The
declining
years of Athanasius were spent in peace.
Cambridge Medieval History - v1 - Christian Roman Empire and Teutonic Kingdoms
In the next century the councils of the Church became
the battlefield of nations, and the victory of Hellenic orthodoxy at
Chalcedon implied sooner or later the separation of Monophysite Egypt
and Nestorian Syria.
Arianism seemed to have won its victory when the last Nicene
champion was driven into the desert. But the West was only terrorized,
Egypt was devoted to its patriarch, Nicenes were fairly strong in the
East, and the conservatives who had won the battle would never accept
Arianism. However, this was the time chosen for an open declaration
of Arianism, by a small council of Western bishops at Sirmium, headed
by Ursacius and Valens. They emphasize the unity of God, condemn
the words ουσία (essence), ομοούσιον and όμοιούσιον, lay stress on the
inferiority of the Son, limit the Incarnation to the assumption of a body,
and more than half say that he is only a creature. This was clear Anomoean
doctrine, and made a stir even in the West, where it was promptly con-
demned by the Gaulish bishops, now partly shielded from Constantius
by the Caesarship of Julian. But the Sirmian manifesto spread dismay
through the ranks of the Eastern conservatives. They had not put down
Sabellianism only in order to set up the Anomoeans; and the danger was
brought home to them when Eudoxius of Antioch and Acacius of
Caesarea convened a Syrian synod to approve the manifesto. The
conservative counterblow was struck at Ancyra in Lent 358. The
synodical letter is long and clumsy, but we see in it conservatism
changing from its Eusebian to a Semiarian phase—from fear of Sabel-
lianism to fear of Arianism. They won a complete victory at the Court,
and sent Eudoxius and the rest into exile. This however was too much.
The exiles were soon recalled, and the strife began again more bitterly
than ever.
## p. 133 (#163) ############################################
359–360]
The Homoean domination
133
Here was a deadlock. All parties had failed. The Anomoeans were
active enough, but pure Arianism was hopelessly discredited throughout
the Empire. The Nicenes had Egypt and the West, but they could
not overcome the Court and Asia. The Eastern Semiarians were the
strongest party, but such men of violence could not close the strife. In
this deadlock nothing was left but specious charity and colourless in-
definiteness ; and this was the plan of the new Homoean party, formed
by Acacius and Eudoxius in the East, Ursacius and Valens in the West.
A general council was decided on; but it was divided into two-the
Westerns to meet at Ariminum, the Easterns at Seleucia in Cilicia, the
headquarters of the army then operating against the Isaurians. Mean-
while parties began to group themselves afresh. The Anomoeans went
with the Homoeans, from whom alone they could expect any favour,
while the Semiarians drew closer to the Nicenes, and were welcomed by
Hilary of Poitiers in his conciliatory de Synodis. The next step was a
small meeting of Homoean and Semiarian leaders, held in the emperor's
presence on Pentecost Eve (22 May 359) to draw up a creed to be laid
before the councils. The dated creed (or fourth of Sirmium) is conser-
vative in its appeals to Scripture, in its solemn reverence for the Lord,
in its rejection of essence (ouoia) as not found in Scripture, and in its insist-
ence on the mystery of the eternal generation. But its central clause gave
a decisive advantage to the Homoeans. “We say that the Son is like
the Father in all things as the Scriptures say and teach. ” Even the
Anomoeans could sign this. “Like the Father as the Scriptures say--
and no further; and we find very little likeness taught in Scripture. Like
the Father if you will, but not like God, for no creature can be. Like the
Father certainly, but not in essence, for likeness which is not identity
implies difference-or in other words, likeness is a question of degree. "
Of these three replies, the first is fair, the third perfectly sound.
The reception of the creed was hostile in both councils. The
Westerns at Ariminum rejected it, deposed the Homoean leaders,
and ratified the Nicene Creed. In the end however they accepted the
Sirmian, but with the addition of a stringent series of anathemas against
Arianism, which Valens accepted for the moment. The Easterns at
—.
Seleucia rejected it likewise, deposed the Homoean leaders, and ratified
the Lucianic creed. Both sides sent deputies to the emperor, as had
been arranged; and after much pressure, these deputies signed a revision
of the dated creed on the night of 31 Dec. 359. The Homoeans now
saw their way to final victory.
By throwing over the Anomoeans and condemning their leader
Aëtius, they were able to enforce the prohibition of the Semiarian
ópolotolov: and then it only remained to revise the dated creed again
for a council held at Constantinople in Feb. 360, and send the Semiarian
leaders into exile.
The Homoean domination never extended beyond the Alps. Gaul
a
cH. Y.
## p. 134 (#164) ############################################
134
Julian
[ 356–361
was firmly Nicene, and Constantius could do nothing there after the
mutiny at Paris in Jan. 360 had made Julian independent of him. The
few Western Arians soon died out. But in the East, the Homoean
power lasted nearly twenty years. Its strength lay in its appeal to the
moderate men who were tired of strife, and to the confused thinkers who
did not see that a vital question was at issue. The dated creed seemed
reverent and safe; and its defects would not have been easy to see if the
Anomoeans had not made them plain. But the position of parties was
greatly changed since 356. First Hilary of Poitiers had done something
to bring together conservatives and Nicenes ; then Athanasius took up
the work in his own de Synodis. It is a noble overture of friendship to
his old conservative enemies. The Semiarians, or many of them, accepted
of the essence (ex tîus oủolas) and the Nicene anathemas, and doubted only
of the ówooúolov. Such men, says he, are not to be treated as enemies,
but reasoned with as brethren who differ from us only in the use of a
word which sums up their own teaching as well as ours.
When they
confess that the Lord is a true Son of God and not a creature, they
grant all that we are contending for. Their own homoiousion without
of the essence does not shut out Arianism, but the two together amount
to homoousion. Moreover, homoiousion is illogical, for likeness is of
properties and qualities, whereas the essence must be the same or
different, so that the word rather suggests Arianism, whereas homoousion
shuts it out effectually. If they accept our doctrine, sooner or later
they will find that they cannot refuse its necessary safeguard. But if
Nicenes and Semiarians drew together, so did Homoeans and Anomoeans.
Any ideas of conciliating Nicene support were destroyed by the exile of
Meletius, the new bishop of Antioch, for preaching a sermon carefully
modelled on the dated creed, but substantially Nicene in doctrine. A
schism arose at Antioch ; and henceforth the leaders of the Homoeans
were practically Arians.
The mutiny at Paris implied a civil war : but just as it was be-
ginning, Constantius died at Mopsucrenae beneath Mount Taurus
(3 Nov. 361) and Julian remained sole emperor. We are not here
concerned with the general history of his reign, or even with his policy
towards the Christians—only with its bearing on Arianism. In general,
he held to the toleration of the Edict of Milan. The Christians are not
to be persecuted-only deprived of special privileges—but the emperor's
favour must be reserved for the worshippers of the gods. So the ad-
ministration was unfriendly to the Christians, and left occasional outrages
unpunished, or dismissed them with a thin reproof. But these were no
great matters, for the Christians were now too strong to be lynched at
pleasure. Julian's chief endeavour was to put new life into heathenism:
and in this the heathens themselves hardly took him seriously. His
only act of definite persecution was the edict near the end of his reign,
which forbade the Christians to teach the classics ; and this is dis-
approved by “the cool and impartial heathen” Ammianus.
## p. 135 (#165) ############################################
362]
Apollinarius of Laodicea
135
Every blow struck by Julian against the Christians fell first on the
Homoeans whom Constantius had left in power; and the reaction he
provoked against Greek culture threatened the philosophical postulates
of Arianism. But Julian cared little for the internal quarrels of the
Christians, and only broke his rule of contemptuous impartiality when
he recognised one greater than himself in “ the detestable Athanasius. ”
Before long an edict recalled the exiled bishops, though it did not replace
them in their churches. If others were in possession, it was not Julian's
business to turn them out. This was toleration, but Julian had a
malicious hope of still further embroiling the confusion. If the
Christians were left to themselves, they would “quarrel like beasts. "
He got a few scandalous wranglings, but in the main he was mistaken.
The Christians only closed their ranks against the common enemy: the
Arians also were sound Christians in this matter-blind old Maris of
Chalcedon came and cursed him to his face.
Back to their cities came the survivors of the exiled bishops, no
longer travelling in pomp and circumstance to their noisy councils, but
bound on the nobler errand of seeking out their lost or scattered flocks.
It was time to resume Hilary's interrupted work of conciliation.
Semiarian violence had discredited in advance the new conservatism
at Seleucia : but Athanasius had things more in his favour, for Julian's
reign had not only sobered partizanship, but left a clear field for the
strongest moral force in Christendom to assert itself. And this force was
with the Nicenes. Athanasius reappeared at Alexandria 22 Feb. 362,
and held a small council there before Julian drove him out again. It
was decided first that Arians who came over to the Nicene side were to
retain their rank on condition of accepting the Nicene council, none but
the chiefs and active defenders of Arianism being reduced to lay com-
munion. Then, after clearing up some misunderstandings of East and
West, and trying to settle the schism at Antioch by inducing the old
Nicenes, who at present had no bishop, to accept Meletius, they took in
hand two new questions of doctrine. One was the divinity of the Holy
Spirit. Its reality was acknowledged, except by the Arians; but did it
amount to co-essential deity ? That was still an open question. But
now that attention was fully directed to the subject, it appeared from
Scripture that the theory of eternal distinctions in the divine nature
must either be extended to the Holy Spirit or abandoned. Athanasius
took one course, the Anomoeans the other, while the Semiarians tried
to make a difference between the Lord's deity and that of the Holy
Spirit: and this gradually became the chief obstacle to their union with
the Nicenes. The other subject of debate was the new system of Apol-
linarius of Laodicea--the most suggestive of all the ancient heresies.
Apollinarius was the first who fairly faced the difficulty, that if all men
are sinners, and the Lord was not a sinner, he cannot have been truly
Apollinarius replied that sin lies in the weakness of the human
man,
CH. V.
## p. 136 (#166) ############################################
136
Movements under Julian
[362–363
spirit, and accounted for the sinlessness of Christ by putting in its place
the divine Logos, and adding the important statement that if the human
spirit was created in the image of the Logos (Gen. i. 28) Christ would
not be the less human but the more so for the difference. The spirit in
Christ was human spirit, although divine. Further, the Logos which in
Christ was human spirit was eternal. Apart then from the Incarnation,
the Logos was archetypal man as well as God, so that the Incarnation
was not simply an expedient to get rid of sin, but the historic revelation
of that which was latent in the Logos from eternity. The Logos and
man are not alien beings, but joined in their inmost nature, and in a
real sense each is incomplete without the other. Suggestive as this is,
Apollinarius reaches no true incarnation. Against him it was decided
that the Incarnation implied a human soul as well as a human body—a
decision which struck straight enough at the Arians, but quite missed
the triple division of body, soul, and spirit (1 Thess. v. 23) on which
Apollinarius based his system.
Athanasius was exiled again almost at once: Julian's anger was
kindled by the news that he had baptized some heathen ladies at
Alexandria. But his work remained. At Antioch indeed it was
marred by Lucifer of Calaris, who would have nothing to do with
Meletius, and consecrated Paulinus as bishop for the old Nicenes. So
the schism continued, and henceforth the rising Nicene party of Pontus
and Asia was divided by this personal question from the older Nicenes
of Egypt and the West. But upon the whole the lenient policy of the
council was a great success. Bishop after bishop gave in his adhesion
to the Nicene faith. Friendly Semiarians came in like Cyril of Jeru-
salem, old conservatives followed, and at last (in Jovian's time) the
arch-enemy Acacius himself gave in his signature. Even creeds were re-
modelled in all directions in a Nicene sense, as at Jerusalem and Antioch,
and in Cappadocia and Mesopotamia. True, the other parties were not
idle. The Homoean coalition was even more unstable than the Eusebian,
and broke up of itself as soon as opinion was free. One party favoured
the Anomoeans, another drew nearer to the Nicenes, while the Semiarians
completed the confusion by confirming the Seleucian decisions and re-
issuing the Lucianic creed. But the main current set in a Nicene
direction, and the Nicene faith was rapidly winning its way to victory
when the process was thrown back for nearly twenty years by Julian's
death in Persia (26 June 363).
Julian's death seemed to leave the Empire in the gift of four bar-
barian generals : but while they were debating, a few of the soldiers
outside hailed a favourite named Jovian as emperor. The cry was taken
up, and in a few minutes the young officer found himself the successor
of Augustus. Jovian was a decided Christian, though his personal
character did no credit to the Gospel. But his religious policy was one
of genuine toleration. If Athanasius was graciously received at Antioch,
a
с
## p. 137 (#167) ############################################
364–365]
Insecurity of Homoean domination
137
the Arians were told with scant courtesy that they could hold meetings
as they pleased at Alexandria. So all parties went on consolidating
themselves. The Anomoeans had been restive since the condemnation
of Aëtius at Constantinople, but it was not till now that they lost hope
of the Homoeans, and formed an organised sect. But all these move-
ments came to an end with the sudden death of Jovian (16-17 Feb. 364).
This time the generals chose ; and they chose the Pannonian Valentinian
for emperor. A month later he assigned the East from Thrace to his
brother Valens.
Valentinian was a good soldier and little more, though he could
honour learning and carry forward the reforming work of Constantine.
His religious policy was toleration. If he refused to displace the few
.
Arian bishops he found in possession, he left the churches free to choose
Nicene successors. So the West soon recovered from the strife which
Constantius had introduced. It was otherwise in the East. Valens was
a weaker character-timid and inert, but not inferior to his brother in
scrupulous care for the interests of his subjects. No soldier, but more
or less good at finance. For awhile events continued to develop
naturally. The Homoean bishops held their sees, but their influence
was fast declining. The Anomoeans were forming a schism on one side,
the Nicenes were recovering power on the other. On both sides the
simpler doctrines were driving out the compromises. It was time for
even the Semiarians to bestir themselves. A few years before they were
beyond question the majority in the East; but this was not so certain
The Nicenes had made a great advance since the Council of
Ancyra, and were now less conciliatory. Lucifer had compromised them
in one direction, Apollinarius in another, and even Marcellus had never
been disavowed; but the chief cause of suspicion to the Semiarians was
now the advance of the Nicenes to a belief in the deity of the Holy Spirit.
It was some time before Valens had a policy to declare. He was only
a catechumen, perhaps cared little for the questions before his elevation,
and inherited no assured position like Constantius. It was some time
before he fell into the hands of the Homoean Eudoxius of Constantinople, a
man of experience and learning, whose mild prudence gave him just the
help he needed. In fact, a Homoean policy was really the easiest for the
moment. Heathenism had failed in Julian's hands, and an Anomoean
.
course was even more hopeless, while the Nicenes were still a minority
outside Egypt. The only alternative was to favour the Semiarians; and
this too was full of difficulties. Upon the whole, the Homoeans were
still the strongest party in 365. They were in possession of the churches
and had astute leaders, and their doctrine had not yet lost its attraction
for the quiet men who were tired of controversy.
In the spring of 365 an imperial rescript commanded the munici-
palities to drive out from their cities the bishops who had been exiled
by Constantius and restored by Julian. At Alexandria the populace
а
CH. V.
## p. 138 (#168) ############################################
138
Basil of Caesarea
[360–378
declared that the rescript did not apply to Athanasius, whom Julian
had not restored, and raised such dangerous riots that the matter had
to be referred back to Valens. Then came the revolt of Procopius, who
seized Constantinople and very nearly displaced Valens. Athanasius was
restored, and could not safely be disturbed again. Then after the
Procopian revolt came the Gothic war, which kept Valens occupied till
369: and before he could return to church affairs, he had lost his best
adviser, for Eudoxius of Constantinople was ill replaced by the rash
Demophilus.
The Homoean party was the last hope of Arianism. The original
doctrine of Arius had been decisively rejected at Nicaea, the Eusebian
coalition was broken up by the Sirmian manifesto, and if the Homoean
union also failed, its failure meant the fall of Arianism. Now the
weakness of the Homoean power is shewn by the growth of a new
Nicene party in the most Arian province of the Empire. Cappadocia
was a country district : yet Julian found it incorrigibly Christian, and
we hear very little of heathenism from Basil. But it was a stronghold
of Arianism; and here was formed the alliance which decided the fate
of Arianism. Serious men like Meletius had only been attracted to the
side of the Homoeans by their professions of reverence for the Person of
the Lord, and began to look back to the Nicene council when it appeared
that Eudoxius and his friends were practically Arians after all. Of the
old conservatives also, there were many who felt that the Semiarian
position was unsound, and yet could find no satisfaction in the indefinite
doctrine professed at Court. Thus the Homoean domination was
threatened with a double secession. If the two groups of malcontents
could form a union with each other and with the older Nicenes of
Egypt and the West, they would be much the strongest of the parties.
This was the policy of the man who was now coming to the front of
the Nicene leaders. Basil of Caesarea—the Cappadocian Caesarea—was a
disciple of the Athenian schools, and a master of heathen eloquence and
learning, and man of the world enough to secure the friendly interest of
men of all sorts. His connexions lay among the old conservatives,
though he had been a decided opponent of Arianism since 360. He
succeeded to the bishopric of Caesarea in 370. The crisis was near.
Valens moved eastward in 371, reaching Caesarea in time for the great
midwinter festival of Epiphany 372. Many of the lesser bishops yielded,
but threats and blandishments were thrown away on their metropolitan,
and when Valens himself and Basil met face to face, the emperor was
overawed. More than once the order was prepared for his exile, but it
was never issued. Valens went forward on his journey, leaving behind
a princely gift for Basil's poorhouse. Thenceforth he fixed his quarters
at Antioch till the disasters of the Gothic war called him back to
Europe in 378.
Armed with spiritual power which in some sort extended over
## p. 139 (#169) ############################################
355—373]
Last Years of Athanasius
139
Galatia and Armenia, Basil was now free to labour at his plan. Homoean
malcontents formed the nucleus of the league, but old conservatives
came in, and Athanasius gave his patriarchal blessing to the scheme.
But the difficulties were enormous. The league was full of jealousies.
Athanasius might recognise the orthodoxy of Meletius, but others
almost went the length of banning all who had ever been Arians.
Others again were lukewarm or sunk in worldliness, while the West
stood aloof. The confessors of 355 were mostly gathered to their rest,
and the Church of Rome cared little for troubles that were not likely to
reach herself. Nor was Basil quite the man for the work. His courage
indeed was indomitable. He ruled Cappadocia from a sick-bed, and
bore down opposition by sheer force of will; and to this he joined an
ascetic fervour which secured the devotion of his friends, and often the
respect of his enemies. But we miss the lofty self-respect of Athanasius.
The ascetic is usually too full of his own purposes to feel sympathy with
others, or even to feign it like a diplomatist. Basil had worldly prudence
enough to dissemble his belief in the Holy Spirit, not enough to shield
his nearest friends from his imperious temper. Small wonder if the
great scheme met with many difficulties.
The declining years of Athanasius were spent in peace. Heathenism
was still a power at Alexandria, but the Arians were nearly extinct.
One of his last public acts was to receive a confession presented on
behalf of Marcellus, who was still living in extreme old age at Ancyra.
It was a sound confession so far as it went; and though Athanasius did
not agree with Marcellus, he had never thought his errors vital. So he
accepted it, refusing once again to sacrifice the old companion of his
exile. It was nobly done; but it did not conciliate Basil.
The school of Marcellus expired with him, and if Apollinarius was
forming another, he was at any rate a resolute enemy of Arianism.
Meanwhile the churches of the East seemed in a state of universal disso-
lution. Disorder under Constantius became confusion worse confounded
under Valens. The exiled bishops were so many centres of strife, and
personal quarrels had full scope. When for example Basil's brother
Gregory was expelled from Nyssa by a riot got up by Anthimus of
Tyana, he took refuge under the eyes of Anthimus at Doara, where
another riot had driven out the Arian bishop. Creeds were in the same
confusion. The Homoeans had no consistent principle beyond the
rejection of technical terms. Some of their bishops were substantially
Nicenes, while others were thoroughgoing Anomoeans. There was
room for all in the happy family of Demophilus. Church history records
no clearer period of decline than this. The descent from Athanasius
to Basil is plain; from Basil to Cyril it is rapid. The victors of
Constantinople are but the Epigoni of a mighty contest.
Athanasius passed away in 373, and Alexandria became the prey of
Arian violence. The deliverance came suddenly, and in the confusion
CH. V.
## p. 140 (#170) ############################################
140
Theodosius
(378—380
1
of the greatest disaster that had ever yet befallen Rome. When the
Huns came up from the Asiatic steppes, the Goths sought refuge beneath
the shelter of the Roman eagles. But the greed and peculations of
Roman officials drove them to revolt: and when Valens himself with
the whole army of the East encountered them near Hadrianople
(9 Aug. 378) his defeat was overwhelming. Full two-thirds of the
Roman army perished in the slaughter, and the emperor himself was
never heard of more. The blow was crushing : for the first time since
the days of Gallienus, the Empire could place no army in the field.
The care of the whole world now rested on the Western emperor,
Gratian the son of Valentinian, a youth of nineteen. Gratian was a
zealous Christian, and as a Western he held the Nicene faith. His
first step was to proclaim religious liberty in the East, except for
Anomoeans and Photinians—a small sect supposed to have pushed the
doctrine of Marcellus too far. As toleration was still the general law of
the Empire (though Valens might have exiled individual bishops) the
gain of the rescript fell almost entirely to the Nicenes. The exiles
found little difficulty in resuming the government of their flocks, or
even in sending missions to the few places where the Arians were strong,
like that undertaken by Gregory of Nazianzus to Constantinople. The
Semiarians were divided. Numbers of them joined the Nicenes, while
the rest took an independent position. Thus the Homoean power in
the provinces collapsed of itself, and almost without a struggle, before it
was touched by persecution.
Gratian's next step was to share his heavy burden with a colleague,
The new emperor came from the far West of Cauca near Segovia, and to
him was entrusted the Gothic war, and with it the government of
all the provinces east of Sirmium. Theodosius was therefore a Western
and a Nicene, with a full measure of Spanish courage and intolerance.
The war was not very dangerous, for the Goths could do nothing with
their victory, and Theodosius was able to deal with the Church long
before it ended. A dangerous illness early in 380 led to his baptism by
Acholius of Thessalonica ; and this was the natural signal for a more
decided policy. A law dated 27 Feb. 380 commanded all men to follow
the Nicene doctrine, “committed by the apostle Peter to the Romans,
and now professed by Damasus of Rome and Peter of Alexandria,” and
threatened heretics with temporal punishment. In this he seems to
abandon Constantine's test of orthodoxy by subscription to a creed,
returning to Aurelian's requirement of communion with the chief bishops
of Christendom. But the mention of St Peter and the choice both of
Rome and Alexandria, are enough to shew that he was still a stranger
to the state of parties in the East.
Theodosius made his formal entry into Constantinople 24 Nov. 380,
and at once required the bishop either to accept the Nicene faith or to
leave the city. Demophilus honourably refused to give up his heresy,
## p. 141 (#171) ############################################
381]
Council of Constantinople
141
and adjourned his services to the suburbs. But the mob of Constan-
tinople was Arian, and their stormy demonstrations when the cathedral
of the Twelve Apostles was given up to Gregory of Nazianzus made
Theodosius waver. Not for long. A second edict in Jan. 381 forbade
all heretical assemblies inside cities, and ordered the churches everywhere
to be given up to the Nicenes. Thus was Arianism put down as it had
been set up, by the civil power. Nothing remained but to clear away
the wrecks of the contest.
Once more an imperial summons went forth for a council of the
Eastern bishops to meet at Constantinople in May 381. It was a
sombre gathering: even the conquerors can have had no more hopeful
feeling than that of satisfaction to see the end of the long contest. Only
150 bishops were present—none from the west of Thessalonica. The
Semiarians however mustered 36, under Eleusius of Cyzicus Meletius
of Antioch presided, and the Egyptians were not invited to the earlier
sittings, or at least were not present. Theodosius was no longer neutral
as between the old and new Nicenes. After ratifying the choice of
Gregory of Nazianzus as bishop of Constantinople, the next move was
to sound the Semiarians. They were still a strong party beyond the
Bosphorus, so that their friendship was important. But Eleusius was
not to be tempted. However he might oppose the Anomoeans, he could
not forgive the Nicenes their doctrine of the Holy Spirit. Those of the
Semiarians who were willing to join the Nicenes had already done so,
and the rest were obstinate. They withdrew from the council and gave
up
their churches like the Arians.
Whatever jealousies might divide the conquerors, the contest with
Arianism was now at an end. Pontus and Syria were still divided from
Rome and Egypt on the question of Meletius, and there were germs
of future trouble in the disposition of Alexandria to look to Rome
for help against the upstart see of Constantinople. But against Arianism
the council was united. Its first canon is a solemn ratification of the
Nicene creed in its original form, with an anathema against all the
Arianizing parties. It only remained for the emperor to complete the
work of the council. An edict in the middle of July forbade Arians
of all sorts to build churches even outside cities; and at the end of the
month Theodosius issued an amended definition of orthodoxy. The
true faith was henceforth to be guarded by the demand of communion,
no longer with Rome and Alexandria, but with Constantinople,
Alexandria, and the chief sees of the East: and the choice of cities
is significant. A small place like Nyssa might be included for the
personal eminence of its bishop; but the omission of Hadrianople,
Perinthus, Ephesus and Nicomedia shews the determination to leave
a clear field for the supremacy of Constantinople.
So far as numbers went, the cause of Arianism was not hopeless even
yet. It was fairly strong in Asia, could raise dangerous riots in Con-
CH, V.
## p. 142 (#172) ############################################
142
Fall of Arianism
(383
stantinople, and had on its side the Western empress-mother Justina.
But its fate was only a question of time. Its cold logic generated no
fiery enthusiasm, its recent origin allowed no venerable traditions to
grow up round it, and its imperial claims cut it off from any appeal
to provincial feeling. So when the last overtures of Theodosius fell
through in 383, Arianism soon ceased to be a religion in the civilised
world. Such existence as it kept up for the next three hundred years
was due to its barbarian converts.
## p. 143 (#173) ############################################
143
CHAPTER VI.
THE ORGANISATION OF THE CHURCH.
*
CHRISTIAN organisation was the means of expressing that which is
behind and beneath all its details, namely the underlying and pene-
trating consciousness of the oneness of the Christian body and the
Christian life. It was the process by which the separate charismata could
be developed and differentiated, while at the same time the unity of the
whole was safeguarded. Looked at in this light, the history of organisa-
tion in the Christian Church is, in its main stream, the history of two
processes, partly successive, partly simultaneous, but always closely
related : the process by which the individual communities became
complete in themselves, sufficient for their own needs, microcosms of the
Church at large; and the process by which the communities thus organised
as units proceeded to combine in an always more formal and more
extensive federation. But these two processes were not merely successive.
Just as there never had been a time when the separate communities, before
they became fully organised, were devoid of outside ministration or
supervision, so there never came a period when the fully organised
communities lived only to themselves : unity was preserved by informal
means, till the growing size and number of the communities, and the
increasing complexity of circumstances, made informal means inadequate
and further formal organisation imperative. And again, though the
formal self-expression of the individual community necessarily preceded
the formal self-expression of the federation of communities, yet the
history of organisation within the single community does not come to an
abrupt end as soon as the community becomes complete in itself: all
functions essential for the Christian life are henceforth there, but as
numbers increase and needs and duties multiply, the superabundant
vitality of the organism shews itself in the differentiation of new, though
always subordinate, functions. And therefore, side by side with the
well-known history of the federation of the Christian churches, it will be
our business to trace also the obscurer and less recognised, but perhaps
not less important, processes which were going on, simultaneously with
the larger processes of federation, in the individual churches and especially
in those of them which were most influential as models to the rest.
:
CH, .
## p. 144 (#174) ############################################
144
The Missionary Ministry
רי
(A) In the early days of Christianity the first beginnings of a new
community were of a very simple kind : indeed the local organisation
had at first no need to be anything but rudimentary, just because the
community was never thought of as complete in itself apart from its
apostolic founder or other representatives of the missionary ministry.
“Presbyters ” and “ deacons" no doubt existed in these communities from
the first : “presbyters” were ordained for each church as it was founded
on St Paul's first missionary journey ; " bishops and deacons” constitute,
together with the “ holy people," the church of Philippi. These purely
local officials were naturally chosen from among the first converts
in each district, and to them were naturally assigned the duties of
providing for the permanently recurring needs of Christian life,
especially the sacraments of Baptism-St Paul indicates that baptism
was not normally the work of an apostle—and the Eucharist. But the
evidence of the earlier epistles of St Paul is decisive as to the small
relative importance which this local ministry enjoyed : the true ministry
of the first generation was the ordered hierarchy, “ first apostles, secondly
prophets, thirdly teachers,” of which the apostle speaks with such emphasis
in his first epistle to the Corinthians. Next in due order after the
ranks of the primary ministry came the gifts of miracles—“then powers,
then gifts of healing" and only after these, wrapped up in the obscure
designation of "helps and governments," can we find room for the local
service of presbyters and deacons. Even without the definite evidence of
the Acts and the Pastoral Epistles and St Clement of Rome it would
be already clear enough that the powers of the local ministry were
narrowly limited, and that to the higher ministry, the exercise of
whose gifts was not confined to any one community but was independent
of place altogether, belonged not only the general right of supervision
and ultimate authority over local churches, but also in particular the
imparting of the gift of the Spirit, whether in what we call Confirmation
or in what we call Ordination. In effect the Church of the first
age may almost be said to have consisted of a laity grouped in local
communities, and a ministry that moved about from place to place to do
the work of missionaries to the heathen and of preachers and teachers to
the converts. Most of St Paul's epistles to churches are addressed to
the community, the holy people, the brethren, without any hint in the
title of the existence of a local clergy: the apostle and the Christian
congregation are the two factors of primary account. The Didache
shews us how right down to the end of the first century, in remoter
districts, the communities depended on the services of wandering apostles,
or of prophets and teachers, sometimes wandering sometimes settled, and
how they held by comparison in very light esteem their presbyters and
deacons. Even a well-established church, like that of Corinth, with half
a century of history behind it, was able, however unreasonably, to refuse
to recognise in its local ministry any right of tenure other than the will
## p. 145 (#175) ############################################
The Local Church
145
of the community: and when the Roman church intervened to point out
the gravity of the blow thus struck at the principle of Christian order, it
was still the community of Rome which addressed the community of
Corinth. And this custom of writing in the name, or to the address, of
the community continued, a relic of an earlier age, well into the days of
the strictest monarchical episcopacy: it was not so much the bishop's
headship of the community as the multiplication of the clergy which (as
we shall see) made the real gap between the bishop and his people,
Most of our documents then of the first century shew us the local
churches neither self-sufficient nor self-contained, but dependent for all
special ministries upon the visits of the superior officers of the Church.
On the other hand most of our documents of the second century-in its
earlier years the Ignatian letters, and an ever-increasing bulk of evidence
as the century goes on-shew us the local churches complete in them-
selves, with an officer at the head of each who concentrates in his hands
both the powers of the local ministers and those also which had at first
been reserved exclusively for the “ general ” ministry, but who is himself
as strictly limited in the extent of his jurisdiction to a single church as
were the humbler presbyter-bishops from whom he derived his name.
When we have explained how the supreme powers of the general ministry
were made to devolve on an individual who belonged to the local
ministry, we have explained the origin of episcopacy.
With that
problem of explanation we have not here to deal in detail: we have only
to recognise the result and its importance, when in and with the bishop
the local church sufficed in itself for the extraordinary as well as for the
ordinary functions of church government and Christian life.
In those early days of episcopacy, among the diminutive groups of
Christian “strangers and sojourners” which were dotted over the pagan
world of the second century, we must conceive of a quite special
closeness of relation between a bishop and his people. Regularly in all
cities—and it was in the provinces where city life was most developed
that the Church made quickest progress-a bishop is found at the head
of the community of Christians: and his intimacy with his people was
in those primitive days unhindered by the interposition of any hierarchy
of functionaries or attendants. His flock was small enough for him to
carry out to the letter the pastoral metaphor, and to “call his sbeep by
name. ” If the consent of the Christian people had always been, as Clement
of Rome tells us, a necessary preliminary to the ordination of Christian
ministers, in the case of the appointment of their bishop the people did
not consent merely, they elected: not till the fourth century did the
clergy begin to acquire first a separate and ultimately a predominant share
in the process of choice. Even though the "angel of the church” in the
Apocalypse may not have been, in the mind of the seer, at all intended
to refer to the bishop, yet this quasi-identification of the community
with its representative exactly expresses the ideal of second century
3
C. MED. H. VOL. I. CH. VI.
10
## p. 146 (#176) ############################################
146
Bishop and People
)
you,"
writers. “The whole number of you I welcome in God's Name in the
person of Onesimus," “ in Polybius I beheld the whole multitude of
writes Ignatius to the Christians of Ephesus and Tralles : “ be subject to
the bishop and to one another” is his injunction to the Magnesians: the
power of Christian worship is in “the prayer of the bishop and the whole
church. ” So too to Justin Martyr, “ the brethren as we are called " and
“the president ” are the essential figures in the portraiture of the Christian
society. If it is true that in the first century the apostle-founder and
the community as founded by him are the two outstanding elements of
Christian organisation, it is no less true that in the second century the
twin ideas of bishop and people attain a prominence which throws all}
subordinate distinctions into the background. Even as late as the middle
of the third century we see Cyprian—who is quite misunderstood if he is
looked on only as an innovator in the sphere of organisation—maintaining
and emphasizing at every turn the intimate union, in normal church life,
of bishop and laity, while he also recognises the duty of the laity, in
abnormal circumstances, to separate from the communion of the bishop
who had proved himself unworthy of their choice: “it is the people in the
first place which has the power both of electing worthy bishops and of
spurning the unworthy. ” Similar witness for the East is borne in the
same century by the Didascalia Apostolorum, where bishop and laity
are addressed in turn, and their mutual relations are almost the main
theme of the writer.
But this personal relation of the bishop to his flock, which was the
Ideal of church administrators and thinkers from Ignatius to Cyprian,
could only find effective realisation in a relatively small community: the
very success of the Christian propaganda, and the consequent increase
everywhere of the numbers of the Christian people, made some further
development of organisation imperative. Especially during the long
peace between Severus and Decius (211-249) did recruits pour in.
In the larger towns at least there could be now no question of personal
acquaintance between the president of the community and all its members.
No doubt it might have been possible to preserve the old intimacy at the
cost of unity, and to create a bishop for each congregation. But the sense
of civic unity was an asset of which Christians instinctively availed them-
selves in the service of religion. If practical convenience sometimes
dictated the appointment of bishops in villages, these xwpeTiO KOTOL were
only common in districts where, as in Cappadocia, cities were few, and
where consequently the extent of the territory of each city was unduly
large for supervision by the single bishop of the mois
. Normally,
even in days before there was any idea of the formal demarcation of
territorial jurisdiction, the tódis or civitas with all its dependent lands
was the natural spbere of the individual bishop's authority. And within
the walls of the city it was never so much as conceivable that the ecclesia
should be divided. When the Council of Nicaea was making provision
## p. 147 (#177) ############################################
Episcopacy and Unity
147
for the reinstatement in clerical rank of Novatianist clergy willing to be
reconciled with the Church, the arrangement was subject always to the
maintenance of the principle that there should not be “two bishops
in the city. ” The very rivalries between different claimants of one
episcopal throne serve to bring out the same result-witness the earliest
instances of pope and anti-pope of which we have documentary know-
ledge, those of Cornelius and Novatian in 251, and of Liberius and Felix
about 357. In the latter case Constantius, with a politician's eye to
compromise, recommended the joint recognition of both claimants: but
the Roman people—Theodoret, to whose History we owe the details,
is careful to note that he has recorded the very language used—saluted
the reading of the rescript in the circus with the mocking cry that two
leaders would do very well for the factions at the games, but that there
could be only “one God, one Christ, one bishop. Exactly the same
reason had been given a century earlier in almost the same words, by
the Roman confessors when writing to Cyprian, for their abandonment
of Novatian and adhesion to Cornelius : “ we are not unaware that there
is one God, and one Christ the Lord whom we have confessed, one Holy
Spirit, and therefore only one true bishop in the communion of the
Catholic Church. ” Both in East and West, in the largest cities as well
as in the smallest, the society of the faithful was conceived of as an
indivisible unit; and its oneness was expressed in the person of its one
bishop. The mapouia of Christians in any locality was not like a hive
of bees, which, when numbers multiplied inconveniently, could throw off
a part of the whole, to be henceforward a complete and independent
organism under separate control. The necessity for new organisation
had to be met in some way which would preserve at all costs the oneness
of the body and its head.
It followed that the work and duties which the individual bishop
could no longer perform in person must be shared with, or deputed to,
subordinate officials. New offices came into being in
the coursel
especially of the third century, and the growth of this clerus or clergy,
and its gradual acquisition during the fourth and fifth centuries of the
character of a hierarchy nicely ordered in steps and degrees, is a featurel
of ecclesiastical history of which the importance has not always been
adequately realised.
Of such a hierarchy the germs had no doubt existed from the
beginning; and indeed presbyters and deacons were, as we have seen,
older component parts of the local communities than were the bishops
themselves. In the Ignatian theory bishop, presbyters and deacons are
the three universal elements of organisation,“ without which nothing can
be called a church” (ad Trall. 3). And the distinction between the two
subordinate orders, in their original scope and intention, was just the
distinction between the two sides of clerical office which in the bishop
were in some sort combined, the spiritual and the administrative :
CH 1.
10-2
## p. 148 (#178) ############################################
148
Presbyters
9
were
presbyters were the associates of the bishop in his spiritual character,
deacons in his administrative functions.
Our earliest documents define the work of presbyters by no language
more commonly than by that which expresses the “pastoral” relation of
a shepherd to his flock : “the flock in which the Holy Ghost hath set
you as overseers to shepherd the Church of God,” “ the presbyters I
exhort. . . shepherd the flock of God among you. . . not as lords of the
ground but as examples of the flock, until the Great Shepherd shall
appear. ” But in proportion as the local organisation became episcopal,
the pastoral idea, and even the name of mounv, concentrated itself upon
lithe bishop. To Ignatius the distinctive function of the presbyters is
rather that of a council, gathered round the bishop as the apostles were
gathered round Christ-an idea not unconnected perhaps with the
position of the presbyters in the Christian assembly; for there is no
reason to doubt that primitive tradition underlies the arrangement of
the early Christian basilicas, where the bishop's chair stood in the centre
of the apse behind the altar, and the consessus presbyterorum extended
right and left in a semicircle, as represented in the Apocalypse. So
too in the Didascalia Apostolorum (Syriac and Latin) the one definite
function allotted to presbyters is that of “consilium et curia ecclesiae. "
Besides pastoral duties, however, the Pauline epistles bring presbyters
into definite relation also with the work of teaching. If “teachers
originally one grade of the general ministry, they would naturally have
settled down in the communities earlier than the itinerant apostles or
prophets : “pastors and teachers ” are already closely connected in the
epistle to the Ephesians: and the first epistle to Timothy shews
speaking and teaching,” λόγος και διδασκαλία, was
function to which some at least of the presbyters might aspire. It is
probable enough that the second-century bishop shared this, as all
other functions of the presbyterate: St Polycarp is described by his
flock as an “apostolic and prophetic teacher": but, as differentiation
progressed, teaching was one of the duties less easily retained in the
bishop's hands, and our third-century authorities are full of references
to the class known in Greek as οι πρεσβύτεροι και διδάσκαλοι, in Latin
as presbyteri doctores.
If presbyters were thus the bishop's counsellors and advisers where
counsel was needed, his colleagues in the rites of Christian worship, his
assistants and representatives in pastoral and teaching duties, the proto-
types of the diaconate are to be found in the Seven of the Acts,
who were appointed to disburden the apostles of the work of poor
relief and charity and to set them free for their more spiritual duties of
“prayer and ministering of the Word. ” Quite similarly in the Suíxovou
or “servants” of the local church, the bishop found ready to hand
a personal staff of clerks and secretaries. The Christian Church in
one not unimportant aspect was a gigantic friendly society: and the
us that "
à
## p. 149 (#179) ############################################
Deacons and Readers
149
( deacons were the relieving officers who, under the direction of the
επίσκοπος
éTiO Kotos or “overseer,” sought out the local members of the society in
their homes, and dispensed to those who were in permanent or temporary
need the contributions of their more fortunate brethren. From their
district-visiting the deacons would derive an intimate knowledge of the
circumstances and characters of individual Christians, and of the way in
which each was living up to his profession: by a very natural develop-
ment it became part of their recognised duties, as we learn from the
Didascalia, to report to the bishop cases calling for the exercise of the
penitential discipline of the Church. Throughout all the early centuries
the closeness of their personal relation with the bishop remains : but
what had been spread over the whole diaconate tends to be concentrated
on an individual, when the office of archdeacon-oculus episcopi, according
to a favourite metaphor-begins to emerge : the earliest instances of
the actual title are c. 370-380, in Optatus (of Caecilian of Carthage)
and in the Gesta inter Liberium et Felicem (of Felix of Rome).
Originally, as it would seem, deacons were not ministers of worship
4
at all: the earliest subordinate office in the liturgy was that of reader.
We need not suppose that ó åvay. voorw in the New Testament means
a distinct official in the Church any more than in the Synagogue: but
the same phrase in Justin's Apology has more of a formal sound, and by
the end of the second century the first of the minor orders had obviously
an established place in church usage. While Ignatius names only
bishop, presbyters and deacons, Tertullian, contrasting the stable orders
of Catholics with the unsettled arrangements of heretics, speaks of bishop,
presbyter, deacon and reader: “ alius hodie episcopus, cras alius ; hodie
diaconus qui cras lector ; hodie presbyter qui cras laicus. ” And in remote
churches or backwardly organised provinces the same four orders were
the minimum recognised long after Tertullian, as in the so-called
A postolic Church Order (third century, perhaps for Egypt) and in the
canons of the Council of Sardica (343, for the Balkan peninsula : the
canon is proposed by the Spaniard Hosius of Cordova).
But the process of transformation by which the diaconate became
more and more a spiritual office began early, and one of its results was to
degrade the readership by ousting it from its proper functions. It was
as attendants on the bishop that the deacons, we may well suppose, were
deputed from the first to take the Eucharist, over which the bishop had
offered the prayers and thanksgivings of the Church, to the absent sick.
In Rome, when Justin wrote, soon after 150, they were already dis-
tributing the consecrated “bread and wine and water” in the Christian
assembly. Not very much later the reading of the Gospel began
to be assigned to them: Cyprian is the last writer to connect the
Gospel still with the reader; by the end of the third century it was
a constant function of the deacon, and the reader had sunk pro-
portionately in rank and dignity.
CH, P.
## p. 150 (#180) ############################################
150
Minor Orders
But this development of the diaconate is only part of a much larger
movement. (In the greater churches at least an elaborate differentiation
of functions and functionaries was in course of process during the third
century. Under the pressure of circumstances, and the accumulation of
new duties which the increasing size and importance of the Christian
communities thrust upon the bishop, much which he had hitherto done
for himself, and which long remained his in theory, came in practice
to be done for him by the higher clergy. As they moved up to take his
place, they in turn left duties to be provided for: as they drew more
and more to the spiritual side of their work, they left the more secular
duties to new officials in their place. Evidence for Carthage and Rome
in the middle of the third century shews us that, besides the principal
orders of bishop, presbyters and deacons, a large community would now
complete its clerus by two additional pairs of officers, subdeacon and
acolyte, exorcist and reader, making seven altogether. The church of
Carthage, we learn from the Cyprianic correspondence, had exorcists and
readers, apparently at the bottom of the clergy (ep. xxiii. “ praesente de
clero et exorcista et lectore (the words are no doubt ironical] Lucianus
scripsit "); and it had also hypodiaconi and acoliti, who served as the
bearers of letters or gifts from the bishop to his correspondents.
Subdeacons and acolytes were now in fact what deacons had earlier been,
the personal and secretarial staff of the bishop, while exorcists and
readers were the subordinate members of the liturgical ranks. The
combination of all these various offices into a single definitely graduated
hierarchy was the work of the fourth century: but it is at least
adumbrated in the enumeration of the Roman clerus addressed by
Pope Cornelius, Cyprian's contemporary, to Fabius of Antioch in 251.
Besides the bishop, there were at Rome forty-six presbyters, seven
deacons, seven subdeacons, forty-two acolytes; of exorcists and readers,
together with doorkeepers, there were fifty-two; of widows and afflicted
over fifteen hundred and all this great multitude
: “
necessary
in the church. "
Promotion from one rank of the ministry to another was of course
no new thing. In particular the rise from the diaconate to the
presbyterate, from the more secular to the more spiritual office, was
always recognised as a legitimate reward for good service. “They that
have served well as deacons," wrote St Paul, “purchase for themselves an
honourable step”; though when the Apostolic Church Order interprets
the βαθμός καλός as τόπος ποιμενικός, it is a question whether the
place of a presbyter or that of a bishop is meant. But it was a
serious and far-reaching development when, in the fourth century, the
idea grew up that the Christian clergy consisted of a hierarchy of grades,
through each of which it was necessary to pass in order to reach the
higher offices. The Council of Nicaea had contented itself with the
reasonable prohibition (canon 2) of the ordination of neophytes as bishops
was
a
## p. 151 (#181) ############################################
The Cursus Honorum
151
>
or presbyters. The Council of Sardica in 343 prescribes for the episcopate
a "prolixum tempus ” of promotions through the “munus” of reader,
the “officium” of deacon, and the “ministerium” of presbyter. But it
was in the church of Rome that the conception of the cursus honorum-
borrowed, we may suppose, consciously or unconsciously from the civil
magistracies of the Roman State—took deepest root. Probably the
oldest known case of particular clerical offices held in succession by the
same individual is the record, in an inscription of Pope Damasus, of
either his own or his father's career—there are variant readings“ pater
and“ puer," but even the son's career must have begun early in the fourth
century—“exceptor, lector, levita, sacerdos.
the battlefield of nations, and the victory of Hellenic orthodoxy at
Chalcedon implied sooner or later the separation of Monophysite Egypt
and Nestorian Syria.
Arianism seemed to have won its victory when the last Nicene
champion was driven into the desert. But the West was only terrorized,
Egypt was devoted to its patriarch, Nicenes were fairly strong in the
East, and the conservatives who had won the battle would never accept
Arianism. However, this was the time chosen for an open declaration
of Arianism, by a small council of Western bishops at Sirmium, headed
by Ursacius and Valens. They emphasize the unity of God, condemn
the words ουσία (essence), ομοούσιον and όμοιούσιον, lay stress on the
inferiority of the Son, limit the Incarnation to the assumption of a body,
and more than half say that he is only a creature. This was clear Anomoean
doctrine, and made a stir even in the West, where it was promptly con-
demned by the Gaulish bishops, now partly shielded from Constantius
by the Caesarship of Julian. But the Sirmian manifesto spread dismay
through the ranks of the Eastern conservatives. They had not put down
Sabellianism only in order to set up the Anomoeans; and the danger was
brought home to them when Eudoxius of Antioch and Acacius of
Caesarea convened a Syrian synod to approve the manifesto. The
conservative counterblow was struck at Ancyra in Lent 358. The
synodical letter is long and clumsy, but we see in it conservatism
changing from its Eusebian to a Semiarian phase—from fear of Sabel-
lianism to fear of Arianism. They won a complete victory at the Court,
and sent Eudoxius and the rest into exile. This however was too much.
The exiles were soon recalled, and the strife began again more bitterly
than ever.
## p. 133 (#163) ############################################
359–360]
The Homoean domination
133
Here was a deadlock. All parties had failed. The Anomoeans were
active enough, but pure Arianism was hopelessly discredited throughout
the Empire. The Nicenes had Egypt and the West, but they could
not overcome the Court and Asia. The Eastern Semiarians were the
strongest party, but such men of violence could not close the strife. In
this deadlock nothing was left but specious charity and colourless in-
definiteness ; and this was the plan of the new Homoean party, formed
by Acacius and Eudoxius in the East, Ursacius and Valens in the West.
A general council was decided on; but it was divided into two-the
Westerns to meet at Ariminum, the Easterns at Seleucia in Cilicia, the
headquarters of the army then operating against the Isaurians. Mean-
while parties began to group themselves afresh. The Anomoeans went
with the Homoeans, from whom alone they could expect any favour,
while the Semiarians drew closer to the Nicenes, and were welcomed by
Hilary of Poitiers in his conciliatory de Synodis. The next step was a
small meeting of Homoean and Semiarian leaders, held in the emperor's
presence on Pentecost Eve (22 May 359) to draw up a creed to be laid
before the councils. The dated creed (or fourth of Sirmium) is conser-
vative in its appeals to Scripture, in its solemn reverence for the Lord,
in its rejection of essence (ouoia) as not found in Scripture, and in its insist-
ence on the mystery of the eternal generation. But its central clause gave
a decisive advantage to the Homoeans. “We say that the Son is like
the Father in all things as the Scriptures say and teach. ” Even the
Anomoeans could sign this. “Like the Father as the Scriptures say--
and no further; and we find very little likeness taught in Scripture. Like
the Father if you will, but not like God, for no creature can be. Like the
Father certainly, but not in essence, for likeness which is not identity
implies difference-or in other words, likeness is a question of degree. "
Of these three replies, the first is fair, the third perfectly sound.
The reception of the creed was hostile in both councils. The
Westerns at Ariminum rejected it, deposed the Homoean leaders,
and ratified the Nicene Creed. In the end however they accepted the
Sirmian, but with the addition of a stringent series of anathemas against
Arianism, which Valens accepted for the moment. The Easterns at
—.
Seleucia rejected it likewise, deposed the Homoean leaders, and ratified
the Lucianic creed. Both sides sent deputies to the emperor, as had
been arranged; and after much pressure, these deputies signed a revision
of the dated creed on the night of 31 Dec. 359. The Homoeans now
saw their way to final victory.
By throwing over the Anomoeans and condemning their leader
Aëtius, they were able to enforce the prohibition of the Semiarian
ópolotolov: and then it only remained to revise the dated creed again
for a council held at Constantinople in Feb. 360, and send the Semiarian
leaders into exile.
The Homoean domination never extended beyond the Alps. Gaul
a
cH. Y.
## p. 134 (#164) ############################################
134
Julian
[ 356–361
was firmly Nicene, and Constantius could do nothing there after the
mutiny at Paris in Jan. 360 had made Julian independent of him. The
few Western Arians soon died out. But in the East, the Homoean
power lasted nearly twenty years. Its strength lay in its appeal to the
moderate men who were tired of strife, and to the confused thinkers who
did not see that a vital question was at issue. The dated creed seemed
reverent and safe; and its defects would not have been easy to see if the
Anomoeans had not made them plain. But the position of parties was
greatly changed since 356. First Hilary of Poitiers had done something
to bring together conservatives and Nicenes ; then Athanasius took up
the work in his own de Synodis. It is a noble overture of friendship to
his old conservative enemies. The Semiarians, or many of them, accepted
of the essence (ex tîus oủolas) and the Nicene anathemas, and doubted only
of the ówooúolov. Such men, says he, are not to be treated as enemies,
but reasoned with as brethren who differ from us only in the use of a
word which sums up their own teaching as well as ours.
When they
confess that the Lord is a true Son of God and not a creature, they
grant all that we are contending for. Their own homoiousion without
of the essence does not shut out Arianism, but the two together amount
to homoousion. Moreover, homoiousion is illogical, for likeness is of
properties and qualities, whereas the essence must be the same or
different, so that the word rather suggests Arianism, whereas homoousion
shuts it out effectually. If they accept our doctrine, sooner or later
they will find that they cannot refuse its necessary safeguard. But if
Nicenes and Semiarians drew together, so did Homoeans and Anomoeans.
Any ideas of conciliating Nicene support were destroyed by the exile of
Meletius, the new bishop of Antioch, for preaching a sermon carefully
modelled on the dated creed, but substantially Nicene in doctrine. A
schism arose at Antioch ; and henceforth the leaders of the Homoeans
were practically Arians.
The mutiny at Paris implied a civil war : but just as it was be-
ginning, Constantius died at Mopsucrenae beneath Mount Taurus
(3 Nov. 361) and Julian remained sole emperor. We are not here
concerned with the general history of his reign, or even with his policy
towards the Christians—only with its bearing on Arianism. In general,
he held to the toleration of the Edict of Milan. The Christians are not
to be persecuted-only deprived of special privileges—but the emperor's
favour must be reserved for the worshippers of the gods. So the ad-
ministration was unfriendly to the Christians, and left occasional outrages
unpunished, or dismissed them with a thin reproof. But these were no
great matters, for the Christians were now too strong to be lynched at
pleasure. Julian's chief endeavour was to put new life into heathenism:
and in this the heathens themselves hardly took him seriously. His
only act of definite persecution was the edict near the end of his reign,
which forbade the Christians to teach the classics ; and this is dis-
approved by “the cool and impartial heathen” Ammianus.
## p. 135 (#165) ############################################
362]
Apollinarius of Laodicea
135
Every blow struck by Julian against the Christians fell first on the
Homoeans whom Constantius had left in power; and the reaction he
provoked against Greek culture threatened the philosophical postulates
of Arianism. But Julian cared little for the internal quarrels of the
Christians, and only broke his rule of contemptuous impartiality when
he recognised one greater than himself in “ the detestable Athanasius. ”
Before long an edict recalled the exiled bishops, though it did not replace
them in their churches. If others were in possession, it was not Julian's
business to turn them out. This was toleration, but Julian had a
malicious hope of still further embroiling the confusion. If the
Christians were left to themselves, they would “quarrel like beasts. "
He got a few scandalous wranglings, but in the main he was mistaken.
The Christians only closed their ranks against the common enemy: the
Arians also were sound Christians in this matter-blind old Maris of
Chalcedon came and cursed him to his face.
Back to their cities came the survivors of the exiled bishops, no
longer travelling in pomp and circumstance to their noisy councils, but
bound on the nobler errand of seeking out their lost or scattered flocks.
It was time to resume Hilary's interrupted work of conciliation.
Semiarian violence had discredited in advance the new conservatism
at Seleucia : but Athanasius had things more in his favour, for Julian's
reign had not only sobered partizanship, but left a clear field for the
strongest moral force in Christendom to assert itself. And this force was
with the Nicenes. Athanasius reappeared at Alexandria 22 Feb. 362,
and held a small council there before Julian drove him out again. It
was decided first that Arians who came over to the Nicene side were to
retain their rank on condition of accepting the Nicene council, none but
the chiefs and active defenders of Arianism being reduced to lay com-
munion. Then, after clearing up some misunderstandings of East and
West, and trying to settle the schism at Antioch by inducing the old
Nicenes, who at present had no bishop, to accept Meletius, they took in
hand two new questions of doctrine. One was the divinity of the Holy
Spirit. Its reality was acknowledged, except by the Arians; but did it
amount to co-essential deity ? That was still an open question. But
now that attention was fully directed to the subject, it appeared from
Scripture that the theory of eternal distinctions in the divine nature
must either be extended to the Holy Spirit or abandoned. Athanasius
took one course, the Anomoeans the other, while the Semiarians tried
to make a difference between the Lord's deity and that of the Holy
Spirit: and this gradually became the chief obstacle to their union with
the Nicenes. The other subject of debate was the new system of Apol-
linarius of Laodicea--the most suggestive of all the ancient heresies.
Apollinarius was the first who fairly faced the difficulty, that if all men
are sinners, and the Lord was not a sinner, he cannot have been truly
Apollinarius replied that sin lies in the weakness of the human
man,
CH. V.
## p. 136 (#166) ############################################
136
Movements under Julian
[362–363
spirit, and accounted for the sinlessness of Christ by putting in its place
the divine Logos, and adding the important statement that if the human
spirit was created in the image of the Logos (Gen. i. 28) Christ would
not be the less human but the more so for the difference. The spirit in
Christ was human spirit, although divine. Further, the Logos which in
Christ was human spirit was eternal. Apart then from the Incarnation,
the Logos was archetypal man as well as God, so that the Incarnation
was not simply an expedient to get rid of sin, but the historic revelation
of that which was latent in the Logos from eternity. The Logos and
man are not alien beings, but joined in their inmost nature, and in a
real sense each is incomplete without the other. Suggestive as this is,
Apollinarius reaches no true incarnation. Against him it was decided
that the Incarnation implied a human soul as well as a human body—a
decision which struck straight enough at the Arians, but quite missed
the triple division of body, soul, and spirit (1 Thess. v. 23) on which
Apollinarius based his system.
Athanasius was exiled again almost at once: Julian's anger was
kindled by the news that he had baptized some heathen ladies at
Alexandria. But his work remained. At Antioch indeed it was
marred by Lucifer of Calaris, who would have nothing to do with
Meletius, and consecrated Paulinus as bishop for the old Nicenes. So
the schism continued, and henceforth the rising Nicene party of Pontus
and Asia was divided by this personal question from the older Nicenes
of Egypt and the West. But upon the whole the lenient policy of the
council was a great success. Bishop after bishop gave in his adhesion
to the Nicene faith. Friendly Semiarians came in like Cyril of Jeru-
salem, old conservatives followed, and at last (in Jovian's time) the
arch-enemy Acacius himself gave in his signature. Even creeds were re-
modelled in all directions in a Nicene sense, as at Jerusalem and Antioch,
and in Cappadocia and Mesopotamia. True, the other parties were not
idle. The Homoean coalition was even more unstable than the Eusebian,
and broke up of itself as soon as opinion was free. One party favoured
the Anomoeans, another drew nearer to the Nicenes, while the Semiarians
completed the confusion by confirming the Seleucian decisions and re-
issuing the Lucianic creed. But the main current set in a Nicene
direction, and the Nicene faith was rapidly winning its way to victory
when the process was thrown back for nearly twenty years by Julian's
death in Persia (26 June 363).
Julian's death seemed to leave the Empire in the gift of four bar-
barian generals : but while they were debating, a few of the soldiers
outside hailed a favourite named Jovian as emperor. The cry was taken
up, and in a few minutes the young officer found himself the successor
of Augustus. Jovian was a decided Christian, though his personal
character did no credit to the Gospel. But his religious policy was one
of genuine toleration. If Athanasius was graciously received at Antioch,
a
с
## p. 137 (#167) ############################################
364–365]
Insecurity of Homoean domination
137
the Arians were told with scant courtesy that they could hold meetings
as they pleased at Alexandria. So all parties went on consolidating
themselves. The Anomoeans had been restive since the condemnation
of Aëtius at Constantinople, but it was not till now that they lost hope
of the Homoeans, and formed an organised sect. But all these move-
ments came to an end with the sudden death of Jovian (16-17 Feb. 364).
This time the generals chose ; and they chose the Pannonian Valentinian
for emperor. A month later he assigned the East from Thrace to his
brother Valens.
Valentinian was a good soldier and little more, though he could
honour learning and carry forward the reforming work of Constantine.
His religious policy was toleration. If he refused to displace the few
.
Arian bishops he found in possession, he left the churches free to choose
Nicene successors. So the West soon recovered from the strife which
Constantius had introduced. It was otherwise in the East. Valens was
a weaker character-timid and inert, but not inferior to his brother in
scrupulous care for the interests of his subjects. No soldier, but more
or less good at finance. For awhile events continued to develop
naturally. The Homoean bishops held their sees, but their influence
was fast declining. The Anomoeans were forming a schism on one side,
the Nicenes were recovering power on the other. On both sides the
simpler doctrines were driving out the compromises. It was time for
even the Semiarians to bestir themselves. A few years before they were
beyond question the majority in the East; but this was not so certain
The Nicenes had made a great advance since the Council of
Ancyra, and were now less conciliatory. Lucifer had compromised them
in one direction, Apollinarius in another, and even Marcellus had never
been disavowed; but the chief cause of suspicion to the Semiarians was
now the advance of the Nicenes to a belief in the deity of the Holy Spirit.
It was some time before Valens had a policy to declare. He was only
a catechumen, perhaps cared little for the questions before his elevation,
and inherited no assured position like Constantius. It was some time
before he fell into the hands of the Homoean Eudoxius of Constantinople, a
man of experience and learning, whose mild prudence gave him just the
help he needed. In fact, a Homoean policy was really the easiest for the
moment. Heathenism had failed in Julian's hands, and an Anomoean
.
course was even more hopeless, while the Nicenes were still a minority
outside Egypt. The only alternative was to favour the Semiarians; and
this too was full of difficulties. Upon the whole, the Homoeans were
still the strongest party in 365. They were in possession of the churches
and had astute leaders, and their doctrine had not yet lost its attraction
for the quiet men who were tired of controversy.
In the spring of 365 an imperial rescript commanded the munici-
palities to drive out from their cities the bishops who had been exiled
by Constantius and restored by Julian. At Alexandria the populace
а
CH. V.
## p. 138 (#168) ############################################
138
Basil of Caesarea
[360–378
declared that the rescript did not apply to Athanasius, whom Julian
had not restored, and raised such dangerous riots that the matter had
to be referred back to Valens. Then came the revolt of Procopius, who
seized Constantinople and very nearly displaced Valens. Athanasius was
restored, and could not safely be disturbed again. Then after the
Procopian revolt came the Gothic war, which kept Valens occupied till
369: and before he could return to church affairs, he had lost his best
adviser, for Eudoxius of Constantinople was ill replaced by the rash
Demophilus.
The Homoean party was the last hope of Arianism. The original
doctrine of Arius had been decisively rejected at Nicaea, the Eusebian
coalition was broken up by the Sirmian manifesto, and if the Homoean
union also failed, its failure meant the fall of Arianism. Now the
weakness of the Homoean power is shewn by the growth of a new
Nicene party in the most Arian province of the Empire. Cappadocia
was a country district : yet Julian found it incorrigibly Christian, and
we hear very little of heathenism from Basil. But it was a stronghold
of Arianism; and here was formed the alliance which decided the fate
of Arianism. Serious men like Meletius had only been attracted to the
side of the Homoeans by their professions of reverence for the Person of
the Lord, and began to look back to the Nicene council when it appeared
that Eudoxius and his friends were practically Arians after all. Of the
old conservatives also, there were many who felt that the Semiarian
position was unsound, and yet could find no satisfaction in the indefinite
doctrine professed at Court. Thus the Homoean domination was
threatened with a double secession. If the two groups of malcontents
could form a union with each other and with the older Nicenes of
Egypt and the West, they would be much the strongest of the parties.
This was the policy of the man who was now coming to the front of
the Nicene leaders. Basil of Caesarea—the Cappadocian Caesarea—was a
disciple of the Athenian schools, and a master of heathen eloquence and
learning, and man of the world enough to secure the friendly interest of
men of all sorts. His connexions lay among the old conservatives,
though he had been a decided opponent of Arianism since 360. He
succeeded to the bishopric of Caesarea in 370. The crisis was near.
Valens moved eastward in 371, reaching Caesarea in time for the great
midwinter festival of Epiphany 372. Many of the lesser bishops yielded,
but threats and blandishments were thrown away on their metropolitan,
and when Valens himself and Basil met face to face, the emperor was
overawed. More than once the order was prepared for his exile, but it
was never issued. Valens went forward on his journey, leaving behind
a princely gift for Basil's poorhouse. Thenceforth he fixed his quarters
at Antioch till the disasters of the Gothic war called him back to
Europe in 378.
Armed with spiritual power which in some sort extended over
## p. 139 (#169) ############################################
355—373]
Last Years of Athanasius
139
Galatia and Armenia, Basil was now free to labour at his plan. Homoean
malcontents formed the nucleus of the league, but old conservatives
came in, and Athanasius gave his patriarchal blessing to the scheme.
But the difficulties were enormous. The league was full of jealousies.
Athanasius might recognise the orthodoxy of Meletius, but others
almost went the length of banning all who had ever been Arians.
Others again were lukewarm or sunk in worldliness, while the West
stood aloof. The confessors of 355 were mostly gathered to their rest,
and the Church of Rome cared little for troubles that were not likely to
reach herself. Nor was Basil quite the man for the work. His courage
indeed was indomitable. He ruled Cappadocia from a sick-bed, and
bore down opposition by sheer force of will; and to this he joined an
ascetic fervour which secured the devotion of his friends, and often the
respect of his enemies. But we miss the lofty self-respect of Athanasius.
The ascetic is usually too full of his own purposes to feel sympathy with
others, or even to feign it like a diplomatist. Basil had worldly prudence
enough to dissemble his belief in the Holy Spirit, not enough to shield
his nearest friends from his imperious temper. Small wonder if the
great scheme met with many difficulties.
The declining years of Athanasius were spent in peace. Heathenism
was still a power at Alexandria, but the Arians were nearly extinct.
One of his last public acts was to receive a confession presented on
behalf of Marcellus, who was still living in extreme old age at Ancyra.
It was a sound confession so far as it went; and though Athanasius did
not agree with Marcellus, he had never thought his errors vital. So he
accepted it, refusing once again to sacrifice the old companion of his
exile. It was nobly done; but it did not conciliate Basil.
The school of Marcellus expired with him, and if Apollinarius was
forming another, he was at any rate a resolute enemy of Arianism.
Meanwhile the churches of the East seemed in a state of universal disso-
lution. Disorder under Constantius became confusion worse confounded
under Valens. The exiled bishops were so many centres of strife, and
personal quarrels had full scope. When for example Basil's brother
Gregory was expelled from Nyssa by a riot got up by Anthimus of
Tyana, he took refuge under the eyes of Anthimus at Doara, where
another riot had driven out the Arian bishop. Creeds were in the same
confusion. The Homoeans had no consistent principle beyond the
rejection of technical terms. Some of their bishops were substantially
Nicenes, while others were thoroughgoing Anomoeans. There was
room for all in the happy family of Demophilus. Church history records
no clearer period of decline than this. The descent from Athanasius
to Basil is plain; from Basil to Cyril it is rapid. The victors of
Constantinople are but the Epigoni of a mighty contest.
Athanasius passed away in 373, and Alexandria became the prey of
Arian violence. The deliverance came suddenly, and in the confusion
CH. V.
## p. 140 (#170) ############################################
140
Theodosius
(378—380
1
of the greatest disaster that had ever yet befallen Rome. When the
Huns came up from the Asiatic steppes, the Goths sought refuge beneath
the shelter of the Roman eagles. But the greed and peculations of
Roman officials drove them to revolt: and when Valens himself with
the whole army of the East encountered them near Hadrianople
(9 Aug. 378) his defeat was overwhelming. Full two-thirds of the
Roman army perished in the slaughter, and the emperor himself was
never heard of more. The blow was crushing : for the first time since
the days of Gallienus, the Empire could place no army in the field.
The care of the whole world now rested on the Western emperor,
Gratian the son of Valentinian, a youth of nineteen. Gratian was a
zealous Christian, and as a Western he held the Nicene faith. His
first step was to proclaim religious liberty in the East, except for
Anomoeans and Photinians—a small sect supposed to have pushed the
doctrine of Marcellus too far. As toleration was still the general law of
the Empire (though Valens might have exiled individual bishops) the
gain of the rescript fell almost entirely to the Nicenes. The exiles
found little difficulty in resuming the government of their flocks, or
even in sending missions to the few places where the Arians were strong,
like that undertaken by Gregory of Nazianzus to Constantinople. The
Semiarians were divided. Numbers of them joined the Nicenes, while
the rest took an independent position. Thus the Homoean power in
the provinces collapsed of itself, and almost without a struggle, before it
was touched by persecution.
Gratian's next step was to share his heavy burden with a colleague,
The new emperor came from the far West of Cauca near Segovia, and to
him was entrusted the Gothic war, and with it the government of
all the provinces east of Sirmium. Theodosius was therefore a Western
and a Nicene, with a full measure of Spanish courage and intolerance.
The war was not very dangerous, for the Goths could do nothing with
their victory, and Theodosius was able to deal with the Church long
before it ended. A dangerous illness early in 380 led to his baptism by
Acholius of Thessalonica ; and this was the natural signal for a more
decided policy. A law dated 27 Feb. 380 commanded all men to follow
the Nicene doctrine, “committed by the apostle Peter to the Romans,
and now professed by Damasus of Rome and Peter of Alexandria,” and
threatened heretics with temporal punishment. In this he seems to
abandon Constantine's test of orthodoxy by subscription to a creed,
returning to Aurelian's requirement of communion with the chief bishops
of Christendom. But the mention of St Peter and the choice both of
Rome and Alexandria, are enough to shew that he was still a stranger
to the state of parties in the East.
Theodosius made his formal entry into Constantinople 24 Nov. 380,
and at once required the bishop either to accept the Nicene faith or to
leave the city. Demophilus honourably refused to give up his heresy,
## p. 141 (#171) ############################################
381]
Council of Constantinople
141
and adjourned his services to the suburbs. But the mob of Constan-
tinople was Arian, and their stormy demonstrations when the cathedral
of the Twelve Apostles was given up to Gregory of Nazianzus made
Theodosius waver. Not for long. A second edict in Jan. 381 forbade
all heretical assemblies inside cities, and ordered the churches everywhere
to be given up to the Nicenes. Thus was Arianism put down as it had
been set up, by the civil power. Nothing remained but to clear away
the wrecks of the contest.
Once more an imperial summons went forth for a council of the
Eastern bishops to meet at Constantinople in May 381. It was a
sombre gathering: even the conquerors can have had no more hopeful
feeling than that of satisfaction to see the end of the long contest. Only
150 bishops were present—none from the west of Thessalonica. The
Semiarians however mustered 36, under Eleusius of Cyzicus Meletius
of Antioch presided, and the Egyptians were not invited to the earlier
sittings, or at least were not present. Theodosius was no longer neutral
as between the old and new Nicenes. After ratifying the choice of
Gregory of Nazianzus as bishop of Constantinople, the next move was
to sound the Semiarians. They were still a strong party beyond the
Bosphorus, so that their friendship was important. But Eleusius was
not to be tempted. However he might oppose the Anomoeans, he could
not forgive the Nicenes their doctrine of the Holy Spirit. Those of the
Semiarians who were willing to join the Nicenes had already done so,
and the rest were obstinate. They withdrew from the council and gave
up
their churches like the Arians.
Whatever jealousies might divide the conquerors, the contest with
Arianism was now at an end. Pontus and Syria were still divided from
Rome and Egypt on the question of Meletius, and there were germs
of future trouble in the disposition of Alexandria to look to Rome
for help against the upstart see of Constantinople. But against Arianism
the council was united. Its first canon is a solemn ratification of the
Nicene creed in its original form, with an anathema against all the
Arianizing parties. It only remained for the emperor to complete the
work of the council. An edict in the middle of July forbade Arians
of all sorts to build churches even outside cities; and at the end of the
month Theodosius issued an amended definition of orthodoxy. The
true faith was henceforth to be guarded by the demand of communion,
no longer with Rome and Alexandria, but with Constantinople,
Alexandria, and the chief sees of the East: and the choice of cities
is significant. A small place like Nyssa might be included for the
personal eminence of its bishop; but the omission of Hadrianople,
Perinthus, Ephesus and Nicomedia shews the determination to leave
a clear field for the supremacy of Constantinople.
So far as numbers went, the cause of Arianism was not hopeless even
yet. It was fairly strong in Asia, could raise dangerous riots in Con-
CH, V.
## p. 142 (#172) ############################################
142
Fall of Arianism
(383
stantinople, and had on its side the Western empress-mother Justina.
But its fate was only a question of time. Its cold logic generated no
fiery enthusiasm, its recent origin allowed no venerable traditions to
grow up round it, and its imperial claims cut it off from any appeal
to provincial feeling. So when the last overtures of Theodosius fell
through in 383, Arianism soon ceased to be a religion in the civilised
world. Such existence as it kept up for the next three hundred years
was due to its barbarian converts.
## p. 143 (#173) ############################################
143
CHAPTER VI.
THE ORGANISATION OF THE CHURCH.
*
CHRISTIAN organisation was the means of expressing that which is
behind and beneath all its details, namely the underlying and pene-
trating consciousness of the oneness of the Christian body and the
Christian life. It was the process by which the separate charismata could
be developed and differentiated, while at the same time the unity of the
whole was safeguarded. Looked at in this light, the history of organisa-
tion in the Christian Church is, in its main stream, the history of two
processes, partly successive, partly simultaneous, but always closely
related : the process by which the individual communities became
complete in themselves, sufficient for their own needs, microcosms of the
Church at large; and the process by which the communities thus organised
as units proceeded to combine in an always more formal and more
extensive federation. But these two processes were not merely successive.
Just as there never had been a time when the separate communities, before
they became fully organised, were devoid of outside ministration or
supervision, so there never came a period when the fully organised
communities lived only to themselves : unity was preserved by informal
means, till the growing size and number of the communities, and the
increasing complexity of circumstances, made informal means inadequate
and further formal organisation imperative. And again, though the
formal self-expression of the individual community necessarily preceded
the formal self-expression of the federation of communities, yet the
history of organisation within the single community does not come to an
abrupt end as soon as the community becomes complete in itself: all
functions essential for the Christian life are henceforth there, but as
numbers increase and needs and duties multiply, the superabundant
vitality of the organism shews itself in the differentiation of new, though
always subordinate, functions. And therefore, side by side with the
well-known history of the federation of the Christian churches, it will be
our business to trace also the obscurer and less recognised, but perhaps
not less important, processes which were going on, simultaneously with
the larger processes of federation, in the individual churches and especially
in those of them which were most influential as models to the rest.
:
CH, .
## p. 144 (#174) ############################################
144
The Missionary Ministry
רי
(A) In the early days of Christianity the first beginnings of a new
community were of a very simple kind : indeed the local organisation
had at first no need to be anything but rudimentary, just because the
community was never thought of as complete in itself apart from its
apostolic founder or other representatives of the missionary ministry.
“Presbyters ” and “ deacons" no doubt existed in these communities from
the first : “presbyters” were ordained for each church as it was founded
on St Paul's first missionary journey ; " bishops and deacons” constitute,
together with the “ holy people," the church of Philippi. These purely
local officials were naturally chosen from among the first converts
in each district, and to them were naturally assigned the duties of
providing for the permanently recurring needs of Christian life,
especially the sacraments of Baptism-St Paul indicates that baptism
was not normally the work of an apostle—and the Eucharist. But the
evidence of the earlier epistles of St Paul is decisive as to the small
relative importance which this local ministry enjoyed : the true ministry
of the first generation was the ordered hierarchy, “ first apostles, secondly
prophets, thirdly teachers,” of which the apostle speaks with such emphasis
in his first epistle to the Corinthians. Next in due order after the
ranks of the primary ministry came the gifts of miracles—“then powers,
then gifts of healing" and only after these, wrapped up in the obscure
designation of "helps and governments," can we find room for the local
service of presbyters and deacons. Even without the definite evidence of
the Acts and the Pastoral Epistles and St Clement of Rome it would
be already clear enough that the powers of the local ministry were
narrowly limited, and that to the higher ministry, the exercise of
whose gifts was not confined to any one community but was independent
of place altogether, belonged not only the general right of supervision
and ultimate authority over local churches, but also in particular the
imparting of the gift of the Spirit, whether in what we call Confirmation
or in what we call Ordination. In effect the Church of the first
age may almost be said to have consisted of a laity grouped in local
communities, and a ministry that moved about from place to place to do
the work of missionaries to the heathen and of preachers and teachers to
the converts. Most of St Paul's epistles to churches are addressed to
the community, the holy people, the brethren, without any hint in the
title of the existence of a local clergy: the apostle and the Christian
congregation are the two factors of primary account. The Didache
shews us how right down to the end of the first century, in remoter
districts, the communities depended on the services of wandering apostles,
or of prophets and teachers, sometimes wandering sometimes settled, and
how they held by comparison in very light esteem their presbyters and
deacons. Even a well-established church, like that of Corinth, with half
a century of history behind it, was able, however unreasonably, to refuse
to recognise in its local ministry any right of tenure other than the will
## p. 145 (#175) ############################################
The Local Church
145
of the community: and when the Roman church intervened to point out
the gravity of the blow thus struck at the principle of Christian order, it
was still the community of Rome which addressed the community of
Corinth. And this custom of writing in the name, or to the address, of
the community continued, a relic of an earlier age, well into the days of
the strictest monarchical episcopacy: it was not so much the bishop's
headship of the community as the multiplication of the clergy which (as
we shall see) made the real gap between the bishop and his people,
Most of our documents then of the first century shew us the local
churches neither self-sufficient nor self-contained, but dependent for all
special ministries upon the visits of the superior officers of the Church.
On the other hand most of our documents of the second century-in its
earlier years the Ignatian letters, and an ever-increasing bulk of evidence
as the century goes on-shew us the local churches complete in them-
selves, with an officer at the head of each who concentrates in his hands
both the powers of the local ministers and those also which had at first
been reserved exclusively for the “ general ” ministry, but who is himself
as strictly limited in the extent of his jurisdiction to a single church as
were the humbler presbyter-bishops from whom he derived his name.
When we have explained how the supreme powers of the general ministry
were made to devolve on an individual who belonged to the local
ministry, we have explained the origin of episcopacy.
With that
problem of explanation we have not here to deal in detail: we have only
to recognise the result and its importance, when in and with the bishop
the local church sufficed in itself for the extraordinary as well as for the
ordinary functions of church government and Christian life.
In those early days of episcopacy, among the diminutive groups of
Christian “strangers and sojourners” which were dotted over the pagan
world of the second century, we must conceive of a quite special
closeness of relation between a bishop and his people. Regularly in all
cities—and it was in the provinces where city life was most developed
that the Church made quickest progress-a bishop is found at the head
of the community of Christians: and his intimacy with his people was
in those primitive days unhindered by the interposition of any hierarchy
of functionaries or attendants. His flock was small enough for him to
carry out to the letter the pastoral metaphor, and to “call his sbeep by
name. ” If the consent of the Christian people had always been, as Clement
of Rome tells us, a necessary preliminary to the ordination of Christian
ministers, in the case of the appointment of their bishop the people did
not consent merely, they elected: not till the fourth century did the
clergy begin to acquire first a separate and ultimately a predominant share
in the process of choice. Even though the "angel of the church” in the
Apocalypse may not have been, in the mind of the seer, at all intended
to refer to the bishop, yet this quasi-identification of the community
with its representative exactly expresses the ideal of second century
3
C. MED. H. VOL. I. CH. VI.
10
## p. 146 (#176) ############################################
146
Bishop and People
)
you,"
writers. “The whole number of you I welcome in God's Name in the
person of Onesimus," “ in Polybius I beheld the whole multitude of
writes Ignatius to the Christians of Ephesus and Tralles : “ be subject to
the bishop and to one another” is his injunction to the Magnesians: the
power of Christian worship is in “the prayer of the bishop and the whole
church. ” So too to Justin Martyr, “ the brethren as we are called " and
“the president ” are the essential figures in the portraiture of the Christian
society. If it is true that in the first century the apostle-founder and
the community as founded by him are the two outstanding elements of
Christian organisation, it is no less true that in the second century the
twin ideas of bishop and people attain a prominence which throws all}
subordinate distinctions into the background. Even as late as the middle
of the third century we see Cyprian—who is quite misunderstood if he is
looked on only as an innovator in the sphere of organisation—maintaining
and emphasizing at every turn the intimate union, in normal church life,
of bishop and laity, while he also recognises the duty of the laity, in
abnormal circumstances, to separate from the communion of the bishop
who had proved himself unworthy of their choice: “it is the people in the
first place which has the power both of electing worthy bishops and of
spurning the unworthy. ” Similar witness for the East is borne in the
same century by the Didascalia Apostolorum, where bishop and laity
are addressed in turn, and their mutual relations are almost the main
theme of the writer.
But this personal relation of the bishop to his flock, which was the
Ideal of church administrators and thinkers from Ignatius to Cyprian,
could only find effective realisation in a relatively small community: the
very success of the Christian propaganda, and the consequent increase
everywhere of the numbers of the Christian people, made some further
development of organisation imperative. Especially during the long
peace between Severus and Decius (211-249) did recruits pour in.
In the larger towns at least there could be now no question of personal
acquaintance between the president of the community and all its members.
No doubt it might have been possible to preserve the old intimacy at the
cost of unity, and to create a bishop for each congregation. But the sense
of civic unity was an asset of which Christians instinctively availed them-
selves in the service of religion. If practical convenience sometimes
dictated the appointment of bishops in villages, these xwpeTiO KOTOL were
only common in districts where, as in Cappadocia, cities were few, and
where consequently the extent of the territory of each city was unduly
large for supervision by the single bishop of the mois
. Normally,
even in days before there was any idea of the formal demarcation of
territorial jurisdiction, the tódis or civitas with all its dependent lands
was the natural spbere of the individual bishop's authority. And within
the walls of the city it was never so much as conceivable that the ecclesia
should be divided. When the Council of Nicaea was making provision
## p. 147 (#177) ############################################
Episcopacy and Unity
147
for the reinstatement in clerical rank of Novatianist clergy willing to be
reconciled with the Church, the arrangement was subject always to the
maintenance of the principle that there should not be “two bishops
in the city. ” The very rivalries between different claimants of one
episcopal throne serve to bring out the same result-witness the earliest
instances of pope and anti-pope of which we have documentary know-
ledge, those of Cornelius and Novatian in 251, and of Liberius and Felix
about 357. In the latter case Constantius, with a politician's eye to
compromise, recommended the joint recognition of both claimants: but
the Roman people—Theodoret, to whose History we owe the details,
is careful to note that he has recorded the very language used—saluted
the reading of the rescript in the circus with the mocking cry that two
leaders would do very well for the factions at the games, but that there
could be only “one God, one Christ, one bishop. Exactly the same
reason had been given a century earlier in almost the same words, by
the Roman confessors when writing to Cyprian, for their abandonment
of Novatian and adhesion to Cornelius : “ we are not unaware that there
is one God, and one Christ the Lord whom we have confessed, one Holy
Spirit, and therefore only one true bishop in the communion of the
Catholic Church. ” Both in East and West, in the largest cities as well
as in the smallest, the society of the faithful was conceived of as an
indivisible unit; and its oneness was expressed in the person of its one
bishop. The mapouia of Christians in any locality was not like a hive
of bees, which, when numbers multiplied inconveniently, could throw off
a part of the whole, to be henceforward a complete and independent
organism under separate control. The necessity for new organisation
had to be met in some way which would preserve at all costs the oneness
of the body and its head.
It followed that the work and duties which the individual bishop
could no longer perform in person must be shared with, or deputed to,
subordinate officials. New offices came into being in
the coursel
especially of the third century, and the growth of this clerus or clergy,
and its gradual acquisition during the fourth and fifth centuries of the
character of a hierarchy nicely ordered in steps and degrees, is a featurel
of ecclesiastical history of which the importance has not always been
adequately realised.
Of such a hierarchy the germs had no doubt existed from the
beginning; and indeed presbyters and deacons were, as we have seen,
older component parts of the local communities than were the bishops
themselves. In the Ignatian theory bishop, presbyters and deacons are
the three universal elements of organisation,“ without which nothing can
be called a church” (ad Trall. 3). And the distinction between the two
subordinate orders, in their original scope and intention, was just the
distinction between the two sides of clerical office which in the bishop
were in some sort combined, the spiritual and the administrative :
CH 1.
10-2
## p. 148 (#178) ############################################
148
Presbyters
9
were
presbyters were the associates of the bishop in his spiritual character,
deacons in his administrative functions.
Our earliest documents define the work of presbyters by no language
more commonly than by that which expresses the “pastoral” relation of
a shepherd to his flock : “the flock in which the Holy Ghost hath set
you as overseers to shepherd the Church of God,” “ the presbyters I
exhort. . . shepherd the flock of God among you. . . not as lords of the
ground but as examples of the flock, until the Great Shepherd shall
appear. ” But in proportion as the local organisation became episcopal,
the pastoral idea, and even the name of mounv, concentrated itself upon
lithe bishop. To Ignatius the distinctive function of the presbyters is
rather that of a council, gathered round the bishop as the apostles were
gathered round Christ-an idea not unconnected perhaps with the
position of the presbyters in the Christian assembly; for there is no
reason to doubt that primitive tradition underlies the arrangement of
the early Christian basilicas, where the bishop's chair stood in the centre
of the apse behind the altar, and the consessus presbyterorum extended
right and left in a semicircle, as represented in the Apocalypse. So
too in the Didascalia Apostolorum (Syriac and Latin) the one definite
function allotted to presbyters is that of “consilium et curia ecclesiae. "
Besides pastoral duties, however, the Pauline epistles bring presbyters
into definite relation also with the work of teaching. If “teachers
originally one grade of the general ministry, they would naturally have
settled down in the communities earlier than the itinerant apostles or
prophets : “pastors and teachers ” are already closely connected in the
epistle to the Ephesians: and the first epistle to Timothy shews
speaking and teaching,” λόγος και διδασκαλία, was
function to which some at least of the presbyters might aspire. It is
probable enough that the second-century bishop shared this, as all
other functions of the presbyterate: St Polycarp is described by his
flock as an “apostolic and prophetic teacher": but, as differentiation
progressed, teaching was one of the duties less easily retained in the
bishop's hands, and our third-century authorities are full of references
to the class known in Greek as οι πρεσβύτεροι και διδάσκαλοι, in Latin
as presbyteri doctores.
If presbyters were thus the bishop's counsellors and advisers where
counsel was needed, his colleagues in the rites of Christian worship, his
assistants and representatives in pastoral and teaching duties, the proto-
types of the diaconate are to be found in the Seven of the Acts,
who were appointed to disburden the apostles of the work of poor
relief and charity and to set them free for their more spiritual duties of
“prayer and ministering of the Word. ” Quite similarly in the Suíxovou
or “servants” of the local church, the bishop found ready to hand
a personal staff of clerks and secretaries. The Christian Church in
one not unimportant aspect was a gigantic friendly society: and the
us that "
à
## p. 149 (#179) ############################################
Deacons and Readers
149
( deacons were the relieving officers who, under the direction of the
επίσκοπος
éTiO Kotos or “overseer,” sought out the local members of the society in
their homes, and dispensed to those who were in permanent or temporary
need the contributions of their more fortunate brethren. From their
district-visiting the deacons would derive an intimate knowledge of the
circumstances and characters of individual Christians, and of the way in
which each was living up to his profession: by a very natural develop-
ment it became part of their recognised duties, as we learn from the
Didascalia, to report to the bishop cases calling for the exercise of the
penitential discipline of the Church. Throughout all the early centuries
the closeness of their personal relation with the bishop remains : but
what had been spread over the whole diaconate tends to be concentrated
on an individual, when the office of archdeacon-oculus episcopi, according
to a favourite metaphor-begins to emerge : the earliest instances of
the actual title are c. 370-380, in Optatus (of Caecilian of Carthage)
and in the Gesta inter Liberium et Felicem (of Felix of Rome).
Originally, as it would seem, deacons were not ministers of worship
4
at all: the earliest subordinate office in the liturgy was that of reader.
We need not suppose that ó åvay. voorw in the New Testament means
a distinct official in the Church any more than in the Synagogue: but
the same phrase in Justin's Apology has more of a formal sound, and by
the end of the second century the first of the minor orders had obviously
an established place in church usage. While Ignatius names only
bishop, presbyters and deacons, Tertullian, contrasting the stable orders
of Catholics with the unsettled arrangements of heretics, speaks of bishop,
presbyter, deacon and reader: “ alius hodie episcopus, cras alius ; hodie
diaconus qui cras lector ; hodie presbyter qui cras laicus. ” And in remote
churches or backwardly organised provinces the same four orders were
the minimum recognised long after Tertullian, as in the so-called
A postolic Church Order (third century, perhaps for Egypt) and in the
canons of the Council of Sardica (343, for the Balkan peninsula : the
canon is proposed by the Spaniard Hosius of Cordova).
But the process of transformation by which the diaconate became
more and more a spiritual office began early, and one of its results was to
degrade the readership by ousting it from its proper functions. It was
as attendants on the bishop that the deacons, we may well suppose, were
deputed from the first to take the Eucharist, over which the bishop had
offered the prayers and thanksgivings of the Church, to the absent sick.
In Rome, when Justin wrote, soon after 150, they were already dis-
tributing the consecrated “bread and wine and water” in the Christian
assembly. Not very much later the reading of the Gospel began
to be assigned to them: Cyprian is the last writer to connect the
Gospel still with the reader; by the end of the third century it was
a constant function of the deacon, and the reader had sunk pro-
portionately in rank and dignity.
CH, P.
## p. 150 (#180) ############################################
150
Minor Orders
But this development of the diaconate is only part of a much larger
movement. (In the greater churches at least an elaborate differentiation
of functions and functionaries was in course of process during the third
century. Under the pressure of circumstances, and the accumulation of
new duties which the increasing size and importance of the Christian
communities thrust upon the bishop, much which he had hitherto done
for himself, and which long remained his in theory, came in practice
to be done for him by the higher clergy. As they moved up to take his
place, they in turn left duties to be provided for: as they drew more
and more to the spiritual side of their work, they left the more secular
duties to new officials in their place. Evidence for Carthage and Rome
in the middle of the third century shews us that, besides the principal
orders of bishop, presbyters and deacons, a large community would now
complete its clerus by two additional pairs of officers, subdeacon and
acolyte, exorcist and reader, making seven altogether. The church of
Carthage, we learn from the Cyprianic correspondence, had exorcists and
readers, apparently at the bottom of the clergy (ep. xxiii. “ praesente de
clero et exorcista et lectore (the words are no doubt ironical] Lucianus
scripsit "); and it had also hypodiaconi and acoliti, who served as the
bearers of letters or gifts from the bishop to his correspondents.
Subdeacons and acolytes were now in fact what deacons had earlier been,
the personal and secretarial staff of the bishop, while exorcists and
readers were the subordinate members of the liturgical ranks. The
combination of all these various offices into a single definitely graduated
hierarchy was the work of the fourth century: but it is at least
adumbrated in the enumeration of the Roman clerus addressed by
Pope Cornelius, Cyprian's contemporary, to Fabius of Antioch in 251.
Besides the bishop, there were at Rome forty-six presbyters, seven
deacons, seven subdeacons, forty-two acolytes; of exorcists and readers,
together with doorkeepers, there were fifty-two; of widows and afflicted
over fifteen hundred and all this great multitude
: “
necessary
in the church. "
Promotion from one rank of the ministry to another was of course
no new thing. In particular the rise from the diaconate to the
presbyterate, from the more secular to the more spiritual office, was
always recognised as a legitimate reward for good service. “They that
have served well as deacons," wrote St Paul, “purchase for themselves an
honourable step”; though when the Apostolic Church Order interprets
the βαθμός καλός as τόπος ποιμενικός, it is a question whether the
place of a presbyter or that of a bishop is meant. But it was a
serious and far-reaching development when, in the fourth century, the
idea grew up that the Christian clergy consisted of a hierarchy of grades,
through each of which it was necessary to pass in order to reach the
higher offices. The Council of Nicaea had contented itself with the
reasonable prohibition (canon 2) of the ordination of neophytes as bishops
was
a
## p. 151 (#181) ############################################
The Cursus Honorum
151
>
or presbyters. The Council of Sardica in 343 prescribes for the episcopate
a "prolixum tempus ” of promotions through the “munus” of reader,
the “officium” of deacon, and the “ministerium” of presbyter. But it
was in the church of Rome that the conception of the cursus honorum-
borrowed, we may suppose, consciously or unconsciously from the civil
magistracies of the Roman State—took deepest root. Probably the
oldest known case of particular clerical offices held in succession by the
same individual is the record, in an inscription of Pope Damasus, of
either his own or his father's career—there are variant readings“ pater
and“ puer," but even the son's career must have begun early in the fourth
century—“exceptor, lector, levita, sacerdos.
