man himself symbolically represents the Church, and the Church symbolically represents man: they are related to each other as the wheels of Ezechiel, being in each other. This plainly im- plies that they are not foreign to, but have an inward affinity ‘ with, each other; and yet, at the same time, they are discri- minated from each other— discriminated in order to the possi- bility of their being in each other. Unity in distinction; distinction in unity. Hence also he says,—Sensuous knowledge is a symbolical knowledge of the ideal world (vonta) ; and this latter world is in the sensuous world (évu7rdpyer). The tendency to unity, to which he yielded himself as soon as he thought the distinctions securely established, recedes, as we may well understand, very much to the background, in those works which acquired ecclesiastical importance. That same tendency, however, gave him a decided superiority over the ad- herents of the Council of Chalcedon and the general sort of Dyotheletes, and was the link of connection between him and the Areopagite. Entertaining great reverence for Dionysius, he vied with him,.especially in. his. Mystagogy, in representing the holy arrangements of the Church as symbolical of the mystical process through which divine powers descend on man, and the human spirit is raised to God. The Cultus and the Liturgy, in particular, were regarded by Maximus as both the 1 ii, 493. 230 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. representation, and the rejuvenescence and real continuation, of that process. ‘There is, however, an essential difference between his mode of uniting the divine and the human, and that of the Areopagite,—a difference which first brings clearly to view the distinctive characteristics of the system of Maximus. The affirmative and negative (katapatixds, amopartxos) theology of the Ar eopagite—the affirmative method of causality, and the negative of “ eminentia’”— did not play so important a role in he) system of Maximus:! he did not, like Dionysius, fall into the danger of ‘instituting so strong a contrast between the nameless God, who is seated above” all names, ‘and the many-named God, that the mind is at last drawn either into a whirlpool, which takes away both its power of vision and thought, or into a region of absolute ignorance, through which is supposed to lie the path to “Faith,” but which may lead those in whom the theoretical impulse predominates, to thorough scepticism, and to the treatment of God and the world as a dream. In him, rather, as is indicated even by the zeal with which he asserted that Christ had a human will, the tendency to contemplation was so combined with the ethical tendency, as to preserve both in a healthy state. Like the Areopagite, he con- ceived God, at one time, as absolutely incommunicable and tran- scendent, and the world, therefore, as a mere shadow of the truly divine; at another time, on the contrary, he regarded God as communicable, and the world as full of the divine. Theo- retically, his position was still that of the Areopagite, but the moral and religious character of his mind led him to lay down principles indefensible before the forum of the apophatical (azro- darvxos) theology. He says, for example,— Love is the experi- ence (7dcoyeuv) of a transport towards the beloved object (God) : it presses onwards, and cannot rest, until the whole is united with the whole,—until the whole is loved in, and embraced by, the whole.’ It is, further, the most perfect work of love and its activity, to bring about such an habitual interchange of limits, 1 Still he was not merely acquainted with it, but says also, i. 494: ¢ ix tay Vscewy xataQartinas beoroyav, capxe mort tov Adyov, in that he deemed the causality of God incognisable save from visible objects : whoso, however, &roQarinas tx trav &Paiptcewy Ocoroyei, ruevmoe mwosel Tov Adyoy ag ev cepyn Osov dvre, and knows xaAog tov vrepayvworoy. 2 Schol. on Gregory Nazianzen, pp. 18-21, in Scotus Erig. ed. Oxf. Love he defines to be a waoxesy txoracw rpds aired ds tpurev. ¥2 ee MAXIMUS. 231 qualities, and names, that they shall be the common property of the loving and the beloved,—to make man God, and to set forth God as man, in virtue of the one and unchangeable movement of the will.! Love is the final goal of all good; for ~ it leads those who love to God, the highest good, and the source of all good, and unites them with Him. Faith is the founda- tion; Hope is the mediation: but Love is the fulfilment, for it embraces, in its entirety, the final desirable object with the entire force of its nature. Hence, also, it suspends the action of, and gives rest to, faith and love, in the enjoyment of the good, which, through it, is present to the soul. It is the prime, the choice good, to him who possesses it; for by it God and men are united, and its effect is to give the Creator of men the ap- pearance of a man, in that it deifies man, and, so far as is pos- sible, communicates to man the unchangeableness of God. — Through God, he holds, we are to become God—by means, namely, of the adreEovcvov. The mere capacity of choice he regards as an imperfect stage of freedom: the true and perfect form of freedom, on the contrary, is realized in him who pre- serves untouched that capability of good which is itself a kind of participation in the divine substance, and, by rejecting or repelling the possible opposite, makes sure the substantial good already possessed, and transforms it into proper Christian virtue. Such expressions occur frequently in his writings; but they have rather a soteriological and anthropological, than a Christo- logical bearing. Still, they are not without significance, even in relation to Christology. With their ethical character, these thoughts only needed to be developed, and the idea of the God- man would have been seen to be the necessary, common goal, both of the descending diyine. and of the ascending human love—the marriage (ydjos) (to use 4 favourite expression of the later Greek Mysticism) of God and humanity; though this necessity might undoubtedly have been set forth in a form , which would have led to such an universalization of the incarna- tion, as to allow little or nothing that is distinctive to the Person of the historical Christ. In fact, he does touch upon the idea of an universal incarnation of God as the goal of humanity, and draws an analogy between the deification of Christians and the Godmanhood of Christ, saying,,—The fulness of the Godhead, 1 CC. Capita Theologica et ceconomica, i. 517, $$ 27-29. 2 i. 489. Zou SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. which was in Christ by nature, is in Christians by grace,—so far, namely, as their nature is capable of receiving it. So, also, when he describes the process of deification as a corporealiza- tion of the Logos (cwparodcOat), through the medium of practical virtues, saying,— Man thus, on account of his love to God, becomes God for God, and God, on account of His love to man, becomes man for man. A beautiful interaction thus takes place between God and man—God becoming man by the deification of man, and man becoming God by the humani- fication of God. He conceived, also, that the will of the Logos and of God was to realize the mystery of His corporealization in all. In proportion as man deified himself for God by his love, God, through His love’ for men, became a man for men ; and so far as man, by his virtues, reveals the.essentially in- visible God, in so far is he spiritually initiated into the know- ledge of the invisible.’ He says further,’—Christ is continually, and of His own will, mystically born, for He is made flesh in and through the redeemed; and He constitutes the parturient soul the virgin mother.—The Logos became the Son of man, in order that He might make men gods and sons of God; and His purpose will be actually accomplished there, where Christ now is, as the Head of the whole body, as the “forerunner” to the Father on our behalf, and on behalf of that which is to be realized with us. Yor, in the assembly of the gods, of the redeemed, God will stand in the very midst. Such passages show us plainly that Maximus attributed to Christ an universal significance; though, strictly taken, it was the Logos alone to whom this Susanna: pertained. What part ‘he historical Christ takes in such a general process of deification is hard to say, especially when we bear in mind the position Maximus assigns to freedom. He represents the Logos as continually becoming flesh in manifold ways; for he - says, everything is a symbol of God, and momentarily, or in one aspect, brings God to view: this is especially the case with * Maximus does not separate volition from knowledge: the extent of our love is the extent of our knowledge. With Clemens Alexandrinus, he terms the will vovy épsxrixdv. Mansi x. 733. 2 Expos. in Orat. Domin. i. 354 ;—éel —déawy yevveros Xpiords wvori- nas, 01k TAY owlomévav oupnovgeevos, xal punrépa moepbcvov arepyalouevos THY yevvacaey poxyv. CC. Capita Theol. et cecon. i. 490. | PQS MAXIMUS. 233 public worship. Not in Christ alone does he consider the Logos to have been made flesh, but in the word of the Holy Scriptures also. The mustard-seed of the Gospel denotes pri- marily God’s word, in which also is divine power; nay more, the mustard-seed is the Lord Himself, spiritually sown in the heart by faith. Whoso carefully tends this mustard-seed by his virtues, on him shall the divine powers descend as on wings (i. 486). The Logos, therefore, continually becomes flesh; and that not merely through being born afresh in us, but also when the inner man expresses and manifests itself in virtues.’ This continuous descent of the Logos of God into Christians is con- ditioned by their will. To the work of Christ special attention is not directed: as the God-man, he holds Christ to be the pre- cursor in this mystical process (apddpopos, i. 490); but as the Logos, or as confounded with the Logos, He is the cause of our deification. He teaches, further, that the human will must ascend by different stages. “It must not continue to cling to the outward, which is mere flesh, and useless; nor to the mani- fold variety of mundane eae although they do symbolize God; nor to the letter of Scripture; nor to the flesh of Christ. )True love and knowledge unite to seek a resting-point beyond all that is created, beyond even the humanity of Christ: their final goal i is the pure and naked (yupvos) Logos, as He existed prior to the incarnation and the creation (Note 48). It is clear that, in the last instance, Christ is hereby reduced to the position a a mere theophany, and that the historical signifi- cance of His Person is destroyed. The same thing appears also from his application to the professedly highest eas, of the words,—“ Even though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now know we Him no longer.” So far was he from attri- buting eternal significance to the God-man, that he regarded the humanity of Christ rather in the light of an hindrance to the full knowledge and love of the pure God,—an hindrance which must be surmounted by those who aim to reach the highest stage. This is the point at which a connection still continued to exist between the system of Maximus and the negative theo- logy of the Areopagite,—to the disadvantage of the former. He departs from the principles of Dionysius, in-an-anthropo- 1 See above, i. 354, 493. 234 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. logical respect, when giving expression to his moral and religious convictions. By asserting the existence of a freedom which attains to perfection in God, he hoped to be able to posit a real world—a world which, being filled full of God, and thus, in a manner, endowed with independence, must oppose resistance to the reabsorption of the world into God. But, in a theological respect, he was unable to rise above the theoretical principle of the absolute transcendence, infinitude, and incomprehensible- ness of God, notwithstanding that the yearnings of his love required him to do so. Ever again does he seem to regard incomprehensible majesty, essential incommunicableness, as the absolutely divine, the absolutely highest. good; and the con- sequence thereof is, that love is congruous rather to man than to God. Man thus falls into the contradiction of being drawn by love towards a God who cannot confirm his love by returning it, but, in strict consequence, can only absorb it. Another no less certain consequence is, that the Most High God cannot become incarnate; for it is only a subordinate element in God that is communicable. He who is truly wise and loving ought, there- fore, to know that that which is highest in God is incommu- nicable. By such a conception of God, Christology was threat- ened with Docetism, and on grounds similar to those which involved Gnosticism therein. Nor does Maximus make any secret of this fact; for he says, “ Even in the incarnation God continued super-essential.”? And, indeed, in laying down such a principle, he did but put the finishing stroke to the doctrine of the Church, in the form which he himself had helped to fix. Thus God is also veiled by the God-man (not merely by the earthly man); revealed only in part, that is, symbolically. Of that incarnation, which, being essentially a theophany, was not limited to Christ, Christ was merely the starting-point, or the historical centre. God so far revealed Himself in Christ (as, indeed, in general, in the symbols of: Himself) as met the wants of beginners. We see thus, that in the domain of theory the negative theology of the Areopagite was allowed finally to dominate, whether it declared its goal to be the incognisable or the super-incognisable. This theology passes away into a holy twilight, —it is borne aloft on sublimer thoughts, as on clouds, into bie transparent ether of mystic vision (i. 498, § 59), and 1 i, 53, 56. : MAXIMUS. 235 thus lives a life of inner worship and divine service. And as the symbolical cultus of the Church properly moves in an holy, dusky light of this kind, the mystical mind feels itself there truly at home. If there is any difference between the Pseudo- Areopagite and Maximus, it is that the former designates the transcendent divine light also divine darkness (eins yvodos) 5 whereas Maximus. guards against sinking into this abyss of God by the interposition of an aie grants Man participates in. the divine to the extent to which his nature lays hold of it: hence the element of Mysticism in Maximus is, without doubt, most accurately described by the expression, holy twilight. According to him, the world in general holds to God the rela- tion of an element, in which He symbolically delineates His ideas or words. He regards God, at the same time, as the primal reality,—as that in which all being subsists, or as the vroctacis and formative principle of all things. The visible transitory world is a mere imperfect symbol of God; more perfectly, but still not perfectly, can God express Himself in man, who is imperishable, and who through his will can become the image of God (Note 49). Notwithstanding the high esteem in which Maximus was held in the West, its teachers laid bare much more distinctly the real, though hidden, incompatibility both of his views and of those of the Areopagite with the Christology of the Church,— as we shall see in the case of Scotus Erigena. In the West, Mysticism assumed a more rigidly speculative form, and was less qualified and supplemented by a practical religious ten- dency. ‘The tendency to practical religious Mysticism mani- fested itself there first at a later period,—specially after the ap- pearance of the two St Victors. In the West, moreover, the cultus of the Church was not its home and vital element, as in the case of Maximus and the Areopagite; but its movements were freer, and it began at once to develop a predominantly subjective and inward character. In the latest period of the Greek Church, however, that mystical vein of Maximus,—whose characteristic feature was the union of the religious and speculative; and, again, of these two aspects of Mysticism with the faith, and especially with the cultus, of the Church,—was not_yet.exhausted. Remarkable, and not till recent times duly appreciated, vouchers of this 236 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. fact, are the Hesychastic Controversy of the years 1341 to 1350, and the Mysticism of Nicolaus Cabasilas, who flourished subsequently to 1350." It is the more important to dwell on these two phenomena, because they give characteristic expres- sion to the conception formed of God by the ancient Greek Church, and because that conception was at the same time con- fronted with the one held by the Latin Church. The importance of the Hesychastic Controversy cannot be justly estimated, unless viewed in connection with the views of Dionysius the Pseudo-Areopagite. As we have seen, he defined God to be both the Many-named and the All-active, and the Nameless. At first, therefore, God appears as the Approach- able, the Communicable; but afterwards, no less, or even more truly, as the absolutely Transcendent and Unapproachable One: and the true knowledge of Him is ignorance,—is the suspension of discourse and thought,—is the silence of deep awe in the presence of that transcendent light, which veils itself from us in gloom. This holy awe of the mind which knows God in ignorance, is most appropriately expressed in devotion to the sacred cultus of the Church, whose symbolical usages are characterized by the same amphiboly,— giving, on the one hand, an impression of the Divine presence, and, on the other hand, covering it with a veil. But the negative (amodatuxds) theology denied what the affirmative (xkatapatixés) theology posited. God cannot, it maintains, be the cause of the world; because that would be coutrary to His infinite nature: yet, on the other hand, the empirical, nay more, the religious view of things, requires us to acknowledge God to be actually the first cause; and, conse- quently, involves the denial of the principles of the negative theology. To continue in a dualistic suspense of this kind, was impossible, save to a mixture of speculative or metaphysical thought, and of religion, which seriously cared neither for the negative nor the affirmative theology. Following the ex- ample set them by Maximus, the Hesychasts, instead of apply- ing the opposed principles of these two theologies to one and the same subject, applied them to different subjects. They * Gass, passim: compare Engelhardt’s ‘‘Die Arsenianer und Hesy- chiasten,” in Ilgen’s ‘‘ Zeitschrift fiir historische Theologie,” Th. viii. pp. 48-1385. HESYCHASTIC CONTROVERSY. 237 considered the negative principles to hold perfectly good as applied to the domain of the divine essence } for it is absolutely simple, transcendent, unapproachable. God, however, is not merely essence, but Abe energy or causality. As to the former aspect, He remains eternally unapproachable, unknown ; but the latter is by no means a mere movement or act, still less a mere created world,—it is the periphery around ie divine centre ; it is a divine world of the second rank; it is a glory around God’s essence, charged with real forces of the divine light, which have not been produced, but eternally emanate from God.’ By means of a mystical calm.and.silence, we attain to the blessed and transfigurative.vision.of .this.unbegotten_light. So Palamas, the spokesman of the monks of Mount Athos. This light works as a purifying and perfecting element, com- municating itself to pious souls that have attained to awa@ea. In this way a compromise is effected between two principles equally certain,—that of the absolute incommunicableness of the divine essence, and that of the communicableness of divine powers. We shall find something similar in Thomas Aquinas. So much, however, is clear, that a Christology developed logi- cally from such premises could scarcely end otherwise than in Subordinatianism, although with an emanatistic colouring. The Logos would have been converted into the centre of unity of that secondary divine world of lucific forces. And, as a matter of fact, the Greek Church, by allowing the conception of God aaah lay at the basis of this system to pass at several Synods, unintentionally showed (what was clear also from its rejection of the “Filioque”) that it had not yet altogether thrown off the yoke of Subordinatianism. Moreover, it can scarcely be denied that the renunciation of all pretence to a knowledge of the most high and true God, on the part of the Hesychasts, and their claim to hold intercourse with the lucific powers, that is, with the divided deities of the second rank, is proof enough in itself of a commencing return to heathenism ; not to mention that their view of the process of redemption and of purification was not 1 They also hypostatize these powers of the light-world, and thus evince an affinity with the Gnostic Pleroma, with the doctrine of the d¢ga of God, and with emanistically tinged Angelologies. We may see also therein, the after-influence of the heavenly hierarchy of the Areopagite, and the ex- pression of the ideal world in a more realistic form. 238 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. Christian, but partially negative and ascetical, and partially physical in its character (Note 50). The Hesychasts, with Palamas at their head, set themselves in opposition to Barlaam and Acyndinos, who were called the Latin-minded (Aatewodpoves) ; though they were abetted also by Nicephorus Gregoras and others. On the other hand, the Hesychasts, or at all events their main thesis, were defended by Nicolaus Cabasilas, Bishop of Thessalonia, and by Marcus EKugenicus, Archbishop of Ephesus. The Latinizers_controverted the distinction made by the Hesychasts ‘between essence and activity ; but discriminated the more carefully between the activity and the result of the activity. ‘To assume the’ existence of activities side by ‘side with the essence, would be, says Nicephorus, to posit an acci- dent in God Himself. But a true conception of God can never be arrived at, until we have shut out every kind of divi- sion from the divine essence. In God there is no being (Sein) which is not also activity, act (actus); and, vice versd, there can be no activity in God in which His essence is not present. If we assumed an operation without an essence, we should have no operative subject: the operation would be a subsequent addition to the essence, and would supplement a previous lack in the essence; which would be incompatible, both with the divine unity and simplicity, and with the conception of God as the Good. For the Good cannot be conceived save as freely expressing itself in action. From this follows the Christolo- gical conclusion, that where the divine activity is, there also inseparably, is the divine essence; and as God works also in believers, and even in nature, He must be conceived to be uni- versally present, not merely as to His operations, but also as to His substance. It remained, therefore, for the advocates of this view to discriminate by some means the présence of the divine essence in Christ, from the presence of His activity in other beings.’ So far as is known, the opponents-of the Hesychasts did nothing towards. the solution ofthe problem. The spokes- men of the Hesychasts, on the other hand, drew conclusions such as,—If the divine activity is aeons inseparable from the divine essence, God’s activity is as eternal as His essence ; ' Jn an exactly similar position is the orthodox theology of the Lutheran Church ; for example, as set forth by Calov. HESYCHASTIC CONTROVERSY. 239 and then we must either adopt Origen’s doctrine of an eternal creation, or teach that the Trinity was the production of the divine activity, instead of that the Son was generated, and that the Spirit proceeded from God. If, further, Having (das Haben) and Being (das Sein) are absolutely one in God, we either know Him solely in His essence, or we cannot know Him at_all ; whereas, we really know Him in His activity, and not in His essence. As God’s essence is absolutely simple, whilst His operations are manifold, it is impossible to cognise His opera- tions relatively to their ground in Himself, if, instead of assuming a plurality of divine activities, we identify them with the one substance of God. Cabasilas, therefore, distinguished between the participable (weOexrdv) and the incommunicable in God: the latter being the inmost part of God, His centre, His proper essence and being; and the former, God’s property or possession, which, being a possession, can be communicated! Nicephorus repudiated such a distinction in God, designating it ante-Christian. God’s essence, he remarks, is at once incom- municable and communicable. On the one hand, God is and dwells entirely in Himself, is self-contained; and yet, on the other hand, He exists entirely and essentially for that which is other than Himself, and is active, without therefore becoming divisible or sacrificing Himself to individuals. He reproached the Palamites with the double error of representing the activity of God, which they conceived to be the communicable element in God, as losing itself, without self-assertion, in that to which it communicates itself ; and of robbing the incommunicable in God of that content which constitutes its fulness and vitality ;—the divine essence thus retained, being merely a self-assertant void. We see that in this interesting controversy efforts were made on both sides to interweave the affirmative and the nega- tive theologies ; the Hesychasts dividing, as it were, God’s very essence into a Holy and a Holiest of All, and referring the affirmative theology to the former, and the negative to the latter. Such a division of spheres,—introducing, as it does, a subordination of the living Pleroma of God, under the empty ( for empty it remains) divine essence,—was justly regarded by “1 Thomas Aquinas also makes this distinction ; and it is the presupposi- tion of the Lutheran Christology, which regards attributes or determi- nations of God as communicable without the essence. 240 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. Nicephorus and the Latins as a remainder of the ante-Christian conception of God, and accordingly rejected; but they them- selves did not advance any further than simply to postulate, that God must be held to be, as to His entire essence, in Him- self, and for Himself, and yet, at the same time, to exist for Pees other than ect The reconciliation of this apparent onic and the word of the enigma, is Spirit. Spirit, and spirit alone, is actually self-contained; and yet, whilst constantly asserting itself, and returning upon itself, it is at the same time nite and wills to. be PR others. Or, more precisely, the ethical, ie is the true essence of spirit, is alone capable of rising above that antagonism between an in- communicable athlon is nature and a communicable nature, between the Jewish and the heathenish conception of God (a). The truly ethical unites within itself righteousness and good- ness, justice and mercy (self-assertion and self-communication) ; and there is no love where either the one or the other is absent. A love, which in giving does not assert and maintain itself, is emanation, is a merely physical outflow: and beyond this view of love, the Greek theology does not essentially advance, so far as it deals with the operations of grace. On the other hand, a mere guarding of limits, a mere self-assertion without commu- nication, may be justice; but it lacks the free power, and not only the desire, to dispose of its own fulness without the loss of itself. No true conception of God is arrived at until both mo- ments intimately interpenetrate and combine. ‘The opponents of the Hesychasts did no more than declare them in words to be united; though, as must be acknowledged, they did thus keep the problem in view. Cabasilas, indeed, put the_light-theory of these Mystics in the background, and that, unquestionably, because he felt that it assigned to the Church and to historical Christianity too un- certain a position; but, on the other hand, he clung firmly to the distinction drawn by them between the essence and the energy of God, and made use of it in connection with the system of aharchlire representing the sacred rites of the Church, especially the sacraments, as endowed by that divine signee of the second rank, with virtues to renew, to strengthen, and to perfect. All this, however, he tries to connect with the (a) See Note K. App. ii. ‘ NICEPHORUS. . CABASILAS. 241 Person of Christ. Christ is, in his view, the resting-place (catadvpa) of those human yearnings which are directed to the future highest good, He is the luxuriant pasture-ground of the thoughts; in Him the eternal good is incorporated with time. He retains and employs the traditional doctrine of the two natures and the double will, with the difference, that, like the Areopagite and Maximus, he conceives the Logos to have been super-essen- tial even in the incarnation, and the humanity of Christ to have been superhuman and deified, notwithstanding its being of like substance with us. But the firm outlines of the humanity of Christ perceptibly fade away into the Logos during the process of deification ; and, in the main, the only significance Cabasilas attaches to it, is that of marking the precise point at which the divine principle was actually and_historically implanted into humanity. When following his own bent, therefore, he dwells exclusively on the sphere in which Christ manifests Himself as this divine power incorporated with the historical organism of humanity—the sphere, namely, of the Church and its sacra- ments, which are the instruments and channels of the life which streams forth from Christ to us, and which operate of themselves upon every one, even though he should be but passively open to their influence. Holy Baptism is, primarily, the generation of the new-life-which-is-in-Christ ; but it is also enlightenment. The triple invocation typifies the theological aspect ; the submersion and re-clevation typify the economical aspect: the latter type being in the language of act, drastic, inasmuch as we are called upon to follow Christ. Strictly speaking, everything was accomplished by the death and re- surrection of Christ; and all that is now required, is the trans- ference to us of the virtue of the bath founded by Him and through His merits. Nay more, not merely gifts and light, but also power of vision and power of breath, stream forth to us from the one fount.—The Anointing (udpov), which is his second sacrament, denotes symbolically the consecration of human nature, primarily as effected in Christ, by which it was ennobled and rendered capable of receiving the divine nature But, at the same time, the human vessel of Christ, with its con- tents, is incorporated with humanity as a principle of consecra- tion, and continues to operate in the sacrament of anointing. It is especially the holy Hucharist, however, in which, to his mind, Pi2.—VOLi Tee) Q 242 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. the mystic solemnity reaches its climax. The imprinting of the divine image in baptism, the infusion of spirit by the anoint- ing, are but preparatory steps to the perfection of human nature in its entirety —a perfection wrought by the divine-human nature present in the holy Eucharist. ‘That which was done for human. nature in Christ, is constantly done by this sacra- ment for the individual man. From the description given of that which is experienced by those who partake of the Kucha- rist, we may judge what sort of an image of the union of God eu humanity would have been Reece by these Mystics, had they expressed themselves, independently of the traditional Christological formulas. Appropriating Christ in this feast, we enter into a blood-relationship with God and Christ; and Christ celebrates His spiritual marriage (ydos) with the Church, _ His bride. Its effects extend to the whole man. Christ's entire being, even His physical organism, was deified and be- came a higher nature: such, also, is the effect of the holy Eucharist on individual men. This action of its divine physis, which mingles itself with, pours itself into, and so transforms, our organism, that, in comparison with our relationship to Christ, the relationship to our earthly parents vanishes,-nay more, which brings Christ nearer to us than we are to our- selves,—is its first and prime action, overcoming in us the im- purity which draws us to sin, and enabling the spirit of man freely to move its pinions in accordance with its own nature.’ The distinctive feature of Cabasilas, therefore, is a natural Mysticism, sacramentally treated and viewed, by means of which he supposed the human substance to be united, yea, mixed, with the substance of Christ; and, on the basis thereof, he en- deavoured to show that the humanity of Christ, as well as the pure divine light, or the naked Logos, stood in an, important 1 Compare Gass 1. c. 148 ff. In accordance with the principle, that a cause must be homogeneous with its effect,—a principle which plays a great role in the history of the dogma of the holy Eucharist,—we may draw conclusions, as to the Christological image tacitly recognised by these teachers, from the above description of the effects of the Eucharist on its recipients ; especially as Cabasilas considered Christ’s Person, particularly His body and blood, to constitute the objective element in that sacrament. Gass must be allowed to be right, when he says (p. 145): Hutychian prin- ciples, which were disallowed in connection with Christology, were applied without hesitation to the operations of the holy Eucharist. 2 CABASILAS. 243 relation to the accomplishment of redemption. Not the Logos in Himself, but the Logos in union with human nature—His divine-human substance, in which the human is superhuman and commingled with the divine—is the vital essence, which, when received into our organism, ennobles it, and transforms it into its own substance.’ As regards the spiritual aspect, Cabasilas undoubtedly failed to show that the freedom of the will, on which he lays great stress, was really compatible with the action of grace, as he represented it. ‘This is evident from his physical doctrine of the sacraments. Grace _and freedom he represents as alternating; and is not quite free from the notion, that each by itself, apart from: the other, is able to con- duct man to perfection.” Still, his system contains also another idea, by means of which he endeavoured to neutralize the prin- ciple of the exclusive antagonism between grace and freedom, elsewhere laid down by him,—and that, both as regards the divine and the human aspect. fTlcone this idea, he antici- pated being able to surmount, and reconcile, that antagonism between necessity and freedom which had been implicitly, if not explicitly, introduced into God Himself, by the distinction drawn between the divine essence and He. divine operations. It appeared fitted, finally, to clear the way for a spiritual action of the holy Renn aret and to form the starting-point of a peculiar Christology. This idea is his doctrine of the pidtpor, of the magical power_of divine love, Self-renunciation_is_the property. of love. By it; he who loves passes out of himself (€£:ordvav), and bestows himaweld on, in order to exist solely for, the object of his love. This spell of love the Bridegroom throws like a dart into the heart, a ray of His beauty.’ . “ He wounds souls; and the greatness of the wound, and the longing of the soul, point to Him who wounds, who draws the soul, in a holy ecstasis of love, out of itself and into Himself,—carried away by the might of love, and yet at the same time free. But this love is likewise a power in God Himself, which draws Him forth 1 Tlep! rig tv Xpsorg Cwijs, libs iv. § 55. “O yep cits Cwijs cepros aires xivei Toy airovmsvov, nal meblarycr nol wpos Eevroy meraBaares, p. 95. Christ is the Head and the Heart of the Church, His body. 2-Compare lib. vii. §§ 111, 112, p. 196. $ Lib. i. §§ 1382, 183, p. 56 f. 244 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. from His loftiness, incommunicableness, and impassibility, and compels Him, as even Dionysius hinted, ‘to pass out of Him- self, and to empty Himself, as it were, in an ecstasis of love.” He does not continue in His own sphere, and call to Himself the servant whom He loves; but He Himself descends in search of the servant, approaches near, lets His loving yearnings be seen, and seeks what is like Enact From bes who despise Him He does not depart: with the defiant He is not angry; but follows them to their very doors, and does and bears every- thing, and even dies, in order to demonstrate His love.® But ay as this may be, we have not yet declared the highest: not merely does the Lord enter to such an extent into fellow- ship with His servants, and extend to them His hand; but He has given Himself entirely to us, so that we are temples of the living God, and these members of ours are the members of Christ. The Head of these members is worshipped Dy cherubim ; : and these hands and feet are joined to that heart.” In his view, therefore, Christ is the present God, who, though nothing was left in His possession save love, by its beauty, by its irresistible charms, overcame the world. First of all, however, He overcame, as it were, in Himself His own ac indane glory and loftiness, in order that He might be nearer to those whom He wins and blesses than they are even to themselves; nay more, in order that He might become their other self. Now, although it is almost, as it were, by sheer violence that this fervid Christian conception of God is put in the place of the abstract infinite being recognised by ancient speculation, it cannot be denied that he approximates towards the view of this love of God, not as an isolated or momentary movement —not as a causal act put forth once for all, to which, amongst other things, the above-mentioned A seats: EE: essence had opened itself,— but as the proper being and the true 1 De divinis nominibus, c. iv. § 18 f. 2 Lib. vi. § 16: Kedawep yep rav cvdpwray rovs tpavras eSiornot +0 /. Lia e U ~ La Iw, / ‘ + 4) / c Dirrpoy, orav vrepBaarry nol xpsiogoy yéevnrol Tay deSaptvav, tov loov Tpomoy oO meph rovs avbpamous tows rov Osov éxeyacey. §$18, 19: ger de wy Acvbaver oDddpa Diray, dared ris meylorns dyamwns Sotvar weipav nuiv, xl OeiSoee roy toxerov épay spare. Tavryy unxoavarar thy xévoci, nal roeymarevercs nok moist 0” wy olds re vyevorr” cy Oeivee wabeiv xc ddvynbyva:. Pp. 135, 136. 3 Of, vi. 19-24, § 99 ff. CABASILAS. 245 life of God. So, at all events, does he represent the life of love led by Christians.' But, even in relation to God Himself, he saw that it is essential to the nature of the good to communicate itself, in order to draw the good in turn to itself. This is clear from the doctrine, advanced by him with equal beauty and con- fidence,’ that not only the human race was, from the beginning, created with an eye to the God-man, and destined to be united with Him, but also the God-man for humanity. “Ye are not your own, for ye are bought with a price,” says Paul: for the sake of the new man was the nature of man created from the beginning; intelligence and appetency were prepared and bestowed with a view to him; we received reason that we might know Christ,—desire, that we might hasten towards Him,—memory, that we might carry Him with us; for He was the prototype after which we were created. It is not the old Adam who is the pattern for the new, but the new Adam n who was the pattern for the old. If, as is written, the new was made in the likeness of the old, the reason thereof was simply that He might remove the piilentes of our nature by His medicine, and that mortality might be swallowed by life. The elder Adam was a copy of the second,—was formed after His idea and image. Human nature strove after im- mortality, it is true, from the commencement; but attained it first through the body of the Redeemer, which He raised from the dead to immortal life,—thus becoming the Captain of im- mortality to the race. To sum up all in one word,—the Saviour for the first time exhibited the true and rere man, both as relates to character, life, and everything else. If, then, this be in truth the idea and destiny of man, beholding eich God created him as the end and crown of all creation,—to wit, a life of purity, free from change and sin; if, further, the one, the first Adam, fell far short of realizing perfection, whereas the 1 Of, vii. §§ 164-167. 2 Lib. vi. §§ 182-139. P. 166, § 1382: Kel yao ds rev xoesvev dvOparrov cavbparov Quois cuvearn +0 ES cépxijs, nal vovs xal eriduulee mpos excivoy xors- axevcabn.—Ov vyelp 6 TaAcids TOU xoLLVOD GAN’ 6 vé0s "Addu TOD TaAraiod Tapa- devyeo. P.167,§ 183: 6 wrpecBvrepoc rod devrepou peieentece, nal nara ray jOcav éxeivov nel chy sixcvee wéwraorat, § 185: nal iva ro wav sizo, rov aérndivoy cvbparrov nal réerciov nal rpomav nel Cains nal trav dArwy Evens Toye Toy Tporos nol movos edeiSev o ournp. - 246 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. other Adam, being Himself perfect in all points, communicated His perfection to men, and harmoniously prepared the whole race for Himself ; why should we not say that He who came later was the pattern for the earlier,—that the later was the archetype, the earlier, the antitype? The primal norm (caver) of all things is the last man,—not he who proceeded last forth from the earth, but He—namely, Christ—to whom man is drawn by nature, by will, and by thought. And not merely for the sake of the deity, but ae for the anne of other nature (der andern Natur), is this Christ the resting-place of all human love, the bliss of thoughts (catadupa TOV avOpwrriver épétar, Tpudy Noyrr wav). The survey just taken shows that Cabasilas involuntarily became faithless to the doctrine regarding God first laid down by him, and which resembled that of the Hesychasts; for when, in obedience to his mystical tendency, he revels in the thought of the divine life of love, and clearly enough conceives God Himself as love, he entirely quits his hold on the doctrine-that the divine essence is not contained in the divine activity, but that the highest i in God rather remains eternally incommu- nicable. ‘That in which the spirit finds its eternal resting- place, and its own perfection, he regards as the highest good ; and that, not merely in relation to man, but in itself and in relation to the universe. Of this his Christology furnishes the proof. The sacramental Mysticism of Cabasilas is, though in a form not very scholastic, really an attempt to combine _sub- jective personal with objective Church piety; and_so far_he. bears most_resemblance.to-Lhomas.Aquinas. First, when the Byzantine Empire approached its downfall, and Greek theology, which was already showing signs of decay, had no longer any firm ecclesiastical support, do we find Greek Mysticism losing the, as it were, liturgical character which it once possessed, and as- suming (partly owing to contact with the West), especially in Italy, a form similar to that given to it by men like the Areo- pagite, and even by Scotus Erigena. In such men as Georgius Gemistius, surnamed Pletho,’ Bessarion, the author of Hermes 4 Lib. vi. § 189. He goes on to say: ob yap toriy, oD po reepeoriv, 000? £OTIV, OWS LH GvUEOTIY Nuiv, eos Tos Cyrodvas xeel aUTIS Eyylav torl THg nob 9- dies. Lib. vi. § 140, p. 168. 2 Compare Gass’ ‘‘ Gennadius und Pletho, Aristotelismus und Platon- ismus, in der griechischen Kirche,” 1844, pp. 24-98. LATER GREEK THEOLOGY. QAT Trismegistus, who gained many adherents amongst the Italians, Marcilius Ficinus, the elder Count Pico of Mirandola, Greek science passed into a species of Neoplatonic theosophy, destitute, in many respects, not merely of an ecclesiastical, but even of a Christian character. For the Christian cultus, they substituted a cultus of the beautiful and of science; and, intoxicated with delight, found the Gospel in the philosophy of Plato. Then it became evident that the ingenious fabric of theological con- ceptions reared by the Greek Church had no longer an inner foundation in the intellect of the age. On the contrary, no sooner did tradition lose its authority, and the Church its prestige and position, than the fabric fell to pieces; and out of the ruins arose a spirit, which, as though there had been no intervening history, took its stand in the field of the ancient heathen philosophy, made the attempt to bring back the gods of Greece, and set itself to luxuriate in the brightness of their beauty, in the fulness of their wisdom. It does not lie within our plan to follow this subject further into detail: one observa- tion, however, we may make, namely, that, as the Middle Ages drew to a close, the two streams of Mysticism—the Oriental and the Occidental—manifested a tendency to union (the cultures of the two regions tended, also, towards a union in the persons of other men), and were partially united in the person of Cardinal Nicholas of Cusa, Bishop of Brixen, one of the most eminent men of the fifteenth century. Led by his Fates to Greece, he there endeavoured to bring about the union of the Greek and Latin Churches,—an object which he regarded as the dearest in his life. Returning from that country by sea, he informs us that his mind was lifted up, as by enlightenment from above, to the intuition of God as the Most High, who unites in Himself and reconciles all antagonisms,—an intuition which forms the central feature of the system whose Christo- logical aspect will subsequently occupy our attention, and which exercised so important an influence on Giordano Bruno.* 1 Compare Scharpff’s ‘‘ Der Kardinal und Bischof Nikolaus von Cusa,” I. Theil, Mainz, 1843; F. J. Clemens’ ‘‘ Giordano Bruno und Nikolaus von Cusa,” 1847 ; Moritz Carriere’s ‘‘ Die Philosophische Weltanschauung der Reformationszeit in ihren Beziehungen zur Gegenwart,” 1847, pp. 16-25, 365 ff. 248 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. CHAPTER THIRD. ADOPTIANISM AND THE COUNCIL OF FRANKFORT, A.D. 794. Frew phenomena in the history of dogmas have been so vari- ously judged, or present greater difficulties, than Adoptianism. By contemporaries, it was identified with principles commonly held to be Nestorian; by those who followed after, and who were capable of discriminating Nestorianism in its actual his- torical form from the vulgar notions of Nestorianism, it was at all events mixed up therewith. Others, especially Walch,* con- sider the difference between it and the orthodox doctrine to have consisted more in form than in substance; or regard it as a logical following out of principles sanctioned by the Church, by which the inner inconsistencies of the orthodox system had been irresistibly dragged into the light. Others, again, look on the controversy more in the light of a first exercise of subtlety and ingenuity on the part of the awakening intellect of the barbarian nations. At the very outset, it must be_assumed to be utterly im- probable,.that so important a contest should have been a mere revival of long-forgotten disputes. The most eminent men in the Church of that period measured weapons with each other in connection with this question. On the one side was ranged by far the larger portion of the Spanish Church, with its head Elipantus, Archbishop of Toledo, who took his stand on old traditions, and with Felix of Urgellis, who was the chief representative of Adoptianism, and exhibited unusual acute- ness, culture, and acquaintance with the writings of the Fathers. On the other side we find Alcuin, teacher and friend of Charlemagne; the Asturian Bishops, Beatus and Etherius; Paulinus of Aquileia, Agobard of Lyons; with all the men from the German, Frankish, Italian, and British Churches, who had occupied themselves with this matter at the Councils of Ratisbon (in the year 792), Frankfort, Rome (in 799), and * Ch. W. F. Walch, author of the ‘‘ Entwurf einer vollstiind. Historie der Ketzereien,” and other works on Church History, published during the last century.—TR. ADOPTIANISM. 249 Aix-la-Chapelle (in 800). There is unquestionably a resem- blance between Adoptianism and some earlier_phenomena,— especially between it and the actual historical form of Nestori- anism. Nor, certainly, did the keen attention devoted by the Church, not merely to Nestorius, but also to Theodore of Mosh eens in the Three-Chapter Controversy, and especially at the Council held in the year 553, fail to help on the revival of the ideas of the school of Antioch. The spirit of persecution did not shrink from uttering its anathemas even over the ashes and works of men who had died at peace with the Church; and the consequence thereof was, that many of their thoughts were scattered like seed far and wide, and, falling into fit soil, brought forth appropriate fruit. This was especially the case with such districts as North Africa and Spain, which were farther removed from the influence and authority of the Byzantine Court than others. But Adoptianism must not, on this ground, be regarded as a kind of straggler, which had lagged behind in some remote part of the advancing host of the Church. It was neither an unvanquished remainder of the ancient Nestorianism, nor an old heresy revived by those who were ignorant of what had gone before. We know enough of the Spanish Church to be able to affirm that it did not constitute a Western counterpart to the Christians of Chaldza, but stood In active intercourse with the rest of the West, and with North Africa; and that, notwithstanding all its peculiarities, and the independence of its spirit, it fostered a continuous fellowship with the Romish Church. We know also that, in its numerous Councils, particularly in that of Toledo, it displayed a theolo- gical and dogmatical life, which favourably distinguished it during the seventh and eighth centuries; and that, in the course of many external and internal struggles, it succeeded in developing a kind of established national character, principally under the leadership of the Archbishops of Toledo. The main point, however, is, that notwithstanding the similarity between the mental tendencies at work in it and Nestorianism, Adop- tianism had_a_peculiar distinctive character, and that in virtue thereof it brought its influence to bear on the problem in the precise form in which it was presented in the eighth century, but not as it was presented at the time of Nestorius. If we can succeed in showing this to have been the case, no further 250 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. proof will be needed that it was not a mere production of in- genious subtlety. Nor, on the other hand, can Adoptianism be explained merely from the opposition raised to remaining Arian or Sabellian elements; or from the controversy with the Bonosians in one direction, and that with Migetius in another. We cannot, of course, deny that even the school of Antioch endea- voured to forefend Arian explanations of Scripture, by distin- guishing more carefully between the divine and human aspects of the Person of Christ, and by referring the lower predicates to the latter, in order to keep them away from the Son of God. Besides this, neither the opposition raised by them to Arianism, nor that to an Ebionitic view like that of Bonosus, furnished a sufficiently urgent reason for applying the predicate vids Oerds to the humanity of Christ: they must rather have been in- fluenced by a positive interest in the accurate determination of their own view. The long-continued struggles with the Arianism of the West Cate in Spain, unquestionably prepared the way, to a certain extent, for this new controversy. Still more did the sects of the Brecalne and the Sabellians (to the latter sect Migetius belonged, who appears to have been controverted ptraratcd by Elipantus about the year 780), as also Mono- physitism, which for a long period had been diffusing itself from Africa throughout Spain, loudly call upon the Church to guard against the reduction of the humanity_ofChrist-tothe position of the mere organ of a theophany, and against attri- buting passibility and mutability to the divine nature. In opposition to Monophysitism, the Spaniards avowed themselves at the Eleventh and Fourteenth Councils of Toledo Triphysites; they also raised their voice against Monotheletism. During this latter controversy the Spanish Church evidently acenstomed itself, in antagonism to every species of commixture, to give prominence to aye distinctions in the Person of Christ. Indeed, we find even as early as the end of the sixth century that a doctrine of the Trinity was formed in a similar spirit; and that, even relatively to that point, the Synod of Toledo took the lead * Bonosus of Sardica, about the year 390, regarded Christ as a mere dopted man. Migetius taught that the Logos became a person in Jesus, he Holy Ghost in Paul, and the Father in David. ADOPTIANISM. . Zon of the movement in the Church. In addition to these negative occasions of the rise of Adoptianism, some positive causes may also be adduced: for example, the numerous remaining ad- herents of the school of Antioch, particularly i in North Africa, which had probably acquired strength in the course of their conflicts with the Arianism of the barbarian peoples, and from the countenance afforded them by the Dyotheletic North African Synods previously mentioned. We may no less probably assume that the amalgamation which took place between the early Christian population of Spain and the arianizing Germanic tribes, gave rise to a culture which, even theologically, attached creat importance both t to precision of thought, and to the idea a the free personality of man. _ All these are clements which must be taken into considera- tion in accounting for the rise of Adoptianism. But how these negative and positive factors came to produce the Christological result presented to us in Adoptianism, can only be completely understood, when we call to mind what stage the dogma of the Person of Christ had reached, prior to its appearance. Adop- tianism was not one of those phenomena of Church History which might as easily have made its appearance earlier than it actually did; nor was it a mere repristination of Nestorianism ; but it _presupposed tl the problem of Christology to be in that precise position which ¥ we have found it then occupying in the Greek Church. The negative and positive factors just alluded to fitted into the en cast aeines results previously arrived at, and relatively to which the Spanish Church had by no means remained ignorant or indifferent. Accordingly, when the pro- blem, in the form in which it presented itself to the mind of the Church after the Dyotheletic Synod of the year 680, was brought into contact with the factors embraced by the Spanish Church, the result was Adoptianism. Adoptianism, we say, is decidedly discriminated from Nesto- rianism. Adoptianists made no objection, for example, to the term @eoréxos; but against. the doctrine of the duality of the persons they decidedly protested, not merely as an afterthought, but from the very commencement. Again, from the very The ginning they taught that the Logos assumed humanity ; but not that Christ owed His exaltation to His virtue, as the Nesto- rians, and especially Theodore of Mopsuestia, had held. On this 252 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. latter subject their language more resembled that which the Church itself might have employed, so long as the state of exal- tation had not yet been completely imported into that of humi- liation, but a progress from the latter to the former continued to be recognised. The vids Oerds of the Antiocheians was un- doubtedly also an adopted Son, but this idea did not form the central feature of their system; and they regarded, at all events more strongly than the Adoptianists, the attainment of this rank as the reward of moral desert. As far as concerned Christology, the Nestorians occupied themselves with the sphere of the natures, and only secondarily, nay, even un- willingly, with that of the personality ; being in so far opposed to the Monophysites. The Adoptianists, on the other hand, who were not under the necessity of fighting the battle of the duality of the wills and natures for themselves, but found them already recognised by the Church, occupied themselves with the sphere of the personality, whose unity had hitherto been rather taken for granted than made the object. of a definite conception. It is worthy of note, moreover, that, as might be anticipated from the character of the peoples which took part in the Adoptianistic Controversy, the term “ Person” was now, for the first time, understood to denote the “ igo.” Previously, as is clear from the view taken of the éaéctacis by John of Damascus, “persona” had denoted predominantly the constitu- tive principle of existence; or even the cup PeBnKos, the acci- dent of the genus, of the common substance ; or the existence of the substance in particularity, the particular mode of the existence of the substance. Owing to the vacillation between different views, the Greek writers on Christology were brought, as we have seen, into very great confusion. * . Adoptianists took their stand, consequently, onthe pre- vious decisions in favour of two natures and two wills. But at the same time they maintained that, logically, this duality * Compare Alcuini opp., ed. Frobenius, 1777, c. Felic. L. iv. 5, p. 823, v. 1, 2,1. 15; compare Paulini Aq. L. iii., c. Felic. Ven. 1734. Agobard. adv. dogma Felic. ? Especially as that was obliged to be in great part retracted in connec- tion with the Trinity which had been posited in connection with Christo- logy:—for example, that the hypostasis is merely a oueBeBnxos of the Ovola. * See Note L. App. it, ADOPTIANISM. 253 ought to be recognised in a sphere which the controversy had not yet touched—in the sphere, namely, of the personality. Not that they had any intention of maintaining the existence of two Egos in Christ,—they were farther therefrom than Theo- dore of Mopsuestia himself,—but they tried to conceive the one and same Ego, as pertaining in common to both natures, as that which raised both natures to personality, thus perfecting and fulfilling their idea. In this respect, therefore, Adoptianism was_ unquestionably the genuine continuation of the course entered upon by the Church when. it gaye its sanction to Dyo- physitism and Dyotheletism,—the course, namely, of refusing to allow anything belonging to the general human nature of Christ to be taken away. They aimed, as it were, at gathering in the harvest of the previous development, and applying it for the behoof of the personality. The “unity of the person,” nay, even its undiscriminated unity, had hitherto been presupposed : the chief expression for it was, “the Son.’ The Son denoted the personality ; it expressed the unity of the hypostasis ; nay more, it was the protection of the unity against the dismember- ment threatened by the duality of the natures. For infinitely and essentially different as are the natures, and, therefore, also the wills, they consoled themselves with the thought,—the Son, to whom pertain the two natures, is one,— He isthe Son of God and the Son of man. The dream of having thus sheltered and secured the unity was disturb ed by Adoptianism in a no very gentle manner; but yet it made so deep an impression, that from this controversy dated a retrogressive movement in Christology, which substantially paralyzed Dyophysitism and Dyotheletism ever more and more. With the re-assertion of the imper- sqnality of the human nature, Cyrill rose again on the horizon of the Church; and the view (which at that earlier period had been with difficulty turned aside) of the incarnation as the miracle by which the divine was substituted for the human sub- stance, leaving to the latter merely its accidents, began at this time to show itself, at all events, in connection with the holy Eucharist, instead of in connection with Christology, the free treatment of which was now no longer allowed by the ancient “Canones” relating thereto. Adoptianism thus constitutes a dividing line in the development of.Christology. The tendency towards the assertion of the duality, and towards the development 254 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. of its logical consequences, which had hitherto manifested itself afresh, after every struggle, however severe, came to a climax in the Adoptianists, but was also brought to a decisive crisis by their victorious opponents. ‘The first act of the German Councils, imperfect and bungling as it may be considered, was to turn Christological inquiry into a course the opposite of that which it had hitherto pursued,—a course which, consistently followed out, would have led back to the position occupied prior to the Council of Chalcedon. That the true Son of God, who is of the substance of the Father, was born, and assumed humanity in Christ, no one doubted." But Felix starts from the position, that if two na- tures, with two wills, were really combined in Christ, so that He was a Double Being, “gemine substantiz gigas,” it is im- possibile again so to discuss the unity of His person as to over- look the distinction of the natures; that is, in reality, to treat Christ any longer as though He were one nature, and not two. And yet this is done when not merely the divine nature of Christ, but Christ Himself, is designated in the strict sense (proprie) Son of God, or the proper (proprium) and natural (naturalem) Son of God; for that is to allot the Ego to the divine nature alone, and to deny it to be also the actual crown of the human nature. This latter cannot, any more than the divine nature, be a mere thing. The human nature may not be conceived as absorbed by the divine; for it must be a son, that is, the Son of man, even as the divine nature is the Son of God in virtue of its possessing the very same Ego. Against giving the man Jesus the name, Son of God, on account of his union with the Son of God in the Person of Christ, Felix_did. not make the least objection. Felix treats him as “ nuncupa- tive deus;” and, so far from feeling any difficulty regarding the doctrine of the transference of the titles of the one nature to the other, as taught by the Greek Church, he endeavoured by means of his own theory to establish it on a clearer and firmer basis. But he never relaxes _his_hold.on the opinion, that the Son_of man was of a different nature. from the Son-of God,—that he was, namely, a created being of another substance than the 1 Lib. iv. 5. ‘‘Dei Filius ex deo substantialiter natus essentialiter habuit omnem potestatem cum patre et spiritu sancto.” Felix adds, ‘* heec potestas data est filio virginis.” ~ FELIX OF URGELLIS. 255 Deity. Hence the Son of David cannot possibly be styled the Son of God by nature; for the only true and proper natural Son of God is the second person of the Trinity. Whoso de- nies this, says Felix, ought, in consistency, to believe that the Father produced the humanity of Christ from Himself, even as He produced the eternal Son of God.* According to the Scrip- tures, Christ is the Son of God and the Son of David; but inasmuch as one being can only be the son of one father, how cau he who is the Son of David be also, and in the proper sense, the natural Son of God?? To carry out the idea of the unity of the person so far as to say that Christ was, in the strict sense, Son of God, not merely as to His divine, but also as to His hu- man, nature, would be to confound God and man, and to leave no distinction between Creator and creature, between Word and flesh, betw een oe who assumes and that which is assumed.® oe which is is.a source 0 of sO ) great rae “How can we be- come members of God, or Christ, according to His deity? Men are not the members, but only the temple, of God. Being re- conciled, we become children of God, adopted sons; but the adopted sons must also have an adopted Head (L. 1. 4, 14). As to the glory of His deity, i in virtue of which He is in all things like the Father, and unlike every creature, Christ can- not have been in all points like us, sin excepted (excepta lege peccati). As to His humanity alone, that is, as to His nature, did He in all things resemble us; in respect to His glory, there is none like, none equal to Him. What more excellent, honourable, and holy gift could have been bestowed by God 1 Lib. iii. cap. 7. ‘‘Nullo modo credendum est, ut omnipotens Deus Pater, qui spiritus est, de semet ipso carnem generet.” 2 Lib. iii. cap. 1, and lib. i. 12. ‘‘ Christum duos habere patres deum omnipotentem et David regem, et non posse proprium filium duos habere patres.” 8 Lib. ili. 17: ‘‘ Ita in singularitatem persone confunditis (geminas in Christo naturas) ut inter deum et hominem, inter carnem et verbum, inter creatorem et creaturam, inter suscipientem et susceptum nullam esse diffe- rentiam adstruatis.” Lib. ii. cap. 12: ‘‘ Quodsi idem redemptor noster in carne sud,—adoptivus apud patrem non est, sed verus et proprius filius, quid superest, nisi ut eadem caro ejus non de massa generis humani, neque de carne Matris sit creata et facta, sed de substantia patris, sicut et divinitatis ejus generata ?” 256 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. on human nature than that by which His creatures, after their fall, were recognised as reconciled by God? Higher, he thinks, human nature cannot rise.than to be adopted into the family of God; and whatever goes beyond that, is a conyersion of substance, and consequently involves the annulment of the distinction of the natures. And not only does the nature of the case, but the Scripture also, speak in favour of this doctrine: —the Scriptures term God, the Head of Christ (1 Cor. xi. 3); they speak of His anointment; they say that God was in Christ ; but never that.this man was.God. They also style Him our ad- vocate,—an office He could not hold if He were not a man. Christ Himself says,—‘ No one is good, save the one God;” for God alone is essentially and by nature good: He confessed that He knew not the day of judgment. Moreover, the Evangelists speak of His growth in years, wisdom, and favour; and Paul teaches that He took upon Himself the body of sin, and the form of aservant.' At the same time, we must not allow these lowly expressions regarding Christ to make us unmindful of the love and compassion which moved Him to assume human nature. He became a servant for our sake.? But if Christ was by nature truly man, and in all things subject to God, what authority have we for saying that this man of the Lord (homo dominicus), from His mother’s womb, was, both in His conception and birth, the true God? (iv. 12.) If the man assumed by the Son of 1 Lib. ii. 18, 14; lib. iii. 8° Tib. iv: 9. 8.5) lib. vi.3,.4.%5_ 00 Ope vi. 1-3, 7,9. In John i. 14, he referred ypss to the humanity, &agdesc to the deity (vii. 6). Singularly enough, in lib. ii. 19 he draws a dis- tinction between the two genealogies in Matthew and Luke, styling the former, in which the names of heathen women occur, Christ’s descent ac- cording to the flesh, and that of Luke, in which priests are mentioned, His genealogy according to the Spirit. The adoption of the “‘ caro” appears, therefore, to place Him on the same level with holy men and prophets, and to attribute to Him, in relation to adoption, a dignity higher simply in degree, not in kind. * vi. 1-3, iii. 83. He became ‘‘ servus conditionalis” by His birth from. the Virgin. ‘ Quid potuit ex ancilla nasci, nisi servus?” He was ‘“‘servus Dei,” subjected to God’s law (vi. 4), because every creature must serve God either willingly or by constraint. This obedience He rendered, it is true, freely; for He was also “ filius adoptivus.” He was not called ser- rent because He obeyed, but because He was obliged to obey. He was ‘‘per naturam servus Patris et filius ancille ejus, non solum per obedien- tiam.” This is the sense of the ‘ servitium conditionale.” FELIX OF URGELLIS. AGE God was true and begotten God from the moment of his con- ception and birth, how could the Lord apply to Himself the Old Testament prophecy regarding the Servant of Jehovah, which represents the Servant of God as being formed from the womb of his mother? (Isa. xlix. 5.) Surely, in the servant's form, he cannot be the true Son of God (vii. 2, 14). But the Son of God, from the moment of conception, united this man most intimately with Himself, in the unity of His person; so that the Son of man became the Son of God, not by the conversion of human nature, but by an. act. of. grace (dig- natione) ; and the Son of God became like the Son of man, not by a transformation of substance, but in that the latter was constituted a true son, in the Son of God. (Note 51.) The Son of man may therefore now be designated, “ nuncu- pativé,” God; forif, according to the word of the Lord (John x. 35), the Scriptures call those gods to whom the word of God came, although they are not by nature God, but are deified by God’s grace, through Him who is the true God, and are styled gods under Him; in the same manner, God’s Son, our Lord and Redeemer, although He was glorious and distin- guished above all others, occupied, as to His humanity (both in its essence and name), precisely the same position as the rest in regard to everything else,—in regard to predestination, elec- tion, grace, and adoption, in regard to the assumption of the name of a servant, and so forth. The reason whereof is, that He who was very God, of one substance with the Father and the Holy Spirit, in the unity of the Godhead, desired to. he deified, ». and to be named with the name of God, by the grace of adoption, [ in the form of humanity, and in company with His. chosen. ones." Felix represents the entire majesty (that is, glory) of God as passing over to the Son of man, on the ground of his assumption. The question now is, whether he held adoption to be the same 1 ©, Felic. iv. 2. Compare Epist. Episcoporum Hispanie ad Episcopos Galli :—‘‘ Credimus deum dei filium sine initio ex patre genitum non adop- tione sed genere, neque gratia sed natura.” On the other hand, we read: _ ‘Hominem Christum non genere filium sed adoptione, neque natura sed eratia;—unigenitum ex patre sine adoptione, primogenitum vero verum hominem assumendo in carnis adoptione, etc. Idem qui essentialiter cum Patre et Spiritu Sancto in unitate deitatis verus est deus, ipse in forma humanitatis cum electis suis per adoptionis gratiam deificatus flebat et nuncupative deus.” 1 Ps 2.—VOL. if R 258 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. thing as assumption, or whether he considered adoption to follow feier than, and not directly upon, assumption? This. question is connected with another,—How could this adopted.Son-formone person with the Son ae God, as_is repeatedly maintained ? In answer to the ‘first. question, many were tempted to reply that the adoption was nothing else than the assumption. The word “ adoptio,” they affietnedh was so used by the older Fathers, and probably also in the Mozarabic Liturgy. The whole thing would then be reduced to a dispute about words. But, in the first place, the Adoptianists were accustomed_to seal not of an assumed human nature, but_of an assumed man ; and further, they took adoption in the sense in which it is used regarding Christians who become thereby children of God. Helix, however, further distinguishes between a fleshly_and a spiritual birth of Christ, even as respects His humanity. The latter took place when He was adopted; the former, which must pertain both to the second Adam and to us, when He was born of the Virgin Mary. The flesh born of Mary, was as- sumed from thie: moment_of the- conception ; and through it Christ took upon Himself the body of sin, which the prophet Zechariah describes as a “ filthy garment.”! It would be going too far, indeed, to assert that he supposed a veritable sinfulness to have been transferred to Christ, in consequence of His natural birth in our flesh: for Felix decidedly reprobates such a notion.” He referred rather to external impurity, mortality, and so forth. His opinion, however, undoubtedly was.not.that Christ assumed. the nature.which Adam. had. prior to. the fall, but in the state to which the fall had reduced. it. Maximus and Anastasius, on the contrary, fearing that otherwise, in that the human nature must necessarily will and act in accordance with its inward essence, conflicts would arise between it and the divine will, deliberately took the course which Felix declined. This nature, consequently, in itself, stood on_no higher level than that . the first psy rchical Adams nay more, as ape as the body was concerned, it Was in the state in which Adam was left by the fall, though the soul was created out of nothing, and then saoma tied by the Son.’ By this act of assumption, both * Lib. ii. 13, 16, vii. 8: ‘‘ Vestimentum ex transgressione de carne peccati sordidum, quam induere dignatus est.” 2 Lib. i. 15; see above. 8 Lib. v. 1-8. RELATION OF ASSUMTIO TO ADOPTIO. 259 were most intimately conjoined in the unity of the person (of the Ego—“ singularitate personx’’). Nevertheless, it was neces- sary that He should undergo a second birth, in order that. His humanity also might become the Son of God. This second spiri- tual birth | was “adoption ; 3 which became His from the moment of His resurrection out of the bloody baptism of death.! Were we to deny to Him this second spiritual birth, which took place by adoption, there would remain merely the first fleshly birth : nay more, we should be previously compelled to do away with the first fleshly birth, because it was the ground of the necessity of the spiritual one. From this it would appear, that Felix dated, at all events the completion of the adoption from the ascension of Christ to glory ; ; and therefore, referred the. words uttered at His baptism and tr ansigunation, “Thou art My beloved Son,” to the divine nature alone.” But if Christ were not an adopted Son, endowed with the fulness of divine gifts and of divine majesty, prior to His exaltation, and were merely the Son of man, although conjoined in unity of person with the Son of God; then we should be free to allow that He underwent a human development, and that His knowledge was imperfect, without being therefore justified in teaching, with the school of Antioch, that the Son of man merited His exalta- tion by His virtue and progress. Felix’s view, like that of his opponents, appears to have had more affinity with the teachings of Augustine, on the subject of grace.’ 1 Lib. ii. 16. ‘‘ Qui est secundus Adam, accepit has geminas genera- tiones (like Christians); primam videlicet, quee secundum carnem est, se- cundam vero spiritalem, que per adoptionem fit, idem redemptor noster secundum hominem complexus in semet ipso continet: primam videlicet, quam suscepit ex virgine nascendo; secundam vero, quam initiavit in lavacro a mortuis resurgendo.” The meaning of the last words is probably —‘+The second birth He had from the time of the resurrection, after it had begun in baptism.” 2 Vib. ii. 15, 1.20. He does not appear to have ascribed to the baptism of Christ any special significance in relation to His adoption. He pre- ferred taking the old doctrine of the resurrection as a new birth, for his point of departure ; and, instead of treating it as the third birth of the Son of God, to treat itas the second birth of His humanaspect. Paulinus (i. 44) took a different view of it; but he is chargeable with some degree of arbi- trariness. 8 Lib. vii. 9: ‘*Quee ille de humanitate Filii Dei, in qua natus homo, per adoptionis gratiam meruit esse quod est, et accipere quod habet.” 260 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. - If this is the relation between adoption and assumption, Adoptianism must evidently chaye_ been chiefly interested in preventing the removal of the humanity of Christ, out of the sphere of created beings, and in showing that it was at first essentially like ours,—having being created of nothing as to the soul, and born of Mary as to the body. After the resur- rection, however, when the two natures had one and the same Ego, and therefore approximated more closely to each other, their aim would naturally be to represent Christ’s humanity as a new creation, under the new name of Adoption. It is clear that, as far as the two natures are concerned, every conception of the incarnation of the Son of God, which should attempt to cross that barrier between God and the creature, is, and remains, excluded. But must not Adoptianism itself deny the assump- tion of humanity by the Son of God, and emasculate the oixeiwots between the two natures? As described by it, the Son of man is a whole, a person by Himself :—so at least it seems. But in that case, what meaning can be attached even The very opponents of Felix (even Paulinus, i. 48, ii. 8) acknowledged that he had no intention of teaching, that there were two personalities or sons in Christ. Nor, when he desig- nated the Son of man, God, and the adopted Son of God, did he mean that there were two Gods, though each in a different sense, In Jesus (Alc. v. 1). His opponents merely maintained, that, followed out to its logical results, his view would end in a duality of persons. Adoptianists, however, were of the opinion that the same thing might be said, with equal justice or in- justice, respecting the orthodox doctrine, if the principle of the duality of natures, of different essence, were consistently carried out: and Felix, they asserted, had rather sought to hold fast the unity of the person in the way prescribed by the previous development of the Church.» He represents. the principle which constituted and established Christ, as, in such a_sense, the Ego of the collective person, that the Son of man had His personal centre (the Ego which was essential to His true idea) in the Son of God (see Note 51).* This bore a certain resemblance ay * See Note L, App. II. FELIX OF URGELLIS. 261 to the doctrine of John of Damascus (évuToctacia). His view, however, implied that the human nature was anhypostatical, which the ie Adoptianists, did not hold ; and the évumoctacia, in his use of it, denoted rather that the Ego of the Logos was the vehicle and mi tahiive principle of the humanity, than that it actually appertained to the humanity as its own, and gave the humanity completeness, as though it originally belonged to its nature. Hence, both the Damascene and the Church conceived the divine nature to be so united with this divine Ego, that the former alone enjoyed independence and the hegemony, and that the human nature became merely the transition-point for the divine will, or was even reduced to that selfless condition which characterizes the body. The Adoptianists, on the con- trary, drew a sharp distinction between the divine.nature and the divine Ego, in so far as they allotted the latter. alone to the humanity, which in virtue thereof became the Son of man. Clinging to the duality in the one Christ, they conceived Him as a double being, held together solely by the unity of. the per- sonal centre, in such a manner that to each of the two aspects of this twofold Christ were secured its reality and indepen- dence.’ One and the same person had a double sonship through its relation to different natures ; but Son it was in both,—either first from the time of the resurrection, or from the very commencement,—in so far as the “assumtio” was that act of grace, by which the divine Ego, without the divine nature, was made the Ego of the man. To this point were Adoptianists led by their concern for the personality of the human_nature. That it was personal, they were convinced ; although they held that it was constituted such, by the divine of f man, | in the act of assumption ; ; sai that this Ego became the ¥ veritable property of the humanity. In their view, there- fore, the human nature lost nothing at all of its cpiaall sited or of that which belonged to it ; ne the divine Ego, abstracted from the divine nature, did nothing more than perfectly supply the place of the human.Ego.. The human nature of Christ 1 Paul. i. 32: ** Mendax spiritus conatur astruere, quia per incarnationis dispensationem et unigeniti proprietas in dualitate nominis sit geminata, in proprii scilicet et adoptivi, et unio individue Deitatis in plurali sit numero.” Compare i. 55. 262 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. was, naturally, not regarded by them as a man prior to the “assumtio,’ which first gave it its hypostasis. Similarly to Felix, the skilled dialectician who represented the party, taught also the bishops of Spain. In their memorial to Charlemagne (Note 52), they acknowledged the unity of the person in the most decided terms; but at thie same time, also, professed that their interest in religion compelled them to hold’ fast the “adoptio,’ which they represented as taking place earlier, though they did not give any very distinct opinion regarding its conciliation with, and relation to, the “assumtio.” In this respect they resembled Elipantus, so far as can be judged from the fragments which remain of his writings. He ex- pressed himself more obscurely than Felix, but seems to have had a profounder mind. We find in the works of Elipantus two ideas, which might have been made the basis of a higher form of Adoptianism, that is, of a more intimate union between the Son of man and the Son of God. On the one hand, namely, he designates the Trinity.“ unius.glomeratio..caritatis,unius ambitus..dilectionis, coxterna substantia.” God, he considered to be one,-notwithstanding the triplicity of the persons, because they are constituted a unity by the embrace..of..their_one sub- stantial love. Love constitutes, as it were, the higher unity or personality, which conjoins again the three distinctions of the persons; this higher unity being conceivedto havea _sub- stantial existence (Sein), and not to bea mere“ actus,’ On the one hand, this conception of the Trinity might have indicated the direction in which the unity of the Son ae man and the Son of God was to be found; and, on the other hand, the doctrine that the Son of man was not merely a single limited individual, but of universal significance, pointed to the same goal. For the resemblance which this character gave him to God, fitted him the more for being united with the Logos, in the identity of one person. With Him who was adopted as to His hu- manity, we also, says he, are adopted: with Him the anointed. One (Christ), we also are anointed. If Christ could be desig- nated, as to His humanity also, the proper and natural Son of God, He would be raised to a dignity which He did not seek, and which would annul the incarnation. He could further, then, be no longer the archetype and principle of our glory, inasmuch as the promise, that we shall be like Him after the resurrection, ELIFANTUS OF TOLEDO. 263 referred not to His deity, but to His humanity. The oppo- nents of Elipantus were moyed by religious considerations of an opposite kind,—they feared, namely, that the distinctive and unique position occupied by Christ would be endangered if He were not even as to His humanity the proper Son of God; and were also unwilling thus to diminish the distance between Him and redeemed Christians.’ The Adoptianists, nevertheless, still clung to the doctrine of the difference of the essence of the two natures, and, so far as we know, did not follow out further the view of love as a sub- stantial bond, conjoining the two natures. .into.one personality. As we have shown above, they did indeed posit one person for the double Sonship, but, at the same time, seriously applied the (according to John of Damascus) still admissible principle,—that the subject of the Son of God (apart from His nature), as it was the subject of the divine nature, became also the proper subject of the human nature; they further, in accordance therewith, assumed two non-coincident, life-courses (doppelten incongru- enten Lebenslauf),—a Son of man merely running parallel with the Son of God. Their opponents, therefore, objected, that, on such a view, the only function.of the personality was.to connect the Son of God with.the.Son.of man, and that the proper idea of the incarnation-of the Son of God, and of the deification of this man, was really cast aside. The one person, they urged, was still in reality nothing more than the identical empty Ego,—a for- mal link between two natures which remain essentially separate. We see thus that the ecclesiastical opponents of the Adoptianists were concerned for the preservation of the very. foundation of Christology, for the reality of the incarnation of God, It is true, the arguments advanced by Alcuin, the Council of Frank- 1 Alcuini, Opp. ii. 586 ff. 2 The Council of Frankfurt represented the cause of the power and glory, the Adoptianists that of the moral deed and condescension, of Christ. The Council regarded the “‘ adoptio” of the Son of man (even though brought about by the Son of God) asan ‘“‘injuria.” To refuse the ‘*‘ persona” to the Son of man, appeared to it no more than an act of justice to the Son of God, and yet to be no injustice to the humanity. 8 Lib. vi. 10: ‘‘Gemine gigas substantie, totus proprius Dei patris Filius et totus proprius Virginis matris filius inseparabilis in persone unitate, vel Filii proprietate unus.” Paulin. i. 12, 14: * Debuit homo in Deum proficere—non decebat Deum in hominem deficere.” 264 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. furt, Beatus, and Etherius, in support of the ducvx7) &vwous of Athanasius, or of Cyrill’s fundamental idea, without that Anti- ocheian adjunct to which the Adoptianists clung, were in part but weak, especially when they came to the establishment of their own view. They principally employed the old image of the unity of body and soul, or fell back on the unsearchableness of the mystery, and on the omnipotence of God, which they deemed able to create anything out of nothing, according to its own pleasure; urging, that as no nature can prevent God making of it what He may choose, there was nothing to prevent Him making a natural Son of God out of human nature. But Alcuin, in particular, dis- played greater ability in.his.criticism-ofAdoptianism. He asks, whether every man is the proper son of his father? If this be affirmed, he reminds us that men are not of their fathers as to the soul, but only as to the flesh; and deduces the conclusion, that if it is not allowable to designate the entire Christ God’s own Son, no man can be called the son of his father. He fur- ther argues, from the unity of the person, as to whether a son can be both the proper and adopted son. of one.and..the.same father. Then from the difference of the natures, he argues as to whether the Son can be the true and proper Son of the Virgin. This is granted, says he; and yet when they come to treat of the divine aspect, they refuse to designate the entire Christ the true and proper Son of God. He further tries.to force from them the confession, that the entire Christ. ought not.to be wor- shipped, nor miracles to.be attributed to the Son-of man. He asks, Was God’s own Son, or a strange son, adopted? Of course, a strange son. When, then, he asks further, was Christ strange to God, so that God was under the necessity of adopt- ing Him? Rather was the true and own Son of God con- ceived and born in the conception and birth of Christ. In general, he_tries to prove.that-the Adoptianists-ought-logically to let go the unity of the Person of Christ, and.to.agree to the separation maintained by Nestorius. He also endeavours to lay, as he says, the grammatical or dialectical groundwork of his own view.’ The question is, Whether, notwithstanding the difference of the natures, the Son of man can be “ proprius Dei filius?” This depends on the general question, Whether * Kpist. ad filiam in Deo carissimam, i. 921 ff. ; contra Fel. i. 11 ff. A Pp ALCUIN. 265 that which, strictly or properly, pertains to a substance, must always be a. the same substance as that to which it thus per- tains? His opinion is, that something which és,of a different substance from another thing, may undeniably possess as its property this other thing, in such a manner, that for the sake of this real and substantial relationship Beiweee the pus the latter may become a predicate or mark of the former.t At this point, also, a revolution is observable. < ‘The earlier teachers of the Church had insisted, especially duritie the Monotheletic Controversy, that what is not of the same nature cannot have the same predicates, and so forth; and on this principle they based the abiding duality of Christ. In this respect, therefore, the avT Ooals and oixelwous continued to be entirely nominal ; the utmost that was conceded, was a strengthening of the human powers,—the intellectual powers alone, as the character of the Greek Church would have led us to expect, forming an excep- tion. Now, on the contrary, the doctrine of the duality of substances in Christ began to be modified, and the human nature, accordingly, to be allotted as “proprium” and predicate to the divine. Assurances were, of course, not wanting that this was not intended to affect the duality of substances; but that their difference began thus to be pared down, is equally unmis- takeable. As regards this particular matter, the difference between Adoptianism and the doctrine which received the sanction of the Church at Frankfurt, was as follows :—the former maintained that the personality or the Ego of the Son of God pertained to the human nature as its own; the latter maintained that the human nature was made a predicate of the Son of God, which implies that it was essentially deified. Even when the Adoptianists represented the human nature as having become like the divine attributes, they assumed the proper human nature to have been merely elevated, and jea- 1 j, 921: ‘*Tu vero de grammatica tua profer regulas naturales, ostendens quedam propria non ejusdem substantiz esse, cujus propria esse dicuntur. Nam propria dicimus nomina, non que nostre sint substantia, sed que specialem nostre habeant substantize significationem. Terrarum quoque possessiones proprias esse dicere solemus. Israel is said, in John 1. 11, to be the proprium of God. Deum in rebus humanis tam multa proprietatis nomine appellantur, cur in solo filio Dei hee proprietas non potest esse, ut sit proprius filius Dei, qui ex Virgine natus est, qui solus inter omnes filios Dei hoc habuit proprium, ut una sit persona cum eo.” 266 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. lously guarded against every species of mixture or transubstan- tiation. Their opponents arrived at the opposite view ;—that the one nature became the predicate of the other, they also did not deduce from any special or later act, but from the act of in- carnation itself. The Adoptianists, on the other hand, who were guided in the formation of their doctrine of the Son of man, to whom the Ego really belongs quite as truly as to the Son of God, by a desire to assert the truth and completeness of the humanity of Christ, also contributed to the same result, by draw- ing a marked distinction between “ adoptio” and “ assumtio.” The correctness of our view of Adoptianism is particularly shown by the further course of history. For whilst, on the one hand, Adoptianism recognised a double personality, and conceived both natures to be personal and independent,—main- taining only that the Ego, which is the constitutive principle of the personality in both cases, is common to both,—the teachers of the Church, on the other hand, said, Even though the human nature be represented as_personal,.still on this view no real incarnation has taken place. All that we have gained is the simple juxtaposition of two complete personal beings; and the hypostasis of the Son of God is held to have been so alien to the substance of human nature, that the human Ego was ex- cluded by the divine, and the human nature was impersonal, after the Unio. So do they distinctly express themselves. Transubstantiation comprises two momenta : firstly, the de- struction, annihilation of the one substance, so that, at the utmost, only its accidents remain behind ; secondly, the substi- tution of another substance in the place of the annihilated one, —hot, of course, as though the former substance, or its accidents, first realized its own completion by means of the substitutionary substance, but it ceases to have a substantial existence, and is converted into the new. This being the case, the teachers of the Church opposed to the Adoptianists, and in particular the Council of Frankfurt, must be said now to-haye turned their faces in the direction of a Christological_transubstantiation ; not, indeed, as regards the nature, but certainly_as regards-the Kgo...For, in the first. place, they expressly taught that the human personality was destroyed, consumed (deleri, consumi), by the divine,—regarding the personality, consequently, as a substance; and, in the (second place, they represent the divine ALCUIN, 267 person of the Son, as taking the place of the destroyed human personality from the very commencement (Note 53). If it be decided that the human nature of Christ was not personal, and that it did not become personal through the per- sonality of the Son of God, as abstracted from His nature, then it is clear that the question of a twofold Son could not any more be raised, and we can understand how Alcuin came so zealously to insist that Christ, including also His humanity, ought to be straightway designated the one indivisible Son.of God. For he considered that no other than the Son of God should be recognised as the vehicle of the predicates. It 1s true, he persists in maintaining that, “non deus conversus in hominem ;” but yet he says, “sed homo glorificatus in Deum” (iii. 17), which is scarcely compatible with the intention of the Council of Chalcedon. He says further, also, “nec homo a natura humanitatis recessit ut non esset homo, sed natura hu- manitatis proprietatem nature servavit ;” but how is this recon- cilable with the position, that the “ persona humana,” which he also certainly held to belong to human nature, is annihilated by the divine? If the human personality is destroyed-and replaced by the divine, what becomes of Dyotheletism, not to mention the “olorificatio in Deum?” Even the duality of natures must then be taken in a different sense. Previously, so long as little attention was directed to the personality, and almost all to the natures, these latter were conceived as diverse, relatively inde- pendent, and even absolutely opposed, magnitudes ; each was a complete whole, a substance conjoined with a congeries of qua- lities or accidents, which inhered in the substance ; and to Mono- physites (for example, even to Severus) the most vigorous opposi- tion was raised, because they called in question the existence of such a special substantial centre of life in the human nature. Now, however, as a consequence of the reaction against Adopti- anism, which wished to follow out.the principles involved inthe Chalcedonian decisions, the situation of matters was so changed, that, although the name of substance was still given to the hu- man nature, a power was set over it, which not merely (as was decided even in 680) omnipotently determined it, but which, by the destruction of its inmost centre, that is, of its personality, and by the substitution of itself in the place of that centre, essentially degraded human nature to a mere husk or shell. 268 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. Thus robbed of its own centre, and transposed into a strange one, human nature was brought down from the position of a distinct substance alongside of the divine, to that of a real pre- dicate, or congeries of predicates, subsistent in a highér centre. The great importance of the part played by Adoptianism is not attributable to any positive results which it worked out and embodied, but to the circumstance that the opposition raised to it, constituted a great crisis in the history.of the dogma. The fundamental ideas of the Council of Chalcedon could not be further carried out than it attempted to carry them out: it formed the close of a long series of efforts for the complete uprooting of every trace of Monophysitism. But its attempts to put the topstone to the labours of the old Synods, from the year 451 onwards, brought to the view of the Church the danger to which Christology itself was exposed, of being set aside, and the idea of the incarnation, of being replaced by a double spiritual life, or even by a double personality. With difficulty it had, at an earlier period, repudiated the doctrine of a transubstantiizing incarnation as applied to the natures ; now, it resorted to the very same doctrine in reference to the Ego, which was destroyed and replaced by the Logos.! And, in the way of evidence that the Church, subsequently to the end of the eighth century, was greatly under the influence of these Monophysitic, nay, even Apollinaristic elements, which were in reality but a more subtle form of Docetism—not, indeed, directly as respects the sphere of the natures, but certainly as respects the higher and decisive sphere of the personality,— we need only adduce the welcome given to the doctrine of the Eucharist taught by Paschasius Radbertus, at the very com- mencement of the ninth century. We shall soon enough, also, see the direct Christological results of this Adoptianist Contro- versy, which occurred at the boundary line, separating the Old from the Middle Period. * Instead of two parts, cdz« and Wuy}, Apollinaris taught that there were three, and allotted merely the vovs to the Logos. Precisely in the same manner, the persona—that is, simply the divine hypostasis — was now placed over the body and the rational soul. THE MIDDLE AGES. INTRODUCTION. 269 SECTION III. THE MIDDLE AGES. From the Ninth Century to the Reformation. THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE DECAY OF THE DYOPHYSITIC FOUNDATION LAID BY THE COUNCIL OF CHALCEDON. INTRODUCTION. Wuutst the Greek Church, after the death of John of Damas- cus, was hastening with rapid steps towards outward and in- ward, moral, religious, and scientific decay, the Western Church had prepared for Christianity a new home, amongst nations which it first constituted participators in, and promoters of, the culture of the civilised world. The Western Church was dis- tinguished from the Oriental by characteristics peculiarly its own. It viewed Christianity not mainly as doctrine, but as.a matter_ofthe-will. In the West, the Church was not the pas- sive servant of the State,to which it had sold its freedom and renounced its moral and religious mission in return for outward pomp and glory, contented to manage the spiritual forms in which the life of the State and of the people was clothed ; but felt itself to be a divine and independent institution; manifested a pure zeal in martyrdoms and self-sacrificing missionary work ; brought a number of barbarous peoples, in consequence, under the yoke of the cross; and even aided materially in founding new states and constitutions amongst them, by means of its more fully developed system of Ecclesiastical Law. It was not content with being merely recognised and respected by earthly authorities : it set before itself as a goal, to bring the world into subjection to the law of Christ. But as it regarded itself as “ 270 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. the administrator of this law, nay more, as the representative of © Christ, it followed, that the more clearly self-conscious it was, the more distinctly would the Western Church aim at the sub- jugation, not merely of peoples, but also of states. The idea of the Church thus underwent. an_essential change; and, in connection therewith, the doctrine of the work and the Person of Christ. By the Greek Church, Christ was predominantly regarded as the Revealed Wisdom of God; and His work as a work of enlightenment, through the instrumentality of the Tiotls opGddofos : chief stress was accordingly laid on His pro- phetical office. The West, on the contrary, evidently under the after influence of the same spirit which had created the old Roman Empire, was stirred by a desire to replace the old uni- versal monarchy of Rome by an all-embracing, present, not future, kingdom of Christ,—by an universal spiritual empire. This kingdom, of which the hierarchy is the earthly repre- sentation and embodiment, is one of spiritual dominion, disci- pline, and grace; and the phantastic ideal of the Areopagite, which had but hovered over the earth, now descended in the West to the firm ground of actuality, gained extensive power, and assumed a concrete living shape. Efforts were made to bring the entire life of the nations under the law of the Church —a law which embraced, not only the services they were to render to, but also the gifts they were to receive from, the Church. Both grace and works were represented in the light of a law: by participation in both, the individual became a member of the kingdom of Christ. In that the hierarchy now added the kingly, to the prophetical and priestly dignities already claimed by it, and contemplated both the grace it had to confer, and the works it demanded, under this point of view, it supposed, indeed, that the conquest of the world for Christ would not be fully accomplished until Christ should have become King; but, un- consciously, Christianity was converted into a means of secur- ing power—into a something physical, which works according to natural laws—into something put into the hands of the hierarchy, to be disposed of according to its pleasure; for the hierarchy believed itself to have been appointed by Christ to occupy His place, to rule in His stead,—a belief which not only interfered with the personal government of Christ, but robbed Christians of their royal priesthood. It is characteristic, that in the writ- INTRODUCTION. pat ings of Augustine, and through the whole of the Middle Ages, Gheeaauihe so far as in it we ite to do with a communication from God, was not defined as the religion through which we attain to vital fellowship with the living Christ, who is the true creative ground of salvation; but, for the personal expression, “‘ Christ,’ was substituted, as.the eget technical. term, the impersonal. expression, “ grace.” This made it possible to %»» regard the highest gond as consisting in something else than fellowship aun the personal Christ,—in something which, though in thought, at all events, traced back ultimately to the Saviour, was viewed as a relatively independent potence, placed by Him in the power of the Church at the termination of His work on earth. Had Christianity been deemed, as to its every moment, to centre in the living Christ and His work, instead of being conceived as a mere thing, the Church would scarcely have ventured on undertaking to be His representative. The hier- archy did not so much consider itself to possess theurgic power over Christ ; but rather, in consonance with its disparagement of the personality, as possessed of power over grace,—that is, over the divine redemptive virtues, over the treasure which is placed to the disposition of the Church, as the spiritual kingdom of Christ. The Church and its ministers were not (as is the case in the Greek Church down to the present day; for example, even in connection with the Holy Eucharist) looked upon as the instruments by which the living and_ ever-present Christ, discernible as it were by the eye of faith, accomplishes His wore in individuals—that work which He has reserved in His own hands; but Christ, when He had founded the institution, which is His kingdom, retired, as it were after a Deistic fashion, into the background, and to the foreground advanced the present authorities, who-represent Him in His absence. These repre- sentatives were entrusted with such full powers, that there scarcely remained any reason for longing after the second coming of Christ and His personal reassumption of the reins of government. No wonder, therefore, that during the Middle Ages wale logy produced othing new also in reference to the Para of Christ, but merely eared itself to the study of the works of the past; and that, on the contrary, sole attention was given to those things which had more affinity with the above mentioned rAgie SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. conception of the Church. Proofs of this may be found in more than one direction. . In connection with the doctrine of the Trinity, it is true, the Council of Toledo did, in the year 589, decide that the Holy Ghost proceeded fron the Son also; and this decision was endorsed by the Western Church. But this more complete equalization of the Son with the Father had no influence on Christology, with the exception, perhaps, of preparing the way for that transition from the Person of the God-man to impersonal “ grace,” of which we have just spoken ;—the Holy Ghost being viewed as the gift of Christ, over which the Church has power, and therefore as having taken Christ’s place. The Holy Spirit,—formally, indeed, represented as a person, but practically treated as a thing,—is that with which the Church has been once for all endowed by Christ; and Christ’s mission, in relation to earthly Christendom, was fulfilled, when He had once for all bestowed this Holy Spirit on the institution founded by Him. According to this view, Christ gave the Church to have life in itself; and it is by no means the work of the Holy Spirit to lead believers, even on earth, directly to the eternally living Head of the Church, who rules in His own Person. The Holy Spirit, imperdibly bound up with a parti- cular order of men, and through them communicated to the Church, constitutes it participant in, and powerful over, all the divine powers which were concentrated in Christ. The Church ~ itself was thus involuntarily made the incarnation of Christ— the present living incarnation; whereas the real incarnation was reduced_to.a_lifeless thing of the. past. Attention could not, of course, fail to be attracted to the contrast between the tant state of the Church and this its claim to divinity ; and in consequence, sects began to appear which raised a more vigorous protesting voice. Moreover, the Church, even as respects the clergy, did not attribute to the powers with which it was en- trusted, properly sanctifying, but merely sin-forgiving and consecrating virtues; hence was it possible for that need of realizing the holy deity as present in union with humanity, which was met by Christ, to continue to be livingly felt. But the Church having exalted itself, in its own view, to_such a divine eminence, this need sought for satisfaction, not so much in Christ, as in the pure examples of human nature,—that is, in INTRODUCTION. 213 the saints, and particularly in Mary. The following causes also contributed to this result. Firstly, the position ofthe Christological question. subse- quently to the Adoptianist Controversy. As we have seen, from the Council of Chalcedon to that of Frankfurt, the Church steadily resisted the tendencies which aimed, with well-meant zeal, at conceiving the Person of Christ as supernatural and per- fectly divine, but.which really ended.in robbing the humanity of Christ of its truth, either by its conversion or i its deification. With this purpose in view, so far from avoiding, it had per- petuated a dualism of the natures—of volition and knowledge —which, in the exercise of practical piety, was necessarily and of itself ever again overlooked. But when, in opposition to Adoptianism, it had been established that Christ was the Son of God even as to His humanity, the long repressed torrent burst irresistibly forth ; then was the humanity of Christ robbed of its proper significance, and the image of His one Person was so sublimated into the pure transcendence of the deity, that to the eye of simple faith He only bore the aspect of “ our Lord God.” Thus, whilst apparently heightened, Christology was brought to.a point, at which the God-man, the sympathiz- ing High Priest, who belongs to our race, practically ceased to exist ; and there remained only the unapproachable, holy God, as He was conceived and feared by.men..previous.to-the ap- pearance-of-Christ. All that was now expected with regard to Christ, was that He should come again to judgment. No marvel, then, that an ante-Christian horror of death and Hades fell afresh on Christendom,—that it sought a compensation for the loss of the sympathy of the God-man in human intercessors, whose post it was, forming as they did the ideal Church, to preserve sinful humanity from the devouring fire of the holy Judge, into whom Christ had been transformed. The loss of the historical God-man, of the Son of man full of grace and truth, thus reawakened, in the religious nature. of humanity, CA ee similar to thee out of Sich had grown, prior to the coming of Christ, the myths and Christological preludes of Heathendom. Undoubtedly, even on this fundamental view of the Person of Christ, as it pervaded the Middle Ages, the ne- cessity of a historical appearance or revelation of God might still be recognised. The Church, the divine, could not have P. 2.— VOL. I. S 274 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. sprung up spontaneously out of the soil of humanity; it must have been divinely founded, and have received its powers from God. But as the mere communication of divine truth, or thé fulfilment of prophetical functions, did not involve the necessity of an incarnation,—for all that was strictly needed thereto, was an inspired man,—so neither did the mere establishment of the kingly office require an incarnation, inasmuch as God is the almighty Lord and King, independently of the incarnation. For the founding of the kingdom, which the Church con- sidered itself to be, there needed only a second Moses, an in- spired lawgiver, entrusted with power over the divine treasury of grace.’ On one point alone had a more correct view kept its ground ; although even it was contracted and distorted. It was fitting, they urged, that God should not bestow His grace directly ; but that the grace with which men were to be blessed, should be morally earned by Christ. But this grace having been once earned (the Holy Spirit), the continued existence and operation of the God-man was deemed to be, strictly speak- ing, no longer necessary; and the grace was regarded as a treasure once for all apportioned to humanity. The utmost required by this consideration, therefore, was a momentary union of the deity and humanity in Christ,—a theophany of somewhat longer continuance. The first result of this loss of the living, divine-human Mediatorship of Christ, was that the piety of the Middle Ages created for itself, in the exercise of a phantastic imagination, by way of compensation, a host of mediators, amongst whom the Queen of Heaven occupied the foremost place. By this pro- cedure, another tendency of the natural _heart_found_a kind of satisfaction,—the tendency, namely, to the deification of nature, that is, to the deification of humanity and_its powers, apart even from Christian grace; a tendency in which are combined at once ‘timidity and defiance, indifference and haughtiness. For Mary, the mother of the Lord, was held not to have needed redemption; and was not, therefore, on an equality with the other members * In this connection we must not omit to notice the circumstance, that in the Middle Ages doubts were entertained by teachers held in very high esteem, whether the incarnation was really necessary ; and the question was raised, whether God could not have given of His free power, apart from Christ, all that Christ bestowed. See below. ee INTRODUCTION. pares of her race: she was raised above them by her freedom from original and actual sin; she was absolutely pure and holy from her very birth; and on the ground of this her perfection, which she possessed prior to the birth of Christ, she was fitted and worthy to be the mother of God. She sets before us, therefore, —she who stood, to the piety of the Middle Ages, in a relation of such prime importance,—what human nature is capable of producing out of itself, even apart from the redemption by the God-man. Mary, further, stood before God as the ideal of pure humanity, or of the Church; and, bearing humanity on her heart, was looked upon as an intercessor in all the difficulties of the present, whom God and Christ are unable to withstand : she consequently took Christ’s place, even as regards the very sufferings by which the graces conferred on the Church are supposed to have been won. Not so much on the passion of Christ, did_the gaze of-this- Middle. Age piety-rest-+it.was the anguish endured by. Mary, the “ mater dolorosa,” on account of her suffering Son, that was celebrated in the most beautiful hymns, and contemplated with the greatest fervour. All was thus again reversed. Mary was the embodiment of pure hu- manity: in her, humanity, even in this very particular, was conceived rather as actively loving and enduring suffering, on account of the sufferings of... Christ, than as loved even unto death. Christ also was looked upon Re as the Beloved of hu- manity—as the one whom we honour with our love, in that we sympathize with the sorrows of the much afflicted mother—as the one to whom we present, through the mother, the sacrifices of our sympathy, of the fulness of our love, and laying it down on the altar of His cross when we celebrate the Passion. Instead of which, we ought to come before Him, on the one hand, re- pentant and ashamed, broken and condemned; and yet, on the other hand, sensible that we are consoled and embraced by His transcendent and suffering love. That place, therefore, which ought to call to mind human guilt and poverty, and the riches of Divine compassion, is perverted into the scene of the triumph _ of human nature—of the natural feelings of noble hearts, which offer to the Lord their sympathy, like the weeping daughters of Jerusalem, instead of contemplating, as they should, His sympathy with us, and our guilt in causing His sufferings. 276 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. Even what we have last mentioned is proof enough of the want of a deeper understanding of the ethical. Sentimental emotions of the natural heart were ingeniously substituted for death with Christ; and, in fellowship with the anguish felt by the mother for her Son, such emotions were supposed to have the power of making us acceptable in the sight of God. The same fundamental view, which is Pelagian at the roots, made its appearance, with the same result,—the result, namely, of casting the living Christ into the shade,—in connection with that rite of worship which was, more than any other, charac- teristic of the Middle Ages. The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass (before which the holy BAC Hanee as an act of communion, was thrown completely into. the ey was a strange embodiment of that dualism which constituted the fundamental feature of the official catholicism of the Middle Ages,—the dualism, namely, ; of Pelagian and magical elements. Superficially regarded, the stress tan upon the Eucharist, especially since the ninth cen- tury, might be taken as an ene of the awakenment of a lively feeling of need of intercourse and fellowship with Christ. But, in point of fact, the Mass had taken the place of the living Christ, and was a solemn declaration of the fact, that in the view of Roman Catholic piety, Christ was no tos the Lord and King, still ruling and still bestowing grace. hore in the first place, who is this Christ, to whose real presence in the Eucharist so great importance was apparently attached? Is it the exalted Lord and King of spirits, who graciously inclines Himself to a blessed marriage with the soul? By no means. The Christ of the Mass is not turned toward the soul, but. toward Go d: He is the sacrifice which. is..offered-to God e the_priest,.and which is conferred-on-man.in.the.“communio ;” butthe benefit of which may also accrue to us by a private Mass. And of the certainty that it is personally embraced and loved by Him, the soul has no taste whatever. Consequently, Christ is no longer at allin the holy Eucharist the present and active One: it is the Church which is active therein, distributing Him in His name. ven at this point there was no set purpose to further the celebration and intensification of direct, personal, loving fellowship between Christ and the soul.—One hears it often said, that the evangelical view of the holy Eucharist has caused it to lose infinitely in fulness and depth of meaning. We ——o ea or oe INTRODUCTION. rath, should rather say, that the Roman Catholic view is poverty itself, in comparison with the Evangelical. According to the former, that which takes place in the holy Eucharist is but the perpetual repetition of the historical fact of the sacrifice of Christ, which, if it were satisfactorily accomplished on Golgotha, holds good once for all, and is preserved, without need of repetition, in eternal activity, and raised to a power capable of eternal indi- vidualization, in the Person of the exalted Lord. Christ, how- ever, was not satisfied, as He would appear to be from the Romish Mass, with merely gaining for His people freedom from punish- ment, or “ graces;” His purpose was to bestow Himself, the living personal One, upon them, as the highest good, when they believingly renew the memory of His death. It is therefore only the Christ who lived on earth, who died, who offered Himself a sacrifice to God, and who laid the foundation of the treasury of grace of which the Church holds the keys, that is ever again set before the Church, or rather before God. Christ’s signi- ficance is thus confined within the limits of His past earthly © life. The feelings of the Church are to be just such as it would experience were Christ actually dying over again His sacrificial death, at the moment of the offering of the Mass. That the living Christ was thus thrown into the background, as compared with the past Christ, who is repeatedly made parastatically (wapactatixos) present purely by force of an absolute miracle, is clear enough; but the same thing is still more clearly evident from the fact that, in the Mass, Christ was treated almost solely as a thing or material—as a material, the power to mould which lay in the priest invested with the formula of consecration. The priest constitutes (conficit) the elements, Christ’s body and _ blood, the present Christ ; nor is it Christ Himself who presents Himself as a sacrifice to the Father, but He is presented by the priest, that is, by the Church. Christ therefore holds a passive position: the actor is the priest; and the only activity left to Christ Himself is, that He once founded the Church, and once for all endowed it with the power, by means of the sacrificial rite of which He forms the material, to gain for itself at every repetition new favours from God. The Church being thus placed in the foreground, as the one that acts, merits and offers its sacrifice, Christ is again so thrown into the shade, that no progress in Christology, depending as it does for living impulses 278 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. entirely on piety, could be expected, so far_as the magic circle of these representations extended. ~ Tn the piety of the masses of the people, the place rightly occupied by Christ, was now taken up by the world of saints on the one /and, and by the holy sacrifice of the Mass, on the other. “In Christ’s Person, doing and suffering were united ; and, in virtue of His divine-human unity, His suffering was a doing, and His doing a suffering: to the popular eye, on the contrary, the doing and the suffering were distributed between the two redemptive surrogates above mentioned,—the nature of both being in consequence changed. In the holy Mass, Christ is purely passive ; the Church, on the contrary, is active: and it covers the imperfections of its actual condition, not with the perfections of the divine-human Mediator, but with those of the intercessory world of saints, in which it beholds itself in the ideal form in which it stands before God, in which it brought forth Christ, and in which it presents sacrifices of love and virtues to God. A system was thus formed in the Church, whose effect was to absorb and exhaust Christ’s significance in the one fact, that He rendered Himself dispensable for the whole period extend- ing from the ascension to the second coming, by endowing the Church with the authority and power of His mediation. In the last instance, however, we must go back to the con- ception of God which prevailed in the Middle Ages, and to the relation between it and the prevailing conception_of the world. In analogy with the peculiar mixture of magical and Pelagian elements which characterized the Middle Ages, they clung, on the one hand, firmly to the conception. of .God.as_absolutely transcendent and supernatural; and yet, on the_other hand, represented the world, specially the Church, as possessed of a degree of independence in relation to.God, which must.be con- sidered false, and equivalent to its deification. The point, then, is to solve this apparent contradiction, and to ascertain the reason why the catholicism of the Middle Ages wears at one time the appearance of an acosmistic Pantheism, which aims at transubstantiating the world into God, and at another time, the appearance of Deism. The solution lies, perhaps, in_the fact, that an ethical conception of God had not. yet penetrated the Christian mind,.but that it was still swayed by one of a INTRODUCTION. 279 predominantly physical character, though differently modified at the different epochs of Scholasticism. During the’ first period, God was_ still placed quite pre- dominantly u under ‘the category of the absolute substanece-or essence,. God a alone has ame in the strict sense: He is_heing ; whereas the world is formed out of nothing, and always bears the signs of nonentity in it. It is evident on the surface that this view, most logically carried out by Scotus Erigena, was connected, on the one hand, with the system of Augustine, and, on the other, with Neo-Platonism and the theories of the much-lauded Areo- pagite Dionysius. Anselm and Thomas Aquinas occupied the same platform. Such a doctrine leaves the world but a precari- ous kind of being ; and the system would be formally pantheistic, conceding to ae world a merely illusory existence, had not faith clung so firmly both to the transcendence of God, and to the independent existence of the world for itself, that threads of another character were interwoven with the original warp. God, indeed, alone is reality, in the absolute sense: everything else, therefore, can have being only so far as it in some way belongs to the essence of God;' and the necessary consequence of which would seem to be, that the distinctive character of the world begins where being in general ceases,—that is, with nonentity. That in the world which may be said to have being, appears rather to be simply God. This would be pure acosmistic Pantheism, reminding one of Eleatism. But even the centuries surrounding the birth of Christ had sought to dis- cover a theory which should combine the absolute transcendence of God with the independence of the world, and both with the — doctrine, that God is the origin and goal of the world, so far as it possesses reality. Such was the notion of Emanatism,? which was a mixture of the ante-Christian and Christian conception of God. Emanatism regarded God as, on the one hand, ab- solutely exalted above the world, which derived its existence out of His fulness. He is the infinite and originally sole Being ; but forth from Him has a world proceeded, which descends by cradations to the lowest and most limited stages of existence, where nihility has the mightiest sway. Nevertheless, so far as 1 Compare the Ambigua of Maximus Confessor in Scotus Erigena, ‘‘ de divis. Nat.” ed. Ox. Appendix. * Compare Heinrich Ritter, ‘‘ Die Emanationslehre.” 2380 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. these ranks of being are outside of God, they are independent of, and in their sphere like, God: as God in His sphere, so have they a certain sway in their sphere, especially as they are of divine substance, and possess by nature, so far as being can be attributed to them, powers productive of good, though in a lesser degree than God. They have also freedom,—that is, the classes endowed with reason are also possessed of conscious causality. Having been once brought into existence, God, strictly viewed, does not move them from within; still less does an increasingly intimate marriage of God with their substance take place, but they move themselves in the power of their own (divine) nature. According to this system, God is not overreaching, over- arching (tibergreifendes) being; but, as the infinite essence, keeps Himself outside of the finite, remaining unchanged even during the emanation of the world. Even Philo compared the divine life to a fountain ever flowing over, and yet never ex- hausted. A deistic view of the world, such as would be con- gruous to Pelagianism, might thus be engrafted on Pantheism. But in the determination of the final goal, the pantheistic basis again inevitably bursts into view. For Emanatism, so far as any ethical principle stirs within it, regards the distance from God, which is involved in the very origin of mundane beings, as sin against, or apostasy from, God. Its ideal, therefore, is the total abolition of any existence apart from God, that a being should be carried away out of, and beyond itself, into the divine essence, —a, notion which we have frequently found to be a fundamental ethical principle of systems tinged with Neo-Platonism. The legitimate consequence of this merely quantitative difference between God and the world, and even between good and evil, is, of course, that the redemption of the world would be its annihilation, even as separation from God was its beginning. These emanatistic representations, however, underwent the more modifications, both at this and at other points, the more the Christian principle attained to prevalence. These modifica- tions were resorted to, in order to remove the inner contradic- tions which were felt to exist. But although it was essential to all forms of Emanatism, to treat God’s absolute physical being as the inmost and highest element in Him, and, so far as the world exists at all, to consider God’s essence alone to be its essence,—thus leaving at the utmost a merely quantitative dis- JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA. 281 tinction between God and the world, —these facts show us that Emanatism was constantly driven out beyond itself. Although Krigena, in his system, treats of divine causality, he does not allow to the world that degree of independence which even Emanatism leaves to it. Substantially, he contents himself with saying that God alone really 7s (Acosmism) and has being ; that the world can only be a manifestation or symbol of God. For, in order to His being a free cause, capable of projecting forth from Himself beings actually different from Himself, God must be something more determinate than bare absolute being, and His spirituality ought not to be treated as a second- ary, accessory thing. In that case also, for God to communi- cate Himself is an impossibility,—still less can a proper in- carnation be effected. On the one hand, God could not burst through the limits imposed on Him by His own infinitude; and, on the other hand, no world could be brought into exist- ence to which the communication might be made. The Christian consciousness, however, has its life in the belief, that it may conceive of God as self-communicative. Communication, if it is not a mere: appearance and illusion, presupposes the real existence of two different beings—the com- municator and the receiver. This belief points back to the pro- cession of the world out of God: redemption and perfection have no meaning apart from a creation. The categories of substance and phenomenon, needed to be developed into those of cause and effect. With this subject, Anselm, the St Victors, Thomas, and Duns Scotus, occupied themselves. The last- mentioned arrived at the wil/. Let us now bring the chiefs of this school under consideration, for a short time. I. In the footsteps of the last great representative of Pla- tonism, namely, Maximus, followed John Scotus Erigena in the following century. Not only was the mind of Erigena akin to that of Maximus, but very many points of his system also were determined by that of the latter. The extent of the resemblance between the fundamental ideas of the two men, has only recently been duly estimated.’ In Erigena’s system, the Negative and Affirmative Theology also play a great part (compare above, p. ' See his work, ‘‘ De divisione nature,” L. v. Ox. 1681. 2 Baur a. a. O. ii. 269 ff. 282 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. 157, 233 f.), and form the lever to which the system owes its onward movement. ‘This alone brings to view the duality of the point of departure :—on the one hand, there is empirical knowledge, t taking its start from a Peiciey of objects, the world; on the other hand, rational knowledge, taking its start from a unity, God. chen the multiplicity, he did not ae as originating in an eternal substance, independent of God: causes lie solely in God Himself. God alone, therefore, is, pe the last instance, unity, and the multiplicity has no principle of being, save God Himself. All that was required, then, was to show how this multipli- city was produced by, and proceeded out of, the Divine unity. But the Neo-Platonic conception of God, by which Erigena’s mind was still swayed, made it impossible that he should render this service. We found that even Maximus, notwithstanding his ethical doctrine of freedom, did not advance essentially be- yond the Areopagite, as regards his conception of God: and a similar remark may be made concerning Erigena. With him also, God is, in the last instance, the superessential being, of whom not even being can be predicated, because He would not be the absolute unity of all antagonisms, were He not as truly not-being and self-ignorance, as bemg and knowledge. Were He page determinate, He would, from this point of view, be no longer the absolute. He is, ae ke absolutely abstract being; which is, at the same time, nothing. It is evident that the ae ae of a world could not be deduced from this eleatie con- ception of God. The Trinity in God is also reduced to a mere name. But, in point of fact, as we know from experience, the world exists; and the question is, even if it cannot be deduced a priort from God, how is its existence, at all events, reconcilable with the conception of God formed by speculation? He who has attained the true idea of the world, will be able to demonstrate the compatibility of its existence with the conception of God; and thus also, light may possibly be thrown back on the latter. This result is the rather to be expected, as the very idea of the world points back to God as.its eternal-point-of departure,and its eternal goal (v. 24). A theology which recognises and affirms the reality of the world, must necessarily go back to God as its cause. What needs to be done, then, is to show that God can be at once superessential and absolutely transcendent, and yet, that JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA. 283 cause, or world of causes, relatively to which the world is an effect. The poverty of the category of being or reality, renders it impossible that a procession should be accomplished, save by a division of being (Theilung des Seins, divisio nature). The rela- tion between God ‘and the world is defined as follows : -— God i LIS, logically, the primitive Whole or All; parts of this All form the world. Or, to employ an image of a kindred character, —the being, which God is (das Sain das Gott ist), is the universal essence, — He is, as it were, the generic idea, regarded not as a subjective product of reflection, but, platonically, as Reality ; nay more, regarded not merely as a type, but as a productive, fruit- ful cause. This universal essence resolves itself into species and individuals ; and this, its self-analysis, is the creation of a real world. But God, again, is the eternal goal of the world; and the self-dissolution, self-resolution of the world, so far as it is a congeries of many dissociated finite elements, is its perfection. The eternal procession (processus) of God from Himself, origi. nates the multiplicity ; and the goal of the multiplicity is its return into unity. He regards the universe as a genealogical map, which must be read at once upwards and downwards, but whose members are derivable not merely (deistically) from other members, but all at the same time, also, from God. The genea- logical (temporal) relation, in itself, however, would be merely a succession ; whereas everything, so far as its being is not a mere illusion, should be viewed and grasped as simultaneously present (like the divisions on the map of a country) in the “caus primordiales,” whose centre of unity is the Word of God, with the “mundus intelligibilis” contained in Him (i. 16, v. 25). Nature, as the unity Talk of that which is, and that che is _not (natura-universitas, ‘embracing: ‘God and man), he regards as “as divided into four fundamental rary The first.¢reates, and is not created ; the second i is created, and creates; the thirdvis created, and does not create; the fourth is not created, and does not _create.’ The principle on which the division is made, is, therefore, the idea of creative causality, and of effect, applied positively and negatively. How God can, at one and tie same 1 The fourth denotes God’s supramundane being; the first denotes God, so far as there is in Him the potentiality of creation. In the second, this potentiality becomes the ideal world ; and causality belongs to the third, the world of effects. 284 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. time, be both superessential and causality, and why He deter- mines Himself to causation, Erigena does not show: he regards it, however, as certain, that the motive thereof must lie in God Himself. | As superessential being, He cannot come forth, in order to be a causality. To say that God is a cause, is to posit God as determined; which is contradictory of His abstract simplicity and self-identity. How, then, does he reconcile the existence of a world—and, indeed, of a world in which God’s which it may be realized. On the question, Whence this material? we will not longer dwell ; although the categories of cause and effect, in connection with the theophany, are reduced to the categories of substance and appearance, and no longer re- tain a real position, unless it be in relation to the material, which is the medium of the theophany.? Enough, he says; let God find in Himself the matter and occasion of the theophany. He conceives God to be therein actually a cause,—a cause, more- over, under various forms; so that mind in particular, which is GuLuay, 25, :p. 253 = G.226.(p. 206-447, Brena apparitiones divinee” are, “‘causarum zternarum imagines ;” the “ causa” is thus the essence manifesting itself. : * All things sensuous, all things visible, he regards as a mere semblance of the true world, in which they alone subsist, out of which they arise, and into which they return when they lose their visibility and materiality, — without, however, losing themselves. For the true essence of things is eternally in their “ causis primordialibus,” into which they return. Sensu- ousness is a mere accident of the essence ; and this essence cannot be sensu- ously perceived, but must be spiritually cognized. The sensuous is a mere shadow of the body, an echo of the voice. L. v. 25, p. 258: M. i. 8. JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA. 285 created in the image of God, can be and is a theophany.' More important than this, however, is his representation of the rational spirit, as the real end and aim of the theophany. Not for His own sake, not for the sake of nature, does God proceed to His _“ apparitiones ;” but man in particular, his blessedness and his knowledge of God, are the aim of God therein? But if man, as the end God had in view, is taken up into God, his existence must have been willed as a real effect; andthe tne causality, therefore, reaches its climax at this point. The true man is, on the one hand, the microcosm, the most perfect theophany ; “On the other h Fase _he is the an of all theophanies in the macro= _cosm: he is fiat middle of the universe, the beginning and the end, combining i in himself the most. extreme antagonisms, and is ilies the image and end_of God (ii. 9). In Erigena’s case, therefore, the Sais which represents the world as a mere manifestation of God, as a mere theophany, is already carried out beyond itself. In man, who is an end to himself, the world advances to the point of having an absolute value sf its own, side by side with God. But, as this value must nevertheless have its foundation in God and Tis immanence, Erigena could not refrain from discriminating a double being in God—the undisclosed, absolute being, sa another being, which is the vehicle and bearer of the Stele: of the real rnc that is, in the last instance, of the tru2 man, of spirit. Ata ye period, some endeavoured to arrive at the same result, by distinguishing, after the example of Maximus, between the cnmnnaeele and in- communicable essence of God.’ The immanence, in accordance with which God is and remains the true essence of the world, is united with the causality, whose reality must be postulated if a true effect, different from God, is to be produced by God, by * The “‘ divina essentia ” is “‘ per se incomprehensibilis,” but it appears ‘per intellectum” (that is, the nature of man) “‘ in intellectibus:” i. 10, 7 Peles O- ® The Simple nature (God), indeed, suffers nothing in itself which is not itself; hence no one may call in question the eternity of all things which are in God, nay, which are God. ‘ Divina natura extra quam nihil est, et intra quam subsistunt omnia, nihil intra se recipit esse, quod sibi coéssentiale non sit.” But he also goes on to say, ‘‘creatricem quidem naturam nihil extra se sinere—totum vero quod creavit et creat intra semet ipsum continere, ita tamen, ut aliud sit ipsa, quia superessentialis est, et aliud, quod in se creavit, nam se ipsum creare non verisimile videtur.” 286 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. taking into consideration at the same time the perfection of the creation. Egression from God gives rise to diversity,—yea, to diversity of a constantly widening character, until at last the distinction of the sensuous and spiritual (sin included), and of man and/wife, is arrived at: at which last point, the pure idea of man,—that idea which is God’s eternal end,—acquires a re- semblance to the brutes. It may seem as though the climax of this differentiation set forth most clearly the distinction existing between God and the real effects produced by Him, and, conse- quently, evinced most distinctly the reality of the world. But Erigena was very far from entertaining such an opinion. God is a perfect cause only in those perfect effects, in connection with which causality has worked in its entirety, —that 1 is, when the effect perfectly corresponds to the cause, and is led back out of its differentiation, which produces merely the semblance of being, into unity with its cause. Regarding the mode in which this return is effected, further remarks will be found below; as also regarding the position which is left for Christology. It only romains here to remark, that this unity of perfection (adunatio) does not, in the view of Erigena, necessitate the suppression of the world, but brings it to its truth. Yet the true man, or, more pre- cisely, the speculative knowledge of God realized by the human spirit, and the blessedness therein involved, is thereby charac- terized as the true form of the world, and as the end of God in manifesting Himself.* But to carry this fully out was impos- sible, so long as the idea of God had not undergone a metamor- phosis ; for that which is represented as the highest in God, to wit, His incommunicable abstract being, which is at the same time nothing, is something very empty and void, and by no means capable of being an object of rich and benedictory know- ledge. Here, therefore, we come again upon the same unsatis- factory, nay, even in the theoretical or speculative aspect, contradictory, feature, which we found attaching to the system of Maximus. Neither of them was able to free himself from the Neo-Platonic conception of God which they had inherited, nor escaped being imposed upon by its semblance of sublimity. According to Maximus, love,—according to Erigena, the bles- sedness of knowledge, pertains entirely and solely to man: both love and knowledge, therefore, lack a worthy object. Nay more, * See Note M, App. I. ERIGENA AND MAXIMUS. 287 without being aware of it, they reserve the best portion, to wit, love and wisdom, for man; and thus, in effect, set man higher than God. There is, however, a distinction between these two teachers, which must not be overlooked, —a distinction arising out of the difference between the ethical and speculative point of view. Maximus regarded the ethical, —not mere knowledge as such, but loving knowledge, —as_ ihe: highest : from hich we should judge that, on the one hand, hee looked upon man surrendering himself to God, as making (ee his sole end and aim, and, therefore, as seeing in himself but a mere means; without, however, holding, on the other hand, that God, who is abstract being, could respond to man’s devotion by a counter love, which makes man its end and aim. According to his view, it is not God, but_ man, who is Love in and for himself. To man is thus, it is true, assigned the best portion, namely, love: inasmuch, however, as the conception of the object of the love is not in its inmost essence an ethical one, the love itself also is not truly and completely ethical ; for it loses itself in the divine being, through its ecstasis. It does not recognise in itself a highest good, whose continued existence should be maintained ; and, in consequence, the effort to establish the actual existence of a real world, by laying stress on moral freedom, does not ac- complish its purpose. Nor was the accomplishment of this purpose possible, so long as the reality of the world was not seen to be pledged by that love which constitutes the very essence of God, and as the divine nature retains its egoistic appearance, and continues shut up within itself. The system of Erigena has a decidedly less ethical character: to love and freedom he as good as never alludes; and, therefore, his speculations may wear the look of a mere retrogression, as compared with those of Maximus. At the same time, it must be allowed that although he speaks, not of the love of man whose end and aim is God, but rather of speculation, which makes God the object of enjoyment and of blessedness, he brings very definitely to -view not only an ethical momentum overlooked by Maximus,—the momentum, namely, that man also is an end in himself,— but also (and this relates to the objective aspect of the a the fact, that the true man is God’s end and aim: for God in Himself 8 thereby implicitly, though by no means with sufficient consequence and distinctness, defined to be Love. Thus that highest feature, which 288 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. Maximus_represented as pertaining only to man, is by Erigena implicitly attributed to God. The latter, indeed, can bring for- ward nothing else as the end and aim of God, save the blessed- ness to be realized by man in mental contemplation ; with regard to love on the part of man, he observes silence. God’s purpose, also, is thus left without a worthy object; and the loving deed of God, which, considered in itself, is held to have been performed, not yet represented as truly ethical. For this reason, Krigena also, though he held man to be the object and aim of the self-revelation of God, was unable to show that, on the principles of his system, the perfection of the world would not be its annihilation. Only by attributing to the world an ethical character, that is, by sup- posing it to participate in freedom, could he have been able to ensure at once its eternal distinction from, and unity with, God; and give truth and reality to the conception of the divine causality. Erigena’s system has unmistakeably an emanatistic founda- tion. This is evident from the ideas of the “ processus” out of God, of the immediate consubstantiality of the world with God, and especially from his idea of the “ divisio,” which, the further it advances, the greater is its distance from the simple, from the divine. But there are no traces in his system of the other aspect of Emanatism, which (deistically) represents the world, in its departure from the divine perfection, as advancing onwards till it attains a kind of God-deserted independence. Erigena rather clung (platonically) to the notion of the overreaching (tbergrei- fend) immanence of God in the world, even in its state of dis- integration; and represented it, so far as it has actual being, as having the “ primordiales causze” for its foundation; nay more, as contained in God, and as being God. Mather than receive that doctrine of the independence of the world,—a doctrine abso- lutely repugnant to his non-ethical Monism,—he allowed himself to be led away into an attempt to show that the disintegration, the sensuality, and the sin of the world are a mere seeming, which disappear before the gaze of Him who can contemplate the whole at once, resolving themselves into the fullest eter- 1 Tn the dedicatory epistle to Charles the Bald, prefixed to the transla- tion of the Scholia of Maximus on Gregory Nazianzen, which that monarch had requested him to make, he remarks:—‘‘ We learn from Maximus, among other things, qua ratione, que sunt maxima multiplicatione, minima sunt virtute.” JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA. 289 nal harmony. Considered in their true light, therefore, all elements which would be cast out by this harmony are counted as non-existent; those, on the contrary, which have being must be treated as good, and as subserving the beauty of the uni- verse.’ Had Erigena consistently kept to this point of view, involving as it did the existence of an ever-present dmoxata- aracts, he must have denied the possibility of any progress or any history; and thus the ethical, which, at all events in the form of true knowledge, he steadily represented as the universal goal, would have been swallowed up in a natural process re- volving eternally in the same cireuit. On the whole, however, he refrained from consistently following out his premises, and regarded, not merely knowledge, as needing to be perfected and set free (which might in itself have been compatible with the supposition that the most perfect order reigns in the world, and that it is solely our view of the world which is confused, owing to the faulty habit of insulating what should be conjoined), but also the divisions and sensuality of the world. Although these latter defects can never gain full force and reality, they still indicate a veritable lack of the vital power of the Divine unity in the world, and, in his view, cannot be overcome save by a process. —Whai ane process is, let us now inquire. On the one hand, indeed, this visible world is a mere acci- dent of the true Substance, a mere shadow of the true form, a mere echo of the voice. For the true world abides in the “ Verbum:” the “primordiales causze,’ whose “forma intellec- tualis, universalis” is the Word, are the true eternal essence of the world, into which the world returns out of the coarse sen- suous seeming which it wore. And then the question put by the scholar would readily suggest itself (Li. v. 24):—“ But tell me, then, whether or not the Word of God, in whom the eauses of all things subsist after an eternal manner, Himself entered into the effects of the causes, that is, into this visible world?” Con- sequently,— whether, if the visible world be treated as a mere seeming, the incarnation was not also a mere seeming? The teacher answers, in the first instance, “Whoso denieth the in- carnation hath turned his back on the true.religion.’ What een eemenaeien wae he meant by these words, becomes clearer when we examine his 1 A certain ‘‘divisio” is necessary to cognition (that is, to the highest good): iv. 6, p. 178. Puecaes— V Olivers ati 290 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. doctrine concerning m man. He tries to show that man_is more than mere seeming. “Man is made in the i image of the Trinity (ii. 23). It is distinctive of human nature to unite in itself the substances of all things. In it are bound up together the whole Visible and invisible creation, spiritual and corporeal. For this reason, man is termed the workshop and the middle of all; for in him everything is contained that follows after God,—yea, even angels. For a moment it might be supposed that Engena was now on the point of adopting a line of argument, which would enable him to assert for the material world also, a significance in connection with man, and, apart from this, to point out the seat of a universal susceptibility for the universal principle of the Logos. But he at once resumes his previous train of thought. So high is man’s position, considered in his integrity, which is paradise (iv. 15). There, the Word i is his tree of life; there he is in his ideal world, in his home. “Bat the Protoplasts did not inhabit this Baretta in time. Man had not originally his material body; it first became his through sin (iy. 13). Sin, however, did not first come into existence some time after the commencement of his earthly existence, but arose coincidently, contemporaneously with his entrance into the world of disinte- gration. His deliverance, consequently, must consist in the ne- gation of this apostasy, in the return of the effects into their primordial causes, in the abolition of the divided (ii. 14, p. 555 iv. 15, p. 197 ff.); that is, it consists in a physical process. It would appear, therefore, that Erigena held firmly that this material divided being (the world) is not a mere empty seeming, but a seeming to which pertain significance and power, and which, therefore, needs to be really overcome. These pre- mises, | Howeven seem to render an_ incarnation impossible, inas- much as a patheipation ina corporeal nature..would..inyolve ‘Christ’s undertaking also the. maculation..of..sin. Moreover, such premises make an incarnation unnecessary; for there seems no course open but to regard the reduction of the effects into the “ causas primordiales,” as an universal cosmical process, to whose furtherance, not the humanity of Christ, but solely the omnipo- tent divinity of the Word, can at all contribute. Nevertheless, he represents the teacher as replying further to the above question (v. 24): He took upon Him he form of a servant, and human. nature in its. _entirety:; but.in. this latter JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA. 291 the whole world subsists. Consequently, the Word of God, in whom all things were created and causally subsist, stooped and entered, as touching His deity, into the effects of these causes, into this material world, when He assumed human nature, in which are contained the entire visible and invisible creation. He stooped, in order that, as to His humanity, He might deli- ver and call back the effects into their causes,-—_those causes of which, as to His deity, He was the eternal vehicle and bearer ; and that thus the latter might be retained in the former by an unutterable union. If the wisdom of God did not stoop down into the effects of the causes, causality itself would perish; the extinction of the effects would involve the extinction of the cause, and vice versd; for it is in the nature of such correlative ideas to stand or fall with each ne cP: 252). extinction of the world of offects, and, through that; of the world of causes, was Imminent. But hae far ? tee had taught that the “effectus” eternally subsist in the “cause primordi- ales,” and have in them their true substance and being. And now one might be tempted to understand him to teach, that Christ was nothing more than the expression of that eternal relation between “effectus” and “ causge,’ in virtue of which the “ effectus,” notwithstanding all appearances to the contrary, repose eternally in their “cause,” and the “cause” eternally evolve themselves in their “ effectus.”’ Christ would then have been the mere symbol of an universal and eternal truth——the truth of the unity of God with the world, especially with man as the centre of the world: with regard to which he simply observed,—So certainly as we believe, as Christians, that the eternal Word descended in Christ into the world of effects, and that humanity, in which the universe is contained, itself reposes in the Word, even so certainly must we hold that the eternal Word is and remains eternally united with the world of effects. But for this (eternal) descent of the “causa primor- diales,” whose archetype is the Word, into the effects, the effects themselves would be nothing. In this case, however, Christ would be the mere allegorical representation of a philo- sopheme, of the universal indestructible relation between cause and effect. Moreover, inasmuch as the world, strictly speaking, continues ever uninterruptedly rooted in its eternal primordial SS 292 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. grounds, Christ could not, on such a view, be deemed to have been entrusted with any real work of deliverance or perfection. But that Erigena had no intention of teaching this, is evident from his describing the divisions and materiality as an evil which called for a redemption. And, though he could not attribute to this evil, with the sin which it involved, that sub- stantial reality which belongs to the ideal world, this (Qn Erigena’s estimation) only proved that it was capable of being overcome,—not, however, that a deliverance from this illusion and seeming was unnecessary. It is true, indeed, that redemption, according to Erigena, consists chiefly in Rn vt 3 speculative now ledas his knowledge, however, he did not represent as a natural, matter-. of-course possession, but as needing to be acquired (p. 282 ff.). In the first instance, the opposite of knowledge holds sway. At this point he endeavoured to show the connection be- tween the. Person-of -Christ-and~-the-process of the completion of the world. In the only-begotten Incarnate One, the entire world was at first individually (specialiter) restored: at the end of the world, it will be again restored in Him, universally and generically. What He accomplished i in His individual self, He will accomplish in all,—not only in men, but in the hole creation.. When 126: became man, the Word of God passed over no created substance,—not a single one did He fail to take upon Himself; for, in assuming human nature, He assumed the whole of creation. Consequently, in renovating the human nature appropriated by Him, He renovated the whole of the visible and invisible creation. And, in point of fact, having assumed human nature in its entirety, He raised it in Himself above all that is visible, and converted (convertit) it into His deity. Consequently, He saved the entire human nature, which He entirely assumed, entirely in itself, and entirely in the entire race* (p. 252). He did not regard Christ’s humanity merely as the sum and substance of the “mundus” in the same sense in which ey man is so; but in Christ’s humanity were the “primitie ” of the whole of humanity (L. v. 27, p. 257). Entire humanity is exalted in Him, and _sits at the right hand of God (u. 23, p. 72). In Him it has become God. ital for * “Folglich hat er die ganze menschliche Natur, die er ganz annahm, ganz in sich selbst und ganz im ganzen Geschlechte gerettet.” : ERIGENA’S CHRISTOLOGY. 293 Himself, the Head of the Church reserved this distinctive peculiarity—that His humanity was not merely made partaker of deity, or deified, but was made very deity (verum etiam ipsa Deitas fieret). In Him alone was humanity conjoined with the Godhead in unity of substance (p. 252). That he intended in this way again to do away with the incarnation, and merely to teach that the Verbum was the uni- versal principle of perfection, cannot be maintained; although, as we have seen, he could not employ the language he does, were not the deity of Christ, strictly speaking, in his view, the principal thing. Quite as little importance must be attached to his confession of belief in the orthodox doctrine of two natures (Li. v. 25-27). At the utmost, he could only accept it so far as it related to the earthly life of Christ. But in what way does Christ. bring about. our_return into the e primordial. causes? Primarily, as has been observed, by accomplishing this return into God, as completely and tea: as possible, in “His own Person. His return was the archetypal, nay more, the principial (prinzipiell), return of the whole of humanity. Newt, by. becoming, in virtue of His own perfect re- turn, the_mediatory causeof the adunatory.process (adunatio), to be accomplished outside of Himself. The Word of God, says he (L. v. 25, p. 252, 253), was unintelligible to visible and invisible creatures ere it Beaune man; but, by stooping down to them, as it were, in the incarnation, it betaine cognisable. ‘Thus, also, was manifested the archetype of that which we shall be. For if Christ, who knows all things—nay more, who is the un- derstanding ‘a all—has, in truth, arranged everything assumed by Him, who can doubt that alee was done in the Head, by way of illustrating what is to be effected for the eon of human nature, will be afterwards accomplished in the whole? Lhe question still remains unanswered— How could Christ enter into this divided nature and world without sin, and thus fulfil the mission. justattributed.to.Him? He who is himself subjected to the divisions from which deliverance is needed cannot be the redeemer, but only he in whom there is no longer any discerption, who “differentia mystice in spiritum aufert” (ii. 14, p. 55, cll. v. 20, p. 243). Does not this imply that the Exalted One alone is able to deliver? Indeed, Erigena desig- nates Christ the second Adam, because in Him was adunated, 294 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. what in the first Adam had been disintegrated,—disintegrated, for example, into the difference of sex (L. iv. 20, p. 211). He does not enter upon a more careful consideration of the question, How could Christ have exhibited that ideal image in a form intelligible and recognisable by us, if He Himself first needed to be delivered from divisions? At this point, however, he might have found a support in his doctrine of the divine Theo- phanies ; especially as to have done so, would have been perfectly consistent with his view of the entire visible world as a mere echo, a mere transitory reflection, of the true world. The divine substance in itself is absolutely unapproachable to contempla- tion; nor could it become quite intelligible even in the incarna- tion. So far as God is superessential, it is undoubtedly impos- sible for Him to become man; especially impossible is it for Him to enter into the division and disintegration, for example, of the sexes. That would be a negation of, an apostasy from, Himself. So far, therefore, as Christ still participated in that dividedness, He was not the perfect God-man (that is, God had not yet in Him become man, nor man God). In the historical Christ, consequently, God can only have revealed Himself in a form which was at once a revelation and the negation of the supposition that God had actually revealed Himself, had really come forth: in other words, He could only show Himself in an image,—which image, whilst expressive of a will to be counted as present, contained also a summons to men to allow them- selves to be stirred up by the image itself, to the negation of itself, and to soar aloft into the region of archetypal, naked, unimaged being.* In no one individual person and form can God reveal His essence; consequently, not in the earthly mani- festation of Christ. The-Word.didbut.reveal,.as.by.areflection of Himself, that God is, not what He is. This, indeed, is revealed by the visible world also, so far as the eternal is its true substance and reality; and it is accordingly consistent enough in Erigena to put Christ on the same level with a “multiplex theophania,” by which the Word became without end a subject of knowledge to angelic and human natures (L. v. 25, 26). He considered the historical life of Christto_have tees distinguished by the peculiarity ¢ of furthering and_facili- tating the rise of men above theophanies to ae archetypal. * See Note N, Appl: —— ERIGENA’S CHRISTOLOGY. 2995 For it does not allow of our considering the full and true idea of Him to have been realized in His temporal life, which was marked by transitoriness.. His earthly existence was followed by His resurrection and ascension; and these constitute an objective summons, not to confine ourselves to the outward form, but to lay hold on the inner truth and reality of Christ, —to see in Him the One who rose above all that is. finite, divided, material, and accomplished the eternal, absolute “ad- unatio” of God and creation. Though he was unable.to attach any true significance to the earthly life of Christ, on. the ground of its. inner “moral content, still, even as a theophany, ne held it to be of more importance tag other lives, because in it oc- curred things (for example, the walking on the sea, the transfi- guration) which were premonitory of.that higher supra-historical existence, into which He was destined to rise, through the vari- ous stages of death, resurrection, and ascension. Tie the same higher mode of existence He call also gradually exalt humanity and nature; for by His perfection He Himself became deity. At the commencement of the Middle Ages, the influence of Erigena..was..by-no-means.small." A large proportion of his pantheistic principles found shelter under the authority of the pseudo-Areopagite and Maximus, who, during the Middle Ages also, were held in the highest esteem. ‘Two other circumstances were also in his favour :—firstly, the close affinity of parts of his system both with the older Romanic Mysticism of the Middle Ages (Sec. 12), and with the Scholasticism on which that Mysticism had exercised a fermenting influence :: secondly, that during its first period, Scholasticism was intimately. connected with Platonism., Not till the year 1209 was the chief work of Krigena branded with censure by the University of Paris, through the influence of the Amalricians. If, Anselm did not regard God as the mere infinite, inde- terminate ocean of being. According to his system, this ocean of infinitude seeks a contre through the medium of which God thinks and possesses (denkt und hat) Himself (Note 54). This stands to him for the doctrine of the Trinity, to which he returns; thus decidedly diverging from the Areopagite and 1 For example, in lib. i. Exceptionum, c. 24,—a work attributed to Richard de St Victor,—he is desigated the Dace: er of ‘‘ Theologia.” 256 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. Erigena. As triune, God is an Ipsum; and this Ipsum Anselm considered to be the starting-point for the procession of a Non-ipsum, of the world. But he still maintained, that God alone was the reality of everything ; and that the world, so far as it is, appertains to God. III. The St Victors, especially Richard, availed themselves of the doctrine of the Trinity, for the purpose of effecting a more determinate discrimination in God, which should allow of the combination of the ideas of the communicableness and self- assertion of God, in connection even with the act of communica- tion. Richard puts the question,—On the one hand, power and wisdom are to be conceived_as communicable. On the other hand, the attributes of God_are His substance ; power, wisdom, eternity, are He Himself: but God’s substance cannot be com- municable; for there cannot be anything higher than God, anything equal to God. How, then, are these two things com- patible? His reply is,—There is an individual. substantiality, and a general substantiality. The former is incommunicable, and can only pertain to one. That which constitutes God God, or, in other words, His unique individual substantiality, is incommunicable: the general, on the contrary, is communi- cable. The distinctive characteristic of God is, that He not merely has, but is, wisdom, omnipotence, love, and so forth; whereas we have wisdom, but are not it. In his view, the Trinity constitutes God, an individual unique substance, an essence sui generis. ‘he universal divine substance constricted itself within God, by the eternal, trinitarian, self-composed, self- satisfied process (selbstberuhigt), so as, at the same time, to have an individual form of existence, decidedly different from the world, which, although representable, is incommunicable.t Thus the personality of God has in itself, through the Trinity, a pleroma, of which He disposes in the way of communication, without therefore giving up Himself. God can never communi- cate Himself, that Ww heh constitutes Him the absolutely unique Spirit, sul. Seneris ;—so communicate, namely, that the receiver should not only have, but be, that which he had received. Such self-communication takes place in the ‘Trinity alone. * Richard de St Victor, ‘‘ De Trinitate,” lib. i. 15, ii. 11-13. Ritter, a. B. Oma DoE — =) — UclOlce RICHARD DE ST VICTOR. 297 But the m mystical yearning after God is not satisfied by merely attaining to participation, as it were, in the impersonal essence of God. It seeks Him Himself; it is not content to abide merely in that sphere of the divine, which, by communi- cating itself to different beings in different degrees, brings into existence the different grades of beings. The ancient Greek Mystics, absorbed in the mystical vision, were content to keep reverent silence in the presence of the Supra-essential One; to allow thought and discourse to cease, whilst admiring and ador- ing the mystery. Even the Mysticism of Erigena still retained predominantly the character of knowledge,—it was a theosophy. But from the time of the St Victors, we. find the subjective tendency becoming every day mightier, to regard such admir- ing wonder of God and. His. transcendent -essence..as.a. mere preparatory step to that which is rather its true.aim, to wit, the enjoyment of God Himself. The holy passion of this fn of Mysticism broke through the barriers of the eternal transcend- ence and incommunicableness of God set up by the Areopagite; and cast aside the doctrine, that the lower grades of beings depend on the higher, and that through the latter alone the divine descends to the former, vouchsafing in a certain sense its presence, in that by which it manifests itself. With youth- ful vigour it pressed on, and knocked, as it were, even at the door of the divine mystery, at the very sanctuary of His unique and singular being: its goal was not merely the communicable divine powers, but God Himself; its desire was, that He should open Himself, and give Himself to ‘be. “enjoyed. But how does the Panna subject attain hereunto? Such yearnings un- doubtedly infolded within themselves a conception of God which rises above His merely physical sublimity: for nothing but actual personal love can be embraced with such fervour. And yet, on the other hand, Richard firmly maintained that the occluded (verschlossen) incommunicable element, is the highest element in God, and constitutes His singularity, and, as it were, His individuality. Nothing, therefore, remained to be said for this love, yearning as it did for the enjoyment of God Himself, than that by its means man can and must be carried out of and beyond Himself, and be ravished into the divine essence; that he attains the perfection of his nature by ecstasis,—to wit, by a wetdBacts eis dAdo yévos, by a subjective, 298 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. mystical transubstantiation. Jor the fiery love of God is not satisfied until it is swallowed up, God-intoxicated, in the enjoy- ment of God." Of this, man is capable, not in his own sin- weakened strength, but in the strength of God. Hugo de St Victor, who wrote before Richard, had been more sober; and in him the subjective characteristic had been. still more prominent.’ To the question regarding God’s communi- cableness and incommunicableness, he had not devoted any special consideration : he conceived God’s essence to be communicable. But concerning man he says, not merely that he has an infinite capacity for ek but also, that through merit and development ~ alone can he Loam actualiter that, the “ potentia” and “virtus” of which, were implanted within bits by the grace of creation. It is not at however, what inner significance he still could, and meant to, attribute to the objective grace and communica- tion of God. Hugo was related to Erigena, much as Maximus was to the Areopagite.. The sense of freedom, deeper moral and religious needs, had been awakened in him; and these were the things which rendered it impossible for Hugo to rest satis- fied, either with mere sacramental grace, or with mere specu- lative intuitions: but still he ventured merely to approach, not to: meddle with, the hard and rigid traditional conception of God. Richard, on the contrary, stirred by the same deeper anthropological impulses, wrestled with the traditional concep- tion of God, and endeavoured to infuse warmth into it; but the task was too difficult for him, and instead of the sacramental transubstantiation of the Church, he adopted the mystical tran- substantiation previously pated to. If anything can, the history of Mysticism in the. Middle.~Ages- does-show;-both-that the conception of God. stood in need of an actual transmutation and remodelling; and that in order to the success of this refor- mation, it must go hand in hand with a. further intensification of the inward life, and must be the result, of. more.penetrating and conscious vital experiences. The evangelical assurance of redemption, and it alone, could be the starting-point and in- auguration of fresh progress in the knowledge of God and * He speaks of a ‘‘ raptus,” ‘‘ excessus,” etc. ‘‘De contemplat.” iv. 22. * According to Albert the Great, man can come into contact with, of cannot grasp or comprehend, God. 3 Liebner’s ‘‘ Hugo v. St Victor,” 1832; Ritter a. a.O. Bd. 3, p. 507 ff HUGO DE ST VICTOR. 299 Christ. The way was prepared for the attainment of this assurance by the growth of the Omer gs of the office of Christ. In one aspect, however, the Mysticism of Richard, whose ecstatic character gained him numerous followers, necessarily stood’ in a Relation: to Christology..exactly.similar_to that_of. Erigena. ‘The ancient Neo-Platonic conception of God, which still retained its hold on the Christian mind through the medium of the Romanic Mysticism on which it had exercised so strong an influence, did not admit of regarding any revelation of God, whether in Christ or the sacraments, as anything more than a mere image. To soar aloft, or to be ravished into the very essence of God—that was the task. ThisMysticism. sought Gad,_accordingly, behind His revelations in the mystery, in that essence which was ‘notwithstanding represented as, in its very essential idea, unapproachably beetudeds —im that, on the con- trary, in which He had_revealed.Himself, they. did not believe it possible.to.find.Him. Not unjustly did these Mystics remain unmoyed by the pomp-ef-the-Chureh’s.theurgy, by the transub- stantiation of the elements into the present God-man ; the con- verse aspect of which was, that conversion of the divine into a finite thing, subject to physical limits, which they could not but find objectionable. They desired a more intimate union with Christ than the sensuous, tangible one; they desired_a spiritual union: and in the domain of the spirit their Mysticism could allow free play to the infinitude of the divine essence, especially as, instead of shrinking back from, they yearned after, submer- sion in the ocean of this infinitude. Their sacrament was the enjoyment of the overpowering sweetness of God, which might indeed connect itself with the outward sacrament as an image, but could not be bound thereto. We cannot but acknowledge, however, that this Mysticism lacked precisely that element which the Church possessed in even too great plenitude, especially in the sacraments, which had taken Christ’s place: though, be it remembered, this element possessed by the Church, could never be combined with the truth in Mysticism, save by means of a higher principle. For it is quite as important to the pious soul, that “grace should be to be found in a place,’”—that God should, as it were, deny or constrict His physical infinitude, in order to be personally intelligible and approachable by personal men,— 300 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. as that God should be spiritual and free,—the truth represented by Mysticism. The need just referred to, Mysticism was unable to meet: the Church, on the contrary, by its Middle Age doc- trine of the sacraments, endeavoured, it is true, to bring God objectively near to every individual man, and, by clothing grace in the form of a continuous miracle, Aneel at enabling all sub- jectively to lay hold upon it. But though it thus sought to help a more needy subjectivity by new means of an objective cha- racter, it failed to accomplish its purpose, because, instead of in- troducing the divine into the inner being of the personal spirit, it merely introduced it into his outward nature: that is, it failed from lack of the very element, onesidedly, and therefore resultlessly, aimed at by Mysticism. The higher principle, which unites infinite spirituality with concreteness, is the true idea of personality; or the divine love, as it was personally revealed in Christ. That love meets alike the need felt by Mysticism, of the presence of God to its inmost spirit, yea, of having God as its own; and the need felt by the piety of the Church, of the constriction of the divine infinitude into an in- telligible form. Though the Mysticism of the twelfth century accomplished little for this subject, because as yet the higher-conception of -/ God. demanded by Christian piety was but germinantly enve- Joped within its fervent love and appropriation of God, still we must allow that it_prepared_the-ground. And, however little its idea of God could be expected to aid in the formation of a true Christology, so far as we understand Christology to relate to an actual revelation of the imageless substance, in another aspect (which will present itself before us subsequently), this Mysticism contained elementshaving-a-really--important bearing on Christology ; though involving the renunciation of the earlier conception of God to which it was itself still bound. The Middle Age theology first succeeded in extricating itself from the none of Erigena and Neo-Platonism futing the thirteenth century. Sabellianism and Subordinatianism were a second time the stages through which the Christian mind passed, from the eleventh century eal G | in its efforts to regenerate and reproduce the conception of God.! Abelard had—been-the chief representative of Sabellianism. | Subordinatianism, on ~~ Y { similar course was taken during the third and fourth centuries. AMALRICH OF BENA. 301 the contrary, durst no longer openly raise its head in the form of naked Arianism within the bosom of the Church: it was, however, permitted to conceal itself beneath a species of Tri- theism, as in the case of Roscellin; or to unite itself with Sabellianism, as in the case of the Abbot Joachim of Floris (about the year 1200), whose view is suggestive of Tertullian’s Trinity of the three Ages of the world. But as they touched on Christology merely at a few points, afterwards to be consi- dered, we shall at present only dwell for a moment on Amalrich Ci Bare and David of Dinanto; and then pass on to the Scholasticism of the thirteenth century. It is now pretty generally acknowledged that Amalrich and his school drew their ideas from Erigena, whose views, along with the Amalrician, the Sabellian, and the Subordinatian theories of the twelfth century, were condemned by the Church at the beginning of the thirteenth century." Amalrich’s mystic Pantheism boldly drew both the theoretical and practical conse- quences, which must inevitably bring him into collision with the Church. The difference between. him and Erigena consisted probably in his more distinctly regarding the roel as the actuality of God: he thus broke more completely through that acosmistic bent which was still powerful in Erigena, and, instead of allowing the world to be absorbed in God, represents the world more definitely than. Erigena-as_the. velo eran of God. The expression employed by Erigena and many teachers of the Church, “ God is all,” was Oeireried now that the principle of subjectivity began to show itself more vigor- ously (even in the form of opposition to the gt INE, of the Church), into that other expression, “All is God;” though sensu eminenti, “Man is God.” This principle was, indeed, involved in that of Erigena; but it could never have Wee developed therefrom, had not the intellectual relation to the idea of God and to Christianity become an entirely different one from that of Erigena. In agreement with this latter, Amalrich says, it is true, “ God is the essence of all things, the real being-of-all.” He does not, however, rest contented with the contemplation of the eae ideal being, but goes on to teach, that, though God cannot be seen in Himself, He can be seen in His creatures, as light can be seen in the atmosphere. 1 Compare specially Concil. Lat. 1215, Mansi xxii. 981. 302 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. In his view, the ideas of the divine intelligence are not eternal, but are the subject of a process; they create and are created. He would seem, therefore, to have been disposed to recognise the existence of growth, of finitude in God Himself, as a deter- mination of His spiritual being. On that supposition, the world is no longer a mere theophany of God; the Pantheism of rigid being, towards which Erigena, despite other features of his system, constantly tended, is converted into a Pantheism of process. But Amalrich’s mind could not rest content with an empty, endless process; in him stirred a theological factor. Hence he says, further: God is. the end_of le things, for everything will return into Him, in order to repose unalterably in, and to constitute one being (individual) with Him. That he did not intend herewith to teach a species of annihilation, is evident from other observations of his, which have been pre- ~ served. Every man must become a member of Christ; God becomes man in all ages, but (as it appears) progressively,— to wit, as the Father in Abraham, as the Son in Mary, and as the Holy Ghost daily in us. He therefore, of course, held God. to be present in the holy Eucharist: not that this presence is the effect of the consecration; for the consecrating. formula does but give expression to that which already is, to the actually existent unity of God and nature. But that return into God Amalrich did not regard as first taking place in the future, but as possible even here. When the spirit is exalted by perfect love into God, it returns out of itself into its own proper eternal idea in God; it loses itself (that is, as a sensuous individual), and gains true divine being. It is then no longer a mere creature, nor does it behold ent love God merely through the creature; but is itself the visible and beloved God: as is, God has become incarnate in it.’ 1 Compare Hahn’s ‘‘ Geschichte der Ketzer im Mittelalter,” Bd. 3, 1850, p. 182 ff. Mansi Concil. T. xxii. 1080. Dixit etiam, Deum esse essentiam cmnium creaturarum et esse omnium.—Asserebat etiam Deum non videri in se, sed in creaturis sunt lumen in aére.— Negabat idearum in mente divina eternitatem.—Asseruit ideas quee sunt in mente divina creare et creari.— Dixit etiam, quod ideo finis omnium rerum dicitur Deus, quia omnia reversura sunt in eum, ut in Deo incommutabiliter quiescant et unum individuum atque incommutabile in eo manebunt.—Amalricus cum suis sociis dicebat, nos esse naturalia membra Christi quia fingebat eandem animam Christi in omnibus bonis hominibus habitare.— Sic Deum locutum DAVID OF DINANTO. 5,0)3 Akin to this is the doctrine of David of Dinanto, that God is both the material (esse materiale) and: the formative princi- dle of all things.’ The more open appearance of Pantheism, its greater es- trangement from Mysticism, and the anti-churchly tone of these men, were undoubtedly one of the chief causes of the disruption with Erigena and Neo-Platonism, which took place from the thirteenth century onwards. Even so early as the first half of the thirteenth century, the Aristotelian philosophy entered on its supremacy. IV. The Scholasticism_of the thirteenth century endea- voured to extricate itself. more definitely. from pantheistic prin- ciples, and to lay hold of the proper Christian conception of God. But, in the case of Thomas Aquinas, it still remained closely connected, both as to form and substance, with the earlier points of view. Anselm had. endeavoured to speculate out Of faith; Abelard had made knowledge and comprehension the foundation : and condition of faith; Richard de St Victor had laid down. the. principle, that the supernatural mystical vision is the true organ of the knowledge of God. But Thomas Aquinas, on the contrary, sought to combine two modes of cognition reciprocally. complementary, and correspondent tothe two spheres of knowledge. One part of the science of God is dominable by. reason, is capable of being rationally cognised: this is the natural science of God, pean cies The other, higher portion, essentially nerds the power of reason, is Papechenible to it, is communicated alone by positive re- velation, and can tae be attained by the man who is raised fuisse in Ovidio sicut in Augustino. — Pater in Abraham incarnatus, Filius in Maria, Spiritus Sanctus in nobis quotidie incarnatur. Hanc insaniam nisus fuit ponere Amalricus—spiritum rationalem, dum perfecto amore fertur in Deum, deficere penitus a se ac reverti in ideam propriam, quam habuit immutabiliter—in Deo.” 1 Compare Hahn a. a. O. p. 189. He wrote a book, ‘‘De Tomis” or Divisionibus,” which reminds one of the work of Erigena. Pantheistic principles were diffused, also, by the works of Arabian natural philosophers, and by commentators on Aristotle, such as Avicebron and Algazel, under shelter of Aristotle’s name. For this reason the Council of Paris, in the year 1209, condemned Aristotle; but the prohibition of his works soon became obsolete. 304 — SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. above himself in the enjoyment or vision of God. Thus we see that that mystical supernatural vision of God no longer swallows up or constitutes the whole of the actual attainable knowledge of Him, as the Areopagite had taught; that the world is no Jonger the mere seeming or theophany which Erigena had held it to be: the spirit of man, in a word, has already gained a more energetical consciousness of being; this furthered the formation of a higher view of the world, and both gave a stimulus to the doctrine of the cognitive faculty of the mind. The Highest and Best, however, is still represented by Thomas as absolutely unapproachable to reason, and as attainable only by a species of intellectual magic. This highest element, tran- scending all comprehension, is conceived to be the end for which man was created; so that here, also, there remains in_the background nothing but a perfection which would be the end of man. The idea of a blending and interweaving of the two modes of cognition, in the mind enlightened by Christianity, lay beyond the horizon even of a Thomas Aquinas: and this alone shows that, in the last instance, he could not avoid regarding the divine and the human as mutually exclusive magnitudes. We cannot now devote further attention to showing how this absolute supernaturalism in the domain of knowledge, was the prototype of the mode in which the subject was alone held capable of becoming a participator in the saving grace of God; and how the doctrines of the magical operation of grace, and of transubstantiation, are necessary to this point of view. What the consequences thereof would have been to Christology, if it had now for the first time been presented as a problem to the scholastic mind, need not to be indicated. It still remains for us, however, to cast a glance at the natural doctrine of God, developed by Thomas with peculiar fondness, in order that we may see the sort. of relation to Christology which it also necessarily involved. ~ Thomas does not, it is true, represent the world as originat- ing in a suffering on the part of God, as did the old Ema- a more careful examination, we find that he did not regard this THOMAS AQUINAS. 305 will as the final cause, but simply as a point of transition for, and an instrument of, a cause lying behind it.’ This latter and real cause is not the Divine love, but the Divine under- standing, which moves the will in the manner of a necessity dominating over it:—relatively to it, therefore, the will is again passive. But the highest end and aim of this Divine under- standing,—the end and aim in which lies the unity of its ends and aims,—is not the idea of an ethical world. The produc- tion of such an idea would have been a moral act, and, as such, not a pure act of the understanding: it would five been rahe an act of love; and to love it orale have been necessary to go back, in accounting for its origin. Whereas the Divine under- standing is nothing more than the living mirror of the fulness and beauty of the Divine being and life. Beyond these physi- cal and eesthetical categories Thomas did not advance. God thinks and cognises the world, says he, when He thinks Him- self. In_Him, namely, there is, anincommunicable. and a communicable essence. When God thinks the latter, He necessarily thinks the world; and this cogitation determines His creative will. When He thinks Himself communicable, He thinks another than Himself, to which He communicates ecm nnn manner Himself, and which thus Peeeables Himself. Now this cogita- tion is creative; and as He thinks in His essence all possible forms and degrees of His communicableness, all possible species and classes of beings are posited in His cogitation of Himself. The unity of all these possibilities, which become actualities, is the world; and, in the world, man is. the connecting link be- tween mere nature and pure spirit. The differences amongst mundane creatures, arise from the differences in the degree and mode of their participation in that divine reality by wen they are constituted. Their difference from God, the sole original communicator, lies not so much in their substantial nature; for. they derive it, as it were, from the “divisio” of the Divine ‘nature, by the “ intellectus,’ and in this aspect, therefore, there is merely a quantitative difference between them and God. God is the absolute “ quantum” of reality; mundane beings are partial realities, which merely resemble Him. But precisely 1 Compare H. Ritter a. a. O. Bd. iv. 286 ff. Another view is ex- pounded in Branisz ‘‘ Geschichte der Philosophie seit Kant,” 1st volume, Introduction, p. 444 f. P. 2.— VOL. I. U 306 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. this quantitative difference of God, not merely from individual beings, but also from the whole world, constitutes again an im- passable gulf between God and the world, which owes its inde- pendent existence entirely to the imperfection of the communi- cation. J*rom this point of view, if the communication had ~ been perfect, the world would no longer have been the world, but God; and yet the imperfection of the communication is conceived to be the cause of the imperfection of the creatures, which, consequently, if they seek to realize the idea of their perfection, must set, as the goal of their efforts, that complete communication which will terminate their independent existence. So far, however, as the world subsists, God’s communication of Himself is necessarily incomplete, and inadequate to His being; and even the idea that the individual is supplemented by the universe, or (to use the language of the Church) by the mysti- cal body of the Church, can, in this case, be no more than a palliative. Still less can there consistently. be-any_word of God’s being completely in one, that is, in Christ. Of all this, one thing alone is the cause; to wit, that the physical category ‘of the infinitude of the essence still continued to be applied to the idea of God, and that this quantitative infinitude of being, between which, considered in itself, and finitude there still remains an absolite: eae ions eatilne a is represented as constituting God’s highest glory and inmost essence. The Christian idea of God as Love, was held, it is true, by faith; but the intellect had as yet been unable to lay hold on it. The idea did, indeed, enter to some extent into the sphere of thought, which was becoming constantly more christianized; for otherwise there would have been no recognition of God’s com- munication, but it had not yet completely mastered the ancient conception of God; hence the hybrid nature of the result,—a character which marked the Romanic Church and its theology. Last of all, Duns Scotus undoubtedly took an _important step in Ree relatively to the conception of God, when he defined the will of God to be not a mere instrument determined by God’s thought, but, in relation to the world, the primary and fundamental Re antt in God. He also regards the inner essence of God as absolutely. transcendent. According to Scotus, he how- ever, God being a Trinity, is so perfectly satisfied in Himself that no necessity, either of thought or being, determines Him_to DUNS SCOTUS. 307 create; but it is simply and purely His wild that there should be a world, and that this particular world should exist. This will has no further ground. It was not a thought of wisdom, it was no emotion of love, that impelled Him. All that we can do, ys to keep to the positive actual fact, that God willed to create tle world, and that He has established the precise moral law, which He gave, and not another. One thing alone is, by logical ne- cessity, involved in this fact—to wit, that having been once created by Him, we are essentially related to, and are under obligation to be like, Him. According to this view of the matter, the relation of God to the world, is, in the last. instance, simple arbitrariness. The distinction between Him and us is, that He is absolute arbitrariness, and we are relative arbitrari- ness, owing allegiance to Him, the Lord. But a further con- clusion must also be drawn, namely, that such an inner action of the spirit in us, as involves not the negation, but the realiza- tion, of our essential nature, is, according to this system, impos- sible and that there remains no place ' iene for_an_absolute self-communication of. God_to the world. And although the ethical was posited, at all events as to its form, when the exist- ence of a will was acknowledged, the ethical itself was not con- ceived to constitute the necessary content of this will. Indeed, the ethical holds here a more non-essential position than even in the system of Thomas Aquinas. The absolute form of free- dom, of which the ethical ought to be the content, the matter, is strained to such a degree of self-contentment, that its relation to the ethical is, as it were, purely one of sport, and it is repre- sented as having its true and proper being, in a supposed loftier, supra-moral, and more majestic sphere. But this professedly supra-moral being, although conceived under the form of a will, is in reality sub-moral. Will, represented as arbitrariness, is in as true a sense merely physical, as a will which is determined by something other than itself (the view of Thomas Aquinas)." 1 The transcendent character of the idea of God, propounded by Scho- lasticism, set up such a partition-wall between God and Jesus, that the latter was never in a position to admit into Himself the entire Logos. The Logos remained outside of Jesus, especially as, in agreement with the phy- sical nature of the conception of God, chief stress was laid on the Divine illimitedness and infinitude. Duns Scotus and Albert the Great go so far even as to deny all resemblance between the infinite and the finite (com- pare Ritter’s ‘‘ Geschichte der christlichen Philosophie,” Bd. iv. 197, 380 ff., 308 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. It is evident, therefore, beforehand, that the doctrine regard- ing God, taught by the chief representatives of the Romanic period, a not abe, very favourable to Christology. No less clear is it that it was, in many respects, fitted to give sanction and occasion to, and be the basis of, false surrogates of a living and efficient Pouecoutnens of the era nearice of the Person of Christ. Finally also, in combination with the prevalent doc- trine of grace on the one hand, and the doctrine of the power or divine nature of man on the other hand, it tended to render the incarnation of Christ almost. unnecessary, and to lower its real importance, relatively to the life of the individual and the Church.! _ With these introductory observations, let us now enter upon the History of the Scholastic Christology. 382, 273. According to Thomas, we can consistently attribute to Christ merely the highest degree of participation in the communicable essence of God; strictly speaking, we cannot declare Him to be God. Compare also Richard de St Victor, de Trin. i. 15, ii. 11, 12. ‘It is no accident, therefore, that most of the Scholastics deny the necessity of the incarnation of God,—unay more, that even Thomas Aquinas should do so; for the pantheistic element in his system, on the one hand, anticipates the incarnation, and, on the other hand, renders it dispensable. God’s grace, he teaches, Puente ae accomplished the same results without the incarnation, as it has accomplished by it. THE CONTROVERSY WITH NIHILIANISM. 309 CHAPTER FIRST. THE CONTROVERSY WITH NIHILIANISM. THE history of our Dogma down to the present time, has shown us that, owing to the predominance given to the divine aspect of the Person of Christ, since the fifth century, the idea of the God-man has been ceaselessly threatened with Docetism, even though in a form which became every day more subtile and refined. This danger was averted solely by the aid of the West, which played the most important part in establishing the duality of the natures, and on the basis thereof, the duality of wills, activities, and modes of operation. Regarded from this point of view, therefore, Adoptianism was merely an exaggera- tion of Western orthodoxy. But from the ninth century downwards, we find the West yielding to the very same tempta- tion to dissipate the human aspect, with which it had_ itself always done battle in the East. When Adoptianism endeavoured consistently to follow out the Western tendency to assert the duality of the natures, the Church pronounced its condemna- tion, and, in the act of doing so, began unconsciously to contro- vert the premises, along with the consequences drawn from them. It was not, indeed, the old form of Docetism or Eutychian- ism, or Monophysitism, that was now revived ; for the traditional custom of rejecting the old heresies still continued to prevail. But the true vital interest of piety concentrated itself, as we have shown, on surrogates of Christ, which left Him, in reality, merely the significance of a past incarnation of the Logos. A general indication of the retrocession of the human aspect of Christ into the background, during the Middle Ages, is the great influence acquired by the Mysticism of the Areo- pagite in the West subsequently to the time of Erigena, and which it retained, even after that teacher’s authority had begun to be regarded with suspicion. Another sign of the same thing we have found in the oldest Mysticism of the Middle Ages,— 310 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. that, namely, of the two St Victors. Now, however, it is our task to consider the Scholasticism of the Church, properly so called. I. PETER THE LoMBaARD discussed the subject of Christo- logy in the third book of his Sentences (Distinct. i—xxiii.) ; treading pretty closely in the footseps of John of Damascus. The characteristic feature of his i inquiry, to which alone we shall devote our attention, will furnish a fair sample of the scholastic art of displaying acuteness and skill, in the putting of new, or the answering of old, questions which only remotely affect religious interests. He is of opinion, that the incarnation might have been accomplished also by the Father—or—by- the Holy Spirit; but it was fitting that He who created the world, should be. theone.todeliverit ;—especially fitting, that He should be sent on the mission who had proceeded from another, rather than He who was self-existent. “The Son is sent by Him, of whom He was born” (in which, unquestionably, an element of Subordinatianism is involved). Other reasons as- sioned by Peter are purely formal; as, for example,—The Son was chosen for the work, in order that the same who in the Trinity is Father, might not be the Son in the sphere of Re- velation, and the two thus cease to be correlatives (Distinct. 1.); as would have been the case, had the Father become incarnate. The human _nature which the Son assumed, was not a mere attribute, but a nature; comprising hody and soul, or the sub- stance of humanity. Body and soul are not, it is true, one sub- stance; but each person has two natures or substances,—the corporeal and the spiritual: and the Son assumed the one essence of humanity, to which both the corporeal and the spiritual pertain. This He assumed in such a manner, that the humanity which He derived from the _Virgin, purified _by the Holy Spirit, was free from any stain of sin; yet, because He willed it, the punishment which clung to humanity remained. The Virgin, also, was previously eutinels purified from sin, nay, even from the charms of sin ;—according to some, by their annihilation ; according to others, by so abating them, that she never afterwards had the opportunity of sinning. The Holy Ghost also endowed her with the capacity of being fruitful without the co-operation of a man (Dist. iii.). Although as to the flesh He was in the loins of Adam and Abraham, He did PETER THE LOMBARD. oud not sin in Adam, as Augustine teaches; for He did not spring from them in consequence of the concupiscence of the flesh : —in this respect, He was not in the loins of the forefathers. The part taken by the Son in the incarnation was, and continues to be, unquestionably the principal thing; but it ex- cludes neither the action of the Holy Spirit, nor the action of the Father. According to Augustine, the works of the Trinity cannot be divided. But Christ’s humanity is not of the sub- stance of the Holy Ghost; nor can He be called the Son of the Holy Ghost, although, in so far as this latter prepared the material in Mary which was to be united with the Word, Christ may be said to have been begotten by Him (Dist. iv.). He devotes more attention to the question,— Whether the personality or the nature of the Son assumed_humanity,—be it the personality or the nature of the humanity (see above, p. 153). ‘This is easy of answer, in so far as neither the nature nor the personality of. the Son assumed a human personality ; but rather the personality_of the Son appropriated... human nature. But the question still remains,— Whether it was the nature of the Son that appropriated human nature ?— And this is unanswered. ‘The sixth and eleventh Councils of Toledo (in the years 597 and 653) decided that the Son alone, and not the Trinity, constituted man a part of His own individual person; but did not take him into unity of nature—of that nature which He had in common with the whole Trinity. The divine nature is the element of unity in the Trinity: Mary did not give birth to this element of unity, but merely to the Son, although the whole Trinity co-operated in the formation of the man who was assumed. Augustine, on the contrary, seems to have held that the nature which belongs to the Father as well as to the Son became man. In his work, “de Trinitate” (lib. i. cap. vii. 11), he says,—“ When Christ took upon Him the form of a servant, He stooped beneath Himself; for He did not lose in it that divine form which constituted Him the equal of the Father.” Now this “divine form” must denote the fulness of the divine nature (Note 55). Similar also are the words of Hilary and Jerome. Peter himself decides,—that the per- sonality of the Son assumed human nature; but he also thinks, that the divine nature too united” itself with, and appropriated the human _ to itself, ‘through | and i in the Son. It is true, of B12 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. course, that the two persons, Father and Holy Ghost, did not assume the form of a servant; but the divine nature was not therefore excluded from the incarnation. When the teachers of the Church say,—That which was peculiar to the Son, and not that which is common to the whole Trinity, assumed a man;—they must be understood to mean, that— Not equally in all the three persons, but, strictly speaking, in that of the Son alone, did the divine nature unite itself with the human. Such also was the opinion of John of Damascus (L. il. cap. vi.). He intends to say, that the fulness of the divine nature, and not merely a portion thereof, was united with humanity in the Person of the Son. Still he is of opinion, that the expression, “The divine nature became flesh,” were better not used. Every ‘individual man has the whole of human nature in himself, and yet something may be predicated of the one which cannot be predicated of others. This is am argument which sounds somewhat tritheistic, so far as it would seem to imply that the only unity in God is a generic unity : —a view which he is otherwise far from adopting. Supposing, however, he here also regarded the divine nature realistically, as the element common to the persons, he would be compelled to limit the incarnation to the Person of the Son (as did Anselm), excluding His nature; unless he were prepared to maintain that the Father and the Spirit also became incarnate, at all events, as to their nature. But if the entire fulness of the divine essence is contained in the nature, and the nature took no part in the incarnation, in what sense can the incarna- tion have been really of benefit to humanity? A personality without its nature is empty, unsubstantial :—the incarnation of God would then have been a mere illusion. The difficulty is therefore not overcome. Peter_adds,—The divine nature did, it is true, assume the human, that is, united. the human form with itself ;“but it did not admit it to full unity with itself, and constitute it a part of its own distinctive individuality. The natures retained their individual characteristics ; and therefore we cannot so much say that the divine nature became man, as that the Son of God became man. He did not, however, * The Lateran Council of the year 1215 (Mansi xxii. 981) made use even of the expression, ‘‘ Unigenitus Dei filius J. Ch. a tota Trinitate communiter incarnatus.” | PETER THE LOMBARD. 313 assume a human personality. For. that flesh and that soul which He assumed, had not yet been united into a person ;— they were first united with each other at the moment when they were united with the Word. Previously there had existed no such person, consisting of body and soul; but a person was constituted by the act of assumption. What the Word assumed was not a person, compounded of soul and body,—the Word did not receive a human person; but, receiving body and soul, it united them with each other and with itself, and in the very act of uniting them, received them. But the main question would then be,— What conception are we to form of this receiving and this uniting? This leads him on to that discussion (Dist. vi.), which drew upon him the charge of Nihilianism (Dist. vi. vil.). He proceeds to investigate the questions,— What is the sig- nificance of the incarnation of the Son of God? and,— What may be said to be its result? In his usual manner, he asks “the wise” of former days and of the present, and classifies their views under three divisions. The frst, which may be most conveniently described as that of Cyrill of Alexandria, is most adequately expressed when..we say, not. merely that God became man, but also that man became God,—the latter, in- deed, arising out of the former. From ne view, it would appear that God then began to be what He had not been before —to wit, a rational being of the human species; and that that rational human being began to be God, not by nature, nor by merit, but by grace ;— humanity having been predestinated in Christ to be the Son of God. According to this view, humanity, through Christ, was transfused into, without perishing in, the wee ing of ‘God; and that, because deity appropriated it to itself, Ende constituted it an integral element of its own being. The sécond yiew.was AieicnGtale the one prevalent in the Church, upheld especially by John .of.. Damascus. According to it, the meaning of the proposition, “ God became.man,” is, that God began to subsist in two natures, or to consist of three substances—body, soul, and deity; but, on the other hand, the vate amet va mere meaning of the proposition, “ Hee heen me God,” is, that J esus Christ is s only one person,—prior to the incarnation, simple ; sub- sequent. tothe incarnation, compounded._of deity and humanity. Now, as the person “did not become another than it was before, 1 See Note O, App. il. ‘ 314 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH but the same person which was simple became also the person- ality of the man, it may be said that the man became God. Not that that person itself then first began to exist, but merely that it then became the personality of the man, or, in other words, composite. This one person, so far as it was distinct from the Father and the Spirit, had constituted the distinctive charac- teristic of the Divine Sonship of the Word of God: it consti- tuted also that characteristic of the humanity by which it was distinguished from the Virgin Mother, and from the rest of men. Both natures remained entire-in- Gkrish- after the union, C—O however, they were no longer as separate and distinct parts, but as parts combined with each other to form one compound hy- postasis. This is a substantial, that is, a true union. Not that out of two natures was fomiied a third, one, e, compound nature ; _ but they were simply united to form t the one compound Person of the Son of God :—that which was created remained a crea- ture, and that which was uncreated remained uncreated; the mortal remained mortal, the immortal immortal ; and so also the circumscribed remained circumscribed, and the uncircumscribed remained uncircumscribed. In the third place, he adduces the view which denies not merely that divine being became human, and human divine; but also, that out of the two natures was formed one compound nature ;—-nay more, which denies that a man at all, or a sub- stance consisting of body and soul, was compounded or brought into being by the incarnation. ‘The union did not have the effect of producing or compounding one nature or person out of two or three (body, soul, and deity) ; but merely of clothing the Word of God with hed and soul as with a garment (indumen- tum), in order that He might appear in a form accommodated to the eyes of men. Accordinsty: Christ did not admit those two into the unity of His person in such a way as that they them- selves, or a being compounded out of them, became one person with the Word, much less (as some suppose) were transformed into the Word. ‘They were admitted merely so far as their admission involved no increase in the number of persons; and that because the personality of the Word, which previously had been without garment, was neither divided nor altered by the assumption, but remained unalterably one and the same. On this view, God became man merely in the way of possession, PETER THE LOMBARD. 315 oz as to the appearance which He assumed, that is, ‘ secundum habitum,’—a formula which may, indeed, in itself be variously explained, but which always denotes something that is super- added to another, that pertains to it accidentally, so that that to which it is added might exist without it. Nor does it make any difference whether the addition produce an alteration in either the one or the other, or in both, or no alteration at all. * In the present instance, the expression denotes that the nature of the accidental superadded element was not altered, but simply assumed another shape and form, just as a garment laid aside has not the same shape as it had when it was worn. When the Son took upon Himself a true man, that is, a true body and a soul, His form (habitus) was found to be that of a man; in other words, having a man, He was found as a man: not, however, being a man in Himself, but merely in relation to those to whom He appeared in humanity. This, moreover, is the meaning of the words, “ God became man ;” even as man is said to have become God, on the ground of the assumption of humanity by God. God, , therefore, became like men: not that He was transformed_ ante aman, but was clothed with a man, whom, by “uniting to some extent with, and making equal to, Himself, He eaded to marry with eerie The first of these three classes of views,—the one which laid hold on the idea of a real God-manhood with most force and energy,—he despatches pretty. summarily with the observa- tion (Dist. vii.), that if that_substance had begun to be God, and God, on the other hand, had begun to be oF there would be a substance which was not always Re and a pee which is not divine would be God: consequently, God would have be- come that which He had not always been; for to become any- thing, involves the not having been it previously. But against the Poond view, also, he raises all sorts of objections; above all, the objection, that if the Person. ‘of Christ were a_composite one, God and man must be designated parts. thereof. Now, had the Son of God been merely a part of this person, prior to His assumption of the servant’s form, He must have been merely a part, and not a whole; and must, therefore, have undergone an 1 Dist vi. ‘‘ Verum hominem suscipiendo habitus (ejus) inventus est ut homo, id est, habendo hominem inventus est ut homo, non sibi sed eis, quibus in homine appurait.” SL6 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. increase, through the accession of the humanity to the deity. But if the Son of God is not a part of the Person of Christ, how can we say that this person consisted, or was compounded, of God and man? This, many concede, he proceeds to urge, and say,— Undoubtedly the parts of a whole do coalesce,—the result being, that something is constituted out of them which previously did not exist; but the principle cannot be applied in the present case 5 for this Unio is not to be regarded in the light ~ of an union of parts, but is a mystery. In the last place (Dist. vi.), favourably to the remaining third view, he adduces the positive consideration, that if God were essentially man, or man God, then, if God had assumed humanity in the female sex (as He might have done), woman would have been essen- tially God, and ela essentially woman. Against this third ird view, which essentially relaxes the bond of the Unio, : and ‘attributes to the humanity the mere significance of a permanent theo- phany, —nay more, which expressly teaches that the Son was not conscious of Himself as a man, but was merely a man in relation to men,—he raises no objections whatever. Closely connected with this view, is his idea that Christ was a Mediator. solely as_to His human nature. Now, as the humanity was but a non-essential, accidental feature of the Son of God, and had in no sense become a determination of Fis person, its only end and aim being the manifestation of Christ to others; nay more, as God could have rendered help, had He so willed, otherwise than by appearing in a man (Dist. xx.),—human nature is thus reduced to the position of an imper- sonal thing and a non-essential means. But he does not re- present the divine nature as so intimately united with the human, its garment, that the mediatorial significance of the latter au ise be marerred to the former. On the contrary, the divine nature rather remained apart by itself, and we are reconciled with the Son of. “God, even as we are veconbilea with the Father and the Holy Spirit: but dy the Son of God we are reconciled only in the sense in which we are recon- ciled by the Father and the Spirit. The entire Trinity blots out our sins; and Christ is termed Mediator solely on account of His humanity, not on account of His divinity. By means of the former He mediates between humanity and the triune + For this reason Stankarus appeals to him with peculiar fondness. PETER THE LOMBARD. 317 God, especially as an example of obedience. We see, at the same time, therefore, that redemptive virtue is attributed to the humanity in itself,—a virtue which might easily be supposed to be transferred to others, especially as it does not, strictly speak- ing, inhere in the mediatorial beings themselves. God, in His good pleasure, instead of effecting the reconciliation without mediators, as He might do, chooses to treat mediatorial services as though they See mediatorial virtue. In reality, how- ever, that the only part here left for Christ. to play, was that of setting forth, by His sufferings, the eternal reconciled- ness of God, nid of thus awakening men to love, and humbly to follow His example. - According to the view which the Lombard seems finally to adopt, God did not become objectively a man in Christ, but the humanity of God had an existence solely in, the representations and notions of the human mind—representations and notions which He intended to take such a form. God clothed Him- self objectively with the garment of humanity in order. to appear as man. So also the reconciliation was not, strictly speaking, really effected by Christ; but His appearance and sufferings were merely objective occurrences, intended to be regarded by God and man as having brought about the reconciliation. The ancient Christian. auoat that in. Christ humanity. was exalted. to the divine throne and to a partici- pation in the divine nature, he totally repudiated; and supposed himself to be justified in so doing by the circumstance, that highly esteemed teachers of the Church had found fault with the expression, “homo dominicus” (supsaxos).” it is perfectly clear from this, that the Lombard must neces- sarily protest most decidedly, not only against “Adoptianism, but against every approximation towards conceiving the humanity.as personal ;*" naturally, also, he could not but say regarding Christ, * Dist. xix.: ‘‘ Factus est homo mortalis ut moriendo diabolum vinceret ;” in order that the devil might not be conquered ‘injuste et violenter,” the victory must be gained by a man. ‘‘Per ipsius poenam—omnis poena relaxatur.—Secundum. humanam naturam mediat Deo Trinitati.” 2 This was, however, not meant to favour Docetism, but to counteract Ebionitism. 8 “Quod per se sonat,” he regards as personal; the human nature, how- ever, was never ‘‘ per se sonaris,” but was united with and subsisted in the Logos. 318 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. who merely had humanity, and was its vehicle and bearer, but was not Himself a man, that He is to be worshipped, that He is sinless, omniscient, and so forth. He could not, it is true, entirely evade the question, Does not Luke say that His humanity increased in years, wisdom, and favour with God and man? But, limiting, as he does, the humanity of Christ to sive nsoneliey no other course was open to him than to say, that Jesus was full of grace and wisdom from the very moment ot His conception. In Him was the fulness of the Godhead, ana not merely particular gifts of the Spirit, as is the case with the saints. These latter are not like the Head, which unites all the senses within itself; but merely like rhetnbere which have their share of the senses. Christ did undoubtedly grow in grace and wisdom,—not, however, in Himself, but in those who grew through Him: for, consonantly to the various stages through which humanity passes, He revealed the wisdom and grace that were in Him in ever greater measure, and thus summoned men to praise God. Hence, he says, regarding the soul of Christ, that it knew all that God knows, though everything was not so clear and transparent to it as to the Creator: for it was a creature, and the creature cannot in any respect be equal to the Creator. Christ had knowledge without limit; but still the wisdom of God was much higher and more complete ;—that is, Christ had wisdom so far as His human nature was capable of having it. But whereas His soul was by nature susceptible of knowing all things (naturaliter capax), though not quite clearly, it was not constituted susceptible of the ability to do everything, lest it should be considered almighty, and thus be taken for God (Dist. xiv.). So also Christ was omnipresent, as “totus,” —that is, as to His hypostasis; but not “totum,’—that 1s, according to His whole nature, for He was also a man (Dist. SOxdIL)) These. ast features show that the fundamental. idea of the soe? idea, namely, that deity and humanity a are > absolutely i incom- mensurable, and must, consequently, continue separate _ _and distinct, ‘The ancient teh! of Antioch employed two prin- cipal modes of expression, namely? eithe éither, Jesus was the vids Ocod Oerds, merely adopted into unity y with the Son of God; or, He was the temple, the garment of f God. ‘The former was ih eel JOHN OF CORNWALL. 319 appropriated _by Adoptianism, from a more vital interest in asserting the reality of the humanity; the latter, in order to define the precise limits of the union. WNihilianism also ap- propriated the latter, but not the former. Both expressions degrade the incarnation of the Word to a mere relation to humanity, and, agreeably to the conception of God on which they are based, so relax the tie between the two, that a mere évwo.s oxeTixn remains. In so far, therefore, Nihili- anism may be designated the continuation of the school of Antioch. Adoptianism adopted the view of the Unio as a relation, with the ethical intention of asserting the full and real humanity of Christ: of such an intention the Lombard, on the contrary, shows no trace whatever. Strictly speaking, he is concerned not about carrying out the Christological thought,— for he rather allows it to drop out of view,—but about giving the traditional doctrine such a turn as would involve the evasion of the real problem, and would leave the impossibility of a real union of the deity and humanity, which his conception of the Creator led him to maintain, to be acquiesced in, notwith- standing the incarnation. For an incarnation such as that taught by the Lombard is a mere illusion. II. The proposition of the Lombard, that God did not become anything through the incarnation which He was not before, differs in reality very little from that other: the incarna- tion effected, posited nothing; that is, it was, strictly speaking, a mere theophany. Jn a word, Nihilianism does.away with the real incarnation, and leaves us, in its place, a simple relation of God to humanity. It gave such scandal, therefore, that the Lateran Council, in the year 1179, nade Alexander IIL, condemned it, and several works were written against It. To this connection ‘especially belongs the work of John_of—Corn- wall.’ He shows with great prolixity that the Holy Scriptures dasarabe Christ_as.a.man, consequently, as something co-existing with other beings of like nature, which took their rise in time. We must, therefore, allow that God did really become some- thing. The opposite opinion would lead to (Manichzism) Docetism. Nor are we to understand by this humanity which 1 Joannis Corunbiensis Hulogium ad Alex. Pap. III. in Martene Thes. novus anecd. v. 1657. See also Baur a. a. O. il. 563-569. 320 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. God became, mere attributes, but a substantial thing—body and soul. Still, even he is far from deeming the term “homo” to denote anveiane else than the “natura.humana” (body and soul). The formula, “God became man, and man God,” he took to mean merely, that “the divine personality Grithoue the divine nature) became man, that is, became human nature ; and human nature became divine personality, not, however, deity or. divine nature.” 'But the Lombard was not to be con- futed by dogmatical proofs; still less was the Christology of the Church shown to be acting consistently with itself when it repudiated Nihilianism, whilst it had itself, at the same time, re- duced the humanity of Christ to an Hawaiel substance, by the act of rejecting Adoptianism. Nihilianism did but give naive utterance, as it were, to the secret of that Christology, which, notwithstanding its desire to maintain the incarnation in a sense different from a theophany, either represents the human- ity of Christ as impersonal, as a mere garment of God, or allows the abstract Person of the Logos alone and not the deity, that is, the divine nature, to take part in the incarnation. By a very similar method, even before the time of the Lombar d, Abelard had got rid of the proper idea of the incar- nation. As we have already remarked, he started with a more Sabellian conception of God. ‘The Lombard also was charged with the same thing by the Abbot Joachim. God, says he, is absolutely channel :' for this reason, it is apc te that He should have become something which He was not eternally; least of all could He become anything created, or a body, which undoubtedly pertains to humanity. He therefore ventured to do what Peter the Lombard durst not venture on doing, namely, to reject the old. Church. formulas, “ God.is.man,” “ Man be- came God,” on grounds similar to those which were advanced by the school a Antioch. But whereas the Lombard deduced his conclusion rather from the impersonality of the human nature, and so far, therefore, even in the act of returning to 1 Introductio ad Thelog. iii. 1126, ed. Paris, 1616. God is everywhere present ‘‘secundum substantiam ;” but unequally present ‘‘ secundum operationis eflicaciam.” He is not present in a particular place, by a ‘* localis adventus.” In Christ, the humanity was exalted, the deity tem- pered : electrum, as a mixture of gold and silver, designates the constitu- tion of Christ (p. 737). ABELARD. ry | the Antiochean formulas of the “ garment,” or “temple,” ad- hered more rigidly to the path pursued by the doctrine of the Church, which gave to the divine nature of the Person of Christ the decided predominance ;—Abelard, on the contrary, laid more stress on the subjective human aspect. The affirmation, “God did not become anything in and through the incarnation,” denoted, therefore, as used by him, “ in the man Jesus, God worked:” that the Son became incarnate, and not the F ather, taught him that “in Jesus the wisdom of God revealed itself, in order to lead men to salvation by doctrine and example.’”! God and man are so absolutely separated by their very idea (according to Abzlard), that an incarnation is an impossibility. And inasmuch as he further considered the omnipresence of God to involve His being veritably and necessarily everywhere, God cannot move to a place, as to His essence. Being every- where equally present, then, as to His essence, if He be present differently in different creatures, it can only relate to the action of His will and intelligence. But as the will and intelligence of God, ought to have been conceived by Abelard, to be quite as omnipresent as His essence, it would be consistent to say, that the differences in the divine indwelling arose from the different degrees of susceptibility in the creatures, as did the school of Antioch. II. Even as early as the thirteenth century, Scholasticism ceased to take the same interest in the task devolved upon it, of further developing Christology. This is evident enough from the poorly concealed repugnance which it betrayed to the idea of an incarnation; but it is as strikingly as possible shown by the fact, that it did not at all distinctly refer the work of redemption to the incarnation. Anselm was. almost.the-only one who regarded the God-manhood as necessary to redemption. 1 Abel. Theol. Christ. iv. c. 13, in Martene Thes. v. 1307 f. “ Sapi- entiam Dei in carne esse, tale est, carnales id est homines hac incarnatione - vere sapientize lumen suscepisse et eum nostre mortalitatis testam luce sua accendisse.” By His walk, death, and resurrection ‘nog instruxit et docuit.”—“ Cum itaque in omnibus que in carne gesserit dominus, nostra sit eruditionis intentio, recte sola incarnari Sapientia dicitur, et in carne quam accepit ista nobis exhibuisse, quia ad hoc omnia gessit in carne, ut nos vera erudiret sapientia, que ad salutem sufficerent.—Que in carne gessit dominus, ad doctrinam pertinent,” Pe 2.—VOL. iV ».¢ 322 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. Even so far as it is acknowledged at all, this unity of God and man ought, according to the Lombard, to be left out of consider- ation: to the humanity alone should a mediatorial significance be attached. In consequence of the misgivings which now showed themselves afresh, and which were not at all satisfactorily laid, a schism was mrcieuie in the camp. Jissures also began to fs visible in the Christological edifice, which were rather concealed than repaired. This was the effect, for example, of the question,— Does not the doctrine of the contpauedl Person of the God-man imply that the Son of God was but a part of a whole? or of the question,—Is not an incarnation of the en- tire Trinity a consequence of supposing that the Son of God became man, not merely as to His Person, but also as to His nature? When so many decided that the person alone became man, and not the nature of the Son, that is, the deity; and when, further, this decision was given forth without being visited with ecclesiastical censure, does it not prove that the significance of the incarnation had been reduced to the smallest possible measure, notwithstanding that the word itself was retained? We see that the edifice of Christology built on the old foundations already shows signs of decay; that it was im- potent to exert a fructifying and regulative influence on the new questions and tasks, which daily presented themselves. The position now taken up towards the inherited doctrine of the Person of Christ, becomes similar to that which the Antio- cheians, Pelagians, and, at a later period, the Areopagite, took up to the Nicene doctrine of the Trinity. Still there remained one green branch; it showed itself, as it were, from between the fissures in the walls of the ancient edifice. This is the path | into which Ruprecht v. Deutz and the.school of the St Victors, especially of Richard de St Victor, struck. In them we can discern the first faint dawn of a solution of the two questions above mentioned, on new and higher principles;—we see the beginnings of a Christology characterized by life and unity, instead of the artificial composite thing which had previously prevailed. This new tendency demands our attention at this point, because of the perceptible influence it had on the Christo- logy of the thirteenth century. Ruprecht of Deutz (he died about the year 1135) touches, in his writings, very frequently on the question as to the re- RUPRECHT OF DEUTZ. 323 lation of Christ to humanity, and to the creation in general.! Of this he takes a much deeper and more inward view than usual. A thought constantly recurring in his works is this,— Men were not created on account of the angels, to make up the full number of the chosen, after the fall of a part of the heavenly spirits: on the contrary, it is, he maintains, childish to suppose _ that, prior to the fall, God had no plan_ for the creation of “humanity. “Tt would Be much more correct to say, that the angels themselves, as well as all other things, were created for the sake of a certain man; for the Scriptures teach, that not only by Him, but for Him, all things were made that are made; and designate Him the life of the world. Wisdom, which played in the presence of God prior to the creation, said, “My delight is fellowship with the children of men.” Now what does Take signify, but that—Ere God created anything, the decree was that I, the. Word of. God, should become. flesh, and should dwell in men in great love, and in the deepest humiliation, wherein consists true delight ?—that even as the woman was created for the man, so also humanity was created mea iNBaUR PARMA i nebts for Christ, and that out of it His Church should be constituted? What “ines contrariety can be conceived than that between this view, which represents incarnation and union with God as belonging to the eternal Divine idea of humanity, and the usual one, which represents God and man as by their very idea eternally and mutually exclusive magnitudes ? Ruprecht, it is true, appears at another time, to speak. dif- ferently. For example, he says elsewhere, that if men had not sinned, there would have been no reason why the man_ Christ cals be taken up out. of his low and humble ‘state into.God. SHIit was not his intention to ‘teach that sin was the sole and entire ground.of. the incarnation ; but merely, probably, that * Opp. T. ii. ed. Mogunt. 1631. For example, De glorif. trin. et pro- cess. spir. sanct. L. i. c. 5, 6, p. 141, c. 8, 142; L. ili. c. 7, p. 158, c. 20, 21, pp. 163, 164; L. iv. c. 2, p. 165, c. 6, p. 166. De Gloria et honore filii Dei sec. Ev. Matth. L. iii. 26; De Gloria Trinit. L. xiii. c. 19-21, in Joann. ¢. vili. The independent and original mind of this man has not hitherto been estimated according to its merits. It is well known, that he did not accept the doctrine of the annihilation and transformation of the substance in the Eucharist ; but represented it rather as assumed by Christ, in a manner similar to that in which the Logos assumed humanity ;—an idea which was rejected by the Lateran Council under Innocent IV. 324: SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. sin, and our very deep humiliation, were the means in the hands of the love of God, whereby He did that which He regarded as true pleasure, namely, condescended most profoundly, in His unutterable love, to our low estate. He uses, therefore, the bold language of love when he says, transporting himself as it were into the love of Christ,—Sin has the merit of having enabled Christ practically to carry out His delight in condescension to the furthest conceivable point. Moreover, when he speaks of the being raised up out of a state of humiliation, he refers particularly to the servant’s form, the necessity for which he deemed to be attributable to sin. In general, however, he bases his reasonings on the idea of an eternal divine de?, that to the Son of God should be given the fullest opportunity of reveal- ing the love, which is His delight; and he carries out in all directions the idea, that the final purpose and goal of men and their history is Christ. This he presupposes relatively to sin ; so also relatively to death. Men must needs die, and were not allowed to eat of the tree of life, because only on the condition of our being subject to death was it possible for Christ also to taste death, which formed part both of His infinite humiliation, of the revelation of the highest good, His love, and of our redemption.’ Indeed Ruprecht’s entire doctrine of evil is not without its peculiarities. His attention was greatly taken up by the question.—Can God be said to have continued almighty, when evil came into existence, although He had not willed it? or should we not say that God willed the evil, inas- much as He foreknew that it would arise? To this one may reply,— We read in Mark, that the Lord, although almighty, was unable to do miracles in a certain place; how much less could God display any sort of (miraculous) power in the evil spirits! Angels and men fell, not from power into defective- ness, but from defectiveness into defectiveness. Not as saints, as those who were placed in a strong tower of holiness, did they fall into that which is opposed to holiness; but they fell, to the end that they might become holy, and might gradually advance + Ruprecht therefore is not inconsequent, as Julius Miiller maintains. He says, rather, in his ‘‘ De Glor. et hon. filii hominis,” L. xiv. :—‘‘ Some Church teachers have supposed that evil was included in the will of God, because on its account the Son of God was compelled to become man, and to die.” RUPRECHT OF DEUTZ. ol) thereto. The angel who through the fall became the devil, did not fall from holiness (for to holiness he had not yet attained), but sought his own pleasure, as though he were sufh- cient for himself; and this was not a falling out of virtue into sin, but a remaining in the Inanity in which he was created ; which Inanity is a middle thing, between the true and holy essence of God, and that Nothing out of which God created all things. Other creatures return back into that out of which they were made—to wit, into Nothing: angels and men did not return into Nothing, so as to cease altogether to be; but, abiding in themselves, and despising the enjoyment of God, who alone is'true Being, they are vain, yea, vanity itself ; and the devil is not merely vain (vanus), but the Prince of all vanity. Besides, did not the Son Himself say that He could do nothing of Himself? Consequently, both the omnipotence and the goodness of God are preserved. Ruprecht supposes that everything that has an actual existence is the work of God ;—that evil is not the work of God, inasmuch as it is simple Inanity, moral Nonentity, which seeks to assert for itself an existence independent of God, and to be sufficient to itself. Now, according to His righteous judgment, God cannot com- municate Himself to such self-sufficiency. vil entered without Hane to the Divine power and Seales and for this reason ates Seri on these observations there follows a detailed een of the theme first mentioned.* Every believer takes for granted, that the Son of God would not have become a mortal man, had not we men become mortal through sin. But a prior question still remains to be answered, namely,— Was it not somehow necessary for the human race, that the God-man should, in any case, become the Head and King of all? Concerning all the saints and chosen, it is certain that, independently of sin, each and all would have been born in their full number, according to the purpose of God, which He declared before the fall, when He blessed man, saying, “ Be fruitful and multiply.” Now, great as would be the absurdity of supposing that the first men would not have generated others without sin, or that sin was ne- cessary in order that the many righteous men might be brought 1 Tom. ii. p. 185, in Matt. xxvi., ‘‘ De gloria et honore filii hominis.” 326 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. into existence, it would be equally absurd.to suppose.that, with- out sin, Christ would not have come into being at all; or, in other words, that sin was the principal cause of the incarnation of Him who is the Head and King of all chosen angels and men, and not the delight which His love takes in the children of men. This His counsel was not rendered futile by the en- trance of sin, but those words were fulfilled, “ Where sin pre- vailed, there did grace much more prevail.” It became Him, by whom are all things, and for whom are all things, that, as the Captain of our salvation, He should be made perfect 1 chron suffering. ‘Therein lies the weight of the paternal command, therein consists the beauty of the obedience of the Son of His love, that He humbled Himself, and that we through Him can approach the throne of grace with confidence. It is true, when we contemplate in spirit the heights of heaven, and behold there the highly exalted Son of God, sitting at the right hand of the Majesty, we may well tremblingly exclaim, What will become of us useless servants and sinners, for whose sins He endured such sufferings? But listen also, as to words spoken by Him who is meek and lowly of heart, to the words, “I also should not have been now so great, but for thee, and the sin of thy race.” The ungodly became the cause of His being crowned ; and therefore they may approach Him with hopefulness, if they believe." Because of the pleasure He took in the children of men, the name by which Christ most delighted to call Himself was, “Son of Man;” concealing His glory, displaying His humility. He designated Himself Son of man, specially, in order that we might feel ourselves to be very near to Him, and might regard Him as our brother. For, why did He not, as ee might have done, form.a.man...out...of.the. earth and ie him upon “Himself,..instead..of assuming .our--corrupt..flesh ? Because, in_that case, the same. flesh which committed the sin would not. have atoned.for it, and He would _haye been a stranger tous. Again,—Not an angel, but the Son of God, fee man,’ because the strongest creature would have been unable to free us from the devil. Besides, it lay not in the power of an angel to become man and to clothe himself with a human soul. But His is the human soul no less than the spirit 1 Compare Commentatio in Joannem, cap. iii. L. iii. p. 268. 2 A. a. O. 267 RICHARD DE ST. VICTOR. 327 of the angels. or this reason are the spirits of angels and of men neither intelligible nor susceptible to one another: God alone, the uncreated Spirit, is intelligible to every rational creature.’ Not a messenger did He need, but a son, who should penetrate the human soul by the tender essence of His deity, and unite it entirely into one person with Himself, as a worthy price for the guilt of Adam, incomparably more costly than any angel. ‘Thus it became Him; and the work accomplished by Him is the brightest ornament of His crown, the token no less of His grace than of His power; for by the weight of His cross He resolved, and He alone was able, far, very far, to outweigh our entire race. Richard de St Victor Reenen himself, in like manner, particularly with the question of the necessity of the incarna- tion of God, specially « of the Son. of God. He considered the ground “of. that necessity to be, that the deliverance needed to be in harmony with justice, and should, consequently, be com- bined with a satisfaction. Had man been redeemed by simple and pure compassion, without the co-operation of justice, there would have remained on him the eternal disgrace of his fall; and even if the devil had not constantly reproached him with the possession of that to which he had no right, man’s own conscience, independently of any external accusers, would have reminded him of his unpaid debt; nor could he otherwise have ever entirely escaped from this claim and this disgrace. Now, however, pious believers may boast more of the satisfaction offered for their deliverance, than they previously experienced shame on account of their great fall; so much so, that, through- out the whole world, the Church can sing with all confidence, Verily, necessary was Adam’s sin and ours, which is blotted out by the death of Christ! O fortunate crime, which was counted worthy of such and so great a Redeemer!” But the satisfaction 1 ¥rom this we see, that he does not merely contrast the finite nature of man with the infinite nature of God ; but, on Christ’s account, takes such a view of the former, as involved its association with, rather than its exclu- sion by, the latter. The reason thereof, on the part of the divine, is the greatness of the love of God; on the part of the human, the depth of its lowness and need; which was in one aspect an attraction to the divine love, and in another aspect implied unbounded susceptibility. 2 Liber de Incarn. ad Bernh. Clarevall. editio Col. 1621, cap. viii. p. 429; ‘* Nune fidelium devotio magis gloriatur de redemptionis sue satis- 328 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. offered must needs be proportionate to the presumption of man in falling. Adam’s sin consisted in his exalting himself from the lowest.to the-highest. The satisfaction must, therefore, consist in a stooping from the highest to.the lowest. For this reason alone, no man could redeem, but solely a Person of the Most High Trinity. Moreover, inasmuch as to be justified and made blessed is more than to be created, were a man the redeemer, a greater debt would be due to a creature than to the Creator, and we should, therefore, be under stronger obligation to serve the former than the latter. On the other hand, according to the standard of justice, men would be unaffected by anything which was not wrought by a human person; whereas it is rea- sonable that a brother should make satisfaction for a brother, and a son for his father.* Accordingly, it was necessary that God, who stooped from the highest to the lowest, should be- come man (Note 56). He followed us into exile (de Imman- uele i. x.); in_Him_ God is with us, not _merely_in name, but substantially (c. xii.). Is He with us, then, merely in virtue of the presence of His majesty? But what would there be peculiarly great in God’s being with men as He is with the devils? Substantially, He is everywhere. No; His personality is present, has its being, in our nature; and, in consequence thereof, He partakes of human nature, and we partake of His divine nature. He is God with us—the personal token of the restoration of our rights as citizens (signum repatriandi nos), the pledge of our future glory (c. xiv.) ;—through the incarna- tion, God became, as it were, one of ourselves. If, after the fall, it was only ironically, that one of the Trinity could say, “Behold, Adam is become as one of Us,” now, on the contrary, we can exclaim with confidence, “Behold, God is become as one of us’ (c. xix.). God, however, became_man_ that man might become as God; so that the words, which, as spoken by the Father and the Spirit of Adam, could only have an ironical meaning, have become an_actual reality in Christ—to wit, Rene OT “Adam is become as one of us.” “In the Person of Christ, ere “man is become one of Us,” because of His deity; God is factione, quam prius confusa sit de tant dejectionis opprobrio; in tan- tum ut ubique terrarum Ecclesia fidelium cum omni fiducia canat: O certe necessarium Adee peccatum et nostrum, quod Christi morte deletum est! O felix culpa, que talem ac tantum meruit habere redemptorem !” AQUINAS. DUNS SCOTUS. 329 become. one of us, because of His humanity ¥e. ex yorebut even more,—that which holds good of Christ, holds good also of us, who are the first Adam. For, inasmuch as Christ is one of the Three Persons of the Trinity, does not Adam, being configured with the glory of Christ, become, as it were, one of them? The irony and reproach have been converted by Christ into seriousness and congratulation; the he of the seducer, which promised man that he should be like God, has become truth ;—behold, man is become as God, knowing good and evil,—nay, he has become very God—a thing of which the seducer could not have had — even the conception (c. xxi.). (Note 57.) CHAPTER SECOND. THOMAS AQUINAS AND JOHN DUNS SCOTUS. I. Toomas Aguinas took a step in advance, in so far as he endeavoured to combine the scholastic, the ecclesiastical, and the mystical view, with the double design of giving life to the former, and greater distinctness to the latter. His chief Christological authorities, therefore, are John of Damascus and the SPicaloAcopanite, In his “Summa Theologiz,” the first ae he discusses, is that as to the necessity of the incarnation." He denies its indispensability, especially apart 1 from the existence of sin. To suppose that it would have taken place independently of sin, would be, he thinks, to represent it, not as something veritably supernatural,—that is, relatively to ftaest nature, as something, strictly speaking, accidental,—but as sonethine which pertains to the full conception of Henan nature.” But still he had no intention of representing humanity as a mere accidens of the Deity, ty, assumed as we assume a garment : age is, on the contrary, in “Unio personalis.” with the Logos; so that the one Person of 1 Summa Theologie (Antv. 1612, Opp. T. xii.), P. iii. Q. 1. 2 He is also of opinion (Q. vi. Art. 12), that, if God-manhood be- longed to the perfection of human nature, all would have to become God- men in order to be properly men. For further details, see below. 330 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. the Logos, although it continued simple in itself, yet, since the incarnation, exists in two “suppositis,” and is accordingly com- pound. How far he was, notwithstanding, from conceiving the relation between the Logos and humanity to be a substantial, an essential one, is clear from his opinion, that the Logos might hee entered into this relation of “ Unio” with more than one man.! The pre-eminence of the God-man, therefore, lies not in His inner, essential nature, in the impossibility of His being ever repeated; but simply in the empirical fact, that a second God-man has not actually appeared: and as there was no necessity whatever in God of His becoming man, but merely a “convenientia,” so also was there no necessity in the idea of man. Aquinas opposes Nihilianism; but in such a way as to reduce to the smallest possible measure, the part taken by the divine essence in the incarnation. The “ Unio ~—he-regards_as something created ; that is, it falls under the category of mani- festations of grace to created beings, and does not denote a peculiar mode of the being of God (Q. i. ~ Art. 7). The human nature was, in his view, impersonal (non per se sub- sistens): it was personal, not in itself, but in the Logos,—which was a distinction conferred on it. Herein is involved the re- cognition of the truth, that without personality, human nature would not be complete. Its. tendency to personality, however, a ere found satisfaction in Christ, in another higher than itself, in one who, relatively to it, 1s absolutely supernatural, —a view which is certainly not consistent with the notion that a distinc- tion was thus conferred on human nature itself; for, if it were distinguished thereby, it must have been capable of appropri- ating and receiving that which is elsewhere represented as absolutely above and beyond it. The deeper roots of this con- tradiction lie in the magical conception of grace already re- ferred to; which took pleasure in representing the redemption of human nature as consisting in its being transported out of its own, into an absolutely different, essence. Considered in 1 Q.1. Art. 7, p. 24. Q. iii. Art. 7: ‘‘ Persona divina non ita assum- sit unam naturam humanam, quod non potuerit assumere aliam;” for otherwise, ‘‘personalitas divinze natures esset ita comprehensa per unam naturam humanam, quod (ut) ad ejus personalitatem alia assumi non posset, quod est impossibile. Non enim increatum a creato comprehendi potest, 6), etka eae Oe. Cree THOMAS AQUINAS. On relation to God, it would follow, then, that the act of incarna- tion met and satisfied the natural tendency of human nature towards personality, and both stayed and replaced it by the divine personality ;—a view which reminds us of Cerinthus (Note 58). The caro of Christ, therefore, appeared to him to be simply “nature,” without a trace of personality ; and yet, on the other hand, he regards matter as the “ principium individuationis ;”’ —which would seem to imply, that Christ must necessarily become an individual man, on the ground of the matter of which He was the vehicle. It is true, he considers the Logos to have been the exclusively personal principle, and the hu- manity therefore to have been merely the material and nature employed by Him: but still the Logos was the principle _con- stitutive of the personality.in the sense, that that which is, in other cases, the work of the matter and of its tendency to take a limited individual form, was, in the present case, brought about by the power of the Logos, forming, separating, and consolidat- ing an individual out of the human material. On the other hand, Thomas Aquinas also, considered that the divine nature did not become man; for the reason, that such a supposition would necessarily imply that Father and Spirit also became man, as touching their nature; though the Word alone became man as touching the personality. “ Nature divine convenit assumere ratione persone” (Summa P. iii. Q. iii. Art. i—i1.). The divine nature can be termed the “ principium incarnationis” only in so far as it is the vehicle and bearer of the “persona fil.” This latter, however, is “primo et propriissime” assumptive ; and yet personality is also the terminus of the process. Con- sequently, the divine essence itself, or the divine nature, remained unconnected with the incarnation. This was the direct con- trary of some more recent and quite as one-sided theories, which represent the Son as under the necessity of stooping and be- coming merely divine nature (ceasing, that is, to be a divine person), ere He could accomplish the incarnation. The signi- ficance of the incarnation is, in his view, therefore, limited to the fact, that the divine Person of the Son—not, however, His divine nature—was inserted in the human nature. The divine personality stood, of course, in intimate connection with its own 1 P, 344, Q, vi. 1. daz SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. divine nature; but still did not allow any portion thereof to pass over into the human nature. It merely bestowed graces, so far as the human nature was able to grasp and contain them. A grace, however, is something created.! Lhe humanity of Christ participated in creaturely grace,—the very idea of which, involves its being finite, and finite alone: but the divine nature kept itself back, and did not communicate itself to the i humanity. So far from viewing the “ Unio” as a mode of the existence of God, he held it to be a mere relation between God and humanity,?—a mere form under which the divine grace was displayed towards a man distinguished by it, predestinated for it, but also, without doubt, owing his existence to it. In thought, of course, that which is assumed, must be posited as existent, prior to the act of assumption :—in the case of Christ, however, the personality is not conceived as existing prior fo the act of —— assumption, because, in fact, it resulted from. the _assumption.? And notwithstanding, he remarks that it is impossible to imagine 2 greater grace than that which was in Christ, although even in Him it was merely something finite, created, infused. Of that genus of beings which participates in grace, Christ is the universal principle, and therefore the Head of the Church? Additional remarks on this subject will be found further on. This remarkable limitation of the incarnation to the per- sonality of the Son without His nature, of which we have found traces even at an earlier period, had unquestionably another ground-besides the trinitarian one just mentioned,—to wit, the aire desire by such means-to render the problem of _the incarnation an_easier-one; though also, it is true, to evade it in one essential particular, or even to let it entirely fall. Thomas Aquinas, and his numerous followers, masked this their retreat, by represent- ing the personality of the Son as a mediatorial tie between the human and the divine natures, and by professing that a relation was thus established, on the ground of which grace is imported into the human nature from the divine. * P. 42%, Anima Christi creatura est, habeus capacitatem finitam. Compare Q. vi. 12. * Q. xvi. 6, “relatio quedam.” Q. xxxv. 5. Not every relation ex- pressed by God from the point of view of time presupposes something real in God (aliquid secundum rem), but solely secundum rationem. SaQ) diveecs £Q. vi. 9 > Otis THOMAS AQUINAS, Doe Touching the effects of the incarnation on the humanity of Christ, Thomas Aquinas rests satisfied substantially with the doctrine of Peter Lombard ,—mnerely carrying it out into further detail, and modifying it in a few particulars. In general, he reels the grace which was in Christ, not as gradually in- creasing, but as “as communicated | in such Pecieeion at the very moment of incarnation, that, viewed from within, an increase of its vigour-was snconceivable. From the very commencement He was not merely “ viator,” but also “ comprehensor,”’—and that, both in reference to His knowledge, and in reference to His will. He possessed, however, a double knowledge, a double wisdom (Q. ix. 1). As the Son, He naturally had the absolute divine wisdom; as a man, He had the knowledge of the blessed, that is, a knowledge of all things in the Word. But His hata knowledge was again. Avarolle: — firstly, an in- fused knowledge ; ; and in this aspect, there was no knowledge in Him potentially, which was not also actual : secondly, He possessed an experimental or_ acquired knowledge (scientia ex- perimentalis, or acquisita).” More important is it to observe, that, in his view, Christ’s knowledge did not embrace the divine ow iedne: for His humanity continued to. be creatural, and was confined within the limits of the creature ;—but it is impos- sible for a creature to embrace the divine essence.? Everything, indeed, which actually is, has been, and will be, in the world, was an object of the knowledge of Christ’s soul in the Word (Q. x. 2); but not the possible: for, to know the infinite pos- sibilities in God, would be to know His infinite essence (Art. 2). Christ’s soul, accordingly, knows everything in the shape of Qa 2) ax xxiys Cx 4 Oiexy 10: 2 Such a knowledge he had previously called in-question ; see Sentent. lib. iii. dist. xiv. In the Summa he says,—there would have been a some- thing superfluous in Christ, to wit, the potentiality of experimental know- ledge, if He had possessed merely infused knowledge; and yet (p. 52°) he describes the experimental knowledge, as one gained rather by ‘‘ inventio,” than by ‘ disciplina.” $ Q. x. 1. ‘Sic facta est unio,—quod increatum manserit increatum, et creatum manserit intra limites creature. Est autem impossibile quod aliqua creatura comprehendat divinam essentiam (P. i. Q. xii. 7), eo quod infinitum non comprehenditur a finito. Et ideo dicendum, quod anima Christi nullo’‘modo comprehendit divinam essentiam.” Here we have the direct antithesis to the Lutheran doctrine. 334 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. an effect, even the day of judgment; and His ignorance of this last, was merely an ignorance relatively to others (non facit scire). Christ’s soul knew the infinite God, but did not fully grasp His essence, the prime first cause of all effects: conse- quently, the knowledge possessed by God comprises more than Christ’s soul, for God grasps and embraces Himself. In ca- pacity of knowledge, it is true, the humanity of Christ did not grow; but yet, through His “scientia infusa,” He increased the stock of experimental knowledge which He possessed side by side with the “ scientia beatorum,” which was complete from the very beginning. In virtue of the latter, He saw God, and in God everything; He knew everything also (Q. ix. coll. xii. 1) by and out of Himself, in that His soul, through the “ gratia iufusa,” was the expression of the archetype of the Logos, so far as the human nature could grasp Him. In like manner also, he denies to the soul of Christ omni- potence,—urging, that such an attribute can belong alone to the uncircumscribed being of God.’ The soul of Christ was un- able, by itself, to sway omnipotently even its own body; it was able to do so merely as the instrument of the Deity. Not ot by its own power did it raise the body from the dead; but alone by the power of the Deity, of which the soul was ie instru- ment. Relatively to the _will, more particularly, he taught, that there was a divine will in Christ, which was the active cause of everything He did (principium primum movens).’ Yet there was also in Him a human will, which was not a mere dead in- strument. ‘The human nature, in serving as the instrument of the Deity, was moved, not by a constraining necessity, but by its own will. It is not repugnant to the human will to be in- wardly moved by God; and, notwithstanding divine impulses, it still continues to be a human will, for God's will works voli- tion. Examining more closely, AES. we find in Christ a twofold human will,—the sensuous will, and the rational will. According to the former (voluntas RSE, He willed things other than those which God willed; for in Himself God does not will the things of the sensuous rill which the Son of God allowed freely to work prior to His Passion. And yet nothing contrary (contrarietas) to, but merely something different from, 1 Q. xiii. 1. 2 Q. xviii. 1, xliii. 2. THOMAS AQUINAS. 335 the rational will, was the effect of the sensuous will. The will of the Word and the human rational will, remained immove- ably and unweariedly on the side of the sensuous will ;—nay more, it was their will, that the sensuous will should work : hence the unity of the Person of Christ continued untroubled. The will of redemption was, and remained, absolute. When treating of the relation of the rational athe to the divine, he followed in the footsteps of John of Damascus, teaching that Christ had a free will (liberum arbitrium) and a faculty of choice (Q. xviii. 4); and that He took counsel with Himself, and thought discursively (Q. xi. 3). He denied Him, on the other hand, the power, strictly speaking, to decide for and of Himself ; and maintained, that He was determined by God, who moved the will as a kind of secondary causality, and really, in the last instance, worked everything Himself.' Nevertheless, inasmuch as this one supreme cause worked in two forms, and, moreover, so worked, that the human form was in some respect different from, although it was the instrument of, the divine, and had not only a certain independence of being, but also an individual mode of action, peculiar to itself, Christ was able to earn His glory, although it already belonged to Him by nature.’ And it is nobler to possess something through one’s own efforts, than to receive it entirely from another. How Christ could acquire that which He already possessed, Thomas Aquinas does not explain; unless we are to find an explanation in the nature and constitution of His body, which, without being opposed to His will, and naturally too without ae was under the necessity of being defective, not merely for the sake of the redemptive work, but also for the sake of the human nature.’ He also adopts the principle laid down by the Lombard, that Christ was Mediator, not as God, but_as man, As the Mediator, it was His mission to unite the extremes. Simply as God, He could not do this; for, as God, there was no difference between Him and the Father and the Spirit: but as a man, 1 Q. xix. 1,2. In Christ there was one “ vis operatrix ;” but this one had ‘‘ duo operata,” or ‘‘operamenta,” corresponding to the two natures. This view is, therefore, substantially Monotheletism. 2 Q. xix. 3. 8 Q. xiii.; Q. xxxi.: ‘‘ He took upon Himself the impure flesh of Adam, in order to wae it i the ‘* assumtio ” 336 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. He occupied a middle position, being different from God as touching His nature, and different. from men in worth, grace, and glory.’ In this case again, therefore, the humanity, as en- . dowed with the grace of God, is the Mediator, and not the God- manhood. No marvel, then, that Thomas Aquinas should pass at once on to Mary, whose natural birth is put on the same footing with the second birth, nay more, even with sanctification? In consequence of such sanctification, her soul was filled with the eet eee ae them, for the benefit of the world. But this same object might have been realized by other means; for to God all things are possible. Without infringing on justice, God might have pardoned guilt without punishment; but no other way was more fitting than that actually adopted. Even the very least degree of suffering would have sufficed to deliver the human race from all sin; but in order to meet the claims of propriety, of fitness, it behoved Christ to undergo, at all events, every species of suffering.® He asks,—If Christ endured pains which were intenser than those of ail others; especially, if His whole soul suffered, how can He be said to have enjoyed, at the same moment, the blessed fruition (fruitio beata)? His answer is,—In its essence, if not in all its powers, the soul re- mained blessed. Elsewhere he had described Christ as at once the “ viator” and “ comprehensor :” here, on the contrary, out of regard for His sufferings, he endeavours to show that the bond of union between the different aspects of Christ’s nature was at first still a loose one, or even quite dissoluble, and that consequently the incarnation of God was not completely accom- OQ Spex ane: gE oa jot): $ Q. xxvii. 2, p. 102%. The Feast of the Conception of the Virgin Mary is not kept by the Romish Church. In some Churches, however, it is tolerated ; and is not totally objectionable, if not meant to teach that she was holy even at the very moment of her conception. Ar Quexlyi2 SQ axlyi.'5 ff. THOMAS AQUINAS. pol plished from the commencement,—nay more, that it was not realized to the extent to which the idea of human nature ad- mitted of it. He says,—“So long as He was a sojourner, His glory did not stream forth from the higher regions of His essence into the lower, from His soul into His body: on the other hand, the higher aspect of His soul suffered no hindrance from the lower, in that which belonged to its essential nature. Hence the higher part of the soul continued in perfect fruition, whilst Christ underwent sufferings.” That Thomas not only did not arrive at the true idea of the incarnation, n, but. even endeavoured to evade it, is plain from what has been advanced ; but especially clear font the mode in which he discusses the formulas, “God is Man,” “Man is God.”* All the divine attributes may be attributed to the man Christ, and all the human to the Son of God ;—not, however, as aibgege strictly speaking, they pertained to the respective ae for, strictly viewed, they pertained to the personality alone. ‘The human and the divine, he regards as opposed, not as belonging to, compatible with, each other. Opposites, how- ever, cannot be predicated of one and the same thing, in one and the same relation; but only in a different relation. So in the present case, opposites cannot be predicated of the person in its totality, but merely, either in its divine aspect, or in its human aspect. But how readily does the reverse question then suggest itself,—Is it possible for'one personality to be the per- sonny of natures so absolutely opposed to each other? To this question, however, Thomas devotes no attention; and merely lays down the canon,—That what pertains to the one nature, cannot be predicated of the other, considered in itself (in abstracto), but solely so far as it is in the person (in con- ereto). Like the Lombard, he takes especial pains to limit the proposition, — That i in Christ, man is God. ‘The only validity he allows it, is as declaring that God is that element which took the “aes of the human hypostasis. It is true, this person, to wit, the Logos, is eternally God; but of what advantage is that to the man? The human nature became the nature of the Son of God: -—truly ; ; but how? In his view, it was simply a pre- dicate of the Logos, as is evident from the comparison he em- } ploys :—One may truly say that a man has become white; but EQOA xvi. jee 2.—VOL. Ie, 1'¢ 338 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. we cannot say that this same white has become man.! One might have supposed that he would at all events represent this predicate, humanity, as having become God’s own; or that he would have, at the very least, treated it as henceforth appertain- ing to the being of the Son :—on the contrary, he rather says (xvi. 6),—the incarnation was. not.a.new. mode of being or “habitus” of God Himself, but simply a new thing relatively to men, or a new operation of God. A man who stands on the right side, may come to be on the left side, without moving himself, provided the other at whose side he stands moves: so in this case, humanity is changed, not God; and the Unio is a mere relation, a something created. Although he speaks of the predestination of Christ, he did not turn his attention to the question, whether the unchangeableness of God is not en- sured by the fact of the incarnation having been the object of His eternal counsel, even though it be conceded that God was actually one with humanity in Christ. On the other hand, when Thomas Aquinas allowed. his Mysticism to speak, his contributions to Christology were of greater importance. So far as Thomas conceded any independent significance to human nature, he approximated to Adoptianism; for, in his view, the humanity of Christ participated in grace, which is merely something created. As to his fundamental tendency, however, he is opposed to Adoptianism. This is most clearly evident from his doctrine regarding the free will of Christ. The divine Ego is represented as the sole actor. Vacillating in this manner, it was impossible that he should arrive at a divine-human unity. Notwithstanding the premises with which he starts, he still asserts that the humanity could participate in the hypostasis of the Son, the created in the supra-created. But even this cannot help the matter. The Ego, in itself, has no attributes; for the divine nature is not supposed to have be- come man. Consequently the Ego is again reduced to a merely formal unity ;—it is, as it were, the empty space or circle, which is able to embrace within itself indifferently, elements essentially antagonistic, divine and human. It is self-evident, that by means of such a formal unity, no conciliation of the divine and human natures is effected. Such a conciliation was, indeed, ren- dered beforehand impossible, by the influence which emanatistic JOHN DUNS SCOTUS. 339 views of the relation between God and the creature continued to exercise. For, so long as full justice was not done to the dis- tinction between the natures, a true unity could never be attained. The activity of Christ, however, he held to have distributed itself through a twofold system of knowledge and volition, to wit, a divine system and a human. The latter system branched out again into two,—the knowledge and voli- tion which originated in the infused grace; and the knowledge gained by experience and the volition of the sensuous will. All this is analyzed and distinguished, but in such a manner, that the unity of the Christological image is effectually disin- tegrated and destroyed. Nor is this the effect of the scholastic method in itself ; but his premises were such as to render it impossible Picmuiticalls to realize such an image. Even the communication of the attributes, of which he speaks so much, is in his view a purely nominal one,—it did not rest on a com- munication of the natures to each other. I. Duns_Scorus’ appears, at first sight, to have hele. a Peter Lombard; for he also limits the incarnation to a relation between God and man: and he did not conceive the aature assuming to have held or acquired, in itself, a real rela- tion to the nature assumed, but only the nature assumed te the nature assuming. The motion is entirely on the side of the humanity: it is that which is worked upon, dependent: the effect neither reacts on the cause, nor is eternally rooted in its essence (L. iii. Dist. 1, Q. 1). He also, like Thomas Aquinas, pronounces judgment against both Nihilianism and Adopti- anism (Dist. vi. 1, 2, vii. x.). Lastly, he remains true to the pans of view ew by the afore-mentioned,—nay more, ex- aggerates it, by questioning whether, in the last instance, the incarnation Mad redemption through Christ were really neces- sary. His doubts on this subject arose from his conceiving the. unconditioned free will of God to be raised above every kind of necessity, whether that necessity were rooted in the divine wisdom or in the divine essence (Dist. xix. xx.). 1 Compare the ‘* Commentary on the Sentences,” by John Duns Scotus, ed. Hugo Cavellus, Antw. 1620, T. ii. L, iii. iv.; H. Ritter a. a. O. iv. 370 ff. 340 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. But in another respect Scotus was a remarkable pheno- menon, even relatively to Christology. We may remark, in _general, in the first place, that his tendency was..decidedly ethical. His main interest was concentrated on the world of the will, not on theories (L. iv. Dist. slix. Q. 4, p. 515 ff). Hence, also, subjectivity, in the form of a free Ego, assumed a more distinct and determinate shape in his system than in the system of any preceding teacher. This, of course, implies that it could not be so easy a thing for him to sacrifice the human personality of Christ. The mode in which he endeavours to arrive at the personality..of..Christ is the following:—A dis- tinction must be made between the process by which an indi- vidual is constituted and that by which a person is constituted (Individuation, Personirung); the former is not identical with the latter, though it is its condition. Now, that which con- stitutes personality may be regarded, either, 1. as a positive, entity (entitas positiva), which is superadded to the individu- ality of human nature, or, 2. as a negation. 1, Regarded as a positive. entity, it admits of no incarnation. For, had the human nature of Christ had this further positive element, an Unio would have been impossible, inasmuch as ‘persona est incommunicabilis existentia ;’—there would, consequently, then have been an element which was “ inassumptibile ;” whereas all created things must be assumptible. But, did Christ’s humanity not possess that positive entity at first, or did it possess it no longer after the “assumtio,’ we should have to apply the canon,— That which is not assumed is not healed ;* the human nature of Christ lacked, accordingly, full equality with ours, inasmuch as it lacked that in which its actual consummation consists: on this supposition, moreover, a spiritual nature with- out personality were a conceivable thing.—2.But neither can the personality be brought to pass by mere negation. ‘The negation by which a personality is posited, must be the negation of dependence on any external personality, and every indi- vidual soul would be a personality. Further, every personality, according to its idea, is incommunicable: but every negation is communicable; consequently, that which constitutes the per- sonality must be something positive. Every negation, more- * The German is ‘‘ geheilt :” perhaps it should be “ getheilt,” divided, shared.—Trs. JOHN DUNS SCOTUS. 341 over, is based upon and presupposes an affirmation; conse- quently, the personality exists by affirmation prior to existing by negation. To be divided, is an imperfection; that through which anything resists division (éroyov) must, therefore, be a positive entity or a superiority. So also, if dependence on an external personality be an imperfection, as it is, that contrariety to such dependence, which is an integrant element of the idea of a Betsonaliy, must necessarily he’ grounded in an “ entitas positiva.”—3: He himself now.discriminates between “ depen- dentia acttialis, potentialis et aptitudinalis. ” Tn order to under-, stand him fully, it is necessary to bear in mind that he con-' siders the essential characteristic of personality to consist, not in self-consciousness, but in independence—independence especi- ally relatively to others. As has been just shown, the negation of actual dependence does not yet constitute personality ; nor does even potential independence: for such an independence is not possessed by the creature relatively to the Word. But the “dependentia aptitudinalis,’— by which he understands that dependence which, as far as in it lies, is always in actus (for example, ponderables in seeking their centre, so far as nothing prevents them),—seems to him to be that, the negation of which, connected with the negation of actual dependence, constitutes a personality. Aptitudinal independence, in his view, constitutes an intellectual nature a personality, and_can..be, at the same time combined with an incarnation. This aptitudinal indepen- dence is inherent, i in every.nature which is capable of becoming a personality (nature personabili), even when it does not pos- sess actual independence. All created things are of necessity actually dependent on the Word; but aptitudinal independence is quite compatible with this actual dependence. For such a nature, like everything created, stands at the same time in a re- lation of compliancy (has an aptitudo obedientiz) to the Word ; and may, therefore, very easily enter into such a state of actual dependence on the Word, that it shall become personal through the personality on which it is dependent. And_yet, even if. it had_not acquired its independence through the person of the Word, it would have become personal in itself, through the mere negation of its dependence, and not, for the first time, through a positive addition to that which constituted it the nature which it was, 342 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. Scotus consequently conceives the human nature of Christ to have been so constituted, that it would have attained to per- sonality even apart from the Word, and would of itself have negatived dependence on any other than God, without needing, for this purpose, any further positive adjunct ;—such also, at the same time, that it did not the less stand in the obediential relation to God which befits the creature, and was thus capable, through actual dependence on, and union with, the Word, of realizing that negation of dependence, or that independence of personalities external to itself, which belongs to the idea of per- sonality. His real intention, however, becomes plainer when we take into view another point. He adds, that, more closely examined, the divine..is. unquestionably.personal.in_a different sense from the human; ‘for incommunicableness pertains to the essence of the divine person alone, not to that of the human —at all events, not relatively to the Word of God (Dist. i, Q. 1, pp. 4-6). With the nature of the creature it is not incom- patible that personality should be communicated to it, because it contains essentially within itself the “}/otentia obedientialis” also; whereas the divine personality possesses, in place thereof, a further “positiva entitas,” which offers resistance to communica- tion (compare L.i. Dist. ii. Q. vii. 38, T.1. 58), to wit, absolute independence. But the fact of his asserting for the humanity of Christ such a latent or possible personality, shows that he attributed to it real significance, in a fuller sense than Thomas Aquinas; and that he did not regard it as a mere selfless husk. Hor this reason also, he did not, like Thomas, merely categorically repudiate Adoptianism: but, in place of the idea of adoption, he advances that of the predestination of Christ to a dignity-which He did not possess by nature,—to an inheritance which had always indeed pertained to Him, yet was His solely by grace; ——and this is really nothing but Adoption. The Church, how- ever, had already pronounced judgment against Adoptianism, and therefore he leaves the problem unsolved. Nay more, he further objects to Adoptianism, that, as an “opus Deiad extra,” it ought to be attributed to the entire Trinity ; therefore also to the Son: which would imply that the Son of God, in so far as He constituted the actual personality in Christ, adopted Him- self, or was His own Son (Dist. x.).. Scotus enahe consistently to Re limited the predestination and adoption to that latent or ~~ s ——- JOHN DUNS SCOTUS. 343 possible personality : but in that case the adoption would have continued to be a mere possibility, and could not have been re- ferred to the humanity of Christ, in its actuality. We see, however, on the whole, that Scotus strove to vindicate to the humanity more than a mere selfless being ; but the principles on which he took his stand mocked all the acuteness with which he endeavoured to escape from the consequences they involved. In the last instance, therefore, all that he did was to direct attention to a gap which needed to be filled up, but which could not be filled up independently of further and more thorough reforms. What Scotus did towards showing that an union between the divine and human natures and personalities was possible, is by no means to be lightly estimated. In estimating his services, we must take into consideration his view of the supernatural and natural, which was very different from any that had pre- ceded. ‘To the idea of an exaltation of human nature by grace above itself, he objects: he also objects to the idea that ecstasis 1s the perfection of man, and to that supra-human virtue, of which others had approved.t The supernatural, on the contrary, he regards as the complement of human nature itself; and whereas Thomas thought to do honour to grace by putting in the place of the old, something absolutely new, which altogether tran- scends the limits of human nature; and whereas, further, he was unable to conceive of man’s capability of receiving as other than limited, although he at the same time supposed himself able to acknowledge an incarnation; Duns Scotus, on the con- trary, lays down the principle, that God can only enter into the higher beings (illabi), in virtue of a susceptibility (capacitas) or capacity in them of possessing the divine. Nay more, the reception of grace, is, in his view, at the same time a develop- ment of human capacities: the nature of man being, in its final roots, supernatural, and his destination, God. He further teaches, that the vitality or activity of this susceptibility must bear proportion to the grace which is to be received.” In short, inasmuch as we are intended to receive God the Infinite One, the soul must possess, not a merely finite, but an infinite 1 [, iii, Dist. xxxiv. 3:—‘‘ Omnis actus hominis proprie loquendo est humanus; actus convenire debet operanti,” p. 288. Dist. xiv. Q. 2, 3, pp. 94-102. 2 J. c. L. iv. Dist. xlix. 11, p. 535 f. 344 * SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. capacity ;* although this infinite capacity can only by. degrees be developed and co-operate towards the impletion of itself with God. Accordingly, he maintained with regard to the humanity of Christ, that it might have through the Word the most complete possible intuitive view of creation, which cannot but be an infinite one.” The objection, that this would lead to the assump- tion of two such infinite intuitive views,—a created and an un- created one,—did not occasion him difficulty. For, is it not acknowledged that Intellectus in general never arrives at rest and satisfaction, save in the infinite; and yet, relatively to the cognitive act, it is not coincident with the infnite. Merely in relation to concrete, intuitive knowledge, does he also allow that the soul of Christ was limited, on the ground that the know- ledge of the concrete was not included in that knowledge of the general, which it possessed. This also was the opinion of Thomas Aquinas, when he spoke of Christ’s habitual (habitus) knowledge. The soul of Christ has the habitual capacity of knowing everything concrete, but it gains this knowledge by degrees. Having laid down these principles, the incarnation of God became for him a much more approachable idea. The problem now presented to him, was not a demand that the whole should be represented as existing or comprised in the part, the infinite in the finite; but he was required to conceive the infinite ethical susceptibility of man as filled by the infinite God. This infinite God is discriminated. from man, not. by the infinitude of His being,—for the being of both is infinite, though each in a different way ;—but whereas God is the Unconditioned, Ne- cessary, and_ Necessarily Free, relatively to. Him, man_is the Necessarily Conditioned.. He does not regard susceptible hu- manity, it is true, as merely passive; but in general as personal, and as destined to develop ever increasing vitality and activity. Far greater difficulties, therefore, lay in his way, than in the * In Sententias lib. i. Dist. ii. Q. vii. 40. He carries out this capacity for the infinite, both as respects knowledge and as respects volition. L. iii, Dist. xiv. Q. ii. 6, 16, pp- 95, 98. But still he had no intention of putting God’s knowledge of Himself, and the knowledge possessed by the creature of God, on the same footing: ib. p- 96, L. iv. Dist. xlix.Q.2. He fre- quently makes the observation, that the human goul ‘« satiatur, quietatur” by the “infinitum.” * Compare Baur 1. ¢. ii. 842 ff. . freedom’—that the divine will stands in an accidental, for- tuitous relation to human nature—and that the highest good receives an eudzemonistic colouring. Our will seeks its blessed- ness as a free will, and alone as such can find it. But the divine law, which is the object of the free will, although for- mally involved in, and posited by, the creatural relationship, is (as set forth by Scotus) fortuitous in content, and foreign to the nature of man. The spiritually universal (das geistig Allge- meine), notwithstanding that, apart from it, personality cannot realize its own idea, presents accordingly the appearance of a power, alien from, or even minatory to, freedom; and Scotus there- fore deemed it necessary (Pelagianistically) to impose limitations onit. With this is connected the circumstance, that in his system the mystical element is thrown completely into the background, and that, consequently, its ethical features lack living roots. Duns Scotus, it must be allowed, decidedly broke through that magic circle of ideas drawn by the Areopagite, that Ema- natism which, by prematurely equalizing the divine and human, in regard to physical substance, rendered a true union of the two no less impossible than when they were abstractly separated. He posits a deeper distinction than that between infinite and finite, or whole and part: in his view, God_is necessary, un- conditioned, free being; man is cou and necessarily contingent being. Both are not merely equally being, but also infinite being, though different species of infinite being; the connection between which, he tries to point out. His idea of God, as the unconditionally free being, involves, indeed, that there was no necessity whatever, either for the creation of a world, or for its being such as it actually is: we know not whether God in Himself loves that good which He wills to he regarded as such in the world; and the giving of the law of God reveals to us nothing more than His will, that we should regard it as authoritative. Nevertheless, supposing God actu- ally to will the existence of a world, it was necessary that it should be conditioned by His will; nay more, that God Him- 11. iv. Dist, xliv. 2: ‘Libertas in Deo est perfectio simpliciter.” L. ii. Dist. xxxvii. Q. ii. 9. 348 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. self, or, more precisely expressed, the Divine will, should be the goal of creation. On this account, it was also necessary, if man were created at all, that his will should be, not indeed equal to ‘God, but still connected with, or, as Scotus was accustomed to say, proportionate to, the will of God, of infinite susceptibility, and destined for the infinite. He acknowledged, however, that the very idea of conditioned existence implied that this divine will could only be appropriated by degrees, and in an ethical manner, and that, consequently, the “ viator” could not be at once also the “ comprehensor.” On the path to the goal lie freedom and merit; but that impletion with good, which is the foundation of the security and blessedness of the will, and which renders apostasy for ever impossible, cannot be the work of man, but must be the work of God. Considered by itself, this view leads to the alternative, that either all are destined to God-manhood, or none. All are des- tined thereto, in so far as all must be proportionate to God or His will; and by using their freedom aright, would become God-men, unless God should withdraw Himself, and cease to be their end and aim ; whilst the world, if it exist at all, must needs have God as its goal. Scotus lays down the principle, that all the acts of man are human,—even those which are performed subsequent to, and in consequence of, the impletion of human susceptibility with Go The position would thus seem to be gained, that the truly hutman and the divine are but different | aspects of the same thing, or the sa me regarded from different points of view. But,as-thougir he feared that this would leave him merely a perfect man, he turns round.again, and represents the incarnation in Christ (to which he was un- * able logically to assign the unique and pre-eminent position claimed for it by the Church) as an absolutely transcendent, isolated work of the Divine omnipotence or arbitrariness ; and, overawed by the Divine omnipotence, so far forgets the ethical spirit of his system, as again to say,— God might have assumed any creature whatever; God might have assumed even a stone, without undergoing any change. This, however, leads us to the other aspect of the matter. On a closer examination, we are compelled to confess that the system of Scotus does not admit of the accomplishment of _ a true and proper incarnation, even in Christ; for, according to JOHN DUNS SCOTUS. 349 it, the world does not stand in any relation to the inmost being ath essence of God, but merely to His absolute, Mereenrinate will—to His power, the will of which, by itself, is empty and without heart. Or, did he advance beyond this point of view, when he taught his well-known doctrine, that Christ would have come r even had Adam not sinned? His course of reasoning is the following : To the opposed authorities it must be conceded, that without Adam’s sin Christ would not have come as a Re deemer. But the incarnation was not resolved on, merely casually, at the instance of another, but from the very begin- ning. It was not willed merely as a means to the redemption of man, but immediately as a divine end and aim. More pre- cisely, he sets forth his views as follows (Dist. 7, 10, 19): Among the things which God willed external to He the area of Christ was the first :—not because Christ had been from eternity conceived as the Head of humanity, but purely for Christ’s own sake,—Christ was an end in Himself. The predestination of every soul, even to glory, necessarily pre- cedes the foreknowledge of sin. Still more must this hold good with regard to the predestination of the soul of Christ, which infolds within itself the highest glory. Humanity.as. itis in Christ, was a final aim of God, prior to the glory of all other souls. Now, God invariably wills the end ere He wills the means ; still more did He will this end, previously to His foreknowledge of sin. We see, accordingly, that the afore-mentioned principle laid down by Scotus, was by no means meant to establish an essential connection between God and humanity, or between humanity and the Person of Christ. It rather serves to break the connection between Christ and humanity, and to represent His : mission as an event grounded solely in the free pleasure of ( God—that i is, “ liberum arbitrium.” We cannot even say, that Scotus believed God to have beheld and willed His own glorification in the humanity of Christ, as in a good possessed of absolute inherent worth. In the lane instance, in fact, he held both the existence of the world and the existence of Chie to be fortuitous.* Supposing, however, that God, in His free * “ Fortuitous”’—‘‘ Zufallig :” that is, God was not moved by an inter- nal necessity of His being to create a world : He merely willed to create, and might as easily not have willed.—Tr. 350 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. arbitrary will, should bring such a humanity into actual ex- istence, it could not be conceived as a mere means, but only precedently to everything else (“ vor allem Andern”). Strictly viewed also, it is not so much the incarnation of God, as this highly favoured humanity of Christ, that was the object of predestination :-—and that the Unio, in his view of it, stands in no inner relation to the favour thus conferred, we have already shown. He does, indeed, allow that the incarnation was a fact; but his Christology is marked by an Ebionitic feature, which makes Christ dependent on the free pleasure of God; and_ it could have occasioned him but little difficulty to discover, as did Raymond Lullus at a subsequent.time, a predestination for the holy Virgin, similar to that which he taught with regard to the humanity of Christ. The unconditioned freedom of God taught by Scotus, is, in the last instance, absolute arbitrariness, which must, strictly speaking, be able at any moment to take back the world and the God-man. What this freedom is, and what it wills, in dtself, remains a mystery; and consequently we must conclude, that the inmost essence of God was not brought to light by the .incar- nation, did not become man. God’s command may become in- carnate, but not the freedom in which the command originated. And even supposing we say, that, in the view of Scotus, the will, considered as power, is the inmost essence of God, and that it reveals itself both in the creation and incarnation ; still the very idea of such an absolute indeterminate freedom and power, implies that everything done by it is good, indeed, but good solely because it does it; and not also something willed by it, because it was good in itself. In itself, therefore, the resump- tion of the purpose of creation and incarnation would have been as good as its realization, if God had not, as it were for- tuitously, already become incarnate, and an alteration thus been rendered impossible ; in other words, if God’s absolute indeter- minateness had not subjected itself to that fatalism of facts, according to which “ factum infectum fieri nequit,” and been consequently transformed into its direct contrary, necessitation. However closely, then, he conjoins the divine and human, and whatever efforts he makes to strip them of their mutual ex- clusiveness, Scotus still remains involved in contradictions. The determinations given of the “Unio personalis” by the doctrine JOHN DUNS SCOTUS. 351 of the Church, still drag on an existence in the system of Scotus ; but the divine-human personality, in the sense in which it was held by the Church, was to him but as a dead fact. The Unio of the Word with the man assumed by Him, is allowed to have taken place: he does not expressly assail the doctrine of the Church. But he leaves this act of the Son of God almost entirely unnoticed, when he treats of Christology. Instead of removing the rubbish of the old edifice, he takes it for the foundation of his new edifice. The new idea by which he was led in his work, and which discriminated him from the school of Antioch, qwas_a higher view of human nature. In setting forth that new thought, however, he not only approxi- tied to Adoptianism, or even to a Asoc of Cerinthianism ; but his doctrine regarding God is so strongly marked by pre- destinarian features, as scarcely to allow of the existence of real human freedom. The most important point to be remarked, however, is, that his conception of God is such as not to admit of an incarnation of God. According to it, human nature can, strictly ‘speaking, come into relation with fe will of God alone, with _that which God.has appointed to be--good for the world. From that good, however, the essential nature of God eternally withdraws itself, and, instead of expressing itself in it, soars freely above it as “ fern arbitrium.” He is Beatmania from his predecessors, it is true, by the firmness of his grasp on the form of the ethical (forma), the will; failing, however, to conceive of the ethical ontologically, and representing the will merely as an indeterminate form, and as free arbitrariness, the will, considered in-itgelf, becomes again mere blind force, and falls back.into the Srey :—even as Thomas Aquinas and the older teachers werewnable to work their way out of the domain of the physical, because they directed their attention solely to the good content of freedom (good volitions), and paid no regard to its form (the will). This is, further, very clear from the ob- servations he~makes regarding the necessity of the work of Christ. The merits of Christ, he says, have their basis in His \ human nature, and are therefore not (as Thomas Aquinas as- — serted them to be) infinite; for otherwise, the created will of Christ would have been as well-pleasing to God as the un- created will, and the Trinity would have loved both with equal love. Those merits are infinite only in so far as they are suffi- Mae SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. cient for an infinite multitude of men; but they are not infinite in themselves, and intrinsically." There was, moreover, no_ne- ~eessity, he urges,.that..Christ. should have suffered in order to restore the human race ;” and he undertakes a detailed_refuta- tion of the yiews.of.Anselm on this point. The death of Christ was necessary, simply because God willed it; and He willed it freely and fortuitously. God’s foreknowledge that Christ would suffer was a fortuitous thing; but, without doubt, if it was fore- known, He did actually suffer.* Nor, again, was there any ne- cessity that our race should be restored; for the only reason why men should be restored, was the fact of their having been predestined to glory, to which it was impossible for fallen creatures to attain, save on the basis of a satisfaction; and the predestination of man was fortuitous, not necessary. | The asser- tion may also be questioned, that man could not be reconciled without a satisfaction. Supposing, however, a satisfaction were necessary, it was not absolutely necessary that God Him-_ self should make satisfaction. Anselm is further in error when ~ he maintains, that, in the way of satisfaction, something greater than all creatures must be required; for we ought rather to say, that man, who had sinned by loving an infinitely worse object, ought himself to have made satisfaction by loving an infinitely nobler object. He entirely objected to any other _ Infinitude of guilt than that which is so designated from the infinitude of its object, God. He considered Anselm to be further in error, when he argued that none but a man could make satisfaction; for he also who is not a debtor is able to make satisfaction for another, even as he is able to pray for him. If it had pleased God, an angel might have offered satisfaction. For a created offering possesses just as much value as God chooses shall attach to it, and no more. Even a mere man, born without original sin from a mother like Mary, and endowed with graces such as those which were possessed by the humanity of Christ, apart from any antecedent merit, might have earned the blotting out of sin; and yet, even had this been actually the case, we should not have been (as Richard de St Victor supposed) under the same obligation to ' Lic. Dist. xix, p.138 ff. 2 Dist. xx. pp. 1438-146. * “Wenn es vorher gewusst war, so litt er.” $ Lib. iv. Dist. xv. Q. i. p. 255 ff. * JOHN DUNS SCOTUS. 353 such an one as we are under to God, because he would have owed all his good to God;—we should have been indebted to him merely as we are indebted to the Virgin and the saints. Finally, he maintains that every individual might offer satis- faction for himself, provided only there were fecrne on him the first grace (baptian) without merit:—and this, in fact, occurs. How was it possible more plainly to Share ote the incarnation as a thing almost unnecessary to the redemp- tion of man? What better method could have been adopted of equalizing the deserts of Christ, relatively to us, with the deserts of Mary, and of leaving to Christ merely the distinc- tion of having founded sacramental grace?—which grace, again, was not deemed to have been necessarily, but merely as a matter of fact, dependent on the incarnation; inasmuch as God might, in the exercise of His freedom, have chosen other means of establishing the Church. These principles bear evident traces also of a pelagianizing tendency, which makes light both of sin and of the divine righteousness: and the explanation of their presence in the system of Scotus, is his reducing all things back to the divine freedom or arbitrariness, as their final ground. | Thomas Aquinas considered the incarnation to be something new merely in relation to man, not for God Himself. Even so, did Duns Scotus consider it rather in the light of a work (factio) undertaken by God for the sake of producing a “gratia cre- ata” in a man, than as a mode of the divine being itself. This grace might have been produced without an “Unio;” and God’s presence in Christ denotes an “habitus” merely in man, not in God.t We see, accordingly, that the two greatest Scholastics, strictly speaking, let fall the very idea of an incarnation of God :—the one, in that he does not admit that God became man, but sees in Christ merely an impersonal manifestation. of beneceneenll 1 Appositely does Baur remark (vol. ii. 832): ‘‘ When God is said, by Duns Scotus, to have become man, the real meaning of the words is rather —God became nothing; consequently, He did not become man: everything of the nature of growth, whether completed or in process, is predicable solely of the human nature of Christ. This being the case, it needs no further argument to show, that, if God did not become man, man cannot have become God; and when one of the two essential aspects of the ‘Unio’ has been separated from the other, its very idea is destroyed, or is reduced to a purely nominal thing.” Le 2.— VOL. 1. Z 354 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. God under the form ofa man; the other, in that, although far from intending to represent. the humanity. as. selfless, he did not really advance beyond that position, except perhaps nega- tively, that is, by representing God as present in this man merely to a limited extent: and of such.a limitation, the necessary con- sequence was, the reintroduction of the Nestorian doctrine of a double personality. IIl. THe MYsTicaL ELEMENT IN SCHOLASTICISM.—As: we have seen, the scholastic Christology is, in general, very defec- tive: its scientific formulas show no traces of progress; on the contrary, they indicate, in many ways, that the mind was already beginning to regard the scaffolding with less interest, and was disposed to evade the proper problem of Christology on the one hand, and an open confession of adherence to Nihj- lianism on the other. Still, side by side with the formulas of Scholasticism, we discover the signs of warmer life and higher con- templations ; we find an image of the Person of Christ cherished, which, though but imperfectly expressed in the formulas of the Church, served the purpose of nourishing and fecundating the piety of private individuals, and, in part also, the public Cultus. Without the consideration of this aspect of the matter, an im- portant factor in the work of preparation for the Germanic Mysticism, which we shall have subsequently to examine, would be wanting; and that being wanting, we should be less satisfactorily able to account for the rise and character of the Reformation. It was the doctrine of the atonement, that, having been made the subject’ of more careful reflection, exerted a specially fecundatory influence on that form of Christology which made it its aim to steer clear both of Docetism and Nijhi- anism. But, as this Christology fixed its attention prin- cipally on the divine-human Person of Christ in its totality, it stood in no inner relation to the old doctrine of the duality of the natures, but had more affinity with the views of the first period ;—with those views which were. the fruit, not of the duality just referred to, nor of the unity which grew out of that duality, but of living Christianity itself, and of the impression which the picture of the life of Christ, contained in the Gospels, continuously made on pious hearts. Many. teachers. of, the Middle Ages based the possibility of Christ's making satisfaction SCHOLASTIC MYSTICISM. 355 for us, amongst other things, on the-fact.that He isthe Head of the mystical body of the Church. The head is able to offer satisfaction on behalf of its members. Following the example of Peter Lombard, the Scholastics were accustomed to devote a chapter of their Christology, specially to the subject of the peculiar “ gratia” which was conferred on this person. Christ, they held, possesses in Himself the “plenitudo gratia et divini- tatis,” because He is the Head.t But the successors of the Lombard carried this further out in different directions. Ac- cording to Albertus Magnus,’ there was in Christ an “increata gratia” side by side with the “creata,” by which He is dis- tinguished from all others. In his detailed description of this “ gratia,” the feature to which he gives most prominence, and apparently attaches chief importance, is,—Christ is the Head of the Church. He would appear, it is true, to be Head solely as to His divine nature, consequently, not as God-man; in that the motion and feeling produced by Christ in the Church, are traced to His divine nature. But he answer's, — Relatively to its body, the head_has three characteristics,—jirstly, it is the principle which works actively on the powers, on the feeling, and on the motions; secondly, it streams forth into the members as a formative vital principle; thirdly, there..is. a conformity between the nature of the head and that. of the members. Now, it is solely as God that Christ is a principle exercising an active influence ; though this does not necessarily exclude His humanity from being the channel through which His divine power flows. As an assimilative principle, which flows over, as it were, like a formative form, Christ is the Head of the blessed, and of those who have received grace, and impresses upon them the likeness of His life, of His “sensus” and of His “motus.” In the third sense, He is the Head of men alone; * Petr. Lomb. Sent. Lib. iii. Dist. xiii. ‘Ut in corpore nostro inest sensus singularis membris, sed non quantum in capite,—ibi. enim et visus est, et auditus, et olfactus, et gustus, et tactus, in ceteris vero solus est tactus, —ita et in Christo habitat omnis plenitudo divinitatis, quia ille est caput, in quo est omnis sensus; in sanctis vero quasi solus tactus est, quibus spiritus datus est ad mensuram, cum de illius plenitudine acceper- unt. Acceperunt autem de illius plenitudine non secundum essentiam, sed secundum similitudinem.”’ * Compend. theol. IL. iv. de Incarn. Christi, c. 14, and L. iii. on the Sentences, Dist. xiii. oe 356 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. —as Head, namely, of members consubstantial with Himself, He is able to communicate to them His merits. The “gratia” of this Head, consists, accordingly, in the “virtus influendi.” Even as an individual man, He possessed a grace so rich and full, that it overflowed in Him (exuberat). Therefore does He pour forth spiritual feelings and motions into the members of His mystical body, out of the abundance of the graces of which He is the well-spring.t Not merely as God, but also as man, does He inspire all those who cling to Him with “sensus et motus spiritus et gratie.” But, as man, He exercises active influence not immediately, but “meritorie :” He earns for us the inflowing of grace, and delivers us, in that He removes the obstacle to influx out of the way (obstaculum influxus in nos),—to wit, by paying our debt of guilt. Thomas Aquinas discusses the same question at length.? In his “Summa,” he advances in support of the opinion, that Christ, as a man, cannot be the Head of the Church, the further consideration,—that God_is designated the Head of Christ; that, moreover, the head is a single member, itself dependent in turn on the heart; whereas Christ is the uni- versal principle of the entire Church. From this it, accordingly, might apparently be concluded, that He is not the Head of the Church, but merely governs it in His divine nature. He re- plies, —As the whole Church is designated a mystical body, after the similitude of the natural body, so Christ is designated the Head of the Church, after the similitude of the human head. Now, this latter is head_in_ three respects :—Mirstly} it is the first in point of rank ;secondly, it is the first in point of perfec- tion, for all the senses are concentrated in it; thirdly, it is the first in point of power, for, the human head being the throne of the “vis sensitiva et motiva,” the other members derive their strength and motion, and their government, from it. All this may be applied to Christ in a more perfect, even in a spiritual sense. He is nearer to God,—this gives Him His rank; He possesses the fulness of grace,—therein consists His perfection; 1 Comp. theol. iv. 14: ‘‘ Influit in membra corporis sui mystici sensum et modum spiritualem secundum /ontalem plenitudinem omnis gratiee in ipso habitantis.” * P. iii. quest. 8,1. Quest. 3, 4, 7, 19, 23. Super Sentent. Lib. iii. Dist. xiii.; Queest. 1, 2. SCHOLASTIC MYSTICISM. 357 He has the power of pouring forth grace into all His members, ——and that constitutes His “virtus.” To the deity of Christ it belongs originatively (auctoritative), to His humanity instru- mentally (instrumentaliter), to communicate the Holy Spirit ; and although God is the Head of Christ, Christ is notwith- standing the Head of the Church. But the heart of His body, _ the Church, is the Holy Spirit. To be the Head of the Church, is the distinctive function of Christ. There is undoubtedly an influence on the members of the Church,—for example, by means of government,—which others besides He are capable of exercising, locally and temporarily, with His authority; but that inner influx (influxus interior), by which “ virtus motiva et sensi- tiva a capite derivatur ad cetera membra,” pertains alone to Him, because He possesses the “plenitudo gratie” in a thoroughly unique sense. On the soul of Christ was conferred grace, as on a universal principle in the genus of those who participate in grace. But the power of the first principle of a genus is universally diffused through all the operations of the same genus; consequently, as the universal principle, an universal significance attaches to Him in relation to the operations. On account of His mediatorial connection with the human race, He must needs have been in possession of a grace which streamed forth also upon others. This is the “fontalis gratia” of Albertus Magnus.’ Specially clear, however, is the following passage,” in which Thomas Aquinas makes use of the idea of the head, in order to show how the merit of Christ can be transferred to us :—“ In Christo non solum fuit gratia, sicut in guodam homine singulari, sed sicut in capite tottus Eeclesiw, cui omnes uniuntur, sicut capiti membra, ex guibus constituitur mystice una persona. Et exinde est, quod meritum Christi se extendit ad alios, in ‘quantum sunt membra ejus; quia non solum sibi sentit, sed omnibus membris.’ As Adam, in a natural respect, was the principle of the entire human nature, so is Christ appointed by God to be the Head of all men; and, therefore, in the kingdom of grace, His merit extends.itself to all His children. He occupies himself also with the question,’-—In what sense did Christ assume humanity and the universal human nature ? ’ Compare Summa 1. c. Qu. vii. 1, 9, viii. 1, 6, ix.; Qu. xix. 4, ad secundam. * Qu. xix. 4, Resp. 8 Qu. iv. Art. 4. 358 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. Not in the sense, in which it may be conceived, apart even from its earthly realization, as a notion of the human mind; or (Pla- tonically), as the general idea, preceding the concrete realization of, humanity (esos, forma communis). The former would be a mere fiction, originating in the subjective representations of the human mind: and the “forma communis” is not at the same time individual; whereas the end of the incarnation was the realization of that personality, in which the “forma com- munis” should individualize itself. Indeed, man, according to his very idea, forms part of the sensuous world; for this reason, the humanity of Christ was under the necessity of participating in sensuous material, and cannot be represented as a Platonic eidos, whose existence preceded that of the concrete. But, if human nature subsisted neither in the divine intelligence by it- self, nor indeed, at all, except in an actual sensible form, in the concrete individuals of the human race, the question at once arises, — Whether Christ appropriated the general human nature, in the sense that He became man in every individual man? This nught appear a fitting course, says he; for a wise master-builder completes his work by the shortest possible method. But, to constitute men universally and naturally sons of God, would be a shorter path, than to bring the many to sonship by means of one natural Son. Now, as this is agreeable to the divine wisdom, so also would it seem to be consonant to love: and, in- asmuch as that which belongs to a particular genus of beings per se, belongs to all the individuals of the genus, it would appear con- gruous that human nature should be assumed in all its subjects. To these reasonings, he replies,—The wisdom of a master- workman is rather shown in his not attaining a result by means of many things, which could be satisfactorfly attained by means of one. Moreover, to be assumed by God, does not belong to human nature in itself, in the sense that such an assumption per- tained to its natural individuality, or its “ principia essentialia :” were such the case, all the subjects sharing this nature must undoubtedly be assumed. The love of God was further mani- fested, not merely in His “assumtio,” but_also in His “ passio” for others.—It was, further, impossible that all should be assumed; for it would have involved the abolition of the plurality of the subjects which share human nature. As the assumed nature could have no other personal centre than the THOMAS AQUINAS. 359 person by which it was assumed, it follows, that, after the assumption, there would have been but one single subject in human nature, to wit, the assumptive person’ (Note 60). Atsuch points, the essence of God and the essence of man.did not seem to Thomas t to be so opposed to each other as they were epre- sented by the Church, and even by himself in other connections.’ We may here adduce tie doctrine laid down by him,—To God’s perfect and necessary knowledge of Himself, belongs also the knowledge of His communicableness to the creatures, in different kinds of resemblance: in thus knowing Himself, God knows also the creatures, after their different kinds, in different ideas; so, however, that, like an artist, He compre- hends His entire work in one thought. The differences be- tween the creatures are accordingly, in his view, based solely on the differences of their resemblance to God; and the dif- ferent measures of their resemblance to God, are grounded again in the different degrees of the communication of the divine substance. Such a view is unquestionably emanatistic ; and the consequence thereof would be, that Christ, in order to be perfect, must cease to be man: we see agam, Alene that the dualistic background previously referred to,* still continued to give a tone to the reasoning of Aquinas. It will repay us, however, to consider other efforts which he put forth, and which almost ended in his establishing an inner and more essential connection between the divine and human natures. Human nature, says he, was more capable of being assumed by the Son of God than any other nature, in consonance with its dignity. “All creatures, it is true, bear some traces of resem- blance to the Word, but man resembles the Word as His image and likeness. By ee and love, human nature is able, in some measure, to attain even. tothe Word Himself (contingere). It was fitting, moreover, that God should deny to no creature that which it is capable of receiving (capax). ° Now, a thing may be made _to resemble the Word in three ways: Mirstly; in reference to form ;—for, as a building resembles the pre- conceived idea (verbo mentali) of the architect, so every Summa ili. Q. iv. 3. 2 See above, p. 304. Ritter, ‘‘ Geschichte der christlichen Philosophie,” B. iv. 286. See above, p. 304. Summ. P. iii. Q. iv. Art. i.; Sent. lib. iii. Dist. i. Q. i. Art. 2. oO He 0 360 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. creature is like the Word, because it is embraced by His artistic idea. Secondly, in reference to cognition also (intellectualitas, Erkemituiss), a resemblance to the Word is possible ; even as the knowledge which exists in the mind of a scholar bears a resem- blance to the word which lives in the mind of the teacher. In this sense the rational creation resembles the Word of God, as to its very nature. Thirdly, the creature_may.attain to.a resem- blance to the Word of God, as regards. His aunity..with the Father, by means of grace and love; and hereby does. its adop- tion to the position of a child become complete.’ To this connection belongs his clear and ingenious answer to the question, so commonly raised by the Scholastics, —W hy the Son, and not the Father nor the Holy Spirit, became man ? His reply is, Because the \Son_is. the archetype, according to the pattern of which man was created at the beginning, and according to which, therefore, he must needs be restored.2. The. Word of God is the eternal idea of God, the archetype of all creation: and as the several ranks of creatures owe their existence and constitution to participation in this primal type, though after a mutable manner; so was it fitting, that by the personal, and not merely partial or participative, union of the Word with creation, it should be restored in a manner consonant to its original order, to an eternal and unchangeable perfection. For even so, an artist, when his work has been spoiled, restores it by means of the idea which ruled him in its first production. * Summ. P. iii. Q. xxiii. 3, ‘ Filiatio adoptionis est queedam similitudo filiationis naturalis.” . ? Summa, P. iii. Q. iii. Art. 8, coll. sup. Sent. iii. Dist. i. Q. ii. Art. 2: ‘‘imago convenientiam habet cum eo, qui reparandus erat, scilicet cum homine; unde decuit, ut imago imaginem assumeret.” (Similarly also Albertus Magnus, 1.c. Comp. theol. cap. vi.: ‘‘imago debuit per imaginem reparari.”) Summa 1. c. he says,—‘ Convenienter enim ea, que sunt similia, uniuntur, ipsius autem persone filii, qui est Verbum Dei, attenditur convenientia ad totam creaturam, quia verbum artificis, 7.e., conceptus ejus, est similitudo exemplaris eorum, quee ab artifice fiunt. Unde Verbum Dei, quod est eternus conceptus ejus, est similitudo exemplaris totius creaturee : et ideo, sicut per participationem hujus similitudinis creature sunt in propriis speciebus institute: sed mobiliter, ita per unionem Verbi ad creaturam non participatam sed personalem, conveniens fuit reparari creaturam in ordine ad eternam et immobilem perfectionem. Nam et artifex per formam artis conceptam, qua artificiatum condidit, ipsum, si collapsum fuerit, restaurat.” UTRUM CHRISTUS VENISSET, ETC.? 361 How_nearly did. Thomas here approach. to the Aoctrine. of oy a necessity for the “immobile exemplar,” FT tead of the “mobilis imago,” being manifested through the personal, and not merely through the partial or participative “ Unio” of the Word with humanity; and that, therefore, the incarnation of God was not entirely and solely occasioned by sin, but was essential to the realization of the eternal type of humanity !? This will be, perhaps, the most fitting place to take a more careful and connected reyiew.of the history of the question,— wv hether the incarnation of God formed part of the original Tea of the world and of humanity, and was consequently a constituent and essential element of the highest mundane good ; or, whether its ground is to be supposed to have. been the con- tingent one, of sin—the TE “Utrum Christus venisset, si Adam non peccasset ? 26 During the earlier riod of its existence, the Church paid but little attention to this question.. It was, for the most part, satisfied with basing the necessity of the incarnation of Christ on the actual and evident need of a work of redemption. The ground thus assigned, however, was inadequate, in so far as Christ, the highest of all rational beings, in and by whom humanity is exalted to the throne of God, is represented as a mere means for others; whereas all other beings have the dignity of being ends to themselves, and ends for Him. - To the Person of Christ, in and by itself, therefore, no importance could be attached: His work, His merit, alone—that impersonal neutral thing —was of consequence. This view, logically carried - out, reduces Christ to the position of a mere act.of revelation on the » part of God—of a mere theophany, the ground for the con- tinuance of which necessarily ceased with the vanquishment of sin; and this drives us irresistibly on to Nihilianism. It is true, that even on this supposition God and His glorification may con- tinue to be an end to themselves; and that God is also in Christ.. But it is God in Christ, and God alone, that is this self-end: for the Logos dcapxos, the humanity of Christ is a mere means, as 1 To this connection belongs also Sent. L. iii. Dist. i. Q. i. Art. 3, where he remarks,—‘‘ The incarnation effected not merely the deliverance from sin, but also ‘‘ humane nature exaltatio et totius universi consum- matio.” Compare the beautiful passage in the Prologue to Sent. L, iii. init. 362 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. also for us; the humanity itself did not share with the Logos the privilege of being-an.end, nay more, of being an end_to itself, and a good possessed of an absolute intrinsic value. Yet this was but another mode of giving expression to the prevalent opinion, that the humanity of Christ was impersonal, a mere thing ;—with which opinion contrasted remarkably the equally prevalent custom of worshipping the entire Christ,—a custom which proved a corrective as regards piety, but not as regards theory. Such Docetism as this, kept its hold the more firmly in the Church, in proportion as the work of redemption, the necessity for which was supposed to have been the ground of the appearance of the Mediator, was conceived to consist merely in the communication of divine doctrine or in the exhibition of divine power,—that is, merely as the work of a Prophet or of a King. The organ employed to communicate true doctrine is an ‘unimportant and fortuitous thing ; the particular personality of the organ is scarcely brought into consideration in connection therewith; nor was a human personality at all more necessary to the exhibition of the redemptive power of God (in conflict with the devil or death). For such a purpose, indeed, it was scarcely requisite that the organ should bear the likeness of man. Not until the process of deliverance is conceived as a moral one, can significance be attached to the human personality as such, — even though it should be, in the first instance, merely the significance of a means. But in the moral sphere, a personality which lovingly constitutes itself a means, asserts or maintains for itself, by that very act, the dignity of an end;—means and end are then no longer divided. Towards the attainment.of this posi- tion a_great step was.taken..by.Anselm’s-“Gur-Deus- Homo?” That treatise represents, not indeed the doing of Christ, but yet His suffering, as a valuable moral possession and property of hu- manity, and as endued with atoning virtue. But, however readily @ the subsequent Scholastics recognised the necessity of the work of redemption, they advanced with equal decision in the direction of maintaining, that there was no necessity for Christ being the Saviour. God might have forgiven sin independently of Christ: in the freedom of God, was eternally involved the possibility of His forgiving sin independently of a Mediator. The appearance of Christ, therefore, must have been, in the last instance, con- tingent and almost unnecessary; although it was congruous \ UTRUM CHRISTUS VENISSET, ETC.? 369 (congrua) that man should thus be redeemed ;—an opinion glaringly in opposition to the views and feelings of the Chris- tian Church. Beyond this tendency to Nihilianism those had, it is true, advanced, who regarded Christ merely as. the ialicclndele: moral persnaalites and alieat exclusively as an end to Himself :—Such were all the Ebionite parties; such also were, especially,Pela- gius, and in more recent times, the Socinians... The example of Christ, to which they attached chief importance, presupposes the existence of a true human personality, which as such is also an end to itself. Those who took this turn, could not therefore grant that Christ ay appeared. solely on account. of sin, and that He was not of significance in Himself, independently of sin. On the contrary, Rei their Deism, iliey were inclined to teach that Christ is the man, who by his own ‘virtue gained for~-himself what a1 man can do. Lactantius, however, sounered the reli- gious with the moral view of Christ, and represented Him as the seical revelation of God, as the he viva. But the personality thus presented to _us is exclusively an end, and not also means : the importance of the work, therefore, is reduced to a mini- mum, and, relatively to the person, becomes almost as fortuitous, as, ence to the prevalent doctrine, the divine-human person was, relatively to the work. By the Church, the human aspect was curtailed; by the parties just referred to, the divine aspect was curtailed, and an unsatisfactory estimate, at the same time, formed even of the moral element. At anearly period, how- ever, the deeper thinking Fathers of the Church were stirred by a disposition to regard Christ, not merely as a means, but as.also an end to Himself; and especially to acknowleage f in the exalted 1 iii, 18, 7, v. 16, 2. The passage (cap. xiv. 1),—“ Si non haberet earo salvari, nequaquam verbum Dei caro factum esset,” is only apparently inconsistent therewith ; for the first words may signify, ‘‘If it had not been possible to restore humanity to its archetypal form, it would have lacked the capability of being assumed by the Logos.” But even sup- posing we must take them to refer to the necessity of the ‘ salvatio,” and not to its possibility, Irenzus may have understood the word oer, which he probably employed, also of the preservation and completion of human nature, which in Adam was still in an unsettled condition. 364 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. Those who held the incarnation to be at the same time the consummation of humanity, and not merely the consummation of revelation,—who further considered that in Christ more was gained for humanity than was lost in Adam,—had already, in effect, allowed the validity of the premises, from which may be deduced the necessity of the incarnation of God, as involved in the eternal idea of the world. So taught, not only Irenzens, but also_Tertullian and Athanasius.! Even Theodore of Mop- suestia, also, although his doctrine of the office and work of Christ bore a resemblance to that of Pelagius (in so far as both represent Him as an example, as the bringer of immortality, and as the deliverer from death, although not from sin), ad- vances onward to the speculative principle, that to the perfec- tion of the world, He was indispensable, who, being the cosmical image of God and the archetype, combines and reconciles ‘all antagonisms in Himself. When Pelagius maintained that the Person of Christ was without sin, the result was substantially to lower the dignity of Christ, and to loosen the connection between Him and the idea of humanity, his conception of which was an atomistic one. Theodore, on the contrary, starting from a similar point of view, goes on to represent the Person of Christ as the ornament and crown of the world, as the consum- matory realization of its idea; and in order to establish the distinctive eminence of the Person of Christ, he makes reference, although in an unsatisfactory manner, to the deed wrought by God. In exactly the same manner, starting from the opposite point,—to wit, from the idea of the consummation of the divine acts of revelation,—the afore-mentioned Fathers had arrived at. the conclusion, that this act of revelation involved, at the same time, the positing of the perfect man, of the true primal man, whom God had.in view.even when He created Adam. But when Pelagius and Theodore represented Christ as a good in Himself, and as an end to Himself, it was at the cost of His Mediatorship ; even as the Neo-Platonists taught a doctrine of the ‘Trinity which was disconnected from the work of re- demption. Those two teachers went even so far as to convert their Christology into a buttress of theories of the self-deliver- ance of man. That similar views should make their appearance in the Scotist school, was the more to be expected, as Scholas- * See above, Part I. pp. 579, 834 ff. of this work. UTRUM CHRISTUS VENISSET, ETC.? 365 ticism, for the most part, denied that the appearance of Christ was rendered necessary by sin; maintaining that God could have forgiven sin apart from the mediation of Christ. So long as God was held to be eternally reconciled with sin, or so long as man was considered capable of saving himself, it was of course impossible to deny to Christ alone the dignity of being an end to Himself; His appearance, on the contrary, must necessarily be attributed to some other cause than the existence of sin. For this reason, the Scotists were able to teach, that Christ was not a mere “bonum occasionatum,” existing for the sake of others, but lovely in Himself. The older Fathers whom we have mentioned, were influ- enced by quite different considerations. “They tried to combine the necessity for the appearance of Christ arising from sin, with that necessity which related to the perfection of the world« Such was specially the effort of Gregory the Great, with whom the passage quoted above (p. 395), in connection with Richard de St Victor, is said to have originated. Augustine, indeed, says also,—“ Si homo non peccasset, filius Dei non esset incarnatus” (de Trin. xiii. 10): he taught, too, that the necessity for the appearance of Christ on account of sin, consisted in its appro- priateness and fitness to the end in view. But though he did not conceive Christ to be absolutely necessary as_a means of redemption, he held Him to be necessary as a means of perfec- tion ; and represents Him as essentially allied with humanity. During the Middle Ages, Peter Abelard, Alexander of Hales, and Albert the Great,? left it uncertain. whether sin * August. de peccato mortali, c. 26, 27. Though even in his system, humanity occupies but a precarious accidental position, inasmuch as the sole reason urged for the creation of men, is that they might fill up the gap caused in the heavenly world by the fall of some of the angels. Compare Ambrosius, de Incarn. Domini iv. 6; Gregorii M. Moralia, iii. 11; John Damase. de fide orth. iii. 18. 2 Compare Quenstedt’s System. Theol. P. iii. p- 110. Albert the Great says, in his Sentent. T. iii. Dist. 20, Art. 4, after having adduced in detail the arguments pro and contra, that it is more probable that Christ would have come, even independently of sin. Didacus Stella, in his Enarrat. in Lue. T. ii. 1593, remarks on Luke xv. (p. 131), that redemption was the principal motive of the incarnation. ‘ Nisi Adam peccasset, quanquam Christus ad extollendam humanitatem illamque premio preedestinationis geterne beandam nihilominus erat venturus, et ut operibus nostris vigorem daret, tamen in carne passibili non descenderet, etc.” 366 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. rendered the appearance of Christ necessary, and were satisfied when they had shown His coming to be appropriate in relation to sin; but. they, at the same time, asserted the more distinctly, that_His appearance was necessary apart.from sin. On the other hand, Ruprecht of Deutz connected. both reasons, by teaching, that when God predestined the manifestation of Christ, sin also was included in His eternal counsel, in so far as it was fitted to become an instrument for the revelation of the Divine love. At all events, he considers it to have been fitting that the first Adam should not possess sufficient power in him- self, in order that opportunity might be afforded for the most complete revelation of the love of God,—which was only pos- sible in conflict with sin. He regards the Person of Christ as the absolute goal of the-world, to which everything else, even sin itself, was made subservient. There is a certain resem- blance_ between this view and the doctrine of the later. Calvinists, who, although their system of thought had a _supra-lapsarian character, did not therefore regard sin as the sole ground of the necessity of a God-man (herein differing from most Cal- vinists); but, on the contrary, held sin also to have been, for the sake of Christ, included in the Divine counsel ;—or rather, to put the case more exactly, they conceived both the appearance of Christ and the existence of sin to have been willed simulta- neously, as mutually conditioning each other—neither without the other, and each for the sake of the other. They did not con- sider the full significance of Christ to have been expressed, when we designate Him “Redeemer,” although to redeem was the primary purpose of His coming; but even after the accomplish- ment of the work of redemption, Christ. continues to be essen- tial and necessary to the world of the chosen, who are His body." Richard de.St-Victor, on the contrary, held that the exist- * Compare Quenstedt’s ‘‘ Systema Theol.” Pars. iii. cap. ill. Membr. i. Q..1,.p: 108. So says Bucanus in his ‘‘ Instit. Theol.” Art. x. Q. 3,—Even supposing man had continued in his original righteousness, he would still have needed this Mediator, “non ut reconciliaretur Deo et sanaretur a pec- cato—sed per quem retineretur in gratia Dei et preservaretur a peccato.” Similar also, according to Quenstedt, was the opinion of Zanchius, in: his Hexaémer. Pars iii: L. 3, ¢. 2. Polanus’ * Syntagma,” L. vi. cap: 27. Kven Calvin himself (see his “‘ Instit.” L. ii. xii. 4) adopts the usual view, only so far as supra-lapsarian principles make clearer the necessity which existed for a God-man, that is, because of sin. a UTRUM CHRISTUS VENISSET, ETC.? 367 ence of sin was not a necessity, but a contingency; and that the appearance of ‘Christ was necessary on account..of sin, which was contingent. At the same time, however, he believed that Christ would have come independently of sin, because.Christ appeared to him to realize the absolute harmony of.the-world,— the perfect, eternal idea of the world,—in such a manner that we need no longer regret the ncitcntn of sin, seeing that sin rather served to bring Christ into a more inward and blessed connection with us. Christ is the Head of humanity ; and (Ruprecht, in particular, subjoins), so far from sin being the sole condition of the possibility, or the sole reason of the ne- cessity, thereof,—a reconciliation of man would have been im- possible, had not the human nature which He assumed, been from the beginning created with a view to Him. This idea was especially advocated by Johann Wessel (sec. 15). Even if Adam had not sinned, the Son of God, he thinks, would have appeared (Note 61). God must needs Tene man, in order that the holy and honourable body, to wit, the entire commu- nity of the triumphant blessed, might not be mutilated, but might rejoice in the possession ie its proper and lawful Head : in other words, that it might become the temple of the cor- ner-stone, on which the two walls—angels and men—should unitedly and securely rest. About the same time, the argu- ments in favour of the view, that God would have become man quite independently of sin, were collected in the work entitled, “ Roberti Caracoli de Licio de laudibus Sanctorum (Sermo iii. ).? published at. Venice, a.p. 1489 :—the author was a. Francis- can monk. ‘These arguments are drawn from the idea of the universe ; from the dignity and blessedness of man, and his des- tination for God; from the idea of God, specially of His might, wisdom, and love ; and, finally, from the dignity and inner excellence of the Teeter of Christ. The incarnation of God namely, served primarily to perfect man, and mediately to perfect the universe, because through it the human race at- tained “ Completio,” both as touching its nature, and as touch- ing grace and glory :—the former, because the completeness of the world required that man should. take his rise in the w ay in * “De causis incarnationis,” L. ii.; compare Ullmann’s “‘ Johann Wessel,” 1834, p. 254. Appeal was particularly made to Col. i. 18; Rom. vill. 29; Heb. ii. 10; Gen. i. 26; Prov. viii. 22. sty a A 368 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. which Christ took His rise; everything actually possible must attain an actual existence : the latter, because the state of grace reauires thatthe Church.haye_its.Head, whether.sin.exist_or not; and because the full realization of blessedness depended in any case on the incarnation, apart altogether from the existence of sin. In no other way was it possible for man to find true inward and outward joy. The incipient fitness, the “capacitas,” of human nature—a “capacitas” by which it is distinguished from angelic natures—for personal union with God, would have remained useless, but for the incarnation. But no oift could have been conferred on human nature without some pur- pose.—Then, further, as regards God,—By_ the act of incar- nation He manifested. His power, wisdom, and goodness. Such a manifestation pertained’ to the very idea of God, and had nothing to do with the falling or standing of man. The in- carnation exalts human nature (above the Adamitic nature) ; now, if this exaltation had not already been predetermined, it would appear as though man had derived a blessing from His sin,—which, considered in relation to God, would be unrighteous. — Thirdly, as regards the Person. of Christ,—It is as difficult to merit and earn the infinite good for ourselves, as it is to offer satisfaction for an insult of Him who is the infinite good. If man was incapable of doing the latter, he was also incapable of doing the former. It_was,. therefore, quite~as fitting, eyen on the supposition that man had remained good, that Christ should appear, in order that. through Him the infinite good might be earned; as it was fitting that He should come to make atone- ment, when man-had sinned. As a last reason, mention is inade of the dignity of the human soul of Christ. If the in- carnation occurred “ principaliter,” for the sake of the atone- ment, the soul of Christ was not willed as an end in itself, but merely, as it were, incidentally (that is, the last of all, as a means for the deliverance of the rest) :—but it is plainly in- appropriate that the noblest of all creatures should have come into existence merely “ occasionaliter.” ! * The author himself does not pronounce judgment, because nothing is revealed concerning the matter. Similarly also, at a later period, Bellar- mine (“De Christo,” L. v. c. 10) remarks,—‘ If Adam had not fallen, Christ would probably not have appeared in the flesh.” So also Gregor. de Valentia. Petavius, on the contrary, translated the “ probably not” UTRUM CHRISTUS VENISSET, ETO ? 369 Most of the disciples.of Thomas.Aquinas.opposed.this.view, as even Bonaventura had already done.! Thomas himself, however (as we have previously shown), approximated some- what to the idea of the incarnation of God, as essentially ne- cessary to the realization of the eternal archetype of humanity. It pertains to the omnipotence of the divine nature, says he, that it should perfect its works, and reveal itself in an infinite effect ; but a mere creature cannot be termed an infinite effect, inasmuch as it is essentially finite. Now, this demand for an infinite operation or effect, seems to be met by the incarnation ; for it united things which were separated from each other by an infinite distance. The universe also appears to attain com- pletion by this work, in that the last creature, man, is thus united with God, the Beginning of all things. This idea would seem to imply that the incarnation of God would have taken place even if there had been no sin. But although he felt somewhat inclined to affirm this conclusion,® he was prevented, partly by the absence of scriptural proofs in its favour, and partly by passages of an opposite tendency in some of the Fathers, as, for example, in Augustine. Finally, therefore, he contents himself with saying, that it.is more probable that Christ would not have become man if there had been no sin. His followers, with few exceptions, turned his probability into a_direct, negation. | of Bellarmine, into a “certainly not:” and his example was followed by most of our old Church writers on Dogmatics, as, for example, Wigand, Calov, Gerhard, Dorscheus, Scherzer, Quenstedt ; compare the latter 1. c. p- 110 ff. 116. * In the main, Suarez alone (T. i. in tert. Part. Thome, disp. 5, sec. 2) inclined towards Duns Scotus, and endeavours at the same time to remain true to Thomas. Bonaventura and others also took the part of the op- ponents of this view. ? Summa, Pars iii. Q. i. Art. iii.: ‘‘ Ad omnipotentiam divine nature pertinet, ut opera sua perficiat, et se manifestet per aliquem infinitum effectum : sed nulla pura creatura potest dici infinitus effectus, cum sit finita per suam essentiam.” : ° He evinces this inclination more strongly in his commentary on Sent. ii. Dist. i, Q. i. Art. iii. than in the passage just quoted from the Summa. In the latter he says,—alii contrarium asserunt quorum assertioni magis assentiendum videtur, though it is certain that God alone can decide it. Piso VOret 2A 370 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. CHAPTER THIRD. ScHOLASTICISM having attained its maturity in Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus, we find it exhibiting many and various signs of decay, from the very commencement of the fourteenth cen- tury onwards. These signs of decay occur especially in con- nection with Christology,—a subject on which Scholasticism, strictly so termed, put forth very little creative power, during its entire existence. The feeling, that the formal mode of discussion hitherto pursued in connection with Christology must now be dropt, and new ground be broken, stirred most vigorously, and with the greatest result, in the German mystical thinkers. German Mysticism put forth its greatest strength during the fourteenth and part of the fifteenth centuries; but, as it was internally con- nected rather with the epoch of the Reformation than with that which has just passed under review, its history in relation to Christology must form an introduction to the next part of this work. Let us now, however, dwell a moment longer on the further course of Scholasticism itself. The philosophy of the Church, which, until the fourteenth century, was under the dominance of realistic principles, served the purpose of giving form and fixity to its dogmas. No one, indeed, supposed that the natural reason could furnish the proper justification of these dogmas ;— theology alone, that is, the divine authority of the Church, was their true foundation: but still, the natural knowledge of God and the world was regarded as a kind of school for the domain of faith and theology. Nor, in the view of the Church, could any real contradiction exist between natural knowledge and faith, inasmuch as both lead us back to one and the same God. We have previously shown (p. 278 ff.) what an important part the idea of God, formed by the human mind in the light of nature, played in the scholastic treatment of dogmas. 1? Compare Baumgarten-Crusius’ “ Compend. der Dogmengeschichte,” 1840, p. 269 ff.; Baur l.c. Bd. 2866 ff.; H.’ Ritter’s ‘‘ Geschichte der christl. Philosophie,” Bd. 4, Buch xiii. ;. Rettberg’s Essay, ‘‘ Occam und Luther, u. s. W.,” in the ‘‘ Theol. Studien und Kritiken,” 1839. DECAY OF SCHOLASTICISM. 371 _ From the fourteenth century onwards, however, the league between natural and theological knowledge was dissolved.!. This was an inevitable result of the representation given by the Thomists and Scotists of the relation between nature and grace : —each, namely, was supposed to exclude the other. In taking this view of nature and grace, the Thomists were influenced rather by religious considerations, evincing an inclination to Pantheism in conjunction with their Predestinatianism; the Scotists followed a moral tendency. Logically carried out, the principles of the former admitted merely the semblance of a world, side by side with God: the latter asserted for the indi- vidual or subject, a separate, independent existence. A conse- quence._ofthe.dissolutionof the alliance-just-referred-to, was the revival of Nominalism, which, like the process of dissolution itself, was capable of assuming two different forms—one more Thomistic, the other more Scotistic, in character. ~The Thomistic Nominalism. owed its rise to the conviction, that if objective validity and truth —validity and truth, therefore, as applied to theology—were conceded to the results arrived at by the natural reason, in reference to the general ideas and laws of nature, the dignity of the articles of faith, which lie out be- yond nature, would be lowered. Its adherents deemed it neces- sary, for the honour of theology and faith, to throw doubt on the utility of ideas originating with the natural intellectual faculties of man, -to~deny to them objective reality, and to concede to them merely : subjective importance.” But the very ground on which theological knowledge rested, was thus taken away; and as a consequence, the only relation in which it was possible for the spirit now to stand to dogmas, was one of volition. Faith, which cannot be produced by cogency of reasoning, is, say they, the highest virtue—the more meritorious, the greater the difficulties which it has to overcome: nor is it right that the truth of the faith should be confirmed by any supernatural light; for then, to believe, would be no merit. On the con- trary, we should therefore deem it by no means impossible for faith to contradict reason; and precisely because faith thus * Ritter a. a. O. p. 547 fi. 2 So by Durandus de 8S. Portiano (he died in 1330), in his commen- tary on the Sentences of Peter Lombard. Compare Ritter a. a. U. pp. 650-534. | 372 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. becomes more. difficult and more meritorious. The divine has its own peculiar, incomparable laws. The divine world was conceived to be a sphere so completely different, as to stand in no connection whatever with the knowledge acquired in the present sphere. And as no sort of reality. belongs to generic ideas, the only knowledge possible to man here, is that which is based on the perceptions of the senses. Now, as there exists no such intuitional sensational perception of divine things as there exists of outward things, no knowledge of divine things can consequently be attained in the present world. fe Of God’s inner essence, man possesses no knowledge at all, not even through faith : for creation, being diverse in kind from God, does not reveal the Divine essence. The only thing re- vealed to faith, is relations of God to us: and these relations are grounded entirely in His will, for which no other reason can be assigned, save that such is the Divine will. This scepticism with regard to the sphere of knowledge, and this disparagement of philosophy, were intended to further the adoption of a purely practical relation to matters of faith: the aim was to represent everything lying outside of the domain of faith as worthless, and the powers of thought were exercised for the sole purpose of demonstrating their own incapacity to deal with higher things. At an earlier period, the cataphatic or affirmative theology had been combined with the apophatic or negative theology ; but the latter now again gains the upper hand. Truth is held to lie alone in the absolutely supernatural kingdom of grace, with which man can only have a connection of obedience. That Kingdom is approachable solely by a faith without knowledge, that is, by a blind faith, such as is obj ectively attested by. the Holy Scriptures and the Church. Thus, this form of Nomi- nalism ended in questioning the possibility of any science at all, even of a theological science. Intending to exalt Christian grace, Nominalists removed it out of the reach of the human spirit ; the light which they aimed to diffuse was extinguished ; and there remained behind merely the twilight of the authority of the Church, in which it was impossible to attain a clear knowledge of the real nature of that which faith was bidden to grasp. Theology had apparently gained the victory over philosophy, and asserted for itself the absolute and sole posses- sion of spiritual truth. But by this means, not merely was the THOMISTIC NOMINALISM. 373 entire world alienated from God, and reduced to a mere shadow,} but theology also, so far as it claims to be a science, had dug its own grave. Positive phenomena and facts alone are recog- nised: there exists no active faculty of knowledge, but merely & passive one: and the sole duty of faith is to ask what the Divine omnipotence has done,——it can neither demonstrate the necessity of that which God does, nor show that it was fitting that He should act as He did, and not otherwise.? Somewhat later, but on that account the more vigorous, was the development of Sceptical Nominalism in_the school..of..the Scotists. The system of Duns Scotus himself plainly enough contained the seeds of this after-growth ; for, if the “absolutum hberum arbitrium” is the highest in God, it must be impossible strictly to know anything as necessary, unless it be the sovereign arbitrariness of God. To know that, is to know that nothing has truth and reality, except.so far as God, or the “liberum arbitrium” of God, has willed it to possess truth and reality: all knowledge, therefore, is, in one aspect, purely. hypothetical ; in another aspect, essentially empirical. Duns Scotus himself, however, endeavoured to escape from these consequences, and to preserve for man, even for man’s knowledge, a real and true relation to the infinite:—an endeavour which was quite in agreement with the importance attached by him to subjec- tivity and freedom. His disciple Occam (who died a.p. 1347 ) taught a form of N ominalism which took, and proceeded to apply, in all Seriousness, the entire separation drawn, theoreti- cally,_between philosophy and theology, and practically, between the worldly and the spiritual. One principle possessed and 1 The same conclusion was arrived at by the strict Thomistic Predesti- narians : see Thomas de Bradwardine’s (he died a.p. 1849) “ De causa Dei et veritate causarum.” Further, Joh. de Mercuria and others. Compare Baumgarten-Crusius, ‘ Comp. der Dogmengeschichte,” 1. ¢. pi20%: * Out of special deference to the incarnation, however, Durand distin- guishes between the absolute and the ordinated (ordinata) will of God. As touching His absolute power, He might have assumed even an irrational nature ; as touching His ordinated power, it would have been unfitting to assume an irrational nature: for in this connection the main point for consideration, is the purpose of the incarnation. That purpose was the healing of the creature: and human nature*alone needed and was capable thereof. In Sent. iii. Dist. ii. Q. i. In this case, consequently, he turned his back on his Nominalism, for the sake of Christology. Compare Ritter IPGL DOO 374 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. animated this powerful thinker in his efforts to defend the rights of the State against the hierarchy, and strictly to exclude all knowledge, pretending to the character of demonstration, from the sphere of faith :—he desired to establish peace between the two powers of philosophy and theology, of the State and the Church, by clearly discriminating and defining their re- spective domains. To the Church and its theology pertains entirely the spiritual; reason has no warrant for occupying itself with matters of faith, or, indeed, with divine things at all. Let it affirm what it will, the opposite thereof may be, in reality, equally true. (Note 62.) Such is the case with proofs of the existence, of the unity and of the attributes, of God:—much more is it the case with the mysterious doctrines of revelation. In relation to these things, all we can do is to believe,—that is, to bow to the authority of. the Church, whose articles may “be logically..developed, but cannot be rationally demonstrated. On the other hand, the Church also must, to be consistent, evince its contempt for worldly powers, possessions, sciences, in comparison with its own spiritual riches, by not meddling at all with temporal things, especially with the State. He, further (and, as it seems, not without a certain degree of roguery), designedly draws logical zonclusions from the dogmas of the Church, which run out into absurdities, and end in bare con- tradictions ;—he accordingly pronounces theology and the Church to have no connection whatever with science, and represents their domain as one in which nothing is of impor- tance but faith, in which contradictions, so far from awakening scruples and doubts, should only awaken a feeling of exultation that it is exalted above all human and rational thought. His scepticism with regard to the possibility of scientific knowledge, extended not merely to divine things, but quite as much to philosophy itself, so far as it aimed at being anything more than logic. Not only does he deny, with Durando, the law of causality, and the possibility of knowing the essence of the cause from the effect, but, carrying Durand’s principles much further, affirms that there is a complete contrariety between our conception of being (conceptus) and being itself. Being can be attributed alone to particular individual things, outside of the soul,—they alone are substances: with them “scientia realis” has to occupy itself; for “ Universalia” have no existence, but SCOTISTIC NOMINALISM. 375 merely individual things. But, whereas single, individual things are substances, conceptions or thoughts are merely accidents of the substance of the soul; and the accidents are under no necessity of resembling the substance of the soul, still less of resembling the substances outside of the soul. At the very utmost, thoughts are signs’ or tokens of external things, that 1 Is, for the soul itself ; and words, as the signs of thoughts, are in reality mere signs of signs. Our general conceptions are simply and solely abstractions from those thoughts, which are the signs of particular things, —that is, they are abstracted from single representations. These abstractions, however, are “fic- tiones,’—thoughts without reality, if not mere indeterminate chaotic representations of separate individual things. The positive science, which he postulates, is consequently not a knowledge of things in themselves: the only knowledge he retains, is a kind of calculation carried on with the general ideas which form themselves naturally and passively, though not arbitrarily, in the soul; and all he professes to do, is to bring these general notions into unison, and connect them with each other, as constituting a distinct world of their own. In his view, therefore, science is nothing more than the ‘perception and com- bination, or discrimination, of inner processes; and the judg- ments arrived at, are at all events subjectively accurate, and valid for the sphere of the subjective. The same principles are applied also to the domain of the supersensual. Our knowledge of the_supersensual, is simply _a knowledge of our own inner states and experiences. ‘This knowledge is its own evidence, and does” ‘not presuppose the existence of something else to which it owes its character of knowledge; for, on the contrary, in order to the certain knowledge of all other things, we need to have such a self-evidencing, or (as he also says) intuitive knowledge of the intelligible. This knowledge of our inner experience (or of our inner intuitions), is consequently a match for all the doubts of the Academicians, and constitutes the most trustworthy knowledge possible to man; as even Augustine hinted (de Trin. xv. 1).! These latter traits set before us the distinguishing cha- racteristic of the Scotistic Nominalism. Returning to the nega- * Compare on this entire subject, H. Ritter 1. c. pp. 574-604. Occam in Sentent. Prol. Q. i. KK. 376 SECOND PERIOD. FIRST EPOCH. tive theology of the Pseudo-Areopagite, the Thomistic Nomi- nalistsarrived—at.the-conelusion, that the human mind must submit itself absolutely to the faith of the Church : the Scotistic Nominalists, on the contrary, were powerfully stirred by the conviction, that the world possessed_a reality and weight of its own, independent. of the spiritual kingdom ;1 nay more, the principles last brought under notice, evince the presence of .an energetic subjectivity, struggling to build for itself an intel lectual world out of its own inner, sensuous, and intelligible experiences (conceived to be passively acquired),—a world in which the spirit could feel itself at home, as in that which is in the highest degree worthy of confidence. We should not omit to remark, that Occam thus opened the door for the Mysticism which flourished during this century, and which was the fruit of the inner development of .Scholasticism itself. He did not himself pursue the path which he prepared for others: nay more, he was probably not aware of having furnished, from the scholastic point of view, the full authorization to a mystical Nominalism, like that taught by Gerson.? Occam himself was far too much a man of the world to be able to realize such col- lectedness and calmness of mind, as would have admitted of his developing that inner world even philosophically, much less religiously. But when he says, that such propositions as, —I cognise ; I know that I live; I know that it is my purpose to be blessed and not to err,—cannot be called in question, and must be regarded as more certain than the truths which:are attested: by the external senses, he in effect lays down the principle which was further developed in the next century by Nicholas de Cusa, and in the seventeenth century by Des Cartes. The same tendency is also traceable in the fundamental principle of the system of the Realist, Raymond de Sabonde,—that self-know- ledge is the basis of all knowledge. f The account just given, attests clearly enough the decay of Scholasticism subsequently to the fourteenth century, and shows that it had grown weary of the struggle after systematic science, especially of the struggle to present a connected view of the *. The natural sciences also, which now began to bud into existence, and the awakening feeling of independence in states and nations, contributed their part to giving matters this turn, * Gerson died a.p. 1429. DECAY OF SCHOLASTICISM. oud doctrine of the Person of Christ. Instead_of inquiring into paoneumetre Christology, they wasted their energies on the discussion of isolated questions, arbitrarily suggested, which they designated by the very characteristic name.of .“¢ Quotlibeta.” Oier signs of this decay are discernible in connection with the eclecticism of realistic, nominalistic, and mystical principles, which attained to ever greater prevalence, subsequently to the fifteenth cen- tury; and which was shortly after associated with that enthusiasm for Plato, Aristotle (see above, p 304), Pythagoras, and even for the Cabbala, which had just been newly enkindled amongst the Italians and Greeks. The mind of the Western nations, dissatisfied with what it possessed, turned its eyes in all direc- tions, inquiring whence it could again draw the spiritual certainty and joy which it had now lost. The German mind, in particular, became the theatre on which the entire past in- tellectual history of man was reproduced, with the design of preparmg the way for the great work, destined soon to be - accomplished.* The Reformation, however, owed its rise, not to this eclecticism, not to the forces now in process of. decomposi- tion ; but to a new outpouring. of the Holy. Spirit. Its way was immediately and. positively prepared in history by men who called the mind away from Scholasticism and the doctrines of the Church, to the word of God, to earnest practical piety, and to a holy conversation ;+ and who further, by means of their knowledge of sin, learnt to appreciate the high destiny of humanity. They also unconsciously furthered the same end, who, quietly retiring into themselves, made it their sole en- deavour to attain to a life which, being full of God, should be true blessedness, true sanctity, and true wisdom. The con- junction of that biblical, practical, with this mystical, tendency, was the living seed, whose ripened fruit was the Reformation. * See Note P, App. II. 1 Amongst these may be mentioned such men as Gerson ; Peter d’Ailly ; Nicol de Clemenges, who died in 1440; Johann Wessel, who died in 1488; Jerome Savonarola, who died in 1498. ASP PEON Dil Xs of, NOTES. Norte 1, page 26. We need only mention the investigations recently instituted into the Ignatian Epistles, to which occasion was given by Cureton’s discovery of the Syriac Recension, which is the shortest that has hitherto come to light :—specially the labours of Bunsen, Ritschl, and Weiss, on the one hand, and of Baur and Uhlhorn on the other. Much new light is also thrown on the intellectual movements in the Syrian Church during the first centuries, by the recently discovered work, edited by Miller of Oxford under the false title of "Qpuyévous dirocodotpeva. To this treasure, which dates from the commencement of the third century, Bunsen directs attention in his “ Hippolytus und seine Zeit” (see vol. i. of German edition), and justly praises it as of great importance, relatively to both criticism and history.—The correctness of the historical and critical point of view from which the subject of Christology was considered in the first volume of this work, has received ample confirmation from this unexpected discovery. Specially, confirmation has been brought of the im- portant thesis, that, in the ancient Christian Church, an Ebi- onitic Christology was never dominant ; although it is undeniable that a doctrine of the deity of Christ, unconnected with the doc- trine of the Trinity, existed for a long time, and was widely dif- fused ;—that is, there existed a species of Monarchianism, which at first bore a resemblance to Patripassianism, and then gra- dually inclined to Sabellianism (Sec. 3), after it had become plain, in the second century, that the Logos-doctrine, in its de- 380 APPENDIX I. velopment, was unable to offer any lasting resistance thereto.— We may still expect further disclosures in respect to the Syrian Church, if success do but attend the efforts which are being made to reconstruct the history of the ecclesiastical constitution of Syria; materials for which are afforded partly by the An- tiocheian text of the “ Apostolic Constitutions,” and partly by the treasures of ancient Syriac literature contained in the Bri- tish Museum. New light may be expected to be thus thrown also on the Pseudo-Clementines, Compare Bunsen’s Hippoly- tus, vol. i, 418 ff. (German edition); Bickell’s “ Geschichte des Kirchenrechts,” 1843, pp- 63, 185 f., 215 ff. Norte 2, page 29. As might be expected from this its tendency, which was stimulated to activity and set into ferment, in innumerable ways, by the religious doctrines and the spirit of the neighbouring peoples, the Church of Eastern Syria manifested a special pro- ductivity in connection with hymnology, liturgies, and the con- struction of rittis and constitutions, for the Church. No wonder, therefore, that the Ignatian Kpistles, with whose spirit Ephraem, In particular, was as it were baptized, should have taken spe- cially strong hold on these districts, and, through the medium of an early translation, have there found a second home. The intercourse between the two parts of Syria (as also between the whole of Syria and Egypt) was in other respects also, lively. In both divisions of Syria, the Greek language and literature were current. Nore 3, page 30. It is deserving of notice, that the anthropology of Apolli- naris, which formed also the basis of his Christology, is substan- tially identical with that of James of Nisibis (compare Jacobi Nisib. vi., Sermo de Devotis, § xiti.; Galland. Bibl., T. v. pp. xlix. 1.). The first generation confers merely the “ spiritus animalis, qui confirmatur in ventre,’’—hence the mortality of man: holy baptism bestows the spirit, which is from the Deity Himself,—that spirit which constitutes the true per- sonality of man, and which, at the proper time, will aid in the resurrection of the body. (See above, i. pp. 992 ff.) The tri- chotomy of Apollinaris cannot be satisfactorily referred back to NOTES. ) 381 Plato. In the Platonic trichotomy Apollinaris could not have found zvedpwa or vods in the Christian sense, that is, in the sense in which those terms are applied, not merely to Christ, but also to Christians, in whom is realized the true idea of the divine image and likeness. It would appear, however, that James of Nisibis did not advance to the point of giving his doctrine a Christological application ; otherwise he would have proceeded to a more distinct denial of the existence of a human soul in Christ, as we have found to be the case with Patripassianism and Sabellianism. Nore 4, page 30. It is still more interesting to look back from the Audianites to earlier parties. From of old, patripassian representations had found a home in Mesopotamia: the Minzeans had directed their steps especially thither. (Vol. i. 305.) Even Mani- cheism, which was diffused from the neighbouring country, Persia, designated the good principle “ patibile.”’” The Audian- ites are often represented as occupying the same platform with the Manicheans. Theodoret informs us that they did not con- sider fire, water, and darkness to have been included in the divine work of creation; but this in itself is not enough to show that they held an absolute dualism. Baumgarten-Cru- sius, in his “ Compendium der Dogmengeschichte” (1840, p. 117), maintains that the sect bears the stamp of a Judaizing _theosophy, with which dualistic elements are frequently found connected. Their asceticism and their usages also have a Ju- daistic character :—for example, they clung firmly to the Jew- ish festival of Passover. Neander (see his “ Church History”), who also regards them as Judaistic in tone, reminds us that fire is similarly spoken of in the Pseudo-Clementines : it is described, namely, as the element of evil. That there was a very strong Judaizing tendency in Eastern Syria, is further clear from the character of the sects which, in all probability, took their rise in those districts :—for example, the Hypsistarians (whose system Ullmann considers to have been a mixture of Judaism and Par- sism) ; the Abelonii (from Eljon) and the Coelicolee, mentioned by Augustine ; the Euphemite and OcoceBeis, mentioned by Epiphanius and Cyrill of Alexandria. On the basis of these data, the following may be taken as the probable internal and 389 APPENDIX L external connections of the matter. Even as early as the time of Christ, Judaism was very powerful in Adiabene, and indeed in Mesopotamia generally, and must have extraordinarily facili- tated the speedy spread of Christianity in those parts (compare 1 Pet. v.13). At the same time, however, owing to this cireum- stance, the Christianity of Eastern Syria must have had a Ju- daistic colouring for a considerable period; and that, although the Gospel was probably first proclaimed by preachers from An- tioch. This must have been still more the case after intercourse had been broken off with Antioch, or after the clergy had begun to resort to Jerusalem for ordination. Further, what can be more likely, than that after the destruction of Jerusalem, under Hadrian, many Jewish Christians from Palestine would settle down in these same districts, and bring with them the ideas and pretensions they had previously cherished? More at home they could scarcely feel themselves anywhere, than in the land whose inhabitants (according to the traditions of the North) consisted for the most part of Jews of the kingdom of the Ten Tribes. Add to this, that, in the south of Mesopotamia, there were flourishing Jewish colonies, and that the feeling for a hierarchi- cal constitution, and for the elaboration of the cultus, had early worked. It is possible that the Christians of East Syria were acting under the influence of the Pseudo-Clementine literature or thoughts, when, about the middle of the second century, they constituted themselves into an independent National Church (Assem. ili. 2, 612), with an archbishop at its head, the seat of whose see was Seleucia.—But both the Judaism and the Chris- tianity of astern Syria were particularly in danger of under- going disintegration, partly from ‘their action upon each other, and partly from the action upon them of the religious systems prevailing in those districts, which were for the most part some- what characterized by dualistic and emanatistic elements. Whilst these circumstances rendered an hierarchy the more necessary, they also put it out of the power of any hierarchy to prevent a multitude of sects breaking loose from its authority. All the above-mentioned sects bear a certain family likeness to each other. The older ones—as, for example, the Melchisedekians, the Audianites, and the Messalians—combined Judaistical elements, both of a doctrinal and practical nature, with dualistic, after the manner of the Clementines. The remaining sects went back to NOTES. 383 a primal revelation; designated Adam, Melchisedek, Moses, Christ, and others, prophets of the Most High God (having in this respect some affinity with the Clementines and the Mel- chisedekians); and thus developed a kind of religious syncretism, on a groundwork which was gradually more and more purged of dualistic elements. So the Hypsistarians (a name derived from Oeds thyvctos, jhey 2’, Gen. xiv. 18), who regarded fire and light as an emanation of the good principle, and kept the Sab- bath (Jewish) ; and the Cceelicolee and @coceBeis of the fourth and the fifth centuries. That such sects, existing near the con- fines of Arabia in the fifth century, must have prepared the way for Muhammedanism, with its syncretistic doctrine of a primal revelation, and its acknowledgment of a diversity of prophets, needs no more detailed elucidation. Side by side with these sects, however, there existed in East Syria a powerful and flourishing Church, especially in the fourth century. Although the above-mentioned parties did not fail to act upon this Church, it developed a very distinct character of its own, and through its peculiar character, subsequently to the second half of the fourth century, exercised considerable influence, first over the West Syrian, and afterwards over other portions of the Christian Church. The vehicle of this influence was, in particular, the monastic system and mode of life, which had struck firm roots in Hastern Syria, and diffused itself from thence ever more widely through Western Syria; and the adherents of which devoted their attention very largely to scientific questions. It would probably repay the labour, to renew the inquiry into the origin of the Pseudo-Clementines, on the basis of the data just furnished. Note 5, page 32. How far does Theodore advance in this respect beyond Origen, with whom (as with the anthropological views of the Clementines) he has, in other matters, as much affinity! For if man is higher than pure spirits, the supposition is inevitable, that matter confers upon spirit a further advantage, of which it would be otherwise destitute. The controversy with Dualism and Manicheism, carried on with such zeal by the school of . Antioch, must unquestionably have contributed materially to this result. Diodorus (see Phot. Cod. 83) had written twenty- 384 APPENDIX I. five books against the Manicheans ; so also against the efwap- uévn; in which connection he discussed both the Dualists and Bardesanes (Cod. 223). Theodore wrote against the Magism of Persia (Cod. 81) ; and, at the same time, gave an exposition of the doctrine of Zoroaster, opposing to it the cosmogony of Moses. It was in the course of this struggle that the Antiocheian teachers were driven to emphasize so strongly the unity of the world, and to the rejection of the Origenistic doctrine of matter. This point also determined Theodore’s relation to Augustinianism, with which he was acquainted solely through Hieronymus Aram (Phot. Cod. 177). Nore 6, page 34. The descendants of Adam sin, not dice but youn (see Phot. Cod. 177, p 121, and my Dissertation, pp. 19 ff.). They still possess freedom, and the knowledge of good and evil (p. 14, Note 17). But the tie between body and soul, which in Adam, though dissoluble, did still really exist, was loosened, and almost completely broken, when they entered on their posses- sion. And the result of this independence of the mortal body, with its desires and its mutability, has been, that the freedom of all alike is exposed to assaults and temptations. Even at this point, Theodore diverges from Pelagius, and allows the existence of an inherited defect in the descendants of Adam, although he acknowledges no sin, save where a free act has really been performed. He further appears to resemble Pelagius in teaching, that Adam was subjected to the necessity of dying ; though here again there is the difference, that he traces the necessity of death, to which Adam was subjected from the moment of creation, to the Divine foreknowledge of the fall. Because God foreknew man’s career, He did what He otherwise would not have done, to wit, He created man necessarily mor- tal. Death would in any case, he thinks, have been introduced by sin. Adam is, it is true, thus put on an equality with us; and that not merely in reference to death, but strictly also in reference to sin. If Adam were created with the link connect- ing body and soul already broken, then that antagonism and indestructible enmity between body and soul, on which he in other respects lays such great stress, must have clung to Adam | from the very commencement, and creation itself must have, NOTES. 385 empirically, necessarily co-operated in the origination of sin :— a view which would smack of supralapsarianism. This, how- ever, he did not intend to teach; but he knew no other way of avoiding the conclusion, than by denying that the historical causalities took a natural and normal course, and by treating them docetically: he says, therefore,—It was not the innate actual mortality of Adam that produced his fall, but the free- dom with which he was endowed. In like manner, on the other hand, he represents God and His creative act as the real cause of death, and consequently denies actual sin to be the veritable cause of death. That such a view reduces guilt and the real causality of sin to a mere seeming, is evident. On this point, Theodore approximated to the doctrine of an intel- igible freedom, which pursues its own course, whilst the real corporeal world is, from the very commencement, bound as by an iron necessity, by the firm chain of cause and effect. (The Preo- existentianism of Origen is not to be found in his system.) We shall find that this played also an important part in connection with his Christology. God gave the visible world such a con- stitution as seemed to Him fit and just, in accordance with His foreknowledge of the use which Adam and his descendants would make of freedom. Theodore thus left the world in par- tial possession of unity (the mortality of the body befalls the spirit as a punishment); but if he had advanced no further than this scanty commencement, the eternization of sin and unblessedness would have been inevitable. Nore 7, page 35. In the view of Theodore, salvation consists mainly in the fact of resurrection, and in the gift of eternal life, that is, in the over- coming of death, which is the punishment of sin ;—it is not in the victory over guilt, or over sin itself, that consists salvation. Similarly, also, though not with so conscious an exclusiveness relatively to other aspects, teachers like Athanasius had laid chief stress on the immortality gained for men by the work of Christ. From the victory over mortality, Theodore then proceeds to derive the eradication of the earthly tendency of our nature, of its disorderly and evil desires. Now that humanity has been restored by the Prince of life to a unity like the unity of God, it is possible for the Holy Spirit so to pervade men, that they P. 2.—VOL. I. 2B 386 APPENDIX I. can no more apostatize and sin, but possess true freedom—the freedom of irrestrainable love. It would seem, therefore, that during their earthly life, the only part of redemption which Christians, strictly speaking, experience, is the knowledge of a salvation to come: they do not realize a present salvation, but merely receive the promise of a future salvation,—a view of the matter essentially Old Testament. This account of the oftice of Christ is the proper counterpart to the Ebionitic escha- tological view of the Person of Christ, referred to above (see vol. i, 230 ff.). Holy baptism he regarded as containing the promise of this body of resurrection and of eternal life—hope . - through the Holy Spirit. For this reason, infant baptism occasioned him no embarrassment: even without recognising original sin, he found a significance in the rite—a significance, indeed, very similar to that attached to it by the disciples of John, when they baptized for a kingdom that was to come. Notwithstanding this, he held that baptism strengthens us in our earthly struggle, as a pledge of the fulfilment of the pro- mise. He who rose again, gives us in baptism a pledge that we also shall rise again, and that we shall be sinless, without the law, through the Holy Spirit: it is both symbol and pledge of the future regeneration,—a thing of which those who occupied a purely legal, Judaistic point of view, had not even an idea. Although he further denies the inherence of sin in children, and traces no connection between their baptism and the for- giveness of sins, he still assumes the existence of a bias (po7r7) to evil in our nature, which is not fully eradicated till the resurrection (compare Phot. Cod. 177; Spicileg. Rom. ed. A. Mai, T. iv. Comment. Ep. ad Rom. p. 002 ff., 510). All that he postulates for the present world, is an imitation (uéwnots) of the future life xara 76 Suvarov, the will to be pure (Comm. ad Rom. 7, 4; 6, 12; cf. Catena in Epp. ad Corinth. ed. Cramer, Ox. 1841; the note on 1 Cor. vi. 15). That a new birth takes place in the present world, he does not hold ; but merely that past sins are forgiven, especially through the medium of the holy Eucharist (1. c. in connection with 1 Cor. xi. 34). The promise, however, acquires a fuller significance, because there is So sincere an intention that it shall attain realization in all. Like Origen, he taught that there would be an aTOoKaTaCTAaGLs ; but differed from Origen, in believing that it would be a per- NOTES. — Oot manent one (Comm. ad Rom. v. 20, odo! is synonymous with mavres; compare Phot. Cod. 177), not without the just punish- ment of the wicked (see his remark on 1 Cor. x. 15), who will be saved merely as a brand from the fire. Freedom he treats as, in all cases, mediatively necessary to salvation: grace is im- parted to those alone, concerning whom God knows that they will use their freedom well. Even after the bestowal of that pledge of hope, all depends on its being freely and faithfully guarded. Nore 8, page 39. By Eustathius, for example (see above, vol. i. 965 ff.).* Che Tperrov attributed to the middle being of Arianism, may per- haps have been the expression, under an abnormal and mytholo- gical form, of the ethical tendency to assert for Christ a certain independence,—an independence, it is true, such as might pertain toa mere creature. Hustathius and others relieve the confusion by which Arian representations were characterized, in so far as, by asserting for Christ a true human soul, a fitting place was secured: for the tperrdv, whilst the Logos at the same time con- tinued atperros. Theodore, however, first traced this TpeTTOV Of the humanity of Christ to its ethical roots, and limited it by his own profounder doctrine of freedom. Diodorus’ work against the eiuappévn, and Theodore’s against the Maguszeans, formed the points of transition thereto.’ We may therefore be allowed to say, that an element of Arianism, not previously properly appre- ciated by the teachers of the Church, and badly expounded even by Arians, endeavoured to secure for itself the recognition it deserved, by means of the school of Antioch. With regard to Paul of Samosata, compare i. 510-516. Nore 9, page 40. In the passage cited from pp. 300 ff., after saying that the évoixnots must be something distinctive, he proceeds to say,— ovoid pev odV Néyewy EvotKely TOV Ocov TOV ATPETETTATOV éaTlD, for then He would be present merely as to His essence in those in whom He dwells, cat éoras tév dddov drrdvtwv éxros brrep atomov eine ért TAS ameipov dvcews, or we must attribute His évodenors to all beings, even tots dAdyous Kal apbyows, in- asmuch as it would be based on His dvovs, which is omnipresent 388 APPENDIX I. . la) \ / and cannot be restricted. Odxodpy ovola tiv évoixnow réyety / n > / YY $Y \ y) 2 ee Nia S, oy \ yivecOa trav einfectatav av ein. TS 8 adtod dv tis elrrot Kah éml THs évepyeias, and on the same ground. Ti obv dpa io- / i / al AetTreTat ; Tivt ypnoouela rOyw ds ert TobTwY ioudfov havetrar , an 5 e > / / / \ > / pudaccopevos ; SHdov ody ws evdoxla réyew ylverOat THY évoiKn- / cw mpoonke. Evdonia dé Xéyetau 1) dplorn kat Karrorn Oérxnots a nA @ 3 / b>] n n To) Ocod jv dv rroujretar apecbels Tots avaxeiobat avuT@ éotrov- Sakoow amd Tod ed Kab Kara Soxeiv avT@ Trepi avtav. Where- \ \ / fore, drretpos pev yap dv Kab atreptypados tiv dvaw trapeott la) a fe) \ b] / an \ > \ \ A \ P] z TOS TAG, TH Oé EvdoKia TOV pev éoTh paKpav, Tov O€ éyyus. Compare Col. i. 19. Nore 10, page 44. A. Mai Coll. N. vi. 304,—ivoro pév yap && dpyhs TO Oco 0 Anpbels Kata rpdyvocw éx QUTH TH OvaTrAdoe Ths unTpas THY Katapyi THs évdcews SeEduevos. This reference back to the Divine rpoyvwous is a remnant of the Christology of Origen. But that there ever was areal moment in which Christ had made Himself worthy of union with the Logos by His own virtue, is no longer assumed :—such a purely human life, is merely held to have existed as a thought of the Divine mind. At the same time, the knowledge that Christ, even independently of an ori- ginal union with the Logos, would have made Himself worthy of the distinction, was the ground of the distinction actually conferred on Him by God, from the very beginning. But the passage cited, xxvi., should also be compared: according to it, mpoyvaots is not so much “ preescientia” as predestination. God would not, says he, merely out of regard for utility (xphow- #405 Noryos) have assumed a man, and so united him with Him- self as that he should become an object of adoration to the whole of creation, had not the work to be accomplished through him been a common benefit to the universe. Nore 11, page 51. It is not without interest to compare the work erroneously attributed to Justin Martyr, "ExOecus TS opOis mictews (com- pare Pseudo-Justini Opp. ed. Otto, T. i. 1-57; and Gass in Ilgen’s “ Hist. theol. Zeitschrift” xii. 4, p. 130 ff.), with the doctrine either of Theodore or of his school. In the matter of the Trinity, the "Exeats, like Theodore, kept to the doctrine of NOTES. 389 the Church. In the matter of Christology, there are no traces whatever of that speculative element which laid hold of the idea of the divine image ; on the contrary, the incomprehensibility of the How? of the union of the two natures, is emphatically as- serted (c. 14). And yet the path into which the writer strikes, despite all his caution, is substantially the same as that pursued by Theodore. Significant especially are such expressions as the following : vads (c. 13), evdoxia (c. 15), ete. (C. 10),—o Aoyos—rnv (Tijs mapbévov) vnddv cicdds olovel Tus Oetos omdpos TRATTEL VAY EAVT@ TOV TéAKLOV aVOpwTOV, Epos TL AaBwY TIS Exelns PUTEWS, Kal Eis THY TOD Vaod SiaTTAACLWW OvoLMaas. ’EVvdds d€ avtov Kat’ dxpav &vooww, Oeds 60d Kal avOpwtros TpoerOav ovTH THY KAP’ )uUas oiKovopiav érAnpwcev. That the avOpwros, the réXetos dévOpwrros, is not here mentioned by mistake instead of the avOpw7ivn ducts, is evident from the circumstance, that he only partially approved of the comparison drawn from the relation of the body to the soul, as applied to Christology, although it was so much in vogue. It is appropriate, he re- marks, in so far as man is one, and yet consists of two natures, with one of which he thinks, with the other executes: for Christ also is one ; and with one of his natures He performed miracles, in the other He abased Himself ;—both which parts of His life are to be carefully discriminated and strictly dis- tributed between the two natures. This principle in itself puts a decided limit on the xowvwvia of the two natures. But then he goes on to say,—In another respect, the comparison halts; for, concerning man, although he has a double nature, we cannot say—he is the two natures; but merely, he has them, he consists of them. Furthermore, man is a third some- thing in addition to the two natures of which he consists, to wit, the real unity which combines them together; even as a house is not the building material, nor the plan, but is the union of the two. Christ, on the contrary, does not consist of deity and humanity, in the sense of His being a new third something in addition to the two aspects, but He is simply the two, both God and man; that is, He is just their arithmetical sum. Further, the soul is able to suffer along with the body; but it is absurd to affirm such a thing of the deity in Christ. But still the author puts the question exactly as it presented itself to Theodore, namely,-—If the entire Logos were in Christ, how 390 APPENDIX I. could He at the same time be in the world as to His essence ? And if the Logos was omnipresent, in agreement with the nature of God, what remained for the temple of the Logos? He gives the following answer :—As the universal light, which was everywhere diffused, was created in the beginning ; and as then the solar body was created, in order that the general light might be concentrated in it without thereby undergoing any change of substance, though destined to be indissolubly united with, and to shine by, it: so likewise the connection between the Logos and human nature was indissoluble after the Unio ; the one Son can now no more be separately termed Divine Logos, and the other Son, Man, but there is one Sonship ; even as light and its vehicle constitute.one Sun (c. 12). But the question returns again,—How came the temple (Christ's humanity) to such a distinguished, yea, of its kind, unique, participation in the Logos, if the Logos dwell indeed in all things as to His essence? (c. 15 ff.). At this point he argues zealously against those who, ér’ dvaipéces tov St0 dicewy, wish to bring about a Kpacis, svyyvats, a wetaBor) ard cdpuartos eis Oeornta, an ovowwOivar of the cap£ in the Adyos: in the same connection also, he rejects the formula, cdpxa tov Aéyov yeyevna Oa (com- pare Theodore in A. Mai Coll. Nov. vi. ]. c. Nro. vil.). In fact, the relative independence of the humanity of Christ is given as the reason why the Logos, who, in respect of His essence, is om- nipresent, could dwell in Christ in a peculiar and unique way In this case, the law holds good, that although the sun shines everywhere, and everywhere alike, an impure body cannot re- ceive its rays. Of the rays which this sun sends forth for all alike, he who has strong eyes receives the larger number; not as though the sun diffused its rays more over him than over others, but because of the strength of his own eyes, and because he whose eyes are weak cannot bear the brightness of the light. So also the Sun of Righteousness, in that it is God, is present with all in like measure as to its essence; but we all, through our weakness and impurity, are unable to bear the entrance of the Logos. On the contrary, the temple which the Logos in- habits as His own, is, as it were, the purest possible eye, and can take in the full brightness of His light ;—for His temple was formed of the Holy Ghost without sin (ei-:7). That concentrated revelation or appearance of the Logos, NOTES. 391 whose end was the salvation and the organic articulation of humanity, did not demand for its accomplishment, therefore, that He should Himself cease to be essentially present in the All;—the Logos remained as He was, both in Himself and in His activity, but had a different existence in Jesus from His existence in the universe, in so far as His light found in Jesus an eye of the purest and most susceptible kind, an eye prepared by the Holy Spirit. This humanity abides ; it participates in the divine dignity (a&a), though not in the divine nature, accord- ing to the good pleasure of the Logos (e’Soxla: c.15). A com- parison somewhat suggestive of the one just adduced, may be found employed by Gregory of Nyssa (Or. Cat. M. c. 10) :— The infinite Logos is not imprisoned within Christ’s soul and body, any more than light is confined to a torch. The flame, indeed, is indissolubly joined to the droxelpevov, to the substra- tum of the torch, but the light is not therefore imprisoned.— Lhe difference between this Christology and Theodore’s may, on the whole, be said to consist in its laying greater stress on the divine eddoxia, regarded in the light of a decree, than upon the freedom of Christ. Produced within the limits of the Church, this work shows how near theologians who took their stand on the principles of the Council of Chalcedon, might ap- proximate to the school of Antioch, through the very earnest- ness of their antagonism to Monophysitism. Nore 12, page 66. T. v. 2, p. 705,—o Aoyos éverrAden capt: p. 708,—eis &p apo svdréyov Kal domep adjdows avakipvas Ta TOV pvucewv tocopata. 711,—The Logos remained what He was, both in time and in the flesh; as Ocds xara dtow évobels capKl Kab Ta THS ilas diocews ayabd Kowororely clwbe TH ida char. (12,—povovouy! svvaryeipes Tas pices Kal eis puoydryKevay dyes TOV exaTépa TpeTovTwY idtopdtov tiv Sivaywv. Homil. xvii. pp. 226, 228. Ep. ad Monach. p. 9; cuvdedpapnnora els évd- TTa pvotkyy. Hp.ad Acac. p. 115,—Prior to the &wous there were two natures ; peta dé ye THv Evoow ws avnpnuerns 7)5n Tis eis Ovo Svatouhs play eivar meotevomer tiv Tod viod diow ds evos my éevavOparricavtos. He is not content merely with the recognition of gicewy 7d didpopov, even after the incarnation : he is willing, indeed, still to allow that there are diverse utter- 392 APPENDIX I. ances (fwvas), divine and human predicates, but demands for both classes of predicates one common centre of unity (fvous), p- 119. Kpdacus, tpomn, dupuos he repudiates (p. 718); and yet he frequently employs the simile of wine mixed with water. Homil. xvii. p. 228; Dial. 9, p. 776. Nore 13, page 75. For details, see Neander’s “ Church History,” vol. 4, 913 ff. 921 (German edition). A common Confession of Faith the Egyptians at Ephesus refused to agree to, on account of the Orientals who were present at the Synod. And yet Cyrill afterwards entered into negotiations regarding the Confession of Faith of the very same men. The “ Confession of Faith of the Orientals,” which Cyrill subscribed in the year 432, draws a sharp distinction between the two natures, teaches no évwous dvovxn, no wia dvow after the incarnation, no natural Son of God according to the human aspect ; but one Son of God, one Lord and Christ, in agreement with the union of the natures without mixture; and it allows to Mary the title @eordxos. On the other hand, however, in the later negotiations, Cyrill was not compelled to recall his anathemas: the judgment of deposition pronounced at Ephesus against Nestorius was also, at a subsequent period, accepted by the Orientals, with few ex- ceptions. ‘That judgment, it is true, as we learn from Ep. Cyr. 34 ad Acac., charged Nestorius with teaching that there were two Christs;—a doctrine which might, indeed, be deducible from, but was not explicitly set forth in, his writings, as is alowed even by learned Roman Catholics; for example, by Enhiiber, in his Dissertation appended to Alcuin’s Opp.) Tia, Regensb. 1777. This unhistorical representation of Nestorius’ teachings was then handed down from century to century through a long period.—From what has been advanced, it is also clear, that the obligation to accept the decrees of the Coun- cil of Ephesus, still occasionally enforced by law, related to an object of an extremely uncertain and indefinite character, One thing alone may be confidently affirmed, that the party which conquered at Ephesus in the year 431, stood much nearer to Cyrill, and consequently to the doctrine of pula pvors, than to the Antiocheians and to the Chalcedonian Dyophysitism, with which even a Theodoret might have been content. NOTES. 393 Nore 14, page 77. The Nestorians took firmest root in Assyria and Chaldzea ; hence also they have been termed Chaldean, Assyrian, or Ori- ental Christians. The usages of the Chaldean Christians contain many ancient elements, which remind us of Jewish Christianity. Their liturgy was celebrated in the evening,—a circumstance which seems to point to the old division of the day; and they reject celibacy. In Chaldza they still offer sacri- fices of thanksgiving or in the fulfilment of vows, offerings of the first fruits; they observe the laws of the Old Testament relating to food and purification ; and in their sanctuaries is a recess entitled the Holy of Holies, which is not entered. (Com- pare Grant’s “Nestorians, or the Ten Tribes ;” Lechler’s “ Das apostolische und nachapostolische Zeitalter,” 1851, p. 302.) They themselves, and the Jews also, consider themselves to be of Jewish extraction, and style themselves Nazarenes. Nes- torianism would thus seem to have been ingrafted, as an homo- geneous branch, on an old Judaizing stem with remarkable results. About the end of the eighth century, according to some, Babseus (Assem. iii. 429), according to others (Assem. ii. 406), Acacius, as Patriarch of Seleucia, passed over to the Nestorians, and brought their ecclesiastical arrangements into order, by means of a Synod in the year 499. From that time onwards Nestorianism attained to supremacy in the interior of Asia, especially under the rule of the Persians. For a long period, however, the Chaldean Christians dectined to acknow- ledge the name Nestorians,—Acacius, even in his day, ob- jected thereto (see Assem. ii. 407) ; the Monophysite Xenajas, say they, first gave them the name, They traced their rise to the Apostle Thomas (ib. 388 ff.), and considered themselves (no less the Monophysites of that district) to be the genuine inheritors of the old patriarchate of Seleucia, which was subor- dinate to Antioch (compare iii. 299, 587). The Chaldean Christians maintain that no heresy has found its way into their midst, but that they have preserved the apostolic faith in its purity Gil. 298-802): they also complain that the name Nesto- rians was given them at a later period, and unjustly (iii. 69, 299, 855, 383, 587). It appears probable, also, that the name was first introduced into Chaldza, Persia, and Assyria, at the time 394 APPENDIX I. of the expulsion of the Nestorians from the school at Edessa by Rabulas and Cyrus: Maanes, Narses, and Barsumas were especially instrumental in its introduction (iii. 303, 381). Jus- tinian endeavoured (see Assem. iii. 632), but in vain, to lead them back into the Church. For the first time, in the seven- teenth century a part of the Chaldzan Nestorians passed over to the Romish Church (Ass. iii. 621 ff.). At a later period, the fixed doctrine of the Nestorians regarding the Person of Christ became the following,—that two natures and two “ KKnumas,” or hypostases, were conjoined into one person, “ parsupa,” mpocewmov (for example, Ass. iii. 108, 280, ii. 292, ie SOOs Over the two hypostases, therefore, they set the one “ parsupa,” within which they, as well as the natures, are comprised as mo- menta. On this ground they believed themselves able, in part, to join the Monophysites in confessing one will of the one “ par- supa; and deemed it as justifiable as to maintain that the three Persons of the Trinity have but one will (Ass. ii. 292, iii. 547). At the same time, they expressly deny any intention of substi- tuting a quaternity for the Trinity. The human hypostasis they assert to be of quite a different kind from the divine hypostases, aud therefore not to be reckoned along with them. Similarly, a controversy arose under the Nestorian Catholicos Timotheus, about the year 760, regarding the knowledge of Christ. One party maintained that Christ’s humanity had the vision of His deity; consequently, that He had an adequate knowledge of God. Inasmuch as this implied, that the knowledge regarding the Son of God possessed by the Son of man was equal to the Son’s own knowledge regarding Himself ; it followed that the knowledge of the deity and that of the humanity had been equalized, and that therefore, in this respect, the Unio had been absolutely accomplished (Ass. ii. 287). Another party, on the contrary, maintained that Christ’s human knowledge was not adequate to that of the divine nature; and so far coincided with the monophysitic A gnoetes (Ass. 1.c.). Ebed Jesus, about 1280, not only assumed, like the rest, that the Unio was indissoluble, but also that it was operative. In consequence of the cvvddera (adhesio), the divine nature illuminated the human, and made it like itself: the human itself, therefore, now shone with a divine brightness, like the most beautiful diamond, and bore the likeness of the nature of the Creator, without having undergone ~ NOTES. — 393 any conversion (ii. 354). Babeeus (Ass. ii. 95) held, that the soul of Christ, whilst separated from the body, ceased to think and act, even as ours ceases to think and act after death. With the Muhammedans they were able to keep on pretty good terms (Ass. iii. 585), but with the Monophysites they were constantly quarrelling, even in a scientific respect (ii. 543) ; and the church- fellowship which Barhebrzeus asserts (ii. 291) to have been mutually cherished, can only have been a transient and local thing, although it must be allowed that the Nestorians appear to have been more inclined to concord than the Monophysites (i. 514). In accordance with the law, that extremes meet, we find Nestorians frequently becoming Monophysites, and Monophysites Nestorians. Worthy of remark is, further, the ‘Nestorian doctrine of the Eucharist. They celebrated the ~“Communio” in both kinds, and for the most part confessed that the Eucharist is Christ's body and blood (Ass. iii. 514). But the reproaches brought against the Nestorians by Xenajas (ii. 39), and the express teachings of Babzeus, and George, Me- tropolitan of Arbela (iii. 95, 534), who rejected the doctrine of transubstantiation, and insisted on distinguishing accurately be- tween sign and substance, would seem to imply that they meant by transubstantiation that, in one respect, to wit, as symbols, the elements are the body and blood of Christ; that through the medium of the act of consecration, a connection is esta- blished between the elements and Christ, either subjectively, by each individual mind, or objectively, in agreement with the will and in virtue of the action of God. Ebed Jesus of Soba (Nisibis), who died in 1318, first taught, exactly after the manner of the Romish Church, that the elements are converted into the body and blood of Christ, by the living word of Christ (the words used at the institution), and by the Holy Ghost (Assem. iil. 358). This latter is the doctrine frequently held in the Kast, even by Monophysites (Assem. ii. 200). Norte 15, page 77. Leporius attributed to Christ, labour, piety, faith, and merit (Leporii presbyteri libellus emendationis, cap. viii. ; bibl. patrum Gallandii, Tom. ix.). To this assumption he adds the further one, that Christ, the perfect man, successfully underwent His sufferings without receiving any kind of help from His deity / 396 APPENDIX I. (cap. ix.), His notion was, that the perfection of the man in Christ consisted, firstly, in His having undergone all His suffer- ings without any participation whatever on the part of the Word of the Father; and secondly, in the human nature of Christ possessing the power to accomplish everything by itself. In this connection, he appealed especially to the words of Christ on the cross, —“ My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken Me 2?” These words indicate, says he, that the sufferings of Christ were completely and exclusively human. Pelagian principles evidently here lay in the background. Augustine was successful in his discussions with him. The chief argument with which Augus- tine met him was, that such an idea would lead to the assump- tion of a human personality alongside of the divine; consequently, of two Christs: and as the humanity remains eternally united with the Logos, a fourth person would thus be introduced into the Deity. It is, therefore, not allowable to teach, that the man was born with God in such a sense, that what belongs to God must be attributed to Him alone, and what belongs to the man must be attributed to him alone. The argument thus drawn from the danger of introducing a quaternity of persons, evidently implied that in idea the Persons of the Trinity were put on the same level as the human personality Leporius, however, yielded; and taught (c. 3), that the Word of God, having taken upon Himself all that pertained to man, was man, and that the man assumed by Him, in that he participated in all that belongs to God, was nothing else than God: out of compassion, God commingled Himself with human nature, but human nature was never commingled with the divine nature (c. 4). The relation between them was not that of two visible created things or sub- stances which permeate each other, so that the two natures were, as it were, chemically converted into one substance (conflatili quodam genere). “Caro proficit in Verbum, non Verbum pro- ficit in carnem,” and yet the Word really became flesh, but “ pro- prie solum personaliter, non naturaliter,’ because otherwise the “Pater cum Spiritu Sancto” would have become His flesh. “ Verbum caro factum evacuat in persona quod possidet in natura,” so that the “ persona” alone, without the “ natura,” became man. Augustine did not always express himself in the same terms regarding the human nature of Christ. In some instances he designated Christ “homo dominicus :” a designation which, at NOTES. 397 a later period, he repudiated. As Ambrose, in his Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans, remarks on the words, “ Servus Jesu Christi” (cap. i. 1),—“Utrumque posuit, ut dei et homi- nis personam significaret, quia in utroque et dominus (est) — Quoties scriptura aut Jesum dicit, aut Christum, aliquando personam dei, aliquando personam hominis indicat ;” so also says Augustine, —“ Christ was an object of predestination as to His humanity.” In Joh. xvii. Tract. 105. Contra Manichwos, lib. i. 24,—“ Reliquit patrem, cum dixit, ‘ ego a patre exivi,’ etc., apparendo hominibus in homine, cum Verbum caro factum est, —quod non commutationem nature dei significat, sed suscep- tionem inferioris persone, i.e. humane. (The reading “naturee”’ is spurious.) Similarly in his de Trinit. lib. i. 7,§15. But Augustine’s standing doctrine was, —“Two natures, one person.” He allowed that the Logos assumed a “ perfectum plenum homi- nem,’ but held that the existence of this humanity commenced with the act of assumption, creando, and that it belonged to the person of the Only-begotten One, not by nature, nor by merit, but by grace. Similar also is the view expressed by Fulgentius of Ruspe, in his “ de Fide ad Petr.” ¢. 17, —“ Verbum personam non accepit hominis, sed naturam, duarum naturarum veritas manet in Christo secundum unam tamen personam.” Com- pare, in libro, sententiarum Prosperi, —“ persona Christi constat et conficitur deo et homine.” August. Epist. 3 ad Volusian. ed. Venet. 1756, T. 2, Ep. 137, p. 529,—“ Ita mediator— ap- paruit, ut in unitate personee copulans utramque naturam et solita sublimaret insolitis et insolita solitis temperaret.— Persona Christi mixtura est Dei et hominis.” The nature of the Verbum est sine mole ubique tota (for not mole sed virtute magnus est Deus) ; but “Jonge alio modo quodam quam eo quo ceteris creaturis adest, suscepit hominem, seque et illo (—um) fecit unum Jesum Christum.” Along with the expressions just quoted, which appear to teach the personality of the humanity of Christ, he employs also the old images of “vestis, templum, vehiculum, instrumentum.” Sympathizing with the opposition raised against Apollinarism, he strongly objected to every species of transubstantiation or com- mixture, and gives careful prominence to the “ gemina substan- tia.” The only way in which it seemed to him possible (de Trin. 1.) really to meet Arianism, was by referring the “inferiora” ex- 398 APPENDIX L clusively to the humanity, and not directly to the one person in its totality. Not even in the state of exaltation does he allow that the humanity is converted into deity. On the other hand, he attributes to the Soul of Christ perfect knowledge from the very beginning. It was merely for His disciples, that He did not know this and that (for example, de Trin. i. 23). As far as the indi- vidual elements of His humanity were concerned, Augustine at- tributes to it soul and body, but no freedom of choice. The body was a part of the Adamitic mass, which was constituted a body by the act of assumption ; Mary conceived Him, “non carnaliter concupiscendo, sed spiritaliter credendo;” she gave birth to Him also in unviolated virginity. It was necessary that He should take upon Him flesh, in order that our souls might become His members, and that the devil might be vanquished by the same nature which he had seduced. Hence also Christ must needs purchase us by His own death. Along with the body, He took upon Himself all human “ affectus et infirmitates, non conditionis necessitate, sed miserationis voluntate et potentia.’” He appears, however, to conceive of the purpose of incarnation as involving the subjection of His nature to the law of mortality, to the ne- cessity of death: consequently, the body He assumed was not like that of Adam prior to the fall, but one bound by the ne- cessity of death. In his “De peccati meritis et remissione,” L, i. c. 29, he says, “ Quia in eo erat similitudo carnis pec- cati, mutationes etatum perpeti voluit—ut ad mortem videatur etiam senescendo illa caro pervenire potuisse, nisi juvenis fuisset occisus.” Wherefore also he remarks, that Christ assumed, with the “ caro,” the “ poena (mortem),” even if not the “ culpa,” of sin. At the same time, he naturally does not agree with the Pelagians, in their opinion, that other men are by nature “quali puritate” with Christ (c. Julian. v.15). Other men, born of “ concupiscentia,’ inherit “ concupiscentia.” Hence also the Pelagian objection has no force, that, if “ peccatum”’ is “naturale,” as the Traducians believe, it is “irrefutabiliter necesse, dici etiam Christum reatum de Marix carne traxisse.” Whether the inherited “ tabes” is propagated through the body and the soul, or through the body which affects the soul—that, indeed, he does not undertake to decide (c. Julian. v. c. 4, § 17); but he maintains, that a body not formed in “ concupiscentia” cannot have attracted to itself this “tabes” (c. 15, § 54). The NOTES. 399 soul of Christ, however, he thinks, is not in any case “ ex traduce anime illius prime prevaricatricis (de Genesi ad Lite- ram, L. x. 22 f., about 393). On the other hand, in the letter to Euodius, written about the year 415 (ep. 164, ed. Venet. T. ui. 754), he lays it down as possible, that if add souls are de- rived from the fallen soul of Adam, He “ eam suscipiendo mundavit.” But when this humanity was assumed by the Son of God, it became, at the same time, God—“homo deus. Sic homo susceptus est a Verbo ut simul cum eo Deus fieret.? Vice versa, also, he says in Serm. 187, in nat. Dom. 3, c. 3,— through the assumption, not merely did the Son of man become the Son of God, but the Son of God also the Son of man. “ Homo factus est, ut nos Deus faceret.” He is the Head of the Church, and we are His members: see, for example, his Enarr. 2, in Ps. 29; De Trinitate iv. 2-7; “De Agone Chris- tiano,”’ c. 20. Yet the Son of God remained what He was, and did not renounce the “ forma dei,” as Hilary supposed: He con- tinued with the Father in heaven, at the very time when Jesus | was sojourning on earth; but still He was in Jesus. “Forma servi accessit, non forma Dei discessit.” Sermo 183, de 1 Joh. iv., Tract. 28 in Evang. Joh. De Verbis Evang. Joh. i. Sermo 122,—“ Accessit ad nos, sed a senon multum recessit, immo ase quod Deus est, nunquam recessit, sed addidit quod erat, natures nostra. Accessit enim ad id quod non erat, non amisit quod erat.” Sermo 123, He is “ Deus manendo et hominis carnem assumendo, addendo quod non erat, non perdendo quod erat.” But if the Word, as “ Deus, ubique totum est” (see above), in Christ it would appear to have no distinctive mode of existence : the only difference between Christ and others would then ap- parently be, that He possessed a degree of susceptibility to God which no one else possessed ;—an idea which might lead to a Nes- torian view, especially as he says, — His “ exinanitio” was merely an “ occultatio” of that which He was, and a “ demonstratio” of that which He had become. It would then bea mere abuse of language to apply to Him the words, “‘ He became flesh ;” and, in fact, he says, that because of the union of the Word with humanity, their respective predicates are spoken of as inter- changed. But he again eases his mind with the affirmation, — the human nature is to be distinguished, indeed, but not to be separated, from the personality of the Word, nor to be placed in AQO APPENDIX I. a distinct and separate person. Sermo 47, de ovibus in Ez. 34, —‘“Djistinguenda erat forma servi (Joh. xiv. 9, 10) non se- paranda et alienanda et in aliam personam constituenda.” But although Christ consists of the two natures, or is a “ totum” made up of Word, soul and body, God did not therefore become a mere part in Christ (c. Maximin. Arian. L. ii. 10). The three Persons of the Trinity are not each a “ pars dei.” And quite as inadmissible is it to call Christ “ una persona geminee substantix, pars hujus persone.” For, before the assumption of the form of a servant, the Son of God was “ totus,” and under- went no increase when the humanity was superadded. This wholeness, this totality of the person, evidently relates in the first instance to the Ego, to the constitutive principle of personality, and not to the result, the collective person. And yet he also makes the general observation,—“ Pars rei ullius esse non potest Deus.” Even so, God does not increase through those who, by cleaving to Him, become one spirit with Him. The category of Part and Whole are, he thinks, inapplicable to God. Now, if we pass by the circumstance that he elsewhere, notwithstanding, designates Christ a composite person (see Abselard’s detailed discussion in his “ Sic et Non’’) ; if, further, we allow that, con- sidering the matter from the lower side, from the side of the man Jesus, he says,—This is not a mere man, but a person com- pounded of body, soul, and divine nature; and that, consider- ing the matter from the higher side, from the side of the Logos, he denies that the Son of God became a part of the Person of Christ ; still we are forced to confess that Augustine did scarcely anything in the way of showing that the incarnation was more than a closer relation, “ relatio,” eyéous, of the “ Verbum quod ubique totum est,” to that particular point of humanity, which became Jesus in consequence of its special and unques- tionably God-created susceptibility to God. In that case the difference between Christ and others is merely a quantitative one, especially as they also, like His humanity, become sons of God by grace, though they are not such from the very beginning. And Augustine’s view contains traces not only of Ebionitical, but also of Docetical elements. For, not to mention other matters, what reality can be attached to the expression, “ fac- tus est, quod non erat,” or even to that other expression, “ ac- cessit, quod non erat,” if attention be directed merely to the NOTES. - 401 unchangeableness and omnipresence of the “ Verbum,” who notwithstanding His union with Christ, was “ ubique tctum ?” How can Christ be seriously regarded as an incarnation of the Son, if He did not actually come into the possession, not even by love, of something which He had not possessed before ? According to Augustine, the world of revelation, that is, the Church, presents to view, in general, nothing more than the hinder part of God (de Trin. ii. 30); God can reveal Himself solely through the creature. Even the Son is essentially in- visible in the revelation; and therefore, the inmost essence of God does not become manifest (iii. 7, 21). On the other hand, however, the warmth of his Christian feelings drove him out beyond a position like this, and prevented him being satisfied with the idea that the eternal Son of God existed merely theo- phanically or symbolically in Jesus, or stood merely in an ex- ternal relation to Him: he pressed directly on towards the position, that we have in Christ, Him who “ personam Sapien- tise Dei sustinuit,” with whom God was personally tnited, so as in no other theophany. His best utterances on the subject of Christology lie in the sphere of the mystical, especially in his Tractat. on the Gospel of John; for example, Tract. 21, 28, 52, 61, 67, 80, 81; in Ep. Joh. c. i. Tract. 1, 3, 9; in Joh. Tract. 28,—“ Non enim Christus in capite et non in corpore, sed Christus totus in capite et in corpore. Quod ergo membra ejus, Ipse; quod autem Ipse, non continuo membra ejus, nam si non Ipse essent membra ejus, non diceret, Saule, quid me perse- queris? Non enim Saulus Ipsum, sed membra ejus perseque- batur. Noluit tamen dicere, sanctos meos, servos meos, pos- tremo honorabilius fratres meos, sed, Me, h. e. membra mea, quibus ego sum caput.’ In 1 Joh. v. Tract. 10,—“ Extende caritatem per totum orbem si vis Christum amare, quia membra Christi per orbem jacent. Si amas patrem, divisus es; si divisus es, in corpore non es; si in corpore non es, sub capite non es.” Contes Chrysostom, ed. Montfaucon, T. iv. 678, Homil. in Genes. 7, where he carries out the idea, that Cheat has won more eats than Adam ever lost. In Theodoret’s writings, also, there are many passages which point to a mystical Christology, as the background and basis of his system of ideas, although the system itself is otherwise fabricated of very differ- ent material. Theodor. Opp. ed. Schulz, T. iv. pp. 275, 278 ff., P, 2.-—VOL. I, 2¢ 4()2 APPENDIX I. “ de heret. fab.” L. iv. 13, pp. 873 f. ; Ep. viii. ad Eugraphiam, p- 1066; Ep. chi. p. 1291. Norte 16, page 78. Opus imperfectum iv. § 92 f.,—“ Quidquid naturale est, voluntarium esse non potest. Si ergo est naturale peccatum, non est voluntarium; si est voluntarium, non est ingenitum.” § 47,—“ Hic ut adsit toto animo lector, admoneo; videbit enim Apollinaristarum heresim, sed cum Manichei per te adjec- tione reparari.” - Apollinaris denied Christ’s having a human soul; Augustine now teaches that He had 2a soul, but denies the existence of “sensus corporis” in Christ, and affirms Him to have been incapable of .sinning, as though He “non virtute judicii delicta vitasset, sed—felicitate carnis a nostris sensibus sequestrate cupiditatem vitiorum sentire nequivisset.” Such a Christological adulation (adulatio) is in reality a profanity : § 49,“ Si vel carnem sine anima, vel hominem sine sensibus quibus nos imbuit natura gestavit, exempli formam et legis non docetur implesse. Quid enim fuit laude dignum, contemnere illecebras sensuum, quarum incapax erat beneficio naturee ?” § 50,—“ Que postremo palma tolerantiz, si dolor vulnerum et verberum, intercepto itinere sensuum, pertingere ad animum non valebat? Quo ergo profecit Apollinaris adulatio? Vide: licet ut omnis virtutum pulchritudo, quam in se Christum expresserat, indebitis nature ejus laudibus vacuata flaccesceret, cunctoque veritatis sua splendore nudata sacrum magisterium mediatoris offerret irrisui?” § 53,—He was rich in all virtues, non carnis infirmitate (incapability of sinning), sed virtute mentis; and not even the supernatural character of His birth might at all alter the state of the case. § 54,—“Predico omnem in eo sanctitatem beneficio animi, non carnis stetitisse prejudicio. Sic enim et natura tam conditione ejus quam susceptione defenditur et vita hominum virtutis illius imita- tione dirigitur.”’ He then further proceeds to say (§ 56 ff.),— Augustine does not agree with the Manichzans in teaching that there is a natural evil in natural beings; what right has he then to designate the same natural element, evil in man, if the will of man‘has no share in it? If Christ did not assume those “ sensus” which pertain to our nature, and the “ pos- sibilitas,” He did not really take upon Himself our nature. NOTES. 403 § 84,“ Proinde incarnatio Christi opus sue divinitatis tuetur, qui afferens ad me naturam meam et voluntatem suam, cujus mihi speculum afferebat et reculam—ostendit, culpam non de carnis conditu, sed de sola suscipi voluntate ;—etiam illud claro testimonio perdocetur, quod suscepti hominis justitia non de nature diversitate sed de voluntaria actione substitertt.” Note 17, page 78. - Opus imperfectum 1. c. § 84.“ Itane vero ne hoc quidem Christus diversum habuit in natura, quod ita ex virgine natus est, ut jam esset non solum hominis, sed et Dei filius? Ergone ista susceptio—nihil illi homini valuit ad excellentiam justi- tiz ?—Siccine vos contra Dei gratiam defensio liberi arbitrii precipites agit, ut etiam ipsum Mediatorem, ut esset Dei filius unicus, voluntate sua meruisse dicatis—? Secundum vos—non a Verbo Dei homo susceptus est ut ex virgine nasceretur; sed natus ex virgine suze postea voluntatis virtute profecit, et fecit ut a Verbo Dei susciperetur; non talem ac tantam voluntatem illa susceptione habens, sed ad illam susceptionem tali et tanta voluntate perveniens; nec Verbum caro- factum est,—sed postea, merito ipsius hominis et ejus humane voluntarizque virtutis.” rom which it follows, that it is possible for others to be like Christ. Note 18, page 79. Even as early as the year 435 he began to utter threats against the Antiocheians, who accepted the Georoxos, saying, — “ For the destruction of the virus of Nestorianism, that is not enough; whoso appeals to Diodorus and Theodore of Mop- suestia, still cherishes the error of Nestorius.” And, accord- ingly, even at that time he aimed at compassing the condem- nation of these teachers, notwithstanding the reverence with which they were regarded in the East, and that they were dead. (Ep. 179 to Aristolaus, and Ep. 167 to Johannes.) “‘Theo- dore,” says he, “taught the same, yea, even a stronger, degree of Godlessness; under his name, the Nestorian heresy is being revived.” But it was in vain that he applied to the Emperor and to the successor of Nestorius, the Patriarch Proclus. This latter, indeed, his opinion having been asked by the Armenian Church, in the course of his discussion of the point in dispute 404 APPENDIX IL. with Nestorius, in his “Tomus ad Armenos,” adduces, with expressions of disapprobation, statements from the works of Theodore, without mentioning his name ; but entirely disavowed any intention of thus condemning a teacher who had died at peace with the Church. The Emperor further commanded peace to be kept. Consequently Cyrill complied, but wrote a work against Theodore—the work already mentioned, “That there is but one Christ.” Theodoret felt himself, therefore, called upon to write a defence of his teacher. Nore 19, page 84. This would be equivalent to the “conflatile genus” of Leporius, and the suvvoveiwars of Theodoret. The union of the divine and the human issues in a new third product; but in the new product, the divine is not merely one of the factors, but also the conjunctive, and therefore the completely predominant, constituent. Whether the conversion, in consequence of which the human element derived from Mary ceased to be of the same substance with us, related to the human form or the human essence, he does not state ;—probably, to the latter, on account of the term ovcia. To such an humanity, which would be neither like us nor merely divine, but through the divine would have become a new third something, the simile of mAexTpov might be applied. Electron, a chemical mixture of gold and silver, was a substance of the highest value; and the image drawn from it was not seldom, without any particular name, attributed by the Fathers to a monophysitic heresy. Kutyches regarded Christ as tédevos dv@pwzros,—the holy Virgin as of like nature with us,—and acknowledged that é& adrijs ecapKoOn 0 Ocds hudv (Mansi vi. 700, 741). But the body of our Lord and God was not djootexos *yty. Further, says Flavian (see Mansi v. pp. 1328 ff., Ep. ad Leon. i.),—Eutyches rejects the Council of Nicaea, Cyrill’s letter to Nestorius, and (which was probably the main thing in Flavian’s eyes) his letter to the Orientals, and renews the errors of Valentin and Apollinaris. The following are said to have been the words spoken by him before the Syned,—rov Kipiov hudv “Incoby Xpictov ph Seiv (oporoyeiv) éx dv0 dicewy pera TV evavOparnow, €v pd bro- ordcet, Kal ev &vl mpocér@ map’ par yvepilomevov, mnte nv TY odoKa T. K. 6uoovo.oy jyutv imapyew, ota 5 €& judy poc- NOTES. © 405 n Vee a a / by / AnpOcioay, kal Evwbeicay Td OO Oyo Kal brbctacw GN 4 \ \ a SEN , e efacke, THY meV TeKodoAaY adTov TrapOevor, KaTd cdpKa 6jLoo'c Lov Cin > SN be x , \ > / b Sian / NW Eval, aVTOV O€ TOY KYpLoY pn einpévar eE abThs odpKa e al ¢ / >? \ \ an aA an MpLLV Of@OOVTLOV, ANAA TO TOD KUpLOV Gaya pn) Elva meV cHua , ’ , \ nr \ a avOparov, avOpwerwov Sé cdpa 76 éx Tis mapOevov. Nore 20, page 84. The appeal of Eutyches to Leo, gave promise at first of the most favourable results. Leo expressed himself to Flavian as hurt at not having been at once put into possession of the facts of the controversy. He remarks, that he had been first in- formed of the matter by the Emperor (who was favourable to Eutyches), and by a memorial addressed to himself by EKutyches; that he did not know what just ground there was for excommunicating Eutyches, but that he will postpone his decision until he had received more accurate information. He expresses his wish to know what new dogma, contrary to the old faith, has been taught by Eutyches, and recommends mode- ration, as Kutyches declares himself ready to give way if he be proved to have acted wrongly. In conclusion, he repeats that it is his intention to abide immoveably by the divine tenets of the Fathers (among whom, however, Ccelestin also must be in- cluded). Besides this, Leo wrote to the Emperor to the fol- lowing effect,—“ The memorial of Eusebius, which has come to me through Eutyches, does not clearly state what is the ground of the complaint of heresy raised against him: Flavian’s silence is blameworthy ; but I trust he will speak out, so that I may be able to pronounce a judgment.” Probably not en- tirely without Leo’s connivance and approval, Petrus Chryso- logus, Bishop of Ravenna, wrote. to Eutyches, who had been excommunicated in Constantinople, addressing him as “his brother.” In this letter, as it were with the design of inspiring him with confidence, he gives prominence to the divine majesty of Jesus, saying, “ Even though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now know we Him no longer.” In conclusion, he admonishes him to submit himself to the Romish See and its decisions ; for the same Peter, who still lives and presides on his own throne, gives the true faith to all those who yearn for it. 406 APPENDIX I: Norte 21, page 85. Dioscurus had not suffered Leo’s circular letter of June 449, addressed to the Synod of Ephesus, to be read at all (Mansi v. 1409); nay more, Leo’s legate had been compelled to take to flight. This was a treatment, indeed, which little accorded with the expectations expressed by Leo (Ep. ad Dioscurum, in the year 445, Mansi v. 12389), and which were intended to point out his proper position to him, the successor of an Athanasius and a Cyrill, and the inheritor of a see which had gained so perceptible a predominance in the Church. Leo’s first greeting to the new bishop, Dioscurus, had been, namely, an admonition to the effect, that an Alexandrine bishop is as inferior to the Romish, as the founder of the Alexandrian Church was inferior to Peter ;—a clear evidence of the import- ance attached by Leo to the humiliation of the Alexandrian Patriarchate, and of his opinion that, to be well timed, the step must be taken prior to the Council of Ephesus. Between that see and Leo’s predecessors, in the time of Cyrill, there had been no dissension on the doctrine of the one nature of Christ. NoTE 22, page 86. Even in his second letter to Leo, written in March 449, Flavian adopted more the tone of willingness to be accountable to Leo, to whom he forwarded the entire Acts of the Council of Constantinople. He there (p. 1352) reproached Eutyches with commingling (cuyxéev) the attributes of the natures united in Christ, and the natures themselves, after the Unio; and with thus contradicting the letter addressed to Nestorius by the Synod of Ephesus, in which it was taught,—Sudopor pev ai Tpos. EvOTHTA Ti\v adnOwiv ouveveyCeicas pices: els dé EE apdoiv NploTos Kal vids, oy os THs Tov dicewy Siahopas dvypnuévns O1a THY EVwoLW, aTroTekecacav Sé padrov huiv tov &va KbpLov ‘Incoty Xpiotov Oedtnros te Kat avOpwrdrntos, Sid THs adpacr Tou Kal amepwvorjtou mpos évornta ouvdpouhs. Relatively to Kutyches, therefore, he takes up the position of a defender of the first Council of Ephesus. He further gives Leo to under- stand that the Emperor ranges himself on the side of Eutyches; denies that Eutyches at the Synod appealed to Leo; and begs him to make common cause with the rest, to agree to his depo- NOTES. AQT sition, and to establish the faith of the Emperor : for, he urges, it is in Leo’s power to turn the scale (pom); and if he give his help, peace will return, and the Synod, of which much is spoken, and which threatens to throw all the churches into confusion, will be able to be avoided, and will be dispensable. Such was Flavian’s language to Leo, even prior to the Synod of Ephesus held in the year 449. That Flavian had made important con- cessions to Leo, in regard to the precedence of the latter, ere Leo decidedly took his part, is evident from Leo’s letter to the Emperor and to the Synod of Ephesus (Tom. v. 1411, 1359). But towards the end of the year 449 (Mansi vi. 36 ff.), Theo- doret said to Leo, after the second Council of Ephesus had ter- minated, and he himself had been deposed, that as Paul, on the occasion of the dispute concerning circumcision at Antioch, hastened to the great Peter, in order to beg him to solve his doubts, even so he hastens with his difficulties —in fact, with even more justice, considering his own insignificance—to the apostolic throne, dia wdvta yap vuev TO TpwTevey appoTTes. Especially, he adds, is Leo clothed with an apostolic charac- ter; as is evident from other things, but particularly from his work on “ The Incarnation of God,’ and from the admirable acuteness and spiritual wisdom it evinces. He refers to the letter addressed by Leo to Flavian in June 449, which had attained great note (Mansi v. 1365-1389). After reading it, he had praised the grace of the Holy Spirit, which had spoken through Leo, and now entreats him to deliver the Church of God from the storms which are raging around it. Norte 23, page 93. Ib. ep. ad Anatolium 91, p. 129,—“ Mirati sumus congre- gandi synodo tam augustum tempus adpositum ; cum, etsi nulla necessitas hostilitatis existeret, ipsa interjectorum dierum pau- citas necessarios sacerdotes nos evocare non sineret. Quando enim per diversas longinquasque provincias mitteremus, ut fere possit fiert universale concilium.” ‘There were therefore many absent, whose presence was required to constitute an Gcumeni- cal Council. But, on the other hand, that the participation of so many bishops in the so-called Fourth Gicumenical Council, who at Ephesus had subscribed, under constraint, a different creed from that of Chalcedon, as did the Orientals; and of 408 APPENDIX I. those who at Chalcedon, after the deposition of Dioscurus, had _ ranged themselves under a confession of faith other than that which they really acknowledged, as did the Egyptian and Palestinian bishops and others, must detract from the authority of the Council of Chalcedon, no unprejudiced historian can well doubt; especially as the passage above quoted makes it very questionable whether it was truly ecumenical. This is true, apart from the fact of its not- having been recognised as authoritative by great churches. Some Romish theologians also are of the same opinion (compare Baller. not. iii. on the above Ep. 91, p. 129). Indeed, to Romish theologians this defect is rather welcome than otherwise ; for they resort at once to the expedient of saying, that it first acquired cecumenical character through the approbation bestowed on it by the Romish See. Norte 24, page 99. Anatolius asked the Synod, whether the formula met with their approbation ; whereupon all the bishops, with the excep- tion of the Roman and some Orientals, answered in the affir- mative,—“ That is the faith of the Fathers; whoso thinketh otherwise is an heretic, and let him be cursed; out with the Nestorians. The whole world holds the true faith 3; yesterday, the formula pleased all, and one can scarcely discover who they are (that do not consent).” Others, however, exclaimed,— “The faith should not be handled deceitfully (4) wiotis Séd@ pn wa0h).” The former then cried out again,—“ The formula has pleased God; yesterday, it pleased all; the Emperor is orthodox, the Empress also ; Nestorius is deposed. The State authorities are orthodox; we beg that the formula may be sub- scribed on the Holy Gospels ; it has pleased all; command its subscription. Whoso subscribeth it not, is a heretic; the Holy Ghost has inspired it; cast out the heretics, Out with the Nestorians.” The State authorities said,—“ Dioscurus deposed Flavian because he taught the two natures; but the formula contains the words, é« Suvap dvcewv” (that is, the doctrine of Dioscurus is not favoured; the party of Flavian ought to be content; Dioscurus is and will remain deposed). Anatolius, in order to prevent it being thought that the Synod, in confirming the deposition of Dioscurus, had also condemned his doctrine, ’ NOTES. | 409 reminded the assembly, that Dioscurus had not been deposed on account of his faith, and that, consequently, the point of faith is still a “res integra:” by way of conciliating the Romans, he added,—* He is deposed because he excommunicated Leo, and, although three times summoned, refused to appear.” The im- perial authorities endeavoured to put an end to the disputes, by proposing that from Leo’s letter such things as affected the point in question should be added to the formula. But the bishops, and, among them, now also Eusebius of Doryleeum, exclaimed,—* We will construct no other formula; nothing fails the formula; the formula recognises Leo’s letter ; let it be subscribed; it contains everything! Leo has said that which Cyrill said; Cocelestin has confirmed it, Sixtus has confirmed it!” But the cry was again raised,—“Put away the deceit of the formula!” Then the authorities declared, that these cries should be brought to the notice of the Emperor. Norte 25, page 100 After the proceedings described in Note 24, the authorities appeared again, with the command from the Emperor, either, as had been already previously proposed to them, to form a Commission, consisting of six Oriental, three Pontic, three Thracian, three Illyrian bishops, and three from Asia Minor, under the presidency of Anatolius, whose business shall be to frame another formula, with which no fault can be found, in order that nothing amphibolical may remain: or, if that course did not please them, that each member of the Synod should de- clare his faith through the medium of his Metropolitan, in such a manner, however, that there shall remain no ambiguity or discordancy. But if they refuse to adopt either the one or the other course, they are informed, that the Synod will be con- vened in the West. One party now again called out,—“ The formula must continue, or we will depart.” Cecropius of Sebastopolis demanded that the formula should be read aloud to the Synod, and that those who neither accept, nor subscribe it, shall quit the assembly : The formula is good, and he and his party accepted it. The Illyrian bishops cried out,— Let the opponents of the formula show themselves; they are Nestorians; its opponents may go to Rome.” The opponents appear, at this point, to have maintained silence. From all this we may see 410 APPENDIX I. how great must have been the number of those who, at the out- set, expressed their approval of the first formula, which was favourable to Dioscurus, and the renunciation of which can scarcely have been due solely to accident. We see, also, what opinion is to be formed of the majority of the Synod, who afterwards again took an opposite course, and only consented. to allow the first formula to be dropped after they had heard the Emperor’s threat, which indicated in a sufficiently clear man ner the dogmatic conclusions he expected to be arrived at. The threat to bring the matter to a decision in the West took the greater effect, as there were probably few in the Greek Church who would not have esteemed the transference of the Council to the West a great disgrace and danger to the East. The State authorities, on their side, now that they had learnt from the declaration of Leo’s legates that a formula of the first kind would in no case meet the approbation of Rome, but would merely lead to a schism between the East and the West, no longer glossed over the “status controversiz,” but, decidedly taking Leo’s part, set it forth exactly as it was. Previously they had said,—Dioscurus rejects the doctrine of the two natures; but the formula teaches it, namely, 7d é« Tov dvov picewv. Now, however, they said,—Dioscurus also ex- presses his readiness to accept the é« dudév dvcewv, but not the évo dices in Christ: Leo, on the contrary, teaches the latter. Whom, then, are they disposed to follow, Leo or Dioscurus 2 And when the cry resounded,—We believe as Leo believes (whose letter, in fact, had been already subscribed) ; they reiterated their demand, that an addition should be made to the formula from Leo’s letter,—that they, for example, should add, —In Christ are two natures, unchangeably, undividedly, and without mixture, united. The matter was thus again led into a path, in the pursuance of which alone an union of all was attainable,—into the path of a formula which should include the most important propositions of Leo’s letter, and to which, therefore, no one could object who had subscribed the letter itself. For the reasons just given, the Commission now chosen must necessarily start with the best possible prospect of arriving at a conclusion which should meet with the approbation of all. NOTES. 41] Norte 26, page 101. ‘Oponroyeiv éxdiddoxopev eva Kat Tov avrov vidv Tov K. *pav I. X. rédevov, tov adrov ev OeotynT1, Kat réretov, Tov adrov év avOpwrornti—opootcwov TS TatTpl Kata Thy OedTnTa, Kal oMoovcLoy Tov avTov Hiv Kata THY avOpwrdtynTa, KATA TdVTA Opotov nuiv yopls duaptias—eéx Map. tis twapbévov, ths Oeo- Toxou—éva Kal rov adrov xpiatov—eéx Svdv dicewy (al. év dvo diceow) daovyxitws atpértws, adiaipétas, dywplotws yvopfouevov ovdauod Ths Tov picewy Siahopas avnpyuévys Sie TV Evaciv, cwlouevys 5é waddov Tis iSvoTyTOS exarépas dicews, Kat es Ev mpocwrov Kal play bmdcTacw avvTpexovons, ovK Eis dvo mpdcwra pepitouevoy %) Svatpovpevov, GAN va Kal Tov avtov viov, etc. That the Greek version of the formula should have é« Svév dicewv (to which Dioscurus also agreed), and the Roman version, on the contrary, “in duabus naturis,” can, of course, scarcely be regarded as an accident, when considered in connection with the history of the Council. or, in the case of the first formula, which was rejected, the entire dispute concen- trated itself on the particles é« and év—which should be adopted. The Romans, in particular, rejected é«. It is also true, that éx dvav dicewy suits the verb yvwprfopevov better than év due ducecw,—which is so far, therefore, an argument for the genuineness of the former. Perhaps, also, the choice of é« was partially dictated by a wish to humour the ear of the Mone- physites. But as far as the actual thought is concerned, Mono- physitism is excluded not merely by the verb yvapsfopevov (éx dvav dvcewv), but also by a number of otker determinations contained in the symbol. If Christ is cognised, or becomes cognisable, from or out of the two natures, the said natures must surely exist together in Him. For there is certainly, in this case, no reference to the natures “in abstracto.” But with respect to the Latin formula, we must also allow, that it is as little open to the charge of falsification, on the ground of its “in,” as the Chalcedonian, on the ground of its é«. For, as é« was necessary on account of the verb yvwpifopevov, so was “ in” necessary on account of the verb “agnoscendum,” which is not identical with yvwpifowevov. The Latin formula has, — “Christ is to be recognised as the Son in two natures;” the Greek has,—“ Christ is to be cognised as Son out of or from two 412 APPENDIX I. natures :”” both evidently contain substantially the same thought. The Latin formula is merely a free, but substantially faithful translation ; the tone of which, perhaps, hints more distinctly at the subsistence of Christ in two natures:—on which account it was undoubtedly more agreeable to the Roman type of doctrine. NoTE 27, page 104. A third form of the Unio is further excluded by the term aovyxvTws,—the form, namely, which treats the two natures, as it were, as the constituent elements of a chemical process, in the result of which both continue to have a certain kind of exist- ence (and the pure doctrine of conversion leaves neither the one nor the other an existence). - This result, however, in which the two natures continue to exist, is not conceived as a new, third substance; for even the doctrine of the Church speaks of the Person of Christ as compounded of the two natures (cdvOeros) ; but as of such a character, that the one nature is affected, tem- pered, as it were chemically bound and saturated, by the other,— the two forming thus one new third substance (compare above, pp: 77 ff., Leporius). To the same point might the mono- physitic (Severian) view arrive,—the view, namely, that Christ had a nature compounded of the divine and the human, dvous avvleros, which, at a later period, was frequently controverted, —for example, by S. Maximus, John of Damascus, and the Scholastics. The Church, on the contrary, used this expression regarding the personality alone. Note 28, page 112. The Logos-doctrine, in its day, rendered the Church the im- portant service of describing the relation of the divine principle in Christ both to the Father and to the humanity of Jesus. On the one hand, the idea of the Logos as the principle of reve- lation, which is itself God, rendered it easier to say that there was a divine principle in Christ; and, on the other hand, it offered a welcome link of connection for the doctrine of the incarnation of the Logos, in so far as, according to it, the Logos found in the rational nature, with which every man is endowed, an element related to, or even derived from, Himself. At the same time, in another respect, the doctrine of the Logos brought with it its own peculiar difficulties and dangers ; and was there- NOTES. 413 fore more and, more completely driven into the background, the greater definiteness was given to the doctrine of the Church. For example, as respects the doctrine of an immanent Trinity, — so long as the Logos was regarded simply as the Principle of _ Revelation, or the Word, or Reason, the possibility of vacillation between Sabellianism and Subordinatianism was not quite set aside, Furthermore, in consequence of the universality attributed. to the Logos as the Principle of Revelation,* the boundary line between His ante-Christian and Christian kingdoms, instead of being clearly defined, was hazy and blurred 3 especially was this the case, when no reason could be assigned why the in- carnation and work of Christ were necessary, and why the proper and true reign of the Logos began with, instead of anterior to, the coming of Christ. Those vague theories of the NOyos o7TEp- #artKos, which obliterated the features of historical Christianity, needed to be limited, and the degree of the participation of hu- manity prior to the time of Christ, in the Logos, to be carefully defined, in order that nature might not be made to anticipate grace. We have seen, that from the third century onwards, the Church warded off the danger with which that Logos-doctrine threatened the Trinity, partly by the substitution, and partly by the explanation, of the word “Son,” in the sense of a true divine hypostasis, for the expression “ Logos,” in the usage and symbola of the Church. As to the other matter, it was indis- pensably necessary that a much more precise distinction should be drawn between the divine and the human, between nature and grace, than the Logos-doctrine of the second century had really accomplished. Norte 29, page 125. With Nestorianism, on the contrary, the case was a different one. Having fled out of the way of the persecutions of the Court of Byzantium into the interior of Asia, and thus come under the rule of heathen monarchs, the Nestorians and their system passed more and more beyond the horizon of the Church. Polemical works, it is true, still continued to be written against. Nestorianism ;—for example, besides Cassian, by Vigilius of Tapsus, Boéthius, the Constantinopolitan monk Leontius, the presbyter Anastasius, and others. But there were no continuous * “ Durch das Offenbarungsprinzip des Logos in seiner Aligemeinheit.” 414 APPENDIX I. colloquies, enlivened by the starting of new points, and further- ing the development of the question in both its aspects: the Church remained, on the whole, ignorant of the course taken by the doctrine amongst the Nestorians. Its polemic, therefore, was almost solely with the old form of Nestorianism, which, in consequence, constantly acquired features of 2 more mythical character. . It had in itself, however, enongh dualistic elements. Nore 30, page 127. A different opinion was expressed, for example, by Amphi- lochius of Ieconium (A. Mai, Tom. vii. p.15, a), who not merely denied that the deity suffered in its own essence, but also rejects the statement, that the deity suffered in the flesh, or through the flesh. We can only say that Christ suffered. The Logos did indeed appropriate to Himself that which affected His temple, but He did not Himself suffer thereby. For further informa- tion, see Baumgarten-Crusius’s “Compendium der Dogmen- geschichte,” pp. 203, 204 ; Baur’s “ Trinitiitslehre” ii. pp- 61-68. Lhe necessary consequence of the ecclesiastical recognition of this proposition was, that the idea of personality, even as applied to the Father and the Spirit, was formed in analogy with that of the personality of the God-man, and that the distinctions in the Trinity, therefore, approached nearer to Tritheism. It was, consequently, neither an accident, nor solely the effect of the Aristotelic philosophy, that during the sixth century important Monophysites, such as Johannes Askusnages and Johannes Philoponus, turned to Tritheism, in opposition to which the Monophysite Damian then set Tetradism. That the conception of person, in the Trinity, was otherwise viewed in the Church at an earlier period, we have shown in vol. i, pp. 904-938. Opposition was also raised to it by teachers of the Church; for example, by Eulogius of Alexandria (A. Mai vii. 18), and Anastasius Sinaita (Galland. xii. 240; “De Trinitate”), who tried to bring back the Christian mind to the point of view which obtained in the fourth century. Nore 31, page 143. In illustration of this statement, it may perhaps also be ap- propriate to mention here, that a number of Monophysites, sub- sequently to the ninth century, taught that He who was born of NOTES. 415 Mary was perfect God, perfect, complete man, and had one per- sonality formed out of two personalities, and one nature out of two natures (Assem. |. c. ii. 125). So the Patriarchs Theodosius, Johannes (about the year 969), Athanasius, and Dionysius V. (similarly the Nestorians; see above, pp. 77, 78). It is scarcely correct simply to say, with Assem. and others, that they inter- changed the terms, nature and personality, in Christology, and did not do so in the Trinity. They rather taught, on the prin- ciple of Aristotle, that a nature (the xowvdy, “ universale”) cannot be conceived without a personality, without an individual being, in which it subsists; and that, consequently, the adherents of the Council of Chalcedon, when they teach two natures, ought also to teach that there were two persons. They, the Mono- physites, on the contrary, are consistent, in that, whilst allowing that one nature may appear in several persons (as in the Trinity), they maintain that a nature must necessarily subsist, at the very least, in one person: on the other hand, it is not enough to hold that in Christ there were two natures, for two natures would necessarily imply two persons; but the distinctive essence of the incarnation is, that two natures and two persons through it became one. Christ’s one nature and person, there- fore, after the incarnation, in that it was composite or a syn- thesis, comprised both natures and persons in itself as in the whole (compare Assem. ii. 137, 152). “Fieri nequit, ut na- tura sit nisi in persona.” For there is nowhere to be found a “natura absque persona” (except in an individual being, éSxdv). Similar was the view taken by the Nestorians (see above, pp: 76 ff.), who, even earlier than the Monophysites, directed their at- tention to Aristotle, and occupied themselves with the problem —How one person could be formed out of two hypostases or UToxelweva, out of two distinct and independent existences? Norte 32, page 145. Compare Galland. Biblioth. T. xii.; Rustici diaconi disputa- tio contra Acephalos, pp. 39-76 (about the year 550); Anastasii Sinaitz, Patriarche Antiocheni, oratio iii. de divina ceconomia, i.e., Incarnatione (about the year 570), pp. 246-251; Eulogii Alexandrini (about the year 580), capita vii. de duabus naturis, etc., p. 310; Leontii Byzant. scholia de sectis, pp. 625 ff. 644 if. (about 610); Ejusdem Libri tres contra Eutychianos 416 | APPENDIX I. et Nestorianos, pp. 660 ff.; Ejusdem solutiones argumenta- tiouum Severi, 708-715; IXjusdem dubitationes hypothetice, 715-718 ; Leontit Monachi Hierosolymitani (about 610), apologia concilii Chalcedon. 719-737. See further, A. Mai, Tom. vii. pp. 10 ff.; cap. vi. p. 18; cap. xi. pp. 40 ff. 46, 52 ff. ; Leontii queestiones adv. eos, qui unam dicunt naturam com- positam J. Christi, pp. 110-155 ; Anastasius presbyter contra Monophys. 192 ff.; Eustathii monachi ep. ad Timoth. Schol. de duabus naturis contra Severum, pp. 277-291; Boéthius de duabus naturis, etc. (see below; about the year 510); Justi- nianus imperator contra Monophysitas, 292-313; Joannes Damascenus, de natura composita, adv. Acephalos. Nice- phorus and Gelasius have been mentioned above. Amongst the acutest polemics against the Monophysites, may be mentioned several writings of S. Maximus, Opp. T. i. ii. ed. Combefis. Norte 33, page 148. Compare Niceph. Eecl. Hist. L. xviii. c. 47, 49. Well acquainted with the philosophy of Plato, and especially of Aris- totle, he endeavoured, in his Asautntys (Arbitrator, Schieds- richter), to show that the view he entertained was dialectically necessary. One may speak of essence or nature in a double sense,—firstly, as a common idea, or common image, without reference to any concrete existence ; or secondly, it may be conceived as the generic nature or substance, which exists in individuals, which acquires an independent existence in each individual, but which has no existence save in such separate individuals : and what each of these individuals has, it alone has; for by that which it thus has, it is distinguished from others. Such also is the teaching of the Church on the subject of the Trinity. The three subsistences, or persons, are realiter distinguished by their individual peculiarities. What else, then, can the one divine nature be, but the common or generic idea, which has no real existence, and is distinguished from each of the persons solely in thought. This usage of the word “Nature,” according to which it denotes the general nature which has assumed an individual form, or the nature in the form, in which it pertains to no other individual, is followed also in the doc- trine of the unity of the deity and humanity in Christ. For, not the common deity or divine nature, the idea of which we NOTES. 417 think in the Trinity, became incarnate;—otherwise, the Father and the Spirit must also be held to have become incarnate: nor, again, was the common generic humanity assumed by the Logos ;—otherwise, we should have to conceive Him united with all men, even with those who are yet to come. Indeed, this general nature exists solely in the form of a conception ; there is no real divine nature, save as it is found in the Father, or in the Son, or in the Spirit. Now, that divine nature which subsisted in the person of the Son, we say, became incarnate, and assumed, not the generic or general human nature, but alone humanity as contained in a particular individual.—Ac- cording to this position, the universal general nature indi- vidualizes itself eternally in itself; nay more, exists solely in the form of individuals. Norte 34, page 150. Anastasius Sinaita 1. c. c. 10-12:—Substance is not a particu- lar nature, but the universal nature. Christ took upon Himself our whole substance (totam massam nostram), and became the firstling of our nature. For, because it was His will to deliver the whole of that which had fallen, and the entire race had fallen, He submerged Himself entirely into the entire Adam; He, the Life, penetrated into that which was dead—He penetrated the ~ entirety of that with which He was united, animating the whole, as it were, like the soul of a great body. Hence the human race is termed the body of Christ: Christ is conceived to permeate the whole equally, and yet He dwells peculiarly in each particular member, according to the measure of its faith; for each member is a separate individual; and what holds good of it, does not hold good of the corporate body. When the Apostle speaks of the body and its members, he describes, indeed, the distinction between the genus and the individual ; but in that he designates us the body of Christ, and not His “ genus,” he meant to teach, that Christ was united with the universal generic substance of humanity, not with a particular individual; for otherwise we should not be called His body and His members. He desired to con- stitute us all and entirely His garment or body. He was both God and man, but neither a God: nor a man: as God and man He is characterized by more general names; for He consisted not of particular hypostases, but of general substances. (We P. 2.— VOL. I. 2D 418 APPENDIX L. see here clearly, that Anastasius, as little as the Monophysites, draws a distinction between individuality and hypostasis ; he therefore feared, that to concede the individuality of the human nature, would lead to a double personality.) Nor can we say that He was a part of the substance; for the parts of substances are themselves substances, and that which we call a part has in all respects the character of the whole: consequently, He must be styled the Whole (dynamically ?), and not a part; for we cannot speak of dividing a substance, as we speak of dividing a ball. Christ became man, therefore, not by assuming a part of human nature, but the whole—So also, it is not allowable to say, that He assumed merely a part of the Divine substance, to wit, the Son. For the distinction of part and whole cannot be applied to God. As Son also, God is not a “ natura parti- cularis specialis” or “ singularis” (Orat. i. de S. Trinit. Cie p- 240). And Rusticus says (ibid. p. 40),—The divine nature of Christ included also the Father and the Holy Spirit ; and Mis human substance included the remaining men. This is con- nected with the older doctrine, that Christ aTrapyiny avéhaBe ToD nueTépov pupdwaros : this darapyy, however, is through Him also an apx7),—a beginning and principle of an universal kind, an universal power of rebegetting all, through His new humanity. John of Damascus gave this idea the following turn,— All per- sons, indeed, did not die and rise again in Christ, but still our entire nature died and rose again in Him (L. in. ¢ 6, praia; ed. Lequien). Consequently, not merely a man, nor the nature of a single man, nor, again, we ourselves as to our personality, but we, as to our nature, were assumed by the Logos. We, as to our nature, rose again in Him, ascended up to heaven, and so forth. Theodore Abukara, who belonged to his school (Opuscula ii. pp. 386 ff.), sought to connect the universal sig- nificance of the humanity of Christ with the fact of His being a single, individual human existence. We cannot say that the humanity of Christ, and the body of Christ animated and en- dowed with intelligence, were the same thing. When we say, —He took upon Himself humanity, we mean, the humanity of us all, who are men; whereas His body and His soul were specially His : otherwise, He would nothhave been of the like sub- stance with us, or the body of the eternal Son must have been the body of us all, who are men. He does not, in this connec- a NOTES. 419 tion, regard the general as a nonentity, as a mere thing of thought; but it is incorporeal, it does not belong to the world of the senses, it is universal; and this incorporeal existence first becomes visible by means of the icdrnTes optaTeKal, the individualizing predicates. These ideas show us, further, how physical was the conception of redemption which prevailed at this period. Theodore Abukara says (vi. 452),— A lemon seed dipped in honey is said, when planted, to communicate its sweetness to the fruit; even so Christ, when He assumed humanity in the state in which it was prior to sin, and dipped it in the honey of His deity, gave us also to share in its sweetness, ds of KéxKot TOD TETOVOS TH aT AUTOV KapTO Kal Kata dvadoyiv (per traducem). Nore 35, page 150. Compare Theodore Abukara 1. c. ii. 398 ff., and the passage quoted in Kuthym. Panopl. P. i. Tit. vii. Their opponents en- deavoured to drive the adherents of the Council of Chalcedon into a corner by asking,— Did the eternal Son assume a general essence or thing (kowov te mpdyua, Tov Kaborov dvOpwrov), or’ a pepixov TL, a something individual? If they answered,—The universal man, or the generic substance: then they were met by the objection,—But that does not fall within the range of the senses; how can an incorporeal thing unite itself with a corpo- real? Christ would then remain invisible, even as the general nature remains invisible? And inasmuch as the general apper- tains to several subjects, Christ would have had many hypostases : indeed, Christ would then have been of an altogether different nature from us, for we are droua. If, however, they answered, —The Son assumed a pepixov dvOpwrov: the objection was raised,— That leads to two hypostases, after the manner of Nes- torius. The teachers of the Church replied,—It is neither of the two; on the contrary, we must rather say,—He assumed prow pepixod avOperrou, that is, drdmou, in that He became the hypostasis thereof. The nature of this individual man was, it is true, Kown, év aTomw Oé. Nore 36, page 155. Monophysite National Churches still exist even at the pre- sent day, as well as scattered congregations. The latter are found chiefly in Syria, Mesopotamia, and Persia, and are still 420 APPENDIX I. designated Jacobites ; the former, in Armenia, Egypt, and Abys- sinia. ‘The Abyssinians continue to the present day, as it were, fascinated by the precise question which occupied the attention of the old Monophysites. Their Metropolitan (Abuna) is still subordinate to the Alexandrian (the Coptic) Patriarch. That one nature was constituted out of two, is their universal doctrine : the mode of this constitution is still a subject of reflection and controversy. As the Jacobites, consciously treading in the footsteps of Ephrem, assigned to the Holy Spirit a great réle, in connection both with the: Holy Eucharist and with the Incar- nation—the rdle, namely, of the connective principle of the Logos and the humanity, or of the elements, in the Eucharist ; so were the three Christological theories prevailing in Abyssinia connected with the doctrine of the Holy Ghost (i. 286). The Jirst view, which is diffused in Tigre, and which originated with one of the last Abunas from Egypt, is the following,— By the Holy Ghost, with which Christ was anointed, we are to under- stand His deity, which did not need the help of the Holy Ghost, in that it was in eternal possession of it. The deity of Christ it- self, therefore, was the bond between the human and the divine natures, and constituted the two one nature. Jesus anointed Himself, and not another (compare p- 141). The second view, which prevails in the provinces of Godsham and Lasta, repre- sents the union of the divine with the human nature as hay- ing been effected by the Holy Spirit. The third view, which prevails in the remaining provinces and in Shoa, maintains, that the man Jesus, from the moment of His conception, was united, indeed, with the deity, but received the Holy Ghost as a gift of the Father, precisely in the same manner as we receive Him, in order that He might be able as aman to accomplish the work of redemption. The anointing with the Holy Ghost, they term the third birth of the Son. This third view, which reminds one of Adoptianism, and manifestly lays greater stress on the true humanity of Christ than do the other two, is not able to allow to the God-manhood, in the first instance, more than a potential existence, and employs the phrase, “ Third Birth,” to express the idea, that the advancing realization of the divine-human life brought with it a something actually new. But by appeal- ing to John iii., where the birth from the Holy Spirit is desig- nated a new birth, the adherents of this view approximate to i i i i te NOTES. 421 those who attribute to Christ also a participation in human im- purity, derived from Mary. They do not appear, however, to have followed out this course to its results : indeed, the prevail- ing cultus of Mary would hinder them from doing so.—Some appear to hold, that the union of the two natures into one sub- stance was first accomplished subsequently to the ascension, or that it awaits the close of the day of judgment (p. 110). Here, therefore, we have an attempt, on a monophysitic basis, not merely to establish a distinction between the two aspects, but even to construct a continuous, advancing process of actual hu- manification, and thus, by the adhibition of the doctrine of the anointing with the Holy Ghost, to do justice to the demand for a veritable human development. The act of incarnation posited, at first, merely the divine-human potence: ere the God-man- hood could become an actuality, the anointing must take place, that is, the humanity must undergo development and progress. The relation between the Son and the Holy Spirit is not, it is true, further explained: the Monophysites do not teach, with the Greeks, that the Holy Spirit proceeded also from the Son. At the same time, it would appear that some (p. 105) regard this anointing, which affected the humanity of Christ, merely as a consecration to, or equipment for office, and attribute to it, therefore, no constitutive significance for the Person of Christ : others, on the contrary, represent Christ’s participa- tion in the Holy Ghost as rather analogous to our own. The Armenian Monophysites principally adhered to Julian of Halicarnassus, perhaps even from the time of Barsumas (Assem. ul. 292, 296). Such also are their Christological views even at the present day (compare Ass. Diss. de Monophys. ii.). According to Barhebreeus, they maintain that, coincidently with the union, the body of Christ became perfect; that it did not gradually grow; that it was neither capable of experiencing suffering nor harm, neither mortal nor created, nor of a circumscribed form. Circumcision He underwent merely in appearance ; He merely appeared to take food, and in reality never ate at all, save in the sense in which He ate in the presence of Abraham. (Under Athanasius, in the year 726, the Armenian Catholicos Johannes united himself, for the time, with the former, but they very soon went back to the doctrine of Julian. On the con- trary, the Syrian Jacobites and the Egyptian continue in churche 422 APPENDIX I. fellowship with each other. The old sects have almost entirely disappeared from among the Monophysites of the present day.) They styled themselves Diakrinomenoi (S:axpwopevor), that is, Protestants against the Chalcedonian Symbol. In analogy with that Armenian tendency, is the doctrine held by some Abys- sinians, that human souls in general are not developed along with the body, but enter the body, complete and perfect, from the fortieth day. ven Xenaias had assumed this to be the case, as in all men, so also in Christ. Other Monophysites, how- ever,—as, for example, Dionysius, Bar Salibi, Johannes of Dara, James of Sarug, James of Edessa, etc..—differed from Xenaias on this point, and taught that the Word united Himself with the body and soul at the same moment (Assem. ii. 158, 159). Many Monophysites—as, for example, Bar Salibi and Bar- hebrzeus— assumed, indeed, the real presence of Christ in the Holy Eucharist, but denied the conversion of the elements. Their view seems rather to have been that of Ephrem and the mystical school of Syria. The prototype of the Unio of Christ with the elements, is the Unio of the Word with the flesh. Through the Holy Ghost, bread and wine are appropriated by the body and blood of Christ. The Holy Spirit descending on the altar (as in the incarnation in the Virgin), constitutes the elements the body and blood of the Word of God (Assem. ii. 190), and gives them quickening, enlightening, fermenting virtue. Not, however, through their own nature are bread and wine, body and blood, but through the descending grace of the Holy Ghost (p. 293 ff.). Anastasius Sinaita and the Abbot Ruprecht of Deutz also took this view. James of Sarug, on the contrary, as it would seem, adopted the doctrine of transubstantiation (ii. 194). Note 37, page 157. Opp. Dionysii Areop. cum scholiis S. Maximi, etc., edidit Balth. Corderius, Antw. 1634, pp. 500 ff. De div. nom. e. 2. Engelhardt’s “ Die angeblichen Schriften des Areop. Diony- sius, tibersetzt und mit Anmerkungen begleitet,” Sulzbach 1823, 2 Thle. Engelhardt supposes these writings to have ori- pine in the fifth century, and that their Christian author must have been closely connected with the school of the Platonist Proclus. What we observed above in connection with Barsu- daili, and the esteem in which the Areopagite was held amongst " a ee, NOTES. — 423 the Monophysites, speak for the connection of the author with these latter. Hierotheus was professedly the teacher of Dionysius (de div. nom. c. 3); and under the name of Hierotheus, Barsudaili wrote the work in which he taught the transition of all things into the divine nature. Such is the account given by Barhe- braeus (Assem. ii. 293, 30 ff.). Among the Monophysites, the writings of the Areopagite were much used (Assem. ii. 295, 207, 302, 307, and especially pp. 120, 121), translated and com- mentated. It is possible that Barsudaili’s fiction,—a fiction to which he may have been led by the Origenism which prevailed in many of the monasteries, and which formed a bridge to Neo-Pla- tonism,—may have given rise to the spread of Neo-Platonism in a Church form, under the name of the holy disciple of Hierotheus. Nore 38, page 177. The affair of Honorius belongs, as is well known, to the causes celébres. Those who believe in an infallibility of the Pope, independently of a Council, appear here to be in greater perplexity than those who attribute infallibility to a Pope in conjunction with an Cicumenical Synod. The former endea- voured to escape from the difficulty in two ways, both of which, however, may be now said to have been abandoned. Some— as, for example, Onuphrius, Bellarmine and Gretser, Baronius, Binius, and Schott—make a desperate attempt to deny the fact of the condemnation of Honorius as an heretic, by tracing it to a falsification of the Acta of the Sixth Council: they also treat the letters of Honorius contained in those Acta as spurious. The most, however, regard this expedient with no confidence. A whole series of later Synods, both cecumenical and recognised by the Romish Church, repeated the condem- nation; and several Popes, particularly Leo IL., expressly ap- proved of the condemnation. It is a fact, historically so well established in all directions, that it can only be called in question at the dangerous price of an universal undermining of the cre- dibility of Church traditions. It is also clear from the Disputa- tion of Maximus, which followed a few years later, that Hono- rius wrote a letter, in which he declared himself opposed to the duality of wills.—Others say, that Honorius was indeed con- demned, but unjustly ; and therefore, in point of fact, call in question the infallibility of Gicumenical Councils which agreed A424 APPENDIX I. with Popes, for the sake of asserting the infallibility of the Papacy. They say,—That Honorius was orthodox, is evident from the testimony of his secretary, given by Maximus at the close of his disputation. He did, indeed, teach one will, and reject the duality of wills; but his opinion really was,—that it is not right to teach the existence of two human, self-contradic- tory wills :—an almost ludicrous vindication of his honour. Of - two human wills, no one had ever spoken; it is out of place, therefore, to mention it here. Honorius, moreover, did not merely assert that there could not be two contradictory wills in Christ, a divine and an evil human will; but generally, that there could not be two wills of any kind in Christ, because there could only be one who willed. What weight can be attached to the testimony of a secretary,—a testimony probably dictated by interest,—in face of the original documents which have been preserved, and of all the Gicumenical Synods which have re- garded the view of Honorius as an heresy? He differed from Sergius, it is true, in so far as he did not teach the unity of the évépyeva: nor did he teach that there were two evépyetar ; but rather asserted the doctrine of two natures, especially in his second letter. He never, however, gave up the unity of the will, nor conceded that the will is a matter of the natures, and follows them: he attributed the one will to the one voli- tional agent, namely, to the person ; though he, at the same time, supposed that this one volitional agent which had taken up human nature into Himself, employed it as His organ, and may thus be said to have worked theandrically. From this point of view, it is of course, as Honorius pleaded, foolish to speak of one activity or of two. For, if it be established that the will, as theandric, is one, it must, agreeably to its nature, develop very many modes of activity, and not merely one or two. We see, therefore, that to evade the question of the unity or the duality of the évépyeva, as irrelevant, was very plainly in accord- ance with his monotheletic point of view. But, indeed, these letters contradict the orthodoxy of a later period, in many re- spects. Like Theodore of Pharan, Honorius, along with Sergius, concluded, that if there were two wills, there must be two voli- tional agents: he, however, confessed but one will, because the nature, and not the will (Schuld, guilt(?), in the German), was assumed by the deity. Two wills in the same subject, he urges, NOTES. 425 must needs come into conflict: if they did not come into con- flict, they would converge into one will, if the person were one. The will, he esteems a matter of the personality, not of the nature: for him, therefore, to have granted two wills, would have been to grant two personalities. Hence he does not refer the words, “ Father, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt,’ to a human will, which re- quired to be subjected to the Father; but says,—Christ gave utterance to these words in the name of us sinners, not in His own name: we must not, therefore, deduce therefrom the con- tinuous existence of a proper human will in Christ. By the act of incarnation, the human will was made .completely one will with, or a determination of, that of the Logos. Finally, he agrees with Sergius in saying, that the human nature of Christ stood in the relation to the divine of a purely passive organ , that it did not separately, or of its own impulse, will any motion, contrary to the hint of the Logos hypostatically united with it, but was in all cases, both as to occasion and manner, determined by the Logos. Against this position, Maximus had decidedly protested. Now, as there is no historical notice whatever of a retractation on the part of Honorius (and if he had retracted, the memory thereof would have been imperishable), no course is open, but to say,—Honorius ‘erred, and gave currency to a heresy, merely as a private individual; not, however, publicly or as a Pope :—an expedient which does not further concern us in the present connection, but which has been thoroughly, and ‘in detail, discussed in the learned treatise on the Monotheletes, in the Instructiones historico-theologice Jo. Forbesii a Corse (see pp. 222-291, especially pp. 288 ff.). He shows that the letters of Honorius bear the character of an “ Epistola Decre- talis.” But the difference between the Synod, when it taught that the will of the Logos, who constituted the personality, had both the power of initiative and decision; and Honorius, when he asserted, “ One will of the person,” was less than it ap- peared: Maximus, on the contrary, differed more widely from both. Norte 39, page 182. This is also the point in the Symbol of Chalcedon on which Maximus of Aquileia leaned for support at the Lateran Synod. 426 APPENDIX I. (Mansi x. 1060, 1061.) That the Synod of Chalcedon meant to teach the existence of a special human will, although it did not expressly say so, was taken for granted by him; and yet that was just the subject of controversy. The old symbols do not say, “ One will;” nor do they deny that there were two wills ; therefore (such is the conclusion drawn), they are favour- able to two wills (p. 1057). That even Nestorius professed to maintain one will alone—this was no warning against Dyothe- letism, that was of no advantage to the Monotheletes. Now, they said, —Nestorius, who taught one will, has been condemned ; therefore, Monotheletism also is condemned. In strict justice, all that could be said was,—the old Synods did not express any judgment on the matter of the unity or duality of the will; and therefore, neither of the parties can be regarded as condemned by them. Although the Lateran Synod appealed to the twelve anathemas of Cyrill, as sanctioned by the Synod of Ephesus (Tom. x. 1040, 1041), thus recognising them as of authority, still, after what has previously been advanced, there can scarcely be a doubt, that Cyrill was far nearer sharing the fundamental intuition of Monotheletism :—indeed, his fourth anathema for- bids that which the Dyotheletes did; namely, referring one set of the words of Christ to Him as a man, considered by Himself, apart from the Logos; and other words, as befitting God, to the Logos alone. Furthermore, the Synod of the year 553, four- teen determinations of which (Mansi x. 1045) were also pub- licly read at the Lateran Council, anathematized, in its seventh canon, the use of the number two, so far as those who spoke of a duality meant two dices (Svoumdctator: the formula, ‘‘ one incarnate nature of the Logos,” it did not condemn in itself, but merely when it denoted the extinction either of the divine or of the human nature, or their commixture ; it com- manded also that their worship should be but one. 'Theodoret’s writings, however,—not merely his Twelve Chapters, but all that he had directed against Cyrill and the Synod of Ephesus,—were condemned ; and a man was thus condemned who unquestion- ably shared the fundamental intuition of Dyotheletism. Nore 40, page 191. Mansi x. 745 f. It is not clear whether he referred that exchange (dyr/8octs) merely to the object, the content of the NOTES. © 427 will, or also, for example, to divine attributes. If we bear in mind the distinction drawn between the communicable and the incommunicable in God (in which, probably, we may trace the influence of the cataphatic and apophatic theology), we shall see that the exchange in question cannot have referred to the latter also, in Christ. Indeed, the communicable element already dwells in the humanity of Christ, in the form of the created divine element; and therefore our safest course is to refer the exchange to a community in the object of volition. Compare above, the disputation with Pyrrhus. At the very utmost, all that he can further have connected herewith, was a nominal “ Communicatio Idiomatum,” that is, a transference of names. Note 41, page 191. Ibid. °O dzroppntos tporos ris eis dAMijAas TOV Xpiotod ducewv Tepiywpicews (p. 753). In this way, as indeed in general, by the force of his dialectics, Maximus contributed largely to the fixing of the doctrine of the Church. He may be regarded as the originator of the doctrine of the TEPLYOPNT LS, in part also of that of the dvtidocus; and he endeavoured also, to draw a clearer distinction between the ideas of person and nature. The natures (even the divine) are not hypostases in themselves. Neither of them, indeed, is without an hypostasis (dvuTocrarot), but in an hypostasis (évumécrarot, évbtrapKros) ; and the hypostasis, although not itself a nature, is yet not with- out, but in, a nature (évovcws). Compare S. Maximi Confess. Opp. T. ii. ed. Combefis. Par. 1675. ITTept Oexnudrov Sb0 rod évos Xpiotod (p. 98 ff.). - Full light is first thrown on these principles, in their bearing on his mode of thought, by the further proposition laid down in his Scholia to Gregory, —That God is the vzoaracrs of all believers (compare Append. to Jo. Scotus Erigen. ed. Gale). But on this point we shall make additional remarks subsequently. He employs the expression, — The Son is the hypostasis of the two natures; that is, probably, the real or substantial principle of their particular or individual subsistence.—He devoted, altogether, much attention to the subject of the possible forms of Unio. There is unity of essence between persons, individuals (for example, of the same genus) ; there is hypostatic unity between different substances, 428 APPENDIX I. as body and soul. There is an union of relation (card oxECwW), where different yv@uas combine to form one will (or one ob- ject of will?). Juxtaposition takes place in the case of boards ; mortising, in the case of stones; intermixture, in the case of different fluids; kneading together, in the case of fluids and solids, as flour and water; a mixture, in the case of diverse substances, which are melted; acervation, in the case of solids, and so forth. An union of essence has place between beings which remain different as to their hypostases (the Trinity) ; the hypostatic union, on the contrary, has place between beings which continue different in essence. The distinction between the hu- man and divine substances he aims, it is true, at preserving ; as also that between their partially opposed attributes; but, like Anastasius, he differs from the adherents of the Council of Chalcedon, in that he considers human nature to have some relationship to the divine. In God there is a peOexTov, a some- thing in which the creature can participate: there is also an aspect of man’s being in which he can participate in the divine (a peréxov). His view of this, however, was not that of the Monotheletes, neither as respects the perfected Christ, nor as respects the beginning of His humanity ;—the Monotheletes, namely, conceived the human to be merely passively susceptible of receiving the divine fulness or communications : Maximus, on the contrary, conceived the human to be essentially free and active ; indeed, his view leads rather to a duplication or multi- plication of divine being, than to an action of God by means of human organs. He maintains creatianistically that there are independent existences besides God, and thus is opposed to the divine immanence ; though he conceives created beings to de- rive their true essence from God. Such a duplication of the divine was effected in Christ, in that a pure Adamitic humanity existed in Him, alongside of the Logos. Little was thus done, however, for the assertion of the unity; as is most strikingly evident from the formula employed by him,—“ Christ is the two natures.” The real issue of his deification of the true hu- man, is rather to strengthen the duality than the unity. If we further take into consideration, that the Logos is present with believers also, as to His omnipresence, and that the pure hu- manity of these latter likewise sets forth a cosmical divine ele- ment, we shall be unable to see what specific significance can be NOTES. 429 attributed to Christ, or, what is the peculiar force of the union between the Logos and the humanity of Jesus. It is true, Maximus designates it hypostatical ; but he holds God to be the hypostasis of all believers, their higher, true personality. Ac- cording to him, therefore, the volitions and sway of the Logos continue supramundane; whereas the human will is finite. Dualism, consequently, keeps its ground, and it is a mere as- sertion, when he supposes that, on his theory, Christ is trdcracts auvberos thy huatkny TOV aKpov Siaipecw ev EavTo KaT aKpav Katautivovca Kal els ev dyovoa TH TOV oiKElwy evdcEt MEepaV. Nore 42, page 193.. Mention deserves to be made, in this connection, of a frag- ment (Mansi xi. 597 ff.), professedly from a very old Codex of Homilies by Athanasius, on the passage, “ Now is My soul troubled” (John xii. 27), which was laid before the Sixth Council by Cyprian bishops, and was recognised by the Synod, though with doubtful right (see vol. i. 1072, 972 of this work), as Athanasian. In a spirit thoroughly other than dyotheletic, and with the intent of asserting for Christ a true human develop- ment, this fragment teaches the existence of a duality in Christ, during His earthly life, such as is certainly to be substantially allowed. Whereas Dyotheletism eternized the duality, repre- senting it as an abiding duality of the divine and human will, here, a merely temporary duality is taught—a duality, namely, between the will of the Logos to become incarnate and to redeem, which was constantly, and on principle, the will of His life ; and the will of the flesh, which, although blameless in itself, was yet destined to be sacrificed. The author starts with the position, that it was necessary for Christ to resemble us, in order that we might become like God. Wherefore, condescending to take our likeness, it behoved Him to become like to us chiefly in that in which we needed transformation, to wit, in the passible, in order that He might raise us above passibility. Not, indeed, as though the deity had undergone a transmutation, but the passivity, which arose from the corporeal and psychical motions, was vanquished, and was participated in by Christ in order that it might be vanquished: it was vanquished, moreover, in order that the entire substance of the human race, in agreement with its relationship, might receive the blessing. For, beginning with 430 APPENDIX T. Him, we all are transformed from being merely passive, are exalted above suffering and passion, and are set forth as those who are alive from the dead. Therefore let no man fall into error when the Lord, who is at once God and man, says, “ Now is My soul troubled.” For this happened because the deity permitted it (e’xovons); the flesh, however, being stirred up, resisted (éyerpowevns). It was possible, indeed, for the deity to have prevented that agitation; but it was the divine will to permit it, in order that the resemblance to us might not be destroyed. As a simile, the relation between water and the honey mixed therewith, may be employed. When the flesh of the Lord was excited, there was, as it were, a predominance of the water, which is mixed with the honey; on the other hand, when the deity came into view, and manifested its power in miracles, it was as though the sweetness of the honey had over- powered the water. Tor it was in the power of the deity, at one time, to allow the flesh to have the upper hand (76 wAeovdcas), at another time to rule it, and to do away with its passivity and weakness. Of the latter exercise of power, we have an illus- tration in the fasting in the wilderness; of the former, in the hunger felt by Jesus after the forty days were passed. The flesh predominated, in order, both that there might be opportunity for temptation, and that the tempter might be put to shame. Therefore did He bear the agitation felt by the flesh at the approach of death; for how could He have been obedient, in- stead of our obedience, had He not carried a contradiction within Himself (é€vavtiwpa) and overcome it? When a con- tradiction of the flesh arises in us, and we, overcome by the flesh, transgress the command, sin overtakes us. In the Lord also, a contradiction must needs arise from the flesh; but it was equally necessary that, by His obedience, He should over- come the contradiction. For, although He was God, He was in the flesh, and accomplished His obedience in the flesh (Kata capa), and overcame the will of the flesh by the will of the deity, as He said,—“ TI came down from heaven, not to do Mine own will, but the will of My Father.” He also terms the will of the flesh His own will; for the flesh was His own: for the divine will of the Son was not separated from that of God. But the will of the flesh must needs move, in order that it might be subjected to the divine; and thus, through this marvellous NOTES. 431 obedience of Christ for us, the collective disobedience of men was done away with. In like manner, he adduces the words,— “ And what shall I say? Father, save Me from this hour,’ -—— as words which Christ spake agreeably to the motion of His flesh. But the next following ones,—“ Yet for this cause have I come to this hour,’—reveal to us again the conquering deity, so that the divine will scarcely permitted the fleshly will toappear. He thus manifested, on the one hand, the reality of His flesh, and on the other, its subjection. Further, how did He esteem suf- ferings? Not as a dishonour and disgrace, but as an honour to Himself and the Father; and He rather sought than avoided suffering: “Father, glorify Thy name!” For my part, says He, I will decline no suffering; opposition shall yield, and that shall conquer which cannot be opposed. For the fleshly nature resisted death ; and, indeed, so it needed to do, for the sake of the truth and reality of the incarnation. But the divine will chose the salvation of the world, which was effected by death : He thus showed that He had fulfilled the words, “'T’o do the will of Him that sent Me.” ‘There is no man who has not in some point, or for some length of time, broken away from the divine will: in Christ alone, did the divine and human wills continue inseparable; and if we follow Him, we shall secure in His likeness, a saving union with God. ‘Thoughts similar to these we shall find occurring in the writings of the Monotheletes. Norte 43, page 194. This, I believe, is-the true significance of the monotheletic doctrine of the gnomic will of Christ, against which Photius wrote in the ninth century. Thus understood, it is a remarkable attempt, in an unexpected quarter, to assert for the humanity of Christ more complete truth than had hitherto been conceded it, and to leave room for a real human development. They spoke of the youn of Christ as Bovdevtvxn, deliberative, as one that discerned opposites (r@v avTixetmévov KpiTLxn), as one that inquired into the things of which it was ignorant (dyvooupever tnrntixy, Mansi x. 741), as one that chose and formed pur- poses. This reminds one of the doctrine of the Agnoetes; as also, to a certain extent, of Nestorianism. For, so long as each volitional process lasted, they supposed the humanity to act for itself, after its own manner; and although they considered the 432 APPENDIX L process to issue in a divine-human unity, yet, during the con- tinuance thereof, the bond~ between the human and divine natures was merely a relative one—merely a relatedness to each other of two relatively independent natures. At this point, we see again that Monophysites defined the two natures in such a manner as to constitute them two persons, so far as they can- not yet be said to have been united. They regarded the pro- blem also as one of the union of two persons; because, in their view, natures exist solely as personal (in their sense of the term). ‘This their position was concealed, indeed, so long as the humanity was conceived to have originated with the incar- nation, and the idea of a pre-existent humanity, with which Kutyches was frequently reproached, denied—denied, more- over, in such a tone, as to imply that the very commencement of the incarnation brought with it an absolute personal union. But it came to light, when efforts were made to represent the union of the two personal natures, or of the two persons, as the result of the historical process of the life of Christ. The doctrine of the gnomic will is, consequently, not a thing of trifling significance. Monophysites, in it, attempted the solu- tion of the same problem that was presented to, but not solved by, the Nestorians—the problem, namely, how to constitute one person out of two. It is, therefore, both natural and re- markable, that they also speak of a oyerixn evwats, besides employing other Nestorian formule; though they naturally applied such terms merely to the time during which the pro- cess lasted. The older Nestorianism, however, did not conduct the process so surely to its goal. Other Monotheletes appear to have striven to secure the unity of the will by denying to the divine nature, apart from the incarnation, any will at all (that is, probably, any single concrete act of will), by repre- senting it as itself without will, and as attaining actualiter to will in the humanity of Christ (1.c. 741). We should then have the formula,—The divine is to be conceived as the essence, the humanity as the actuality of this essence, as its form or évépyera. Nore 44, page 206. Monotheletism, proscribed in the Empire, maintained its existence in the Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon among the Maronites (“Two natures, one will, and one activity”). The NOTES, 433 Maronites are said to have derived their name from a saintly Abbot Marun. Even Theodoret was acquainted with such a name long prior to the Monotheletic Controversy ;—a circum- stance which later Maronites, in turning to the Latin Church, allege as a proof of the continuous orthodoxy of their nation. According to others, they were formerly designated Mardaites (compare Richard Simon’s “Histoire critique des dogmes, ete.,” 1711, pp. 147-164; Neander’s Kirchengeschichte, vol. i. p. 276; Joh. Damase. i. p. 528; Philipp Wolff's “ Die Drusen und ihre Vorliufer,” pp. 234 ff.; Klose, Zeitschrift fiir his- torische Theologie, 1850, pp. 334 ff.). Mention still remains to be made of some hybrid forms which existed in the same district, and which cannot strictly be termed Christian heresies: * they were rather modifications of extra-Christian religions by Christian influences; as, for example, Manicheism in the third century. The Druses give their Muhammedanism a garnish of Christian ideas. The Egyptian Khalif Hakem is revered by them as an incarnation of God. The author of the system, and the proper head of the sect, was Danasi (Wolff, pp. 262 ff.). When Muhammedanism and Christianity came into contact with each other, the result was, that adherents of the former began to teach incarnations of various kinds, and the adherents of the latter struck into an Unitarian tendency. An illustra- tion of the former result is furnished by the Nossairites, who believe that God appeared in the form of Ah, to whom they attribute even an existence before the creation of the heavens and the earth, and, indeed, in general transfer the predicates of Christ.—The Romish Church has made repeated, and not quite unsuccessful attempts, to win over the Maronites s—for which reason older Roman Catholic writers are used to be very mild in their judgments regarding them. Great concessions were made to them; for example, independent right of ordination, their own liturgy, the marriage of the priests, communion in both kinds, and a constitution incompatible with the Curial System.—Traces of Monotheletism may be found elsewhere also, subsequently to the seventh century; amongst those who show such traces, may be particularly mentioned the Armasites, from Harmasius in Egypt (cf. Joannis Damasceni Opp. i. 528). #* See a note on the idea of Heresy in the first volume of the First Divi- sion of this work.—Tr. | P. 2.— VOL. I. 2 E 434 APPENDIX I. Note 45, page 221. When opposing the Monophysites, he frequently draws the conclusion, that they cannot maintain the unity of the will, un- less they also concede the unity of the essence or nature. For that which is different in point of will, is different also in point of essence; and that which is not the same in essence, cannot be the same in will. But the same line of argument must lead to the conclusion, either that Christ, if He consisted of two opposed substances and wills, could not have been constituted one person by one and the same hypostasis of the Logos; or that, if the two natures could have, and really had, one and the same hypostasis, they could not have been different in essence and will.—Indeed, at a subsequent opportunity, he actually, though unconsciously, assigns to the humanity its own hypo- stasis. Not merely (see above) in that he recognises the exist- ence in Christ of the general human nature, along with the accidents which constituted Him the particular man He was; —in other words, he did not merely attribute to it that which, in his view, made up the general idea of hypostasis. What he would thus have attributed, was but very inadequate, and scarcely sufficient to constitute an individual, much less a per- sonality. He says, however (L. iii. 19; iv. 1, 2),—“ The human soul of Christ accompanied the world-ruling Logos, not merely with its thought and knowledge, and was not a mere indigent human soul; but it knew also, that it was Ocod voids. In heaven, it keeps up a remembrance of its earthly course: it knows and sees that it is, and deserves to be, worshipped; for it knows itself to be the humanity of God; it knows that it is hypostatically united with the Logos.” To the humanity, by itself, is thus attributed a certain independent self-knowledge ; and not merely, as it were, a self-knowledge through the medium of a substitute, of the Logos as its hypostasis. The hypostasis of the Logos, therefore, on this view, is not the per- sonal centre, but merely the vehicular principle. Note 46, page 223. Lib. iii. cap. 16. The Monophysites ask,—“Is the human substance one?” Inasmuch as this question is to be answered affirmatively, they draw the conclusion, —Therefore, two natures NOTES. 435. can become one nature, or one substance, in Christ also. But, if there continued to be two natures in Christ, and if Christ is to be called a double nature because He was constituted of opposites, then is man also a double nature, and not one sub- stance, because he is constituted of body and soul. In that case, however, Christ ought to be termed a triple nature, because He was compounded of body, soul, and Logos. To this he replies, besides what we have given in the text,—That in answering the question, Of what substances was Christ compounded? we must look, not to the more remote stamina or elements, but to the next unities or syntheses,—for example, to the unity or synthesis, humanity.—That in Spain, at a Synod of Toledo held about this time, the existence of three natures in Christ should have been affirmed (though the Romish Church ob- jected thereto), we may suppose to have resulted from the very strong spirit of opposition to Monophysitism. This circumstance was probably, also, a prognostic of the Adoptianist movement. Nore 47, page 227. It deserves to be noticed, how very far this form of Christology was from having been interwoven and thoroughly blended with the doctrine of the Trinity. When their eye rests on the latter, they speak as though the Logos had not merely remained what He was, but had also not even become something which He was not prior to the incarnation. If the Logos, not merely prior, but even subsequently, to the in- carnation, had, both formally and materially, one will with the Father and the Spirit; and if, on that account, His will could not become a divine-human will, because, otherwise, the lather and the Spirit must also have had a divine-human will,— plainly, the tie which connected the Logos and His will with the humanity, regarded in the light of the Trinity, was a very loose one; and one can scarcely sce that it is right to speak of the Logos having constituted the humanity His own, of the vods and will of Jesus having become the vods of God; or, indeed, in any other than a figurative sense, of man having become God, and not merely of God having become man. It is true, the tie, whose looseness in the system of the Damascene is betrayed by the frequent use of the expression ovvddea (for example, in lib. iii. 15, p. 235), was endeavoured to be drawn closer, by re- 436 APPENDIX I. presenting the hypostasis of the Son, as the bond of union be- tween the two natures. But if this idea had been followed out, it would have been found, that it was not so much the divine nature of the Son, as His hypostasis, and His hypostasis alone, that had assumed humanity :—the consequences of which re- presentation we shall see at a later period. How far this idea was approveable, relatively to the Trinity (namely, as fore- fending the conclusion, that the Father and the Spirit also assumed humanity, because their nature was the nature of the Son), we have shown above. In another aspect, however, it gave rise to new difficulties. For, inasmuch as the will was supposed to appertain to the common divine nature, in absolute identity, the act of incarnation must either have been an act of will,—in which case it must be described as the act of the common nature; or it must have pertained to the hypostasis of the Son alone, and not to the common nature,—in which case it was not an act of will. But if it were not an act of will, it was a physical act ;— and such a conclusion would be more dangerous to the creatural element in the Person of Christ, than Monophysitism itself. Nore 48, page 233. 1, 486 :—reevtatov—Siadpas 76 Totxidrov els adtov dyveo- TwS KaTAaVTa TOV Tept Movados Aoyov.—T Ths dydmns bvaoTnpLov TaVT@V UTEpalpEeL TOY YEyOVOTwY TOV VOdY, Tpds TaVTA Ta jer Ocov tudrov arrepyahouevov. This divine blindness of the soul, to all that is not God the Monas, is also designated, the ““Monachy of the soul.” To beginners, Christ appears in the form of a servant; but to those who follow Him to the Mount of Transfiguration, He appears in that form of God which He had before the world was. In their knowledge, and in their virtues, His second coming takes place; and the Holy Gospels, His garments, appear to them white and shining (i. 418, 450— 487).—The Logos, who as God, in the beginning with God, carried within Himself cadets Kat yupvods tos ths adnbelas Tepl TOY OAwY TUTOUS, Without alviywa and trapaBor}, becomes flesh in manifold forms for the good of men, who cannot lay hold on the naked ideal world in pure spirit. Kara yap TH TpoTnv mpocBoryy ov Yuuve mpocBddrer Adyw 6 1érepos vods adda Aoyw cecapxwpevo. The beginning of the waOnrela is necessarily pds cdpxa. But gradually wpocBaivovtes To NOTES. 437 Tvevpatl, Kal TO TayD THY pnudtev (the Holy Scriptures) rots NetrroTEépols Oewprpyacw atrokéovtes év kabap@ Kabapas Xprote / \ \ & \ > Q , > \ bu Q rE ywoueba Kata TO Ovvatov avOparrois, eis TO SvvacOar Reyeu “odxére Kata cdpKa” {2 Cor. v. 16),—did tiv amrdijv pos Tov Aoyov ywpis tdv ér’ abTt® Kaduvppatov Tod vods mposBodnv. Compare futher especially i. 502, § 73. Norte 49, page 235. The Mysticism of Maximus was preceded, not merely by the hierarchic-ecclesiastical Mysticism of the Areopagite, but also by the subjective, ascetical piety of the nobler and older forms of Monachism, the representatives of which were men like Macarius the Elder, Marcus Eremita, Johannes Climacus (sec. 5 and 6; compare Gass l.c. pp. 53 ff.). They also strove after an imme- diate union with God (ydpos, ctyxpacis with the Holy Spirit, yedows amo @eov, after divine pé0n, after the irradiation of the hypostatic light, after commixture with the substance of God—oupdvpecbar Oe@—). The stages of cleansing, purifi- cation, and elevation are regarded by them solely as subjective states of mind, and are not connected with objective Church rites: the objective sacraments they treated as mere symbols of subjective states, as subjective sacraments. (So fasts and tears, so mystical joy, which correspond to Holy Baptism and the Holy Eucharist.) Nor was any essential position assigned to Christ; He is merely an example. Maximus, on the con- trary, endeavoured to combine this subjective Mysticism with that of the Areopagite, as a comparison of his Mystagogy (il. 489-529) with the “Capita de charitate,’ and the “Capita theolog. et ceconom.” i. 894-634, clearly proves. Norte 50, page 238. The lucific material glorifies man. This physical feature of the Greek doctrine of grace, manifested itself quite at an early period, in the description given of the influence exerted by Christ on our race, even through His very birth, and so forth (see above; compare especially, Theodore Abukara Op. ed. Gretser, c. vi. p. 452). It is said, that if the seed of a melon be dipped in honey, the sweetness thus given to the seed, will be communi- cated to the fruit. Otro xal o Xpioros tiv vow éx THs éXaLo- Sous TOLOTNTOS, HYyoUV eK THs awaptias avoxabdpas Ova TOU aryiov 438 APPENDIX I. , : a. Sx SN 4 : ~ \ & Ate Rarricpatos, avéhaBev abtny—daypavtov ola kat. hv Kal éxticbn \ , \ ’ i > \ A f. a / To Tpotepov. Kai euBatras adtiy TO pédute Ths OcdtnTos— TOL meTeOwKey HuLty THS YAUVKUTNTOS, OS Of KOKKOL TOD Térroves TO ar avTav KapT@, kat kata diadoxnv (per traducem). There is an exact correspondence between this physical mode of thought, which through so long a period determined the character of the conception of sin and grace, and the Christological predominance given to the nature compared with the personality. Nore 51, page 257. L. v. 1:—“Qui illum sibi ex utero matris scilicet ab ipso conceptu 2 singularitate su@ persone ita univit atque conseruit, ut Dei filius esset hominis filius, non mutabilitate nature, sed dignatione, similiter et hominis filius esset Dei filius, non versi- bilitate substanties sed in Dei filio esset verus jilius.—2: ere- dimus verum et proprium Dei filium, ac verum Deum, qui secundum formam Dei bis genitus est ; primo, videlicet et Patre sine carne absque matre ; secundo vero ex matre cum carne sine patre. Illum verum Deum ex utroque parente ineffabiliter genitum credimus, cui Pater per David loquitur ; ex utero ante Luciferum genui te.—8: et ex Deo Deus et homo ex homine in singularitate persone unus atque idem sit Christus Dei, sicut quicumque homo ex anima de nihilo creata et carne, ex utroque parente formata unus est utrisque parentibus, patris sui videlicet et matris filius.” In the Son of God, therefore, the Son of man was an actual Son; more precisely, inthe “ singularitas” of the “ persona,” but not inthe “natura filii Dei;” and yet there was but one Christ, because the “ singularitas personee filii Dei”— His Ego without the nature—was also the igo of the Son of man (“ dei filius—hominis filius esset”) : hence, too, the Son of man became “in Dei filio verus jilius,” and did not continue a mere assumed nature. (Compare above, Note 15.) Adoptianism was by no means interested in merely keeping God and man apart. Such an interest operated merely to the extent of keep- ing the natures apart: which same anxiety seemed to possess the teachers of the Church also; for they did not allow that an union of the natures, and of that which pertains to them, had taken place, but solely an union in the sphere of the umoctaces. Adoptianism, it is true, denied that either the nature of the Son of God assumed humanity, or that any part NOTES. | 439 of the divine nature was really bestowed on the human nature, to be its own—to be, as it were, a natural possession. Looked at from another point of view, however, the reason why Adop- tianists thus kept the natures apart, was the desire to assert the completeness of the humanity of Christ, without which, indeed, the incarnation itself could not be said to be complete. But they furnished a counterpoise to the segregation of the natures, by teaching that the Ego of the Son of God was also the proper Ego of the Son of man. In this way, they deemed themselves, by one and the same principle, to have established both the completeness of the humanity of Christ, and its unity with the Son of God at the inmost centre of its being; and yet, at the same time, a place remained for that process of adoption, by which the human nature became assimilated to the divine nature. Their opponents failed to perceive that, relatively to the person- ality, their own doctrine of the union fell short of that em- bodied in Adoptianism. They sought merely to connect the Son of God with the human nature, and substantially returned to Cyrill’s view of the matter, as Nedner has correctly perceived (p. 426). Compare Paulin. I. c. WilQe ii 25 ss AL Norte 52, page 262. Alcuin. opp. ii. 567 ff. cap. x.:—In uno eodemque Dei et hominis filio in una persona duabus quoque naturis esse plenis et perfectis (the Ablatives instead of the Accusatives are Spanish Latin) dei et hominis domini et servi visibilis atque invisibilis, tribus quoque substantiis, verbi scilicet anime et carnis, ut cre- datur in una eademque dei et hominis persona et homo deificus (—ficatus) et humanatus deus.—Talis enim erat illa susceptio, quee et deum hominem faceret et hominem deum (cap. xi.). He was, asa man, “servus,” but as the “filius dei” He was «dominus servi,” that is, Lord of Himself, which is not self- contradictory ; for “adoptivus” is in reality “ adfiliatus” (cap. xii.). This did not imply an abasement, but merely a conde- scension, because it was fitting and needful that the deliverance “ de dominatu antiqui hostis” should be effected “ justitia potius, quam potestate.” This ethical method of atonement is done away with, if, with Beatus and Etherius, we deny to Him a humanity like our own (p. 568). Servitude, they urged, must not, as their opponents supposed, be attributed to Christ, in the sense that 440 APPENDIX I. He was disloyal to the law, and regarded it as constraint from without. On the contrary, they deemed the predicates, “ servus” and “adoptivus,”’ perfectly compatible with each other; and “adoptio” was held to involve delight and freedom in obedience, in opposition to the servile spirit of the law. The spirit of adop- tion gives the “forma bene agendi, ut possit agi, quod docuit” (cap. xiv.). From this it is clear, that, unlike Felix, they could not have dated the “adoptio” first from the resurrection.—In the writings of Elipantus, there is not yet a trace of the formula, ‘“nuncupativus deus ;”’ it first occurs in those of Felix. Nore 53, page 267. Even the Diaconus Paschasius (he died in the year 512), in his time, had said, in his “ Libri ii. de Spiritu Sancto contra Macedonium” (compare Cave hist. liter. p- 3818),—“ In Christo gemina substantia sed non gemina persona est, quia persona per- sonam consumere potest, substantia vero substantiam non potest, siquidem persona res juris est, substantia res nature” Gi. 4). To this passage the Council of Frankfurt expressly appealed. This remarkable passage takes apparently for granted, that the only personality attributable to the man is a “ persona juris,’—not, however, a physical personality ; and that this “ persona juris” might lose its existence in a higher personality. Alcuin (c. Felic. il. 12) says,—“In adsumptione carnis a Deo persona perit hominis, non natura :” comp. Paulin. i. 12, ii. 4; whose words remind us thoroughly of Peter the Lombard.—Such an extinction implies, indeed, that a personal human nature existed, at all events, a moment prior to the actual Unio and its results, that is, prior to the incarnation :—which is a rémainder of Cerinthianism, But, supposing personality to be necessary to the completeness of the human nature to be assumed, there seemed to be no other course open than to posit its existence for a moment, and then to allow it to be extinguished. To the same purport, Innocent III. re- marked in a Decretal,—« quod persona Dei consumpsit personam hominis” (compare Thom. Aq. Opp. xii. ed. Antwerp, p.27. Not till a later period was the doctrine taught, “ persona non preeintel- ligitur assumtioni, sed est terminus assumtionis”). Thomas en- deavoured to give these words the following meaning,—“ persona divina unione impedivit, ne humana natura propriam personali- tatem haberet, which it would have had apart from the Unio.” NOTES. 441 Note 54, page 290. In Anselm’s view also, the universal is, it is true, in general an actuality, and the individual, though its form of mani- festation, is not its reality (see Hasse’s Anselm v. Canterbury, 1852, ii. 98). Anselm’s division of truth (the true) reminds us also of Erigena’s Divisio (1. c. p. 112). Anselm too says,— “Tt is one word by which God gives expression to Himself and to the creature” (p. 151). In its cause, the effect is still one with the cause. In the absolute Spirit, things are not what they are in themselves, but what He Himself is. Their egress out of their eternal ground first gives them a kind of inde- pendence over against absolute Being; though it also involves them in the alternations of a process, of which nonentity as well as entity is ever predicable, and which really is, only in so far as it follows and approaches near to, its true being (p. 152). With the same thought with which God thinks Him- self (se ipsam), He thinks also the creature; for He cannot think Himself, without thinking Himself as that which He 1s, to wit, as the ground of other beings, of beings which are grounded and rooted in Him. For the Non-Ipsum, the thought of the creature, appertains to the Ipsum itself, so far as, whilst lying in its cause, the effect is not yet an effect, but itself also the cause. In God, things are not yet things, but a determina- tion of the (creative) thought of the Creator. Anselm, how- ever, tries to distinguish between this thought or conception of the world, and the creative act by which the world was realized, in order to be able to posit an existence veritably other than God. But his efforts are in vain; for God must necessarily think the world as that which it actually becomes (l. c. pp. 917,218). Nor does Hasse’s suggestion clear up the difficulty, namely, that as Spirit, God was, in Anselm’s view, the most concrete existence—being, life, thought, and so forth; for which reason God comprises the totality of all being, and at the same time embraces this totality of being in the unity of His own Self. For, if the totality of those momenta, in their infinite fulness, be the world, and if God constitute the unity of the world, no real duplication of being has been effected ; but God is simply the unity of the world, and the world is the pleroma of God. By the aid of the categories of being, life 449 APPENDIX If. and thought, we shall never arrive at anything more than a play of distinction between God and the world. If the divine thought finds the world already existent in the divine being (the Ideal World of Erigena), then the idea of creation must necessarily be resolved into that of the self-cogitation of God. An ethical conception of God alone, can prevent our regarding the totality of the momenta which form the world as infolded immediately in the being of God, and viewing the self-cogita- tion of God both as His self-actualization, and as the realiza- tion of the above-mentioned momenta of His being, that is, of the world: through such an ethical conception alone, can the distinction and the unity of God and the world be secured.— Further, the theology of the Middle Ages long bore the traces of the (Erigenistic) predominance of knowledge over the will (see below, p. 305 f.). In consequence of the cognitive faculties being directed to the being of God, not to the will of God, which determines also His being, everything, not even excluding the work of creation, was. considered onesidedly from the point of view of necessity. By the necessity of His physical being, God is, according to this principle, the primal ground of a world ; and it is quite impossible to think God without thinking the world as posited zm and with His being, instead of, as posited by His will. Anselm, who considered the most general purpose of God in creation to be the manifestation of His thoughts, might readily have gone on to demand also the manifestation of that thought whose content and substance is God Himself GL ces 224). But such a demand would not have been so favourable to Christology as it might at first seem. On. this view, all mundane beings are essentially mere momenta of the totality ; but the unity cannot coincide with a momentum of the totality. It would be another matter if Christ were not an individual mundane being, but merely the true universal humanity itself ; and if the individuality of Christ, that which distinguished Him from all others, consisted solely in His unique connection with the Verbum. He came not far from taking up this posi- tion in his “de Fide Trin.” c. Jylcpe On. Nore 55, page 311. This question was made the subject of detailed discussions between Roscellin and Anselm, about the year 1092. Ros- NOTES. 443 cellin’s Nominalism led to Tritheism; and he tried to justify this Tritheism theologically, by maintaining,—that if we regard the persons in the Trinity, not as “tres res per se (separatim),” or as three individuals, but conceive them in conjunction with a common nature, we must allow that Father and Spirit also became man. All that we can say, therefore, regarding the three persons is, that they are one in power, and in will (aims) ; for otherwise, it is impossible that the Son alone should have become man. Similarly also Gilbert de la Porret. Anselm now rejects Tritheism: the three persons are merely three re- lations in God (even as, at a later period, Innocent II. Hpistol. T. i. Paris 1682, p. 544, doubted whether it were right to apply “nomina propria” to the three persons. The Church teaches numerically one God: the unity of the persons consists not alone in their belonging to one genus (it is not a merely generic unity); but it aims at a perfect unity—an unity, namely, real- ized by means of the three persons, which are related, and be- long, to each other). To that objection of Roscellin, Anselm, however, replied, For Roscellin, who divides the entire God into three individuals, it would be necessary that all the three persons should become man in order that there might be any true incarnation at all: but not for the Church; for the Church believes that the very same God was in the Sen that is in the Father, though in a different relation; and it further recognises distinctions in the one God, so that there is no ne- cessity for all that is attributable to the entire God in the Son, being also attributed to the Father. Anselm, however, goes still further. He says that it was impossible for the Father and the Spirit to have become man, at the same time with the Son. They could only have done so for the sake of their common nature. But the Church teaches that the incarnation merely accomplished the union of the divine and human person- alities ; that, therefore, it did not affect the divine and human natures. The divine person became man, and formed one person _ with the humanity assumed; but not the nature. Otherwise, the deity must be held to have been transformed into humanity, and humanity into deity. Anselm, therefore, decides that, not the divine nature, but the person, of the Son became man ;—a decision, the consequences of which were not as yet clearly seen by himself. He concludes with saying,—But if the divine 444 APPENDIX I. person alone, and not the divine nature, took part in the incar- nation, it is plain that we cannot speak of the three persons having become man in Christ, unless we hold that several per- sons could become one person (compare Hasse’s “ Anselm y. Canterbury,” ii, 291-305). In the following century also, Abzlard designated this a disputed point; and in his “ Sic et Non” adduced the authorities for and against. Gilbert de la Porret, whom we mentioned above, wished to distinguish be- tween deity (the essence, the nature of God) and God: not the former, but God alone, that is, the person, and indeed the person of the Son, did he consider to have become man (com- pare Baur’s “ Trinititslehre,” ii. 516, 517). As at this point, so also at another (as Anselm himself saw), Christology was affected by the controversy between Realism and Nominalism, even at its very commencement (see FHfasse’s Anselm, p. 105; Anselm, “de Fide Trin.” ¢. 2). Anselm remarks,—Whoso knoweth not that man is something, even apart from single individuals, will, of course, represent to himself merely a single person, when he hears speak of man; and how will he understand the declaration,—the Logos took upon Himself man, that is, another nature, not another person ? Nominalism was necessitated to insist on the personality of the human nature, because it regarded the common human, the generical human, not as real, but as a mere subjective product of the mind, and considered the reality of the humanity of Christ to consist solely in its individuality. This was the case, however, merely in the rough beginnings of Nominalism, when the Platonic “ Universalia ante Rem” were put in strong con- trast to the nominalistic “ Universalia post Rem.” At a sub- sequent period, Nominalists themselves conceded “ Universalia in Re,” and justly regarded this concession as involving a heightening instead of a lowering of the significance of indi- viduality——F rom what has been advanced, we see how it was possible for Realism to arrive at the view just mentioned, that the humanity of Christ was merely the general human nature, without any individual specialty whatever:—a view which might be employed in the construction of a mystical Christology, so long, namely, as, a distinction not being drawn between per- sonality and individuality, it was deemed necessary, in denying the former, to deny also the latter. to the humanity of Christ. NOTES. 445 The question might then readily arise, which was put by Inno- cent III. (p. 545),— Whether a proper name should be given to the humanity of Christ? Realists could never advance beyond this question until they acknowledged the humanity of Christ to be, not merely the universally human, that which remains after abstracting what is peculiar to individuals, but the realization of the true idea of humanity,—which idea came far more clearly to light in Him than in the Adamitic humanity ;—but that once acknowledged, the humanity of Christ would have been seen to be possessed of a distinctive, and therefore of an indi- vidual character. It would then, it is true, be an appearance towards which the idea of humanity, as it existed in the Divine mind, eternally tended. The manifestation of that idea in an actual person, must accordingly be held to have formed part of the original idea of the world. Inasmuch, however, as at this point an historical personality was deemed to have been founded in the divine ideal world itself, and to have formed a consti- tutive momentum thereof, Plato’s system of the ideal world, treating, as it did, persons as accidents, was broken through in one important respect: the ideal world must now therefore be converted into a divine counsel, the objects of which are per- sons, history, and an ethical organism of persons, instead of the immoyeable, abstract ideas of Plato. We shall soon see, that even as early as the twelfth century, one party struck into this path (see below, pp. 322 ff.). Nore 56, page 328 Of Christ, as not merely a brother, but “ quasi alter Adam, caput et principium omnium in ipso resurgentium,” he speaks in his work entitled, “ de Immanuele” (I. i. cap. x.). In the “de Incarnatione,” he carries the idea out further,—It was necessary for the Son to become man ; not to the entire Trinity did the satisfaction need to be offered, especially not to the Son, but to the Father. The Father it was who demanded punish- ment: He therefore could not at the same time become man and pay the penalty (cap. ix.). Further (cap. x. ),— Ratio exigebat, ut ruin nostre reparator per exinanitionem descenderet de similitudine Dei ad similitudinem lapsi: Filius autem est imago et figura patris; which the Holy Ghost is not. Adam, indeed, by his attempt to purloin Wisdom, sinned specially against the 446 APPENDIX I. Son, who is the Wisdom of God; but how beautiful was the relation, that the Father should have willed to avenge the “ in- juria Filii,” and the Son to forgive it, nay more, to effect its pardon with the Father! “ Divisit itaque inter se summa illa personarum trinitas, unus Deus, negotium salutis humane, ut unam eandemque hominis culpam Pater puniret Filius explaret, Spiritus Sanctus ignosceret.” Both Richard de St Victor and Ruprecht of Deutz, therefore, keep to Anselm’s theory of the atonement ; the Lombard, on the contrary, gave it up, because he considered the human nature of Christ alone to have acted a mediatorial part. Richard apparently had in view the objec- tion, that if the Son of God also, in Christ, offered satisfaction, the Son would have been paying Himself; or, in other words, that the satisfaction was offered merely in appearance, that the whole matter was purely epideictic. But instead of passing on to the answer given by the Lombard, which emasculated the sleni- ficance of the work of Christ, and suspended the incarnation it- self,—the answer, namely, the man Jesus alone redeemed us, — Richard endeavoured to overcome the difficulty by distributing the different momenta between the three persons of the Trinity ——a course which pretty plainly leads to Tritheism. He then pro- ceeds to say, — That our only help lay in an incarnation of God, was seen by the ancients, both under Judaism and Heathenism. Saint Dionysius, when asked by Paul in Athens, whether the altar was meant for a spirit of the gods, or for a man? answered,—The Unknown One must be true God and true man. But who ever ventured to supplicate such an act of condescension 2 (cap. xiii.). Nore 57, page 329. “ Cesset jam ironia, dicatur jam de sententia! dictum est hoc exprobrando: dicamus modo hoc gloriando, et glorificando et Patrem et Filium et Spiritum Sanctum, ex quo factum est, per quem factum est, in quo factum est totum, quod propter nos factum est. Dic, impie Zabulon, qui valet nunc fraus tua? Plas est, quod contulit nobis Christi misericordia, quam nobis abstulit illa tua fraudulenta malitia. Ecce homo factus est, quasi Deus, sciens bonum et malum, quod tu fraudulenter pro- misisti. Ecce homo factus est verus Deus, quod tu quidem nec cogitare potuisti.” It deserves mention further, that Richard rightly saw that the birth from a virgin was not necessary in Tea = NOTES. 447 order to secure the purity of Christ (de Imman.i.11). “Si Immanuel noster de utroque sexu nasci voluisset et hoc ratio exigeret, utrumque ad mundam prolem seminandam purgare potuisset” (as must, at all events, have happened in the case of Mary). But, “ si de utroque (sexu) carnem assumeret, utique et a proprietatis sue similitudine longius recederet, et ad nos- tram minus appropinquaret ;” it was part of His distinctive character to have God alone for His Father.—On the other hand, Richard’s teaching regarding the knowledge of Christ in His childhood, is less satisfactory: he attributes to Him perfect knowledge (de Immanuele ii. 18 ff., i. 15) ; though he wished to combine therewith the fact of growth. Nor did he, like the Greek theologians, refer the growth merely to the display of the know- ledge, but held that the Son of God tasted human life by de- grees, and by gradual experience became acquainted with that which appertains thereto. To this question, Hugo de St Victor also devoted an entire treatise, entitled, “‘ De anima Christi.” He puts the question in a more general form :—If we assume the wisdom of Christ to have equalled the divine, do we not lessen the distinction between the Infinite Creator and the creature? His answer is as follows :—The soul of Christ is not equal to God, for it neither is, nor becomes, the Wisdom of God; but this Wisdom, in which all participate who are wise, according to the different degrees of their susceptibility, dwelt entirely and bodily in the soul of Christ ;—not, therefore, in such a manner that the half was in it, and the half outside of it. And thus it possessed the entire Wisdom of God, but was it not. But in this way the problem of Christology was scarcely touched, for the question still remains, — Wherein consisted the communion and unity of the soul of Christ with Wisdom? He also himself felt this at the close, but merely adds —Christ’s soul was completely wise; it did not merely receive of, but em- braced the fulness of wisdom (comprehendit). How that was possible, he does not show. Norte 58, page 331. Q. iv. 2. Innocent III. said in one of his Decretals, “ Quod persona Dei consumpsit personam hominis.” The human nature would of course have had a personality of its own, independ- ently of the incarnation ; yet, strictly speaking, that which did 448 APPENDIN I. not yet exist could not be consumed. What Innocent says, therefore, could merely mean,—“ persona divina sua unione im- pedivit, ne humana natura propriam personalitatem haberet” (p. 29%). Cajetan, in his Commentary, reminds his readers, in connection with this matter, that, according to Thomas, a “ na- tura singularis” is incomplete without personality, and seeks and finds its goal or consummation in “ personalitas ;” whether the “ personalitas” be its own or a strange one, lent to it. Now the human nature in Christ, Cajetan goes on to say, “ assumta ad personalitatem divinam totum appetitum personalitatis plus quam satiatum ac consummatum habet et consequenter quiescit abs- que appetitu quocunque alterius personalitatis.” Hence, strictly speaking, the human nature had already been, and not Was, hindered in the production of a personality of its own (p. 2908. Nore 59, page 346. Tn connection with this dogma, Duns Scotus rendered special service in Paris and Cologne, as an antagonist of the school of Thomas Aquinas and Albert the Great (compare “ Rosarium St. Marii,” in the Appendix to Liber iii.). It is worthy of note, that the main reason for the birth of Christ from a virgin, recognised in the ancient Church, was thus given up. For Mary is represented as having been the fruit of a marriage, and yet, at the same time, sinless (compare L. iii. Dist. iv.. and L. iv. Dist. ii, Q. 2, 11). In the proportion in which the later Roman Catholic dogmaticians were unproductive relatively to Christology, especially after the Reformation, in that proportion did the doctrine of Mary grow rankly and apace. It assumed more and more distinctly the character of a dogma, and ab- sorbed the energies that should have been devoted to Christo- logy. Raymund Lullus, in particular, distinguished himself in this respect: compare Libro de la Concepcion Virginal, compuesto por el iluminado Maestro Raymundo Lullio, tradu- zido por Don Alonzo de Zepeda en Brusselas 1664. In this work, he shows that Christ was the final cause of Mary ; but it was necessary for the final cause, in order to arrive at actuality, to infuse itself into Mary at the very commencement of her ex- istence, and by this infusion of His goodness, greatness, virtue, wisdom, and so forth, to make the human nature of Mary holy , the new creation (recreatio) required to begin with the rise of | NOTES. . 449 Mary, not of Christ. And, indeed, even apart from sin, this would have taken place in Mary, and Christ would have been born of her. ‘To suppose that Mary was not free from sin, not even from original sin, is to put her on a lower stage than Adam prior to the Fall. But, inasmuch as the “ causa finalis,” Christ, operated at her origin in the manner described, Lullius deems her to have constituted an integral element of His historical actuality. The most famous Mariologian of recent times 1s Perron. Norte 60, page 309. Whereas the Lombard devoted much attention to the ques- tion,—Whether the divine nature or the divine hypostasis assumed human nature (Q. iii. 1, 2); Thomas arrived at the conclusion,—Not the divine person, but the divine nature, assumed human nature; though the personality was the real goal of the assumption (terminus assumtionis). He deems the personal union of the Word of God with a man to be the high- est of all possible forms of union for both, and herein lies Christ’s specific dignity. At the same time, in the view of Thomas, there was also a certain union of the divine nature with the human, so far as the latter was susceptible thereof; and in this aspect, Christ is related to all those who are, at all events to some extent, partakers of the divine nature. Thomas, therefore, cannot be classed among those who, with the notion of making the problem of Christology easier, say,—The divine nature did not assume the human nature, but merely the divine person, without the divine nature (see above; compare Abraham Calov. Systema loc. Theol. Tom. vii., Vit. 1677, p- 148). Note 61, page 367. Concerning the German Reformers, we shall have to speak at a later period. Suffice it to adduce, in this connection, of Melanchthon, Opp. T. iv. 1564, ed. Wittenb. pp. 338 ff., 1. 318, 319, 232, 242, i. 149,160. He requires that we consider the work of creation also in the light of that highest revelation, the ‘nearnation. For it was God’s purpose to be known and loved by the world; and the incarnation of God first brought this know- ledge in perfection. God was moved by love to create, in order that He might communicate Himself to the world : this self-com- munication attained completeness in the incarnation. The final P. 2.—VOL. I. 2¥ 450 APPENDIX I. cause of creation (causa finalis creationis) was (so he remarks on Colossians i. 16 ff.), not the Son of God, but the God-man, “ quia heee copulatio divinee et humane nature est summum opus Dei et in hac copulatione conspicitur multiplex sapientia Dei et immensus amor erga genus humanum.” He takes particular pleasure in urging, that the purpose of His mission was the union of spirits to the Church, of which He is the Head “efficacia, perfectione, ordine et merito.” Such passages in the works of the Reformers are the more worthy of remark, as, their attention having been predominantly concentrated on the doctrines of sin and of redemption, no evidence against the prin- ciple in question can be drawn from their silence. Those who attach importance to the absence of any such laying of stress on this point in the works of the Reformers, as we find in the works of men like Andr. Osiander (who was thoroughly bap- tized into the spirit of Luther) and Schwenkfeld, should take into consideration, partly, the doctrine of predestination, which, at first, was common to all; and partly, the doctrine of the Reformers, regarding the unconditioned necessity of Christ and His work to the redemption of men. On the ground of both these doctrines, they could not but regard the coming of Christ as eternally predestined, and not merely contingent on an event like sin. Moreover, they had no doubt that Christ, as the Head of His body, continued, even after He had overcome sin, to stand in an essential relation to humanity; and that is the real kernel of the present question. Nore 62, page 374. His scepticism did not even halt at the moral law. If God should actually command him to hate Him, or to steal, that which we now consider sin would then be meritorious. In his Sent. L. ii. 19, ad dubium 3, 4, ed. Lugd. 1495. Similarly also in his Centilogium, Concl. 5. Instead of conceding the possibility of a knowledge of the necessity or fitness of the in- carnation, he maintains, in his Centilogium theologicum, Con- clusio 6, 7,—“ Deus potest assumere omnem creaturam sive omne aliud a Deo in unitate suppositi.” Faith, it is true, teaches that He assumed one nature alone, namely, the human; but “non includit contradictionem, Deum assumere naturam asininam—et pari ratione potest assumere lapidem et lignum, NOTES. 451 ete.’ With the utmost frivolity and indifference to all religious interests, he then investigates, what significance the doctrine of the “Communicatio Idiomatum” would retain, and what results would follow, if God had assumed such another natura. He adduces the arguments pro and contra; and at last ends with saying, that in view of the “ potentia absoluta” of God, the most absurd statements have a certain truth; though the “potentia ordinata,” as it is taught by the Church, sets a limit to such absurdities. As the “Communicatio Idiomatum” may be hypothetically extended to irrational inanimate beings, so, he goes on to say (Centil. Concl. 13), may it be extended to the individual parts of Christ, with quite as much truth and right as to the human nature in general :—one might, therefore, say, __Christ’s head is Christ’s foot; Christ’s eye is Christ’s hand. “ Sicut est hee (propositio) vera: Deus est homo ratione assumtionis nature, sic hec est vera: Deus est caput ratione consimilis assumtionis. Et consimiliter potest probari, quod— Deus est pes. Tune sic: iste Deus est pes Christi, iste Deus est caput Christi, ergo caput Christi est pes Christi.” After having discussed the reasons for and against in detail, and de- cided that such propositions are true, he says,—Some, indeed, maintain that the “Communicatio Idiomatum” did not take place relatively to the “assumtio” of such individual parts: but still it is probably to be conceded. Let each choose what pleases him best. Other propositions which he proves are the following :— Concl. 19: Natura humana assumta est rationale animal, non homo; ex aggregatione s. assumtione humane nature in unitate suppositi divini animalia tria resultant.—20: Unum et idem corpus numero est in uno loco (i.e. ccelo) extensive et in alio loco (i.e.. in sacramento) non extensive.—22: Non est dare maximum locum, quem corpus Christi non posset implere.—25 : Corpus Christi potest esse ubique sicut Deus est ubique; for coéxistit totum corpus Christi euilibet parti hostize parvee consecratee.— Unde si esset aliqua magna. hostia replens totum mundum, eque faciliter posset totum corpus Christi coéxistere cuilibet parti hos- tise consecrate (cf. Quotlib. 1v. xx.-xxxix.).—385: Aliquis homo fuit ab eterno cujus humanitas incepit esse.—36: Aliquid totum fuit ab eterno, cujus quelibet pars ncepit esse.—9o7: Aliquid totum in aliquo instanti fuit, in quo nulla ejus pars fuit.—38: Homo Christus fuit aliquid quando nihil fuit homo Christus. 452 APPENDIX. I. Further, with reference to Dyophysitism and its consequences, he says in Concl. 40: “Deus habet duas voluntates et duos intel- lectus et duas scientias—41: Deus vult aliquid quod Deus non vult. Deus intelligit aliquid quod Deus non intelligit ; Deus scit aliquid quod Deus non scit.” The proofs advanced by him for the truth of these propositions, he does not regard as scientific : his intention was merely to show, that they necessarily follow from the doctrine of the Church, and must, therefore, be valid. His procedure is purely one of formal logic. But as he mani- fests no interest whatever in the religious bearings of the matter, and gives the reins to his logic, it is doubtful whether he were merely desirous of exhibiting his logical skill in a piquant man- ner, or whether he wished to lay bare the contradictions in the doctrine of the Church. At all events, he was bent on over- throwing every imagination of being able to know anything in the sphere of faith In Sent. L. iii. Q. 1, it is true, he defends some of the determinations arrived at by the Church, on the subject of Christology, against certain attacks; but he disclaims at the outset, any intention of proving their truth. He there employs, for the “ Unio,” the image of “forma” and ¢ materia,” which may be united with each other without ceasing to be what they are: not, however, as though the human and divine natures became “per se unum,” as do “forma” and “materia ay we must further employ the image of substance and accident, which are merely “unum per accidens.” The human nature remained impersonal, even in the “Unio” (ad 18um dubium). Most of the traditional questions he leaves uninvestigated, but occupies half of his brief treatise on Christology with proving, —that to one of the three Divine Persons, indeed, something may appertain, which does not appertain to another ; that, in particular, the element which constituted the person of the Son might be the vehicular principle of Christ, that which con- summated His personality,—because it was the personality, and. not the nature (essentia et proprictates), of the Son, that united itself with the human nature and made it personal. Neverthe- less, it was possible for the three Divine Persons to assume this human nature, because it did not receive the divine personality as its own, but was merely sustained by it. APPENDIX II. Note A, page 19. « Wrrp nun aber niher darauf geachtet dass das Ausge- zeichnete in Christi menschlicher Natur, dem sich die besondere Sympathie der allgegenwiirtigen géttlichen zugewendet hat, auf Erden nicht sowohl in physichen Vorziigen bestehen kann, als in moralischen, namentlich darin, dass auch dieser Mensch eine Sympathie fiir das Gottliche hat, jedoch auf dem Grunde zweier entgegengesetzter Substanzen, mithin so; dass nicht die Sub- stanzen einander zugewendet Eimigung unter sich suchen kénnten, sondern nur so, dass jede von beiden innerlich fiir sich bleibend doch namentlich Dasselbe will wie die Andere.” Note B, page 68. “ Dieser Wille ist zwar mebr nur als der Machtwille gedacht, weniger als allmachtiger Liebeswille, aber doch liegt darin schon der Gedanke an eine Macht des Logos tiber seine elgene Natur eingehiillt.” Notes O, page 72. “and er in der antiochenischen Formel , die Los- lichkeit des Logos von der Menschkeit noch nicht ausgeschlos- sen, zu sehr alles auf den Willen, nicht auf ein beharrliches festes Sein gestellt, so lag ihm ja die Méglichkeit offen, das Ethische substantiell als die innerste wahre Natur in Gott zu denken.” Note D, page 129. : —Bringt die géttliche Mittheilung nur die Vollen- dung der Natur selbst, so ist das Mitgetheilte zu dieser vollen Natur zu rechnen, und gehért es nicht zu dieser Natur selbst, 454 APPENDIX II. so bringt es, gleichwohl ihr mitgetheilt, die Natur aus ihrem eignen Wesen heraus, und selbst die Aufhebung der mensch- lichen Unvollkommenheiten ist dann gleichsam eine bleibende Kkstase oder Entriickung der Menschheit aus ihrem eigentlichen Wesen und nicht ihre eigene Vollendung.” Note E, page 148. “Alles actu existirende muss nach ihnen als Besonderes existiren ; das Allgemeine existirt nicht etwa blos auch in Be- sonderem, sondern nur als sich Besonderndes.” Nore F, page’158. “In den Dingen, die der Gestalt nach mangelhaft sind, ist sie die gestaltende Gestalt und Princip der Gestalt; aber nicht minder in den Gestalten auch der Gestalt ermangelnd, weil iiber alle Gestalt. Sie ist das Wesen, das allen Wesen ganz und gar innewohnt ohne Befleckung, und zugleich iiber alles Wesen ganz und gar erhaben.” Norte G, page 159. Er will das Eine in der Bewegung, im Processe schauen, Allein dieses ist nur moglich bei realem Unterschiede der Momente, wiihrend hier die Unterschiede nicht durch die Ein- heit gesetzt, sondern empirisch oder traditionell aufgenommen, und in die unterschiedslose Einheit wieder versenkt werden. So behalten sie nur die niedentung, eine niedrigere noch nicht zur héchsten Einheit aufgestiegene Bewusstseinsstufe zu be- zeichnen.” Nore H, page 172. “Ist und bleibt die Einheit unwandelbar und ungetheilt, so bleibt es auch die Zweiheit dessen was in unwandelbarem Un- terschied sich darstellt und in ungetheilter Anderheit zusam- menleuchtet.” Norse I, page 182. $e Sondern auch das Resultat ist ein Doppeltes, in soweit es nicht ausserhalb seiner ist, sondern auf seine Person selbst sich bezieht, obwohl die beiderseitige Thatigkeit in dem- selben Objekt zusammentreffen kann,” NOTES. 455 Norte J, page 188. “Dieses wie die Lehre von Christi gnomischen Willen zeigt, wie im monothel. Streit unter dé\nua auch die Actu- alitiit der Intelligenz verstanden wird, besonders spiter, vgl. Baur.” Note K, page 240. “ Die Einheit dieses scheinbaren Gegensatzes und das Wort des Rithsels ist der Geist. Er ist wirklich in sich seiendes Wesen, und doch zugleich in dieser sich selbstbehauptenden Reflexion in sich auch allegemein Wesen, das fiir Andere sein will. Oder genauer: die Wahrheit des Geistes, das Ethische ist erst im Stande tiber jenen Gegensatz des unmittheilsamen sich selbst behauptenden und des mittheilbaren Wesen zu erheben, iiber den Gegensatz des jiidischen und des heidnischen Gottesbegriffes.” Norte L, page 261. “ Er lisst das Christum begriindende Prinzip in der Art das Ich dieser Gesammtperson sein, dass der Menschensohn das Ich, das freilich zu seinem Begriffe gehért, habe in dem Gottes- sohn.” Note M, page 286. 66 Als die’ Wahrheit der Welt und als Gottes des Erscheinenden Zweck der wahre Mensch, genauer, die speku- lative Gotteserkenntniss des menschlichen Geistes und die Seligkeit darin bezeichnet.” | Norte N, page 294. “In dem historischen Christus kann daher Gott nur in einer Weise sich offenbart haben, welche zugleich eine Negation davon ist, dass er wirklich in ihm hervortrete, d. h. er kann nur in dem Bilde sich zeigen, welches einen Willen ausdriickt, fiir gegenwirtig zu gelten, zugleich mit der Forderung an die Menschen, durch das Bild sich anregen zu lassen, um in Negation des Bildes sich in das Bildlose oder Urbildliche zu schwin gen.” 456 APPENDIX IL. Nore O, page 313. “Was das Wort annahm, das war nicht eine aus Seele und Leib zusammengesetzte Person und das Wort empfieng keine menschliche Person, sondern Leib und Seele empfangend, hat es sie unter einander und mit sich selbst geeint, und indem es sie einigte, empfangen. Aber wie ist, das wiire die Haupt- frage, dieses Empfangen und diese Kinigung zu denken 2?” Nore P, page 377. “Die ganze Vergangenheit der geistigen Welt versammelt sich wieder im Bewusstseyn besonders der deutschen Mensch- heit, um das grosse Werk méglich zu machen, das geboren werden sollte.” | MURRAY AND GIBB, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. é, 5 EE Se AE nt tga ies OO ee en OO ene tee : : Pte Brecon ee RS aR a ae eh NS ok pend hep tesa: sh erie dhe wate nee sale Sa Sewg ie 7 = ¥ ‘' ae a . oe oe ve ~ ae ee ree Oe Meio Tee ihn iat. ee ea ee 4 — 1 ea wi ee % % sas a PUSS inti PN ome] EEO REET 7 i Be uacneat ? ee tee eb ena pS aah Sie 3 : “a-ha Ns otro pas e nee, : MA BES ee tem ~aeleSerys. se shes adA ius mist ate oy oF oh 0 weg Sh Rb OS net ae te ps Bus re Dy Apa reige pt Sale Bede ns Ba hese an ae ee abe et ae Ch So ph hE aNiag iy, Saeed = Ne te Saneie oe pS Tire . aa ; z pete Soe aFotty Z Chad ee eee : sabe gL BATS Ease oi, - 50 ; B J _ ee anes on BEY ve ¥ Pan here Bay Folens Be wy WA NCE Be. = EWR RA Rank IS Mh EsNawatiowh “ “ee ns er s = . z san? ; Aiighe toe 5 MRL. ae area! heroes ; oh : axe Pa toes: fay oaete At APA ad, pee en eee eae Me Soya See 5 ee OREN oD Ken) Resiticees 2 Withemietan i Mais Ph ; ; é . : SET Goa Pees hes = , ‘ e8 Sp ae AE TS E a Av SSE, ° 2 : 2 cfs : ; aehe Bore nt 3 > ¥ % ws, reat : : nt tah ctaaiteenrs So Vaz *s atte oP Dikeg pt Ot me WEL rag th s . si Sehars, ay LOANS the Soe3, | 9 ae =a * tite ORK Sitrncarty GE : PRD td tet Ree. ; heyhaedis “ety bes eee Peak ssolat ay obeys tert ‘ Fpetandteitebens geet onthe rantale Bete ttle Nits PETS led ase ee! 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