If alternate worlds exist, in at least one the histories of early Christianity end in the year 449, at the great Second Council of Ephesus. Possibly, too, famous paintings depict the triumph of Saints Dioscuros and Eutyches and the defeat of the Dyophysite heresy. Demonic figures represent the villains of the story, Flavian and Leo, each depicted with a forked tongue to symbolize the evil doctrine of the Two Natures. Conceivably the greatest exemplar of this work would hang in the patriarchal palace of the leader of the Christian world, in Alexandria itself. Imagining such a painting, of course, assumes that this other world does not have grave doubts about depicting the human figure in art.
7
Chalcedon
Controversy about the orthodox religion of Christians has been put away…. Let profane wrangling cease!
Emperor Marcian
And then the emperor died. In July 450, the horse that Theodosius II was riding stumbled, and the emperor fell badly. On the 28th, he died, leaving no heir. Pulcheria would have made a fine successor, as her record of government was as lengthy and at least as distinguished as her brother’s, but no woman could take the imperial throne. For the good of the dynasty, and for the security of the Christian world, the fifty-one-year-old Pulcheria abandoned her decades-long vow and agreed to marry the tough soldier Marcian, on the condition that he respected her celibacy. Marcian succeeded, giving the empire the best and most active emperor it had known since the first Theodosius.1
One Nature believers were stunned. Coptic historian John of Nikiu described the events as a sordid coup, the replacement by the excellent and pious Theodosius II by his Two Nature–inclined sister. Pulcheria, after all, acted without consulting the Western emperor, Valentinian, or most of the senators or leading state officials. But whatever the circumstances, a new political order now took shape. Major church leaders kept up the pressure for change. As befitted the heir of St. Peter, Leo, of course, was—well, a rock. And on this occasion, he found support from Anatolius of Constantinople, who owed his career to Alexandria’s Dioscuros. But Anatolius knew that Pulcheria was an even more powerful ally close at hand and potentially a deadlier foe. He also realized that a religious revolution could cement the position of his own patriarchate as second only to Rome.
The immediate outcome was the Council of Chalcedon, one of the largest and most impressive arrays of church leaders in the history of Christianity. Yet contrary to what its enemies feared, this event was not a simple clear-cut victory for any side or faction. Its immediate importance was political, in reversing the Alexandrian stranglehold on the church, but its theological implications were less clear.
Many generations of students have learned Chalcedon as a critical benchmark in the making of Christian doctrine. They learn something like this: “Ephesus, 431, rejected the separation of the human and divine in Christ; Chalcedon, 451, insisted on the two natures in one and drove out the Monophysites. This wise compromise ended the christological debates.” At the time, though, Chalcedon was much more a balancing act between the two sides, in which One Nature believers had a strong say. The importance of the council, and its bitterly divisive effects, emerged mainly in its long aftermath.2
Counterrevolution
The new emperor faced a situation as nightmarish as any of his predecessors had imagined, with the prospect of general collapse close at hand. Marcian’s first act was to end the empire’s tribute payments to Attila, making it certain that the Huns would invade a major portion of the empire, East or West. Attila actually crossed the Rhine in force in early 451. At the least, he intended to sack Gaul, and probably to annex it. Equally likely was an imminent assault by Gaiseric on Rome. So dreadful was the situation that it seems remarkable that the regime would devote so much of its time to settling the religious controversy, but in fact that was their first priority.
Partly, this urgency was a practical matter, in that restive and riotous cities were much more difficult to defend and impossible to mobilize for men or taxes. Some kind of religious settlement had to be reached, quickly. No less vital was the sense that the empire could survive only with God’s help, by being the orthodox Christian realm, and that recent defeats and disasters proved beyond doubt that the divine relationship was under grave stress. Only the full and immediate restoration of orthodoxy could save the Christian world. Monophysites and Nestorians exactly shared this perspective about the workings of divine providence, although with a different view of the factions and individuals involved; but in terms of imperial policy making, their views were suddenly irrelevant. The court now turned sharply to the views of Pope Leo and the late Flavian. In terms of the party colors of the day, Monophysite Green suddenly turned Catholic Blue.3
The One Nature faction was painfully aware of the new environment and suggested that God in his heaven was quite as troubled as they were themselves. Knowing the aftermath of the political change—and the outcome of Chalcedon—John of Nikiu claims that
on the day of Marcian’s accession there was darkness over all the earth from the first hour of the day till the evening. And that darkness was like that which had been in the land of Egypt in the days of Moses the chief of the prophets. There was great fear and alarm among all the inhabitants of Constantinople. They wept and lamented and raised dirges and cried aloud exceedingly, and imagined that the end of the world was at hand. And the senate, the officers, and the soldiers, even all the army, small and great, that was in the city was filled with agitation and cried aloud, saying: “We have never heard nor seen in all the previous reigns of the Roman Empire such an event as this.” And they murmured very much, but they did not express themselves openly.4
An early casualty of the counterrevolution was the eunuch Chrysaphius, who perished in 451. Accounts of his death vary. He probably attempted to stir Green sedition. Either Marcian executed him, or else Pulcheria subcontracted the task by handing the hated eunuch over to one of his many personal enemies. Alternatively, he was murdered by a mob protesting high taxes. With the favorite also fell the members of his patronage network, in court and church. Eutyches followed Nestorius into exile, although he did not live long enough to claim vindication. Orders also went out to restore the exiled clergy. And now returned home was the deceased Flavian, whose remains were brought back to Constantinople in great honor and given the burial befitting a martyr.5
The Council
Although there was no mistaking the empire’s new religious coloring, logic demanded an official proclamation of belief in the form of yet another council. Calling such a gathering was not as simple as it appeared, because of the overwhelming threat of fast-moving Hunnish raiders. Nor did Marcian himself want to commit his time to such an event when he might need to move to a highly fluid military front at very short notice. Pope Leo himself did not think a council was really necessary, as all the recent problems could be traced back to just a couple of malevolent individuals—Dioscuros and Juvenal—so that selective actions against them should set things right. But realistically, it simply was not possible to leave Second Ephesus on the record as the final statement of Christian belief, and that left little alternative to a council. Pulcheria above all wanted a public vindication of orthodoxy, and throughout she was the guiding force in shaping the new gathering.6
Marcian and Pulcheria ordered a new council to meet in September 451, on the hallowed ground of Nicea, and preparations began. Invasion threats meant, however, that Marcian did not even consider such a close venue as safe, so he commanded a move to Chalcedon, in the suburbs of the capital. The location helps explain the very large attendance, with perhaps five hundred bishops present at least legally, although at least some were there only through the action of proxies. Probably around three hundred were physically present, not counting attendants and secretaries. And significantly for the coming proceedings, a large minority of them—at least a hundred—had signed off on the decisions of Second Ephesus and had a lot of backtracking and self-justification to perform.
The new council m
et on October 8, incidentally in cooler weather than previous councils. And other lessons had been learned. This time imperial forces secured the meeting to prevent the influence of troublesome hangers-on. This was strictly a bishops’ event with no roaming herds of monks or laymen.
The choice of site was important. Yes, it was conveniently close to the city, but the place also boasted its location as a suburb of heaven. The meetings would take place in the church of the martyr Euphemia, and thus, according to the thinking of the time, in her immediate presence. Since her martyrdom in the early fourth century, Euphemia had become the focus of a popular miraculous cult favored by the imperial family as well as surrounding churches and cities. The tomb was reputedly surrounded by a heavy and easily noticed odor of sanctity, but it also had other supernatural virtues. The saint would on occasion appear in dreams to bishops or other favored followers and invite them to harvest a vintage of her holy blood. Led by the archbishop of Constantinople, eminent visitors could touch the relics, using a sponge attached to an iron rod. When they removed the sponge, they found it “covered with stains and clots of blood,” and that blood was then freely distributed to the faithful.7 The bishops were meeting in the presence of the holy: surely, God was in this place. But the blood was not, so to speak, constantly on tap. It appeared only as a sign that the martyr was pleased and wished to pass on her blessing, so that it was a way of testing divine approval. And a cynic might say that if the organizers needed to reaffirm a doctrine by means of a miracle or apparition, one could easily be arranged.
The Council of Chalcedon had two major goals: to repeal Second Ephesus and reverse its political effects; and also to reject false teaching, Nestorian as well as Eutychian. The first day accomplished most of the task of repeal, with a direct attack on Dioscuros as the first order of business. Leo’s representatives made it clear that they would not take their seats if Dioscuros was allowed his.8
The events began with a recitation of the horrors of the earlier council and of Dioscuros’s misdeeds. Eusebius of Dorylaeum declared, “I have been wronged by Dioscorus. The faith has been wronged. The bishop Flavian was murdered, and, together with myself, unjustly deposed by him.”9Appealing to the emperor, Eusebius recalled the events of the previous synod. “Would that it had never met, nor the world been thereby filled with mischiefs and tumult!” At that gathering, he reported, Dioscuros
having gathered a disorderly rabble, and procured an overbearing influence by bribes, made havoc, as far as lay in his power, of the pious religion of the orthodox, and established the erroneous doctrine of Eutyches the monk, which had from the first been repudiated by the holy fathers…his aggressions against the Christian faith and us are of no trifling magnitude.10
The minutes of Second Ephesus were read, with many participants explaining the intimidation and distortions that had gone into the making of that record. Flavian was rehabilitated. Apart from Dioscuros’s obvious crimes, the offense heading the indictment was that he had insulted St. Peter’s dignity by barring the reading of Leo’s Tome. As the council later agreed, such sins could only have resulted from Dioscuros’s succumbing to Satan’s temptations: “The adversary would have been like a wild beast outside the fold, roaring to himself and unable to seize any one, had not the late bishop of Alexandria thrown himself for a prey to him.”11
Although not directly concerned with Dioscuros’s doctrine or beliefs, the council gave an opportunity for the patriarch’s many enemies to parade their stories of oppression and injustice suffered at the patriarch’s hands. The catalogue of atrocities suggests the megalomania of a Hellenistic god-king rather than a Christian pastor. Dioscuros had allegedly crushed his enemies by seizing their lands and properties, fining them, and wantonly cutting down their trees. When the emperors sent grain to feed starving Libyans, he had intercepted it and sold it for his own profit. The stories recounted also suggest the power that could potentially be exploited from the control of charitable donations and social services. Dioscuros, we hear, had diverted charitable bequests to support his dissolute living, his gambling and whoring: “Openly disreputable women wallow all the time in the episcopal residence and its baths.” “Even murders have been committed at the instigation of this marvelous preacher!”12
Writing to Marcian, the council concluded that “We in session sought the cause of the storm that had rocked the whole world and discovered that its originator was Dioscuros, formerly bishop of Alexandria.”13 Dioscuros was deposed, together with his followers and allies. Other former followers managed to conform in time to the new order, including Anatolius of Constantinople and Maximus at Antioch. Particularly impressive in his coat-turning skills was Juvenal, who had spent twenty years plotting together with the Alexandrians, but who now decided that he no longer held the theology he had once affirmed. He kept his patriarchate.
Hymning victory, at the end of the first session the bishops spontaneously broke into the Trisagion, the proclamation of God, the Thrice Holy:14
Holy God, Holy and Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us
Hagios o Theos, hagios ischyros, hagios athanatos, eleison himas.
Particularly given its association with Chalcedon, the hymn later became one of the most popular and powerful in the Byzantine and Eastern Orthodox tradition, and it is commonly sung in the ancient liturgical traditions of the Christian East. Even today, hearing it can still overwhelm listeners of any Christian tradition, or indeed those of no conscious religious belief. But its choice at Chalcedon was important. Although the hymn itself was ancient, it had become popular during the recent Constantinople earthquake: reportedly, a child taught the words to the people before he himself died. The Thrice Holy proclaims an absolute reliance on God, envisioned in full heavenly splendor, but it also commemorates divine intervention in this life, a miraculous rescue from catastrophe, as, for instance, when a Christian empire is rescued from satanic plotting.
Defining Belief
Over the following week, the main agenda was the definition of belief, which involved much more than a simple repudiation of One Nature teaching. Certainly, Eutyches had to be rejected, but most of the participants also spurned anything that might be seen as Nestorian, or too favorable to Two Nature ideas. When the council broke into expressions of outrage against Nestorius, as it regularly did, this was not just a shallow attempt to provide balance. Nor was it a ruse to divert attention from a pervasive anti-Monophysite agenda. If we can speak of a mainstream feeling at Chalcedon, it utterly rejected Dioscuros, while venerating his predecessor, Cyril. Significantly, many bishops were nervous about any attempt to issue a new statement of belief over and above Nicea and First Ephesus, precisely because those documents both lent themselves so happily to One Nature interpretation.15
Just how hostile to Nestorian thinking the bishops actually were became obvious when the Antiochene theologian Theodoret entered the assembly. When he appeared, “the most devout bishops of Egypt, Illyricum and Palestine exclaimed ‘Have mercy, the faith is being destroyed. The canons exclude him! Drive him out! Drive out the teacher of Nestorius!’” The Egyptians went further (as always): “‘Do not call him a bishop!’” they cried. “‘He is not a bishop. Drive out the enemy of God! Drive out the Jew!’” “Jew,” in this context, was not merely a term of abuse, but referred to Theodoret’s focus on Christ’s human nature, which made him an Ebionite, a Judaizer. They continued, “‘We exclude Cyril if we admit Theodoret.’” In reply, the Eastern bishops called out their own imprecations against Dioscuros the murderer—but significantly, against his worldly misdeeds, rather than his doctrines.16
We still have minutes of this conference from more than 1,500 years ago, minutes that record quibbles and disagreements in immense detail. And this time the scribes were recording accurately, and nobody was breaking anyone’s fingers in an attempt to grab their pens. Just to give an example of the tone of debate, we can look at one exchange from the fourth session, on October 17, when the council was determined to force the E
gyptian clergy to separate themselves from Dioscuros.17 The main body of Egyptian bishops signed a statement that seemed orthodox enough but did not go far enough to satisfy the assembled Fathers, who complained that they had not explicitly rejected Eutyches or accepted Leo’s Tome. The conflict was lethally sensitive. The Egyptians were desperate not to go on the record with anything that could be used against them when they returned to Egypt. On the other hand, at Chalcedon they were in the hands of imperial authorities who demanded a thorough repudiation of anything linked to Dioscuros or Second Ephesus.
For the Egyptians, the only solution was to decide not to decide. When pressed to issue a clearer doctrinal statement, the leading Egyptian demurred, citing procedural issues. No, he objected, the Council of Nicea declared that Egyptian clergy have to follow the lead of the patriarch of Alexandria, but Dioscuros’s removal had left the position vacant. If you don’t mind, then, we’ll wait for a new incumbent and get his opinion before stating ours. Matters grew poisonous, all the more so as the other participants had scarcely forgiven the Egyptian bullying at Second Ephesus:
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